#and the guy at the door of tesco was like why are you wearing a mask if you have a lanyard
ppl rly do just see the sunflower lanyard as an excuse not to wear a mask huh
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Thess vs Fatigue
I am so tired of Covid.
I don’t mean the “get the vaccine, wear a mask, try to socially distance, be sensible” part of Covid. I mean, that’s not hugely fun, but it’s not hugely onerous in the long run.
No, what I’m tired of is the anti-vaxx, anti-mask, anti-precaution bullshit that hounds my every minor journey outside the house.
Bus today? Despite the fact that masks are mandatory on public transport, no one is enforcing so we have people not wearing them at all, people wearing them as chin straps, masks not covering the nose ... same as it ever. Fucking. Was. And that’s all four buses - two to work, two back from work.
Hell, the guys who run the local corner shop don’t wear masks. Neither do about half the customers.
Worse? At my fucking hospital. People wandering the corridors with the chinstrap look going on, or not covering their nose, or just not bothering at all (which means they had to have taken the damn thing off because there’s security at the door who hand you a fucking mask when you walk in and won’t let you in unless you’re wearing one, because, again, it is a hospital). Worst part is that at least 75% of these offenders are staff. Often wearing scrubs, so in patient-facing areas.
Don’t even talk to me about the temp who got the entire office shut down the other month because she was symptomatic and didn’t often mask up, who seems to have taken the fact that she’s now had it as carte blanche to not mask up unless leaving her desk, never mind the office manager sitting right behind her and the other staffer that she infected the other month to her immediate left, and certainly never mind the new variant that might require a whole different set of antibodies to fight off.
And then there’s government response to said new variant, and people’s reactions to that, and I cannot even begin to express how fucking sick I am of that. I am so tired of hearing about “Masks haven’t done any good so far, so why bother?” (BECAUSE PEOPLE LIKE YOU REFUSE TO WEAR THEM WHICH SERIOUSLY LIMITS THEIR EFFECTIVENESS, GENIUS!) and “If the vaccine doesn’t always work, why bother getting it?” (BECAUSE IT HELPS YOU FIGHT IT EASIER AND FASTER, WHICH MEANS YOU WON’T SPREAD IT AS MUCH AND IT PROBABLY WON’T KILL YOU, ASSHOLE!) and “If the government can break the law, so can I!” (OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE) and I swear I will just slap the next person who points to this as the proof that this government is full of fascists.
You want fascism? LOOK AT THE BILL THAT LETS PEOPLE BE STRIPPED OF THEIR CITIZENSHIP WITH NO WARNING, GIVES UNLIMITED STOP AND SEARCH POWERS, AND EFFECTIVELY CRIMINALISES PROTEST! But no; they neither know nor care about that; they just call the government fascist because they want us to take some basic public safety precautions.
And even those are half-arsed at best. Apparently you don’t have to wear a mask in a public indoor space if you’re singing - this was meant to apply to churches for hymns etc but apparently the wording is open-ended enough to allow for tuneless renditions of Christmas carols from unmasked jackasses in the local Tesco. The hospitality sector is entirely exempt, so you may have to provide a vaccine passport and wear a mask if you’re going to a gig at a huge stadium, but you can wander around a small crammed pub without a mask on all day if you want.
I am having a hugely bad pain day. I was the only secretary in the office for about half the day, which was great when the first half of the day involved that temp cherry-picking her typing to leave me with the long complicated bullshit (I am going to have a fucking word with her about that because I don’t like this one guy’s overlong mastectomy reports and overlong block keys either, but it’s my fucking job and it’s hers too so we should share this burden instead of leaving it all on me) ... and the second half of the day involving a huge influx of reporting which I couldn’t have kept pace with even at my best and given the bad pain day? Today it was back to being in tears at my desk and knowing I couldn’t ask to go home because there was no one else in the fucking office to type.
It has been the worst possible fucking day, and I want to quietly kill something. Hell, even the bit where some movement happened on my Access to Work application is a shitshow. Not only did the dude who’s supposed to be saving me from the commute (at least until we get the infrastructure needed to let me work from home) ring me on my mobile while I was sitting on the bus home, but he sent me an email saying, “We require proof of your condition and we need a very specific letter, probably from your GP; you should have this before I ring you at 3:30 on Monday”. Which he sent after the phone call, about fifteen minutes before my GP surgery closes, and an hour before I got home. There’s no earthly fucking way I’m going to get that letter in time; even if I do get hold of my GP on Monday, she’s not going to have a letter written to the exact specification of this dude by 3:30pm. Does this guy not get how overstretched GPs are right now?
I should have food, but cooking is going to be a problem and ordering a takeaway ... well, Christmas is coming, I still have shopping to do so my budget won’t quite stretch to that, and even if it would, I defrosted some chicken and if I don’t cook it, that’s some waste right there.
*whimper*
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Strangers
Part 2 - Anti-Social Behavior (S1E1)
Nathan Young x Reader
Words: 6.2k
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, drugs, gore, death
Songs:
Beat on the Brat - Ramones
Shoplifters of the World Unite - The Smiths
(And also, for shits and giggles…)
Somebody Got Murdered - The Clash
“So we will share this road we walk
And mind our mouths and beware our talk”
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3
--
The walk to the community center for your second day is brisk but significantly more enjoyable than being forced to listen to your father’s chastising. As you approach the group gathered by a new swath of graffiti on the side of the building, a window opens to your left and out climbs Nathan, who jumps to the ground and winces as the roll-up metal covering slams back down after him.
“Nathan?” you ask, stopping in your tracks.
“Ah!” He whips around to greet you with a guilty smile, clearly surprised. “Y/n! Good morning, I hope?” He starts walking with you to join the rest of the group.
“Yeah, but what are you doin’ here?”
“I have my reasons,” he explains vaguely, stretching his arms up and groaning as if he’s just gotten out of bed. He then pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his teeth, completely failing to notice the giant red letters spelling out ‘I’M GOING TO KILL YOU’ as you walk past them.
“This is a joke,” Curtis exclaims as you approach. “Did one of you do this?” He turns to look at you especially, and you suspect he overheard you yesterday telling Nathan and Kelly how you got your ASBO.
“Hey, I’m all for street art and everything, but death threats aren’t really my scene.”
“Death threat?” Nathan spins around until he sees the words. “Oh, well would you look at that!” He turns back to the group, glancing at each of you as if looking for an explanation.
“Don’t look at me, ‘cuz I didn’t do it,” Kelly snaps at him.
“I’ll tell you who did it, it’s that Banksy prick,” he offers. Alisha rolls her eyes, as do a few of the others. “There’s a hidden meaning. It’s like that monkey policeman with the banana and the Tesco’s bag.”
“Maybe someone wants to kill us,” Simon speaks softly, looking uncomfortable at Nathan, who’s put an arm around him for some unknown reason.
“Why would anyone want to kill us?” Kelly points out. You assume the threat was directed at the community center, not at you six specifically, but don’t really care to speak up. You’d probably be spending the day cleaning it off, so what does it matter who it’s meant for?
“Come on, you lot, let’s get changed,” Tony directs, walking up suddenly.
“Have you seen this?” Curtis points to the graffiti. Again. “Someone’s takin’ the piss.”
“Yeah, it’s terrible, isn’t it? All this anti-social behavior.” Tony turns to look at you all suggestively.
“Oh, is he having a dig at us?” Nathan smirks, mumbling through his cigarette. Alisha’s phone begins to ring and Tony jumps, instantly bursting with anger.
“Right! That’s it, all of you, just give me your phones! No one’s making any more calls today. Now, come on!” He turns to Alisha first.
“Uh-huh,” she scoffs. “Are you allowed to take out phones?” He grabs it out of her hands regardless as she giggles and snaps a picture of him. Kelly and Alisha lock eyes and snicker. Curtis gives his phone up willingly, Kelly tries to ignore him, but Tony grabs it out of her pocket, and Simon gives his up as well. He turns to Nathan.
“I’m expecting a call from my mum,” he tries to reason, but Tony rips it from his hand. Nathan gapes at him, affronted. “Okay, take a message.”
Then Tony turns to you. You make a point to look him in the eyes and raise your eyebrows to distract him as you press your phone into Nathan’s hand. You see him glance at you in confusion before catching on and pocketing it.
“Haven’t got one,” you explain casually, holding up your empty hands. You can swear Tony growls as he reaches out to feel your pockets. “Damn, is that even legal?” you half-whisper. To your right, Nathan bites his lip to keep from smiling and giving you away. It works. Tony huffs and lumbers back to the community center. Curtis flips up his hood and follows suit.
“Wanker,” Kelly sneers as she strolls past Tony.
Nathan watches to make sure they leave.
“That was brilliant!” He gushes as soon as Tony’s out of earshot, handing you your phone.
“It was nothing,” you brush off, starting to follow behind the others. “You can use it to phone your mum if you’d like.”
“Oh, no, that’s alright.” He looks away, staring at his feet as he walks.
“Are you sure?” you ask. You hadn’t snuck the phone past Tony only for him, but it was, you know, a good upside. And you aren’t sure what other opportunities he would have to use it, now that Tony thought he’d taken all the phones.
“Yeah, she won’t call.” You can tell that he’s trying to sound like he doesn’t care. But, you’re learning this quickly, Nathan isn’t exactly the best liar.
“I won’t ask.” You wonder what the situation is, but don’t want to pry. Nathan smiles.
Back at the locker rooms, everyone begins changing into their jumpsuits. Alisha situates herself in front of the mirror and begins to fiddle. She pops up her collar, undoes the top few buttons of her jumpsuit, and combes at her hair, fluffing it up. Kelly, having already changed, is lighting what looks to be either a hand-rolled cigarette or a blunt.
“Is he allowed to take our phones?” Nathan muses. “He’s probably using them to call one of those sex lines.” Alisha giggles.
“Those sex lines will eat your credit,” Curtis comments.
“Call them a lot, do you?” Alisha raises an eyebrow. Kelly passes her the cigarette and she watches herself take a few draws from it in the mirror.
Nathan continues with his disturbing ruminations, “He’s out there feeling himself on our phones, naked, masturbating.”
“Now why would he do that?” Curtis questions, quite sensibly.
“Because he can,” Nathan responds.
“That’s quite the image,” you groan, trying desperately not to imagine it.
“Oh, I’ll give you an image.” Nathan winks, pulling off his shirt. You roll your eyes and look away, leaning against the door of your locker. Glancing to the back of the room, you wonder where Simon’s run off to. You thought you’d seen him standing by the buckets a few moments ago.
“Do you want some of this?” Alisha holds out the cigarette, tucked between her blue manicured fingers, to Curtis, who refuses.
“Give it here, come on,” Nathan says as he walks past her and she hands it to him. As you grab a bucket and follow him out, you notice that he has crossed the ‘pay’ from ‘community payback’ on the back of his jumpsuit to make it say ‘community blowback’ instead. You smile and chuckle to yourself.
Curtis appears to be the only one actually trying to remove those giant red letters from the wall, scrubbing determinedly while the rest of you just sort of brush at them and hope they disappear. Alisha isn’t even working. She’s unzipped and removed the entire upper half of her jumpsuit to reveal a bikini top and is sunning herself on a nearby table.
“Yeah, you just relax, innit? Take it easy,” Curtis grumbles.
“Someone’s just going to write something else on there tonight,” she retorts. “They make us do these bullshit jobs, wearing these bullshit orange jumpsuits. They can suck my dick.” You have to admit, she has a point.
“Nice,” he looks her up and down and smirks coquettishly.
“Feel free to check out my tits, yeah,” she encourages, blowing a kiss and looking down at him smokily from behind her lowered sunglasses. You look back at your designated section of furiously bright red paint. Wishing it would just go away, you lean down to get more soap on your brush, and when you stand back up, your section of the wall is spotless. You stumble backward, bewildered.
“Guys?” you gape, trying to catch their attention, pointing to the bare wall. But when everyone turns to look, it’s gone back to normal, the bold lettering mocking you.
“What?” Kelly asks, scrunching up her face in what looks like confusion and concern. You rush back to the wall, running your fingers across the paint, and they come back dusted with red. It’s real.
“I-” everyone looks at you like you’re crazy, and they’re probably right. “It’s nothing.”
A few moments later, Kelly stops scrubbing. “You know after the storm, did any of you feel like dead weird?” She sounds serious.
“Yeah. I had a strange tingling sensation in my anus,” Nathan quips.
You roll your eyes and turn to her, “I think I’ve been seein’ things,” you admit.
“Yeah, I’ve been hearin’ shit,” she agrees before spinning around to address Simon, seemingly out of the blue. “What, did you feel weird?”
“You don’t want to hear about my anus?” Nathan calls, clutching his hands to his butt.
“Do you really need to ask the question?” you hear Curtis say from behind you. You shove Nathan and turn back around to pay attention to Simon and Kelly, ignoring his cry of indignation.
“Something happened,” Simon begins quietly.
“What’s that? Squeak up!” Nathan chides.
“Something happened to me,” he repeats louder.
“Are you a virgin? Hi-hoooooy!” Nathan jokes, and you contemplate punching him again.
Kelly does it for you, turning to yell, “Shut up!” which effectively shuts him down, before returning to Simon. “What was it?”
He gulps and you can see the nervousness churning behind his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
Kelly scrunches her face up and scowls, running past you to shove Nathan.
“What was that for?” he calls after her.
She turns to you as she goes, “Didn’t you hear that? It was disgustin’.” You hadn’t, and you have no idea what she’s referring to. So you shrug at Nathan, who looks suitably chastened, and return to your scrubbing.
Later, you’re all starting to congregate around the couches in the main entrance hall. Kelly still hasn’t returned, but the letters are mostly gone and you’re all angling for a break. Alisha is taking up an entire couch section to herself, sitting sideways with her feet up, and Simon is sequestered in the alcove of a doorway. You’re sitting on a larger couch across from them, watching Nathan beat up a vending machine to try and get a free soda. He holds one up, triumphant, as you slow clap and he takes a bow. Curtis walks up with a stack of empty buckets under his arm.
“When I was in sixth form, you came to my school. You gave this big talk about athletics and all your medals and that.” Alisha says to Curtis with a tone that entreats him to elaborate on his story.
Nathan rolls out behind him in a wheelchair, soda in hand, “So I’m guessin’ you’re not going to the Olympics.”
“Funny,” Curtis snaps sarcastically at the obvious jab.
“I heard he was dealing crack,” Alisha chimes with a quirk of her eyebrow.
Curtis scowls. “What? I wasn’t dealing crack.”
“No, no, the papers said it was steroids,” Nathan adds, opening his soda with a hiss.
“That stuff with shrivel your dick,” Alisha lies down on her seat.
Curtis takes a few steps forward, looking at them insistently. “It wasn’t steroids. I’m not a cheat. That stuff in the papers was bullshit.”
“Yeah? So what was it, then?” Alisha presses. Nathan raises his eyebrows.
Curtis takes a few hesitant seconds to reply. “I got caught with a little bit of coke. Alright? I messed up one time.”
“No one gets community service for possession,” Alisha holds her arms up, asking him to explain.
He scoffs. “If it was anyone else, they’d have got a caution. I get two hundred hours community service and a two year back from athletics. They said, ‘cuz of my profile, they needed to send a message.” You feel bad for Curtis for being treated differently because of his success. It doesn't seem fair, bringing someone so far down when they’d come so far and were so close to reaching their goals.
“You let yourself down,” Nathan taunts, grinning deviously. Your eyes widen, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. “You let the kids down. You let your parents down-”
Curtis fumes and stews in silence before suddenly bursting, launching forward at Nathan “Shut the fuck up! All I ever did was train! You know nothing! I shouldn’t even fuckin’ be here!” If only Nathan could just shut up for one second.
“You can’t hit someone in a wheelch-” Nathan’s eyes flash wide open as a piece of duct tape appears over his mouth. Alisha and Simon sit up straighter, pulled to attention. You sit there horrified, realizing that for the first time that you definitely aren’t the only one seeing this. Nathan points to Curtis in accusation.
“It wasn’t me, mate.” He holds his arms up, taking a few fearful steps back. You feel sick to your stomach, too frozen in place to say anything. Nathan lets out a muffled scream and tries to pull off the duct tape, scrambling at it with his fingers. It crumbles into his hands like dust before disappearing completely. You let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heart continues to thump away in your chest.
“Who was that?” Nathan yells, jumping out of the wheelchair, which rolls backward until it hits the wall.
You gulp. “I- I think I did it?”
“Well, what the fuck for?! And how?” He rears on you, anger and confusion written plainly on his face.
“I have no idea,” you admit honestly.
Alisha scoffs and giggles, somehow finding the situation funny. “Do you wanna know what I got done for?”
“Not really,” Nathan remarks, turning his head to glare at you before plopping himself back down in the wheelchair. That sends a pang of guilt through your chest. You don’t really know what you did, or how you did it.
Alisha motions for you to come closer and you all gather to sit in audience before her, “Me and my mate Chloe, we’re having cocktails in this bar, yeah? An’ she’s hassling me, ‘cuz she wants to go to this party. Chloe is on one because she thinks Jack is doing Lucy. A total slut fuck. So we get in my car. I drive us to the party.”
“Nathan?” you whisper, poking his arm to get his attention.
“We go into one of the rooms, yeah? Jack’s not doing Lucy, he’s doing Ellie. She is a proper slut.”
“What?” He still looks pissed.
“I’m sorry. Something really weird’s going on.” You hope he believes you, he seems pretty fun, if a bit vulgar, and you aren’t even sure of how you’d screwed it up.
“Chloe freaks. I’m driving us back into town. Chloe’s all like ‘Oh, I feel sick.’ I’m like ‘Don’t puke in my car. Do not puke in my car.’”
“Alright.” He gives you a small smile.
“Really?” You didn’t think it would be that easy, but maybe he remembered what Kelly said earlier.
“That’s when the police pull us over. I’m already banned from driving, so I am like ‘Fuuuck.’”
“Yeah, no hard feelings.” He reaches down to ruffle the top of your hair, weirdly enough, but it fits pretty well with what you know of Nathan so far.
“This cop, yeah? He hands me the breathalyzer and I’m like ‘Do I suck, or blow?’” Alisha runs her tongue along the bottom edge of her water bottle before licking the cap and putting her lips around it, slowly working up and down. “It’s insane, I’m totally workin’ it, yeah?” She licks up the bottle’s side before sticking the entire top in her mouth again and bobbing her head back and forth, in and out, pursing her lips as she picks up speed before slowly and carefully pulling it back out. “Now, I don’t know if this cop is gay or what, but he tells me I’m four times over the limit. It’s bullshit. I didn’t even want to go to the party.” You’re a little grossed out, but all the boys are gaping at this point. Just then, the front doors fly open with a bang and Kelly tumbles into the room, scrambling to her feet to lock it, screaming, “He’s gonna kill us!” You scramble backward before jumping up from your seat on the floor.
Nathan spins around in his chair, clapping. “Nice entrance. Very dramatic.” But Kelly looks distraught and shaken, and you don’t think she’s exaggerating anything.
“The probation worker’s gone mental. He just attacked me! Something really weird is happening. I’m hearin’ these voices. It’s like I can hear what people are thinking!” she explains hastily.
“Have you been sniffing glue?” Alisha scolds, tilting her head to the side in mock sympathy.
Kelly raises her voice, practically yelling in desperation, “The storm, the lightning! It’s done something to us!”
“Okay,” Nathan speaks up. “If you can hear our thoughts, what am I thinking now?”
“You think it’s bullshit?!” Kelly exclaims.
“‘Course I think it’s bullshit!” he snaps back. “You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that.”
“Why are you in a wheelchair?” she asks tentatively, just now noticing it.
“It was the storm!” You roll your eyes as he messes with her. “The strange tingling sensation in my anus has spread to my body and now I can’t feel my legs.”
She realizes he’s joking and kicks him “I’m serious!”
“Ow! Jesus!”
You decide to take a gamble at something. Kelly, you think, the storm did something to me too.
“What, you, too?” She asks, turning to face you.
“Yeah,” you nod. “It happened just a few minutes ago. I wanted Nathan to shut up and then duct tape just appeared over his mouth. And it happened with the graffiti earlier, I wanted it to disappear, and then it did, for a second.” Her eyes light up and she turns to the rest of the group.
“See? I ain’t lyin’!”
“Well then, what do you mean the probation worker attacked you?” Curtis takes a few steps towards her.
Alisha doesn’t believe either of you, “This does sound like complete shit.”
“He’s out there and he chased me!” She insists, frantically pointing to the door.
“Something’s happened to me, too,” Simon speaks up.
“Did you pop your cherry?” Nathan teases, still not taking any of this seriously. “Oh, we’re all very happy for you!”
Simon ignores him and addresses everyone else. “Earlier on, when we were in the locker room… I was invisible. I turned invisible.”
“So she’s psychic, you can make hallucinations or whatever, and you can turn invisible?” Curtis speaks, trying to make sense of everything. He chuckles. “Yeah, that seems likely.”
“Did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?” Nathan questions, leaning forward in his chair.
“Yes!” you exclaim, turning to Simon. “You were standing by the buckets and then you weren’t! I wondered where you’d run off to.”
Simon nods, spurred on by your admission, “You were all there.”
Alisha scoffs, still not convinced, “I think we might have noticed you vanishing into thin air.”
“I was standing right there and you couldn’t see me,” he insists, a sad, almost betrayed look crossing his face.
“Alright.” Nathan puts on a determined look and wheels over to Simon. “Go on, then. Do it. Turn invisible.”
Simon tenses and grunts, trying to force it. You glare at Nathan for putting him on the spot like this, and you feel a pang of guilt for generally encouraging his antics.
“Oh, my god!” Nathan exclaims. “He’s disappeared!” You roll your eyes and groan, feeling worse by the second.
Simon, however, seems to believe him, holding out a hand in front of Nathan’s eyes. “Can’t you see me?”
“No,” Nathan gasps before throwing his empty soda can at Simon’s head and proclaiming, “you’re invisible!”
“You prick! What’d you do that for?” you ask, miffed, but he ignores you.
“You all are hilarious, really. Keep taking that medication.” He starts wheeling towards the door, but Kelly jumps in front of him and grabs his armrests.
“Don’t go out there, he will kill you!” she yells.
“Of course he will, ‘cuz he’s such a badass,” Nathan retorts sarcastically.
“Don’t!” She screams, with angry and fearful tears in her eyes.
Curtis just walks past her to the door, scoffing in disbelief, “Come on, this is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“No!!” Kelly shrieks, throwing Curtis out of the way as the door swings open.
You hear a bellowing roar as a metal tube flies through the open door and into Kelly’s head, spraying streams of blood up and down the wall beside her.
“Kelly!” you cry in shock. Her expression slackens and her eyes go blank as she slumps against the wall and tumbles to the floor, dead. Tony bursts into the room with a sharp, red-stained tube in his hands. Another scream tears at your throat as you feel a hand on your arm, Nathan’s, pulling you away and setting you running down the hall.
.
.
.
.
.
“Can’t you see me?” Simon gasps, holding out a hand in front of Nathan’s eyes and appearing to believe him.
“No,” Nathan gaspes before throwing his empty soda can at Simon’s head and proclaiming, “you’re invisible!”
“You prick! What’d you do that for?” you ask, miffed, but he ignores you.
“You all are hilarious, really. Keep taking that medication.” He starts wheeling towards the door, but Kelly jumps in front of him and grabs onto his armrests.
“Don’t go out there, he will kill you!” she yells.
“Of course he will, ‘cuz he’s such a badass,” Nathan retorts sarcastically.
“Don’t!” She screams, with angry and fearful tears in her eyes.
Curtis jolts forward, fear gripping his expression “She’s telling the truth.”
Nathan looks absolutely delighted. “And you know this how? I suppose you’re psychic now, too?”
Curtis’ entire demeanor has completely shifted. He’s breathing heavily now out of shock or fear, or because of something you can’t quite understand. He speaks urgently and uneasily, “All this. It’s already happened once. I opened the door, the probation worker, he killed you.” He points to Kelly. “You were right there. You were dead. Everything froze. You were all just standing there. Time went backwards.”
“What are you saying?” Alisha pipes up. “What, you turned back time?”
Nathan rises from his seat, eyeing Curtis curiously, “This just gets better by the second.” He strides to the door.
“Everything happened again, exactly the same. I’m telling you, don’t open that door!” Curtis insists, following after him. You run.
“Nathan, no!” you scream, reaching the door just as he puts a hand on it. A giant lock and chain appears around the handles. He gives you an odd glance before yanking the door open regardless, and the chains turn into dust and disappear. You couldn’t see what he was looking at, but an expression of terror sweeps across Nathan’s face and he closes and locks the door in a flurry of jittery movements.
“He’s right, the probation worker’s gone mental!” he gasps. Tony slams into the other side of the door and your heart leaps out of your chest. You only catch a glimpse of his hulking, dark frame silhouetted against the frosted glass before Nathan shrieks and pulls you away to join the rest of the group, who are all standing together.
“Maybe he’s on crystal meth,” Alisha tries to reason, but the waver in her voice gives away her fear. “I mean, that stuff makes you crazy. My friend Chloe did it, she nearly shagged her brother. And he’s really ugly”
“Enough about Chloe!” you exclaim. “It sounds like she’s made some really poor life choices and I’d rather not follow in her footsteps!”
Simon gasps, realizing something, “The graffiti. ‘I’m going to kill you,” he wrote it.”
“What did I say? I said there was a hidden meaning! Or not.” Nathan retorts. Realizing his hand is still clasped around your arm, he drops it awkwardly and looks away.
“Did anything happen to you?” Kelly asks, turning to face Alisha.
“No, we should call the police!” she suggests adamantly.
Simon shakes his head. “He took our phones, he’s got all our phones.”
Nathan turns to look at you and you smile, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Well, not all of them.” You hold it up for the rest of the group to see, turning it on to find- “Fuck! I don’t have reception in this shithole.”
“Let’s get out of here, then,” Curtis offers.
“Out the back way, come on!” Nathan calls, moving down the hall and motioning for everyone to follow him. But as he turns the corner, he slips, crying out and falling to the floor with a loud squelch and a squeak. Nathan is sprawled on the floor in a pool of thick, stagnant blood. Your stomach churns as you try to keep yourself from retching.
“Is that blood?!” Kelly screams.
Realization washes over Nathan and he scrambles to his feet, “Oh, fuck! Jesus Christ!” He gapes at the dark red smears coating his hands and gags, wiping them desperately on his jumpsuit. “Get it off me, Jesus!” It’s then that you notice the locker. Blood oozes from each vent and out onto the tile below, trickling down the front of the door like a morbid waterfall. Curtis approaches carefully before gingerly opening the door. Gary’s smashed in head lurches forward and you all jump, screaming as it lolles back and forth. His jumpsuit is stained red in various gruesome places and his body is sitting at odd, gut-wrenching angles in the tiny locker. Blood has dripped down from his ears, nose, and mouth, and predominantly from a gaping, disgusting wound on the left side of his neck.
“It’s Gary,” Simon murmurs.
“I did wonder what had happened to him,” Nathan mumbles, inching closer and peering at the contorted, lifeless form before you. It is undoubtedly the worst thing you have ever seen, but you can’t take your eyes off of it, the horror is all-encompassing.
“He’s gonna kill us,” Alisha whispers, on the verge of tears.
“Turn back time,” Nathan says to Curtis. “Stop this happening.”
“I don’t know how it works!” He exclaims frantically.
“Oh, that’s great, that’s really useful!” Nathan chides.
Curtis ignores him, instead turning to comfort Alisha “Come on, don’t look at him.”
You wish the body would disappear, and some dark sheets appear to cover everything. You know it’s temporary, but you just want to be able to look away. Curtis puts his hand on Alisha’s arm and gasps.
“I’ve got to have sex with you right now! You’re so beautiful.” He grabs her shoulder and pulls her closer to him.
“What’s up with him?” Nathan calls in confusion. Alisha is screaming and trying to pull her arm out of Curtis’s grip.
“Let’s go, let’s do it now!” He reaches his hand into his pants and you turn away, disgusted. Your mind screams at you to do something, to pull him off of her, but you have no idea what’s happening and you freeze.
“Get off me, you freak!” Alisha finally yanks her arm out of his grasp and stumbles back.
“What?” Curtis asks, completely unaware of what just occurred, of what he said and tried to do. Alisha reels back an arm, preparing to slap him. He grabs it out of the air and his skin touches hers again, suddenly groaning in a way that makes your skin crawl.
“You’re so hot! I’m gonna bone you, I’m gonna shag you senseless!”
“Let go!” she yells, stumbling backward out of his grip. The look on her face is confused and horrified, and a thousand other emotions you had hoped never to see on anyone you knew.
“What did I do?” Curtis asks.
Kelly speaks up, “Uh, you said you were gonna shag her?”
“And you were gettin’ your chap out,” Nathan points.
“Shut up!” Curtis gasps, messing with the waistline of his pants.
“It’s when you were touching her,” Simon realizes. Alisha looks down at her shaky hands before reaching to touch the side of Simon’s neck. He jerks up, gasping.
“I’m so hard for you. I want to rip your clothes off and piss on your tits,” Simon growls. Alisha rips her hand from him and jumps back.
“What is happening to me?!” She cries.
Nathan turns to Simon, looking amused and mildly disgusted, “You sick bastard!”
Suddenly, the door behind you caves in, sending shards of glass flying in every direction. Tony falls through, bringing parts of the broken door frame with him as he tumbles to the floor. You hear Nathan yell in surprise as he backs away, getting as far from Tony as possible. You go the other direction, stupidly pinning yourself against one of the remaining glass doors. Tony snarls and reared on you, raising himself onto his knees before climbing to his feet. Your shriek is lost in everyone else’s screams, but then Kelly jumps in front of you from seemingly nowhere, brandishing a paint can in one hand. She swings it at Tony and it slams into his head with a sickening thunk. He collapses back to the floor, motionless.
“What did you do?” Nathan gasped after a few shockingly silent seconds, genuinely horrified. The side of the paint can was caved in and smeared in red. There was a hole in Tony’s head that blood had begun to spill from. You whimpered and stumbled away from him, keeping as close to the wall as possible before leaving it to shuffle past the locker that held Gary.
“Is he dead?” Alisha asked in a high pitched whisper.
Nathan speaks up, “Well, I’m no doctor, but… You see the way the back of his head’s caved in like that?” Suddenly, Tony roars and grasps at Kelly’s leg, which is only a few feet from him. You jump back and feel an arm wrap around you and turn your head away from the quickly escalating scene of horror. Kelly reacts immediately, tearing her leg from his grip and bringing it down on his head, over and over again in a chorus of appalling splinters and squelches.
“That should do it,” Nathan speaks as he lets his arms fall from your shoulders, his voice creaky with distress.
“You killed our probation worker,” Alisha gasps, turning to Kelly. Kelly shakes her head slightly in shock.
“This is very, very bad.” Nathan runs his hands through his hair.
Alisha gags, looking away from Tony’s corpse. “Oh, I feel sick.”
“He would have killed us!” Kelly reasons, insecurity and fear worming its way into the warble of her voice.
“We should call the police. It was self-defense,” Curtis suggests, echoing Alisha’s words from only a few minutes ago. But while that was your original plan, it was now entirely out of the question.
“Yeah,” Alisha agrees, “yeah, he’s right. We show ‘em the dead boy in the locker. They’ll do some CSI shit and figure it all out.”
“They won’t believe us!” Kelly cries, and you suspect she’s right.
“We just tell them the truth. We stick to our story,” Curtis persists.
“What’s our story?” she asks, exasperated. “That he can turn invisible and she can conjure illusions and you can turn back time?! It doesn’t matter what we tell them, they’ll say we’re lying. They’ll say that we killed ‘em both! No one’s gonna believe you, not anymore.” She’s right. You know she’s right, deep in your being, in your bones, and you hate it. You hate how true it is, how messed up and unfair it is.
“If there’s no body, there’s no crime,” Simon mutters anxiously. Everyone turns to look at him. “We should bury them under the flyover.”
“Yeah? How do we do that? Someone’s gonna see us,” Alisha points out. You’re grateful for that, honestly. You’re all so distraught right now, you might have actually just walked outside with two dead bodies without thinking there would be consequences.
Nathan shakes his head and you can practically see him thinking. “No, no, no. We give them a quick little,” he whistles to represent cleaning or something. “We put them in those wheelchairs, we wheel them up there, and if anyone sees us, we’re just a bunch of young offenders taking a couple of specials for a walk in the sunshine!” He tries to smile, but he looks far too tense to do so.
After cleaning up and redressing the bodies, wheeling them under the flyover, and digging the hole, Nathan and Kelly tip over the wheelchairs, now soaked in blood, and dump the bodies into the ground. Nathan looks up at you somberly, a queasy expression on his face. Everyone is silent for a few seconds, partially relieved, but also knowing that the real danger begins now, with keeping this covered up.
Nathan shakes his head and puts on his usual playful airs, “I’m pretty sure this breaches the terms of my ASBO.” It isn’t even that funny, but you’re so weary, so exhausted from the past two days of crazy events and literal murder, that you start laughing. Nathan does too, first small giggles, then snickers, and then all-out laughter. The mood hasn’t lightened much by the time you quiet down, and you only feel marginally better, but it’s the best you’ve felt in the past few hours, so that’s a start.
“We don’t tell anyone about this, yeah?” Kelly instructs. Everyone nods. “About the storm or what it did to us or anything.”
“We’re about to bury our probation worker, we don’t need to be drawing any attention to ourselves,” Nathan agrees.
“I don’t want anyone to know.” Alisha grabs a shovel and stands by the open grave. “I cannot be a freak.”
“It’s too late for me on that front,” you joke, “but being convicted for murder wouldn’t help anything.”
“What about you?” Kelly points to Curtis, who remains bitterly silent.
Nathan shakes his head, “There’s no goin’ back now, man. You’re just as screwed as the rest of us. You are black and famous, you’re probably more screwed.”
“I shouldn’t even be here,” Curtis spits.
“You don’t really have a choice,” you point out. Curtis meets your gaze for a second before bending down and digging his shovel into the newly upturned soil. You follow suit.
Kelly turns to Alisha, “Just then, when he was touchin’ ya… How were you doin’ that?”
“I don’t know!” Alisha responds, trying to brush her off.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to piss on her tits?” Nathan teases, unfortunately reminding everyone of the particulars of that scene. “Probably best to keep that kind of thing between you and your internet service provider.” Simon is clearly trying not to look mortified, and he just continued shoveling.
“Are you alright?” Curtis stops for a moment to address Alisha, remembering the involuntary part he played in the discovery of her power. She doesn’t say anything. Kelly stands up suddenly to repeatedly glance between you and Nathan.
“What?” you ask. Nathan glares insistently at her, realizing what’s happening even as you don’t.
“It’s nothin’,” Kelly shrugged and returned to shoveling.
After a few more minutes, Nathan stands up and leans on his shovel, “Hold on, all of you have some kind of ‘special power.’ “Everyone can do something except me. He can do something,” he points to Simon, “he can do something and I can’t. That’s ridiculous, look at him! How does that make any sense.” Simon stops for a moment to wipe some sweat from his brow.
“Well he sure is working harder than you,” you point out.
“I work harder in other areas,” Nathan explains suggestively.
“Maybe you can do something, you just haven’t found out what it is yet,” Simon reasons.
“Yeah, right.” Nathan smiles, emboldened by the possibilities. “What if… What if I can’t feel pain?” Kelly punches him. “Ow!”
“Did you feel that?” She grins. You laugh, completely understanding the impulse.
“Stop hitting me!” Nathan protests. “Both of you!”
The sky has darkened significantly by the time you finish the burial, and it isn't helped by the fact that you have to stop every few minutes when it suddenly looks like everything is done because you really want to just be finished. It’s actually a pretty good exercise in controlling your power. It’s even later by the time you finish cleaning off the wheelchairs, locker, and the surrounding area. Nathan catches up with you as you leave, asking if you want to walk home with him again. His voice sounds chipper and you half expect him to be joking, but when you look up, his eyes plead with you to say yes. So you do. And you don’t walk in silence. There is much to say about the past two days and it feels good to say it, to divulge your fear and your worries, and to hear them reciprocated. He turns down the same street he did the previous day and you walk the rest of the way alone, trying not to let your overwhelming fear of the future overtake you. You finally return home and collapse onto your bed for the second day in a row, once again hoping that the next day would be better, and doubting that it could be much worse.
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PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)
10: BAD DAY, HUH?
summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.
w/c: 3k
a/n: ah. the bittersweet taste of our own flaws. -- probably addie in this chapter tbh. basically marianne being very british and making addie Question Everything, as best friends do
read on wattpad
previous part | series masterlist
Virgin Mary | 3:47pm
so the gang is planning a night out this week, you free saturday?
Me | 5:07pm
why this saturday?
Me | 5:07pm
is it someone’s birthday??
Me | 5:07pm
pls say no
Virgin Mary | 5:08pm
Tom’s is in two weeks and you better not forget that
Me | 5:08pm
ffs marianne i won’t
Virgin Mary | 5:09pm
you better not bitch I need your help with the present
Virgin Mary | 5:09pm
can’t give my boy anything less than perfection
Me | 5:10pm
wow what a way to not put pressure in your about-to-burst-from-stress friend
Virgin Mary | 5:11pm
you mean my overdramatic friend?
Virgin Mary | 5:11pm
get your hole and you’ll be fine
Me | 5:11pm
MARIANNE
Virgin Mary | 5:12pm
BITCH WHAT
Virgin Mary | 5:12pm
you need to shag
Virgin Mary | 5:12pm
when’s the last time you got your hole
Me | 5:13pm
I’m busy okay i don’t want a boyfriend rn
Virgin Mary | 5:14pm
so that’s totally why I’ve been hearing about Holden for the past three months 👀
Me | 5:15pm
you do realise we work at the same place right
Me | 5:15pm
i can’t just hook up with a guy i have to see every day for at least 8 hours
Virgin Mary | 5:16pm
fucking hell you’re a tuff nut
Me | 5:17pm
go make me some tea pls
Me | 5:17pm
I’m home in 20 and I’ve got some late emails
Virgin Mary | 5:17pm
whatever bitch
Virgin Mary | 5:18pm
you’re a freaking workaholic
Virgin Mary | 5:18pm
shag Holden
Me | 5:19pm
shut up
Me | 5:19pm
ur blocked ❤
Virgin Mary | 5:20pm
so are you free on saturday or not?
Virgin Mary | 5:33pm
ur cancelled❤
◇
The music coming from their apartment is loud enough that Addie hears it as she walks up the staircase. She can’t distinguish the song, but the beat’s there, and she’s either imagining Marianne singing along, or it’s actually happening. One is just as likely as the other.
It gets louder when Addie walks through the door, and she figures it’s safe to assume it’s her friend rather than her imagination. The door closes behind her, sound swallowed by whatever rock song Marianne is blasting through the speaker – this is what Addie is used to.
She leaves her purse on the drawer at the side of the hallway, one that’s filled with trinkets they’ve got nowhere else to put, and she hangs the raincoat right next to it. Her shoes are the next to come off – the loss of the three inches that the burgundy platforms come with comes as soon as she steps out of them. Her feet are grounding her on the floor, now, and a moment’s break is all she gives herself. It’s peace after a tedious day of relentless work; it’s the calm from the scent of cinnamon candles, Earl Grey tea, and the dish Marianne is making that smells very Italian – this feels like home.
Addie makes her way to the kitchen. Her roommate is singing her heart out to music coming from the speaker on the round table, stirring whatever’s in the pot in front of her. Marianne doesn’t notice her come in, so Addie walks over to the speaker and tunes it down, low enough for them to talk.
‘Honey, I’m home!’
Marianne turns around with a big smile on her face. Her ginger hair is pulled into a high ponytail, loose from what Addie assumes must’ve been a kitchen concert. This is paired with sweats and a loose crop top, and Marianne’s demeanour is enough to tell her she’s ready to tackle the weekend ahead of them.
‘Honey, welcome home’’ She points behind Addie. ‘There’s your tea. I’m making lasagna and it’ll be ready in about half an hour.’
‘Shit, I've actually been craving that today.'
The girl goes back to stirring the pot, swaying her hips to the tune of the music. ‘Sixth sense, Addie. Bruce Willis had it right.’
‘I told you that movie creeps me out!’
‘It’s a masterpiece and you’re a pussy.’
Instead of a reply, Addie huffs with an eye roll, taking a sip from the cup. It’s midnight blue with a quote from one of the books Marianne likes, imported straight from the British Isles. The colour is faded on the holding part of the mug, but it remains the girl’s favourite mug despite a variety of prettier, newer mugs she’s acquired over the time.
Marianne is simple. She’s got things she loves and doesn’t stray from that.
They chat for a bit, Marianne preparing the lasagna to go into the oven and Addie drinking her tea. Addie learns that the firm Marianne is interning for has gotten a new project for a family home on the outskirts of Atlanta and the interns are being allowed to try out their hand at designing it, and the firm will end up critiquing their work and possibly giving one of them the chance to have their design turned into reality.
It’s an exciting thing – the most Marianne has gotten in the past three months of working there.
The lasagna is put into the oven and Addie announces her shower time, and promises Marianne she better tell her about her day after she scrubbed off all that reminds her of the office. Taking her contact lenses out and getting into the shower after a long day is the one feeling Addie cherishes more than just the arrival home in itself. Her showers are long, with steam rising and fogging up the blurred glass sides of the shower and the mirror in the bathroom.
When she gets out of the bathroom, she’s wearing an outfit that mirrors her roommate’s. Her hair’s wet and wrapped into an old T-shirt, basking in a curl-defining product she got the other day. She’s got a facemask on, too, and Marianne sighs at the sight of it.
‘Bad day, huh?’
Addie walks up to the counter beside the oven, taking out some cutlery and begins to set the table. ‘I envy you. All your bosses are so self-absorbed that they don’t even notice you guys. Mine are self-absorbed and narcissistic, so we get all the work nobody can be fucked with.’
Marianne taps on the table with the fork she’s just been given. ‘No swearing, missy.’
The brunette raises an eyebrow, trying to figure out if her roommate is joking. Then she remembers her resolution from a few days ago -- “I will swear less because I’m not a fucking sailor.” “That’s a quarter in the jar, Miss.”
‘Whatever,’ mutters Addie. She places the last of the dishes on the table and plops into the chair across from her roommate, resting her head in her hands. ‘I’m so tired of Harrington. The divorce isn’t going well because his ex has actually got a brain, which he hadn’t anticipated, and now he’s literally just throwing the worst shit at us. And to complete it, Patty is just being her regular cruel self.’
‘That’s horrible.’ Marianne scrunches her nose. ‘That’s also three quarters now.’
‘I’m allowed to say shit!’
‘Well, you’re the one who decided to swear less.’
‘Saying shit isn’t swearing. It’s basically a normal word.’
The look Marianne gives her is full of friendly scorn. Addie sighs and fishes three quarters out of her wallet that’s on the table—she can’t believe saying “shit” alone cost her two quarters—and throws them into the jar that's on the part of the table closest to the wall. There’s hardly anything in it, but Addie reckons that’s more because of the fact that she’s hardly both home and awake anymore, as opposed to her not swearing a lot.
Marianne walks over to the oven, checking the lasagna. She pulls the door open and hot air fills the small space, alongside the smell of a beautifully done Italian dish – or Addie is just really hungry.
‘Patty made Holden and I work on a budget plan for some Grubson’s subdivision upstate. We did budgeting. He majored in finance and I majored in economics and we’re doing damn accounting.’
‘You’re interning for a law firm,’ notes Marianne, putting oven mittens on. ‘You shouldn’t expect to do exactly what you want to do.’
Addie’s lip curls into a bitter grin. Her friend is right, and she knows it and she hates that this is what her career has come to -- wasting her actual talents because the industry is shitty as it is. She’s got to put in triple the effort her white male colleagues do, and even then, her brilliance is hardly registered.
The lasagna is on the table. Marianne gives each of them a piece and Addie fills their glasses with some Coca Cola-ripoff they got at Tesco. The music from the speaker changes to something more dinner-appropriate.
‘This looks delicious, Marianne.’
‘It better be. Took me nearly three damn hours.’
Both girls blow on their slice before taking it, and both of them still end up having to half-blow through the food while it’s in their mouths, bursting into laughter as they watch one another struggle.
‘I don’t know what’s your excuse,’ says Addie, having finally swallowed the piece, ‘but mine is that I’m absolutely starving.’
Marianne pretends to chuck some food at her. ‘My excuse is that I invested a lot of time in this.’
‘Fair. It’s amazing.’
At this, the girl beams with happiness, and Addie can’t hold back a smile even as she struggles through the heat of another piece, her stomach grumbling.
‘Anyway, it’s shit. It got so bad today that I ended up spending nearly all of my time with Holden— No, hush, I’m not having it— Seriously, Marianne, we’re literally work colleagues!’ Addie sighs in exasperation, one finger raised in the last effort at getting her friend to stop nagging her about her colleague.
Marianne pouts, then gives away an innocent shrug. ‘All I’m saying is that there’s something there.’
All Addie can do is roll her eyes and focus on the plate in front of her. Her fork pierces through the lasagna with a little too much force than warranted, and the brunette concludes that’s enough to show how irritated Marianne got her.
Despite her hardest attempts at denying it, Marianne’s kind of got a point. Addie’s been at the internship for over three months now and it’s not like she has gotten close with anyone – at least, not enough to call them friends. Her career and education have always taken the priority over friends and temporary relationships, and it’s never hurt her in any way. Sure, she might’ve been lonely from time to time, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t end up with great friends, regardless.
With the internship and a Master’s degree to work on, Addie doesn’t really have time for personal connections that won’t last.
Addie shakes the thought out of her head. The lasagna bit is steaming in her mouth and Marianne rolls her eyes, but it eases the tension between the two.
‘There’s nothing between us, Marianne,’ says Addie, once her mouth isn’t burning anymore. ‘We’re a good team. Patty and Harrington noticed that we get more done than any other teams.’
‘So there’s work chemistry. You don’t have that with just about every other person, Addie. Especially not you.’
Especially not Addie, who likes to have her work done at specific times of the day, filing it in a specific way, handling her responsibility like a drop of water. Again, Marianne’s got a point.
‘Plus, he’s pretty good looking.’
The memory of showing Marianne pictures of Holden makes her chuckle. ‘You flipped out. I was scared for Tom.’
‘Please,’ scoffs Marianne, waving her hand. ‘There’s no one better than Tom. But after I spent a whole month listening to how well you’re getting on with this Holden guy, how much better it’s to work with him than other people, how much he’s helped you join the group… How else was I supposed to react when I found out that he’s a hot piece of blonde-hair blue-eyes?’
‘I just…’ Addie’s fork moves some of the lasagna around the plate. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think he’s hot.’
Marianne huffs. ‘All I’m saying is, don’t write him off.’
‘I’m not writing him off. I just don’t have the time to focus on anything romantic right now.’
‘That’s bullshit and you know it.’ Marianne finishes the last of her slice and puts her fork down, leaning back in the chair. ‘Addie, you’re the most organised person I know. You never have a problem making it to any of the things our group organises, so why do you always say you don’t have time to hang out with people from work?’
For a few moments, the only sounds in the kitchen/dining area are whatever’s coming out of the speaker, Addie’s work scratching the bottom of the plate, and her chewing.
She knows Marianne’s got a point, again. It’s starting to annoy her.
‘Things are good the way they are,’ she finally says, the admission heavy across her lips. ‘I get closer to any of them, it’ll become more difficult to point out what they’ve done wrong, or do my own work if I want to know about their day. It’s already difficult enough with Holden, and we’re just friends.’
‘That’s different. You want to shag him.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Are you seriously trying to deny the fact that you’re attracted to someone who looks like a damn nineties movie star?’
Addie grunts, burying her face in her hands. ‘Fine. He’s hot.’
There’s a pregnant pause and when she finally dares look at Marianne, the girl has a tired smile on her face. She knows this look -- a combination of I told you so and I could be your therapist, you don’t need to pay for one.
‘What.’
Marianne taps her hand, her smile widening. ‘I know your career means a lot to you, but you’ve got to loosen up. You’re going to burn out.’
‘Everybody burns out.’
‘Yeah, but you’re gonna do it at, like, thirty.’
Not dignifying this with a response, Addie rises to her feet, taking her plate and Marianne’s, then stacks the cutlery on top. She’s acutely aware of Marianne waiting for a reaction, even if she doesn’t want to give her one. Instead, she gets to washing the dishes. Running water drowns out the tension easily enough for it to slip into the back of her mind.
She hears Marianne’s chair let out a squeak a moment later. Her ginger hair appears in the corner of Addie’s eye, and she sees her put the uneaten half of the lasagna into the fridge, wrapped up in aluminium foil. When finished, Marianne rests against the counter with the small of her back.
Neither of the girls says anything. Addie is trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that’s trying to convince her Marianne is right.
She sets the washes dishes aside, letting them air dry on the dish rack.
‘All I meant was that you could go out with them, for a change, not turn your life upside down,’ says Marianne. ‘Just think about it.’
Addie presses her lips together. ‘Okay. I’ll think about it.’
‘Great! Anyway, you need to come out with us on Saturday. Leanne spent fifteen minutes of our coffee date today just freaking out over the fact that you met Drew Starkey.’ A beat. ‘She binged Outer Banks yesterday.’
‘I can’t believe my life is finally interesting to you guys.’ Addie puts away the last of the dishes and wipes her hands with a kitchen towel, smiling. ‘All it took was meeting an actor.’
Marianne pushes herself up on the counter, grinning like a fox. ‘It’s not just that you met him, Addie. It’s been three months and you still talk.’
‘Not really. We haven’t talked in’—she counts the days in her head—‘about two weeks.’
‘Oh, so you haven’t talked since he read your essay and shared it to his hundreds of thousands of followers and said how much he liked it?’
‘Nope.’
The sigh Marianne lets out is pure exasperation. Addie walks out of the kitchen and the girl follows suit, bringing the speaker along. Both of them plop on the couch as they usually do for half an hour after dinner, before going each to their own studying sessions. Deciding to room with Marianne, who’s currently also doing an internship and a Master’s degree (in architecture), was one of the best decisions Addie has ever made.
Except for the times when Marianne is awfully nosy for a Brit – must be the French part of her.
With her legs criss-crossed and an arm draped over the back of the couch, Marianne is in her element. ‘That is not your average celebrity interaction.’
‘I know.’
‘So you’re telling me you’re not trying to get on that?’
‘On what?’ asks Addie, feeling her irritation levels steadily rising again. ‘Jesus, Marianne. I’m not trying to get with every guy who’s good-looking and nice to me. We share some opinions on social media and whatnot, he agreed with them. It’s not that big of a deal.’
‘So you’re saying you wouldn’t shag him if you had the chance?’
Addie looks away. Her cheeks are hot and body is on fire, and she’s had more than enough of Marianne’s attitude today, and that’s on top of already having had a pretty fucking shitty day in the first place.
‘You can’t be ser—’
‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’
She grabs her phone and, absentmindedly, checks her Instagram notifications – none. The feeling in her stomach intensifies and she opens up her work group chat instead, and curses herself for hoping that maybe there’d be a specific person in her messages.
Maybe Marianne isn’t that far off.
◇
11: WELCOME TO MY LIFE
tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @sacredto @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129 @starlightstories
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and they were quARANTINED [a beatles fic] - ch 1
summary: George takes a shit. Ringo braves a trip to the tescos and loses a bit of his soul. John harrasses the general public and Paul’s just trying to get them home before they kill each other. All while a virus tears the world apart.
warnings: CRACK (not cocaine), geo’s bad potty habits, ringo’s copious use of emojis
so, this is different... but i’ve always been a crack fic writer at heart. this is the result of being quarantined myself due to COVID-19. i’ve been seeing so much fear and frustration and hatred that i just wanted to write about it kinda cathartically. enjoy!
Unfortunately, George doesn’t realize that they’re out of toilet paper until after he’s taken a shit.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Ringo?”
No answer.
“Ringooooooooo. RINGO!!!”
George’s legs are starting to lose feeling. He bounces them up and down a bit and the motion almost makes him drop his phone in the toilet.
“RICHARD FUCKING STARKEY!”
There’s the sound of footsteps and then a pause before Ringo answers.
“What’s up?”
“What took you so long?”
“Had my headphones in. Sorry I couldn’t be at your beck and call, O Lord of the Loo.”
“SHUT up. Look, do we have any more loo roll?”
A pause. “Why, are we out?”
George rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “No, I’m askin’ for the banter.”
“I’ll go check. Don’t move!”
George can almost see the shit-eating (heh) grin on his mate’s face as he walks away. With a sigh and some choice curse words that would make Louise cry, George pulls out his phone again. Opens Twitter. Sees yet another tweet from that spraytanned clown across the pond. Closes Twitter and contemplates deleting it. After about three rounds of this, Ringo comes back and knocks on the door.
“We’re all out. Got you some tissues, though.”
Krishna help me. George tips his head back against the wall and thumps it a few times for good measure.
“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Could you- ?”
The door opens just a smidge before he can finish talking there’s a flying blur of Kleenex box, a blinding pain in the side of his head, and a sickening crACK—
***
“I’m really sorry,” Ringo says for the millionth time, hovering over George as he examines the spiderweb of cracks on his phone screen. George huffs. He wants to be mad, he really does, but Ringo’s face is doing that stupid thing where his eyes are very, very blue and droopy and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip and it’s obvious that he’s genuinely remorseful and—fuck, he’s got it bad.
“It’s fine,” George insists, even though he can hear his bank account having a fit. “Piece of shit phone, anyway. And look, it still works!” Very shittily, his brain adds, but that’s what you get with a five year old phone.
The older boy’s eyes still have an unconvinced, sad look about them and George wishes he could kiss it away. No homo, though.
“How can I make it up to you?” George’s brain does a slutdrop into the gutter. “I’ll… I’ll get the groceries! How ‘bout that?”
“NO!” Scrambling off the couch, George just barely misses smacking noses with Ringo. “What about the… the virus?”
“I’ll wear a mask and all. Wash hands for twenty seconds, stay six feet away from people… am I missing anything?”
“Yeah, the quarantine bit.”
Ringo snorts and puts a hand on George’s arm. “Quit your worrying, Geo. I’ll be fine. Haven’t John and Paul been out all day?”
***
John and Paul want to go the fuck home. They’d walked all the way to a new art gallery opening only to find out it was cancelled (“Why didn’t you check Google?” “Why didn’t you?”). And now, both being tired as hell from their long trek, they couldn’t even flag down a single cab to take them home.
“This is the worst thing ever,” John cries, flopping his entire body down on a park bench. Paul rolls his eyes and lifts up John’s stupidly long legs so he can sit down as well.
“People are dying, John.”
“I feel like I’m dying.”
“John.”
“Okay, fine, maybe I’m being dramatic. But this stupid… thing… is fucking up all our plans!”
“It’s not fucking Voldemort, you can say the name.”
“Alright, fine. Coronavirus. CORONAVIRUS. You happy, Paul?”
A woman hurrying by shoots them a wide-eyed, nervous look and crosses the street, tugging a little boy by the hand.
“... bitch.”
“Jesus, John.” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d do that too if some rando was shouting in the streets.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t hafta shoot that nasty look at us… did you see that? Paul?”
“Hold on, hold on.” His phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fumbles to pull it out. “Your stupid legs are in the way.”
John huffs and makes a show of wiggling said legs, almost kicking Paul in the face. Still, he tucks them to his chest (flexible, Paul thinks and then instantly regrets) so that Paul can take out the buzzing rectangle.
--
bongo: do u or john want anything? 🤔🤔
bongo: like groceries
bongo: going to tescos
Shouldnt you be quarantining?
bongo: ur literally at an art museum 😂
It’s a gallery
And it got cancelled :/
bongo: oop sorry m8 thats tough
bongo: srsly tho whaddaya want
We need more vegetables. Carrots, etc
--
“Tell him to get cornflakes,” John says, peering over Paul’s shoulder. He’s sat up and practically draped over Paul’s lap. Paul sighs and shoves his legs off, ignoring the indignant squawk the other boy makes when he almost falls off the bench.
--
Also that cornflake cereal stuff
bongo: k
bongo: tell john i said hi
Heyyyyyy rich wots up
Paulie’s being a bitch he pushed me :((((
Why is his auto caps on lsdnfol
--
“Give it back!”
“Ow! Ow stop hitting me Jesus fuckin-”
--
Sorry that was john
bongo: yeah i could tell lmao
bongo: where are u guys??
Stuck at some park. Can’t get any cabs home
bongo: well duh coronavirus 😷😷😷
bongo: bad time to be a cabbie man 😔
Yeah yikes
Pick up some rice for george too
And hand sanitizer
bongo: ill try but twitter says handsan itizer is going fast
bongo: what the fuc why did it space like that
Lol
bongo: oh also
bongo: geos being a mother hen and making me wear a face mask
bongo: u know where they are?
Second drawer down in the bathroom, behind the rubber gloves
bongo: … how did u reply SO fast
Uh i know where things are in our flat? Like a normal person?
bongo: thats sus but ok
bongo: wow theyre actually here
bongo: okay imma head out before it gets dark
What’s after dark? Zombies?
bongo: u never no
bongo: *no
bongo: FUCKING *KNOW
Nice
Okay stay safe ritch
bongo: 😘🙃👍🏼✌🏼✌🏼🌈🌟🥦🥦🥦☮️
***
Ringo has never seen this many people at Tesco in his entire life. Two grown men are having a full on argument in the pastries. A harried-looking dad almost knocks Ringo into a rack of Twinkies, pulling along two screaming kids with one slung on his hip. And… is that person actually wearing a Hazmat suit??
“This is insane,” Ringo mutters to himself, slightly muffled due to the face mask. He just needs to find the loo roll and then he’s going to yeet outta here ASAP.
Okay, hygiene aisle… here we g—what the—
The entire aisle is empty.
It’s like a goddamn Old Western. Just add a cow skull… cue the tumbleweed… and it would be perfect.
Not for the first time that day, Ringo sends a prayer to whoever is listening above. There’s got to be something left. He walks down to the end of the aisle. Walks back. Jumps a couple times to check if there’s anything on the top shelf. Sincerely hopes no one just saw him do that. Finally, shoved at the very back behind a couple of Always boxes, Ringo digs out a dusty as shit six-pack of toilet paper.
Well. It’ll have to do.
As he’s walking to the check out lines, a woman drops her bottle of hand sanitizer. It rolls across the floor in a perfect arc and Ringo scoops it up before it can get too far.
“Oops, you dropped this!” He says cheerily, handing it to her. Well, trying to. The woman makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, physically flinches away from his outstretched hand, and almost drops the rest of her groceries. Before Ringo can react, she’s disappeared behind the produce aisle.
Ringo’s arm falls to his side. He stares at the space where she was just a second ago and holds in a scream.
“More for us, I guess.”
***
By the time Ringo reaches the flat, he’s ready to never see another person again. He trudges right past George in the kitchen, dropping the groceries on the table with a thwack. John hums a greeting to him in the living room and offers him a biscuit.
“No thanks,” Ringo says. He faceplants into the couch.
Something clinks onto the coffee table. Well, coffee table is one way to put it; it’s more of a hunk of stone from back when Paul thought he was going to be the next Michelangelo and get really into classical sculpture. It now sits in the living room and primarily holds George’s textbooks, plus takeout for whenever they don’t feel like cooking (which is all the time), so you can see how that panned out for Paul.
“Tea for you,” George says. He plops onto the floor between the couch and the table and runs a friendly, comforting hand through Ringo’s hair. Ringo practically purrs, leaning into the touch, and George feels his heart melt and trickle through his ribs. “You okay?”
“I’ve lost all faith in humanity,” Ringo mumbles into the cushion. John reaches over and pats him on the back.
“Don’t worry, Ringo. There won’t be any humans to have faith in soon.”
George throws a packet of sugar at John who dodges it, snickering. Ringo groans and tries to sink even deeper into the couch.
And that’s when they hear Paul scream.
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It looks like this:
The aquarium is cool and dark and, apart from the occasional screams of delighted children, it’s quiet. Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley’s arm, fingers pinching the folds of his worn leather jacket, beaming all around, and Crowley feels warm pride blooming in his stomach. He gave him this. He looks like he’s entered a whole new world, the childlike glee and fascination naked on his face; and even better, he looks at Crowley like he’s handed him all its wonders on a platter.
They don’t get to do things like this often; they make the rounds of the British Museum, the Tate, the parks and public gardens, they’ve probably been to every free museum in the city at least three times over, and they enjoy it; but they don’t often visit places like this, places that cost £40 for just one of them to get in. Christ, the last time was probably for their tenth anniversary, Les Mis on the West End, and they’d saved for a year for seats in the dress circle and a bottle of wine.
(It looks like this:
Crowley waits tables at a posh restaurant in Mayfair, Monday-Friday. It’s miserable, but the tips are better than he’s ever had anywhere else, and it’s there that he met the Dowlings. Their son is a menace; nothing calms him, nothing satisfies or entertains. He threw pasta at the German ambassador’s son and made him scream so loud every wine glass in the place vibrated, and Crowley had seen the helpless look on his mother’s face, the storm brewing in his father’s, and swooped in without another thought, putting on an exaggerated posh accent like some butler from one of Aziraphale’s boring, oddly captivating shows and waited on him the rest of the night as if he were a little despot, pointing out that pelting ones subjects with bread was quite unbecoming of a little prince. He laughed and adopted a dignified air, delighting in ordering Crowley about and racking up his parent’s bill, but he didn’t throw a plate at anyone, so it was an improvement.
At the end of the evening, Mrs. Dowling hadn’t so much asked as told him she’d be hiring him; their nanny had demanded Saturdays off as a break from the little beast, and they needed someone to babysit, because Mrs. Dowling couldn’t possibly be expected to watch him herself. The pay was good, and with living expenses in London what they were and Aziraphale getting his hours cut, he wouldn’t dream of saying no.
There were other perks, too, like Mrs. Dowling throwing him tickets to the London Aquarium some MP had sent them for Warlock’s birthday; she’d taken him once, and he’d tried to steal a little shark from the touch tank. Never again, she said, take your girlfriend. She glanced at his ring. Wife?)
“Oh, Crowley, dear, look,” Aziraphale cries, pulling him towards one of the tanks. He presses the hand that isn’t on Crowley’s arm against the glass, his eyes wide and bright as a full moon. “A jellyfish! Don’t they just look so marvelous? It’s like they’re dancing.” Crowley smiles and presses closer to his side. "They're my favorite fish, I think. They just look so ethereal."
"Jellyfish aren't fish, angel," Crowley says, bemused. "They're...I dunno, jello."
"Don't be ridiculous, Crowley, it's in the name," he tells him, very patiently. "They wouldn't be in an aquarium if they weren't fish."
"Dolphins aren't fish and they're in the aquarium," Crowley points out, quite sensibly. Aziraphale still hasn't looked away from the jellyfish, and Crowley still hasn't looked away from Aziraphale. He likes the fish, he does, but there's something a thousand times more fascinating about watching Aziraphale watching them.
"Of course dolphins are fish," Aziraphale says. His brow furrows. "They live in the ocean, dear, I've seen Planet Earth."
(It looks like this:
Crowley practically runs home from the bus stop, barely getting his wild grin under control before he barges into their flat. Aziraphale is cooking, doing whatever it is he does that makes store brand pasta and sauce from Tesco's taste less like chalk. He hides the tickets behind his back--he held them in his hands the whole way home, leg bouncing, feeling as giddy as he had on the way to their first date--adopting an innocent expression, but Aziraphale isn't fooled; he gives him a suspicious look the moment he sees him and says, "What are you up to, you old serpent?"
"Oh, nothing," he says, very convincingly--he did theater in college, he's an excellent actor, thanks--and strolls over to give him a kiss in greeting, slides up behind him and puts his chin on his shoulder to peer down into the sauce. "Smells good."
"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale says, preening.
"What are you doing tomorrow after church?" he asks, and Aziraphale cuts him a curious look out of the corner of his eye.
"Thought we'd feed the pigeons," he says. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Oh, thought I'd take this handsome man I picked up somewhere to the London Aquarium," he says, as casually as he can with the excitement buzzing in his veins. "Make a date of it."
Aziraphale laughs. "Is that so? If you're busy, I suppose I'll make a trip to Paris, pick up some crepes."
"That'd be for the best," Crowley agrees, and he puts his arms around him, casually fanning the tickets in front of him. "You wouldn't believe how hot this guy is, and I'm hoping I'll get lucky. I'll put a sock on the door in case you're back early."
Aziraphale gasps, putting the sauce spoon carefully on the trivet so he can grab the tickets, squinting at them as if he's afraid they're forged. "Crowley! Oh, my dear, you didn't!"
"He's a classy one," Crowley says, grinning. "Takes something special to impress."
"But how can we afford these? We're behind on the electric bill, dear, and my hours--"
"Relax, angel, Mrs. Dowling gave them to me," Crowley says, running a reassuring hand down his arm. "Totally free. Well, at the cost of my sanity, maybe, but that's not a bad deal in this economy."
"Crowley," Aziraphale breathes, and he turns in Crowley's arms to face him. He's looking at Crowley like he's hung the moon, and he leans in to kiss him like he could live off the taste of his lips alone.)
They enter a room that's mostly empty; watch a mother play peekaboo with her daughter, the father holding the girl on one side of a tank, the mother ducking behind fish and corral on the other, making the girl squeal with delight.
Crowley has glitter in his hair--from the night before, but he also just likes the way it looks, so he put more in this morning, gold bright in his red hair--and some of it has stuck to Aziraphale's cheek, and the otherworldly light of the water catches it just right, makes it shine like stars. It is not uncommon for Crowley to cover Aziraphale in glitter; so much is ingrained in the fibers of the tweed jacket he wears it looks gilded in the right light.
"He doth teach the torches to burn bright," Crowley says softly, touching the glitter on his cheek, and Aziraphale smiles at him, cheeks coloring. He gets an idea, and waits until the family has moved on to take Aziraphale's hand in his. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand / This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: / My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand / To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
Aziraphale beams at him. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much," he says. "Which mannerly devotion shows in this, / For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, / And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." He presses their hands flat together, and leans in to kiss him, but Crowley steps back. Aziraphale's brow furrows, his lips pulling into a pout, and he clasps their hands together again to keep him from moving away. Crowley goes anyway, darting to the other side of the tank to peer at him through the impossible water, and God, he looks so good in blue. Aziraphale's breath hitches, his lips parting.
(It looks like this:
They met in an Intro to Philosophy class in 1996, nearly coming to blows even on the first day, the simple question of 'What is Philosophy?' Crowley couldn't help but antagonize him, loved how he looked when he was frustrated and indignant, how he thumbed the cross around his neck when Crowley had gotten into his head. He threw an argument about Kant, who he frankly considered to be full of shit, so Aziraphale would be in a good mood after class.
He wasn't, though, he was just suspicious, demanding to know why he'd conceded when he'd spent all semester insisting there is no Categorical Imperative, no supreme moral code, that the only consideration that should be taken in a course of action is the consequences it will have, and he was as frustrated as he'd ever been in the heat of an argument, and he looked beautiful.
"I was distracted," Crowley said. "Thinking about this poster I saw, for that new Romeo and Juliet movie. You like Shakespeare, don't you?" He did. He knew he did. He'd noticed him, furiously annotating in the margins of an old copy of Hamlet that was more notes than text; he had this wretchedly charming little Stratford-upon-Avon tourist pin he wore all the time.
"I...am?" Aziraphale said, blinking at him. He had the most wonderful eyes. Crowley had noticed the very first day, when they'd gone wide at some horribly blasphemous comment Crowley threw out to shock and impress.
"Do you have plans tonight?" Crowley couldn't help bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement; he'd seen Aziraphale in the audience of their production of Twelfth Night, alone but looking like he was in Heaven, hanging on every word, and then he'd seen that poster, and he'd known, that was the ticket. Well, the tickets would be the ticket. Anyway.
"Not...really?" Aziraphale said, brow furrowing.
"Great, so you wanna go with me?"
"Go where?"
"To see the new Romeo and Juliet," Crowley said, and he felt he'd been quite smooth about it all, even if his palms were sweating.
"With you?" Aziraphale looked completely baffled.
"Yes, with me," he said. Please, please, please, Crowley didn't pray, because he hadn't prayed since he was thirteen and realized that if they expected young men to be straight, it was kind of ridiculous of the church to make Jacob Wrestling the Angel look like that, and the whole foundation of the church in his mind just kind of tumbled from there; but he did put it out into the universe, just in case someone was listening. Please, please, please, I never ask for anything. Not of the universe, anyway.
"I...you want me to go with you?" Aziraphale looked like he was doing a particularly difficult math problem and none of the numbers were adding up right. It would be charming, and might make his chest feel a little tighter, that he was this unused to being asked out on dates, but it was more just frustrating. He was losing his nerve.
"Just meet me at the theater with the discount tickets for students at seven, alright?" Crowley said impatiently, and Aziraphale, still confused but looking relieved at having specific instructions, nodded. The moment he'd left the building, he'd pumped his fist, grinning like a madman, unaware that Aziraphale could still see him through a window in the corridor.)
"Have not saints lips?" Crowley asks from the other side of the tank, giving him a coy look. "And holy palmers too?"
"Ay, pilgrim, lips they must use in prayer," Aziraphale says, with a delighted smile.
"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do," Crowley says, and darts around the tank. Aziraphale dodges him, going to the other side to throw him a mischievous look. "They pray," Crowley whines, "grant thou, lest faith turn to despair!"
"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake," Aziraphale says; and the breathless joy as he'd watched the jellyfish was nothing compared to what's on his face now, and Crowley is dizzy with it.
"Then move not," Crowley begs, crossing to the other side of the tank slowly, "while my prayer's affect I take." Aziraphale stands still, watching him, and tilts his chin just a little, lips parting.
(It looks like this:
Leonardo Dicaprio sees Claire Danes through the aquarium for the first time, and Crowley leans in, his breath ghosting against the shell of Aziraphale's ear. "That's how I felt when I first saw you," he says.
"You do know how the play ends, don't you?" Aziraphale says, voice shaking just a little. He's trying to tease, but there's a note of sincerity too.
"They were kids," Crowley says. "I know better than to trust a friar. Besides, it was beautiful, wasn't it? How they loved each other despite everything."
Aziraphale looks at him; he really looks, his eyes bright in the dark theater, and then he turns away. Crowley's heart sinks, but before he can start kicking himself, Aziraphale takes his hand, his cheeks pink, and Crowley glows.)
Crowley kisses him as tenderly as he has for twenty years. Their first wasn't after their first date, or their second, or their third; but it had been worth the wait, their shaking breath and trembling hands, the certainty of their lips, and Crowley knew then, the moment their lips met, with the same conviction he felt now after two decades, that he would spend the rest of a long and glorious life with Aziraphale.
"Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged," he whispers, and Aziraphale's hands grip the lapels of his leather jacket.
"Then have my lips the sin that they have took?" Aziraphale says, and Crowley grins wolfishly.
"Sin from thy lips? O, trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again," he demands, and Aziraphale pulls him into another kiss, smiling against his lips, letting Crowley press him back against the cool glass of the tank until they hear footsteps echoing and the chatter of voices. Crowley breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against Aziraphale's, catching his breath, though the waver of light across his face isn't helping, nor is the way the light from behind makes his curls look like a halo. His angel, indeed.
"You kiss by th' book," Aziraphale whispers.
"Teenagers," grumbles the voice of a man, when he sees the outline of two figures embraced on the other side of a tank, and Crowley barks out a laugh, taking a step back. He takes Aziraphale's hand, and leads him blushing into the next room, feeling smug when he hears the same voice exclaim that they're older than he is, they ought to know better.
"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon," Crowley says, pulling him closer to link their arms again. "Who is already sick and pale with grief, / that thou art far more fair than he."
"Don't be rude, darling," Aziraphale laughs, but he's beaming, gentle as the soft lightening of the horizon, bright and radiant as the sun beneath it, and Crowley--oh, Crowley loves him.
(inspired by 1996 romeo and juliet; conversation with @saaliyah and @genderqueercrowley about r+j and Them; conversation with @transsouthernpansy about Aquariums; when john mulaney said That about his wife annamarie tendler; please read @genderqueercrowley‘s fic i keep a window for you (it’s always open) that makes much better use of shakespeare; part of human au)
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The Night Before VI
Chapter: 6/15
Rating: T
Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.
Tags: Smut, Slow Burn
Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)
AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here
Saturday couldn't come quick enough. Ringo found himself going to bed early and waking up later just to make the time pass faster, he knew it was a little pathetic but he just couldn't wait to see George again. At first he planned to keep it on the downlow with John and Paul, but it was almost impossible with how inquisitive they both were, and deep down he really did want to get them involved. His only worry was that this would be yet another instance of him falling head over heels for a guy only for it to end in disaster, followed by weeks of the sympathy treatment from the seemingly perfect couple.
Ringo spent far longer than he'd admit trying to find the perfect thing to wear. He was making an assumption, but judging by the way George dressed he really cared about his image, and Ringo wasn't about to look like a fool either by trying too hard or not trying hard enough. He had a few statement pieces in his wardrobe, usually ones that John had left behind and never wanted back, but he didn't feel confident enough to wear them. In the end he decided on a black turtleneck and some corduroy trousers, he felt it struck the perfect balance.
Rooting around in his kitchen cabinets he found an assortment of half-full bottles of alcohol, exactly how much they'd be able to get through Ringo wasn't sure but he figured he should offer them all up all the same. He'd just finished putting the final touches on the place before his phone buzzed; it was George letting him know he was outside the building. It wouldn't be exaggerating to say Ringo practically sprinted down the stairs to let him in.
George gave him a wide smile, he looked far more presentable than the last time he'd seen him and it was a definite improvement. His shoulder-length hair had been brushed out, it looked smooth to the touch, and he was dressed just as expressively as before.
"Hey." Ringo smiled back, letting George into the stairwell and heading straight to his door.
"I brought some mixers." George held up his Tesco bag evidently "I hope you weren't joking about the alcohol."
"Far from it." Ringo chuckled, determined to not let his nerves get the best of him tonight "We've got a little bit of everything."
"Perfect." George replied.
Ringo headed directly into his kitchen to get two glasses, the bottles of alcohol were already strewn across the coffee table. George made himself comfortable, though not as comfortable as he had done previously, stripping off his jacket and laying it across the back of the sofa.
"Jeez, you weren't joking." George noted, relaxing back into the sofa as he admired the array of alcohol before him.
"Well you know, you're near the end of a bottle so you buy another one and after a while this happens." Ringo returned with the glasses in hand, setting them down on the table gently.
Sitting down on the other end of the sofa, Ringo felt the panic beginning to set in, but that was nothing alcohol couldn't fix. George pulled out his knock-off mixers, a few lemonades and colas which would ultimately go with anything.
"So, where should we begin?" George asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly.
"I think we should work our way up." Ringo suggested "Leave the whiskey and rum for last, start with some gin?"
"Sounds good to me." George grabbed at the gin bottle immediately, pouring a liberal amount into both of their glasses and topping it off with lemonade.
"Cheers." Ringo offered, clinking their glasses together and drinking about a quarter before putting it back down.
It was strange to be drinking without John and Paul, Ringo had to admit, but it was nice to keep some new company for once. The only problem was he had no idea what to talk about, he didn't even know George's last name, where could he even begin?
"Now I was thinking about this on the way over." George started, Ringo fought the knot forming in his stomach "I think we should play a game, just to get to know each other a little better. Skip all the small talk and that bullshit."
Ringo relaxed instantly "What kind of game?"
"Might I suggest truth or dare with a twist? Forget the dare, replace it with drink; if you don't want to answer, you drink. Simple." George explained, taking another sip.
"Sounds easy enough." Ringo replied, his mind already racing with potential questions "Why don't you go first?"
George chuckled "Alright, I'll start us off strong." He shifted in his seat a little so he could face Ringo better "How many people have you slept with?"
Ringo was thankful he wasn't drinking, because he might have spluttered "Oh I see, going straight in there are we?"
"I said I'd start us off strong, not easy." George raised his eyebrow "Now, tell me the truth or take a generous sip of that drink."
Ringo paused for a moment, he seriously debated lying to seem cooler but he figured that defeated the whole purpose of the game "I don't really know for certain, but around thirty. Give or take."
George made an affirming noise "Your turn."
"Hmm..." Ringo pondered "Alright, what's the most amount of people you've slept with at once?"
A grin grew across George's face, he opened his mouth to speak but the grin took over once more. He said nothing, taking a long sip of his drink and letting out an exaggerated noise of satisfaction afterwards. Ringo couldn't help laughing.
"Wow, that many?" Ringo joked "I'm really not gonna judge you or anything."
"I didn't think you would, but if we don't drink it kinda defeats the purpose." George said matter-of-factly "My go. Let's see... You ever fucked Paul or John?"
Ringo hadn't been so lucky this time, he choked on his drink in surprise then burst into laughter "Jesus, no!"
George squinted his eyes "You ever wanted to?"
Ringo matched his gaze and took a sip, making George laugh. Whatever tension Ringo had been worried about was nowhere to be seen, he felt like he'd known George for years. At least, he'd have years of dirt on him after they'd finished playing.
"Okay... What's something that turns you on that you're kinda ashamed of?" Ringo asked, he spoke like he'd only just thought of it.
George leant back on the sofa, knitting his eyebrows together in thought "I dunno, I'm not really ashamed of anything like that."
"Really? There's gotta be something." Ringo pressed eagerly.
"Alright, alright... I was with a guy a while back who was into some freaky shit. Once he got me to piss on him, it was a little gross but at the time I got a kick out of it." George spoke with confidence, as though he was saying the most mundane thing.
Ringo couldn't help laughing like a child "Piss, seriously? That's taking it a bit far for me."
"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it." George winked, taking another sip "What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done then?"
"I don't think I can top that." Ringo thought back as best he could "I had a girlfriend who used to get me to pour hot wax on her. It was pretty sexy, I can't lie, but the mess afterwards was a ball-ache and a half."
George seemed pleased with his answer but when he spoke he sounded surprised "You fuck women?"
Ringo chuckled "I guess... At least I used to, I haven't been with a girl for a while now."
"Why's that you reckon?" George asked, his interest piqued.
Ringo let out a huff of air "I'm not sure. If I'm being honest it probably cause with guys you just go straight to anal, and I just think it feels so much better. With girls a lot of the time you've gotta work up to it, and I just don't have the patience." He felt a little sleazy saying this, but he didn't think George would judge him.
"Fair enough." George sat up straight "Time for a refill. Down yours, I don't wanna be ahead."
Just as before, Ringo did as he was told and finished off his drink. George poured another gin and lemonade, being far more generous with the alcohol this time.
"Is it my go?" George asked, but didn't wait for answer "Favourite porn category, quick!"
Ringo panicked and failed to get anything coherent out quickly "Threesome." He surprised himself.
"Good choice." George grinned "Now you go, I want a really tough one."
It took Ringo a while to decide on the right thing to say, this could be his chance to get a truth out of George that he'd been longing to know, but he didn't want to risk making it awkward. If truth was the only option, that would be a different story entirely.
"Were you lying when you said I'm the biggest you've ever had?" Ringo spoke slowly, as though it made the question less intense.
George debated his next move, Ringo watched him in anticipation. He made a show of moving his drink to his lips then moving it away as though he were about to speak, repeating it a few times before he committed to downing the drink entirely.
"You bastard." Ringo scoffed jokingly, taking a similarly large gulp of his own drink.
"Sorry, Ringo." George began "You know in the heat of the moment you say all kinds of things, it made you feel good and that's all that matters."
"Don't worry, I forgive you." Ringo smiled innocently "I was lying when I said you were the tightest, so..."
George's face lit up, he shoved Ringo playfully "Sack of shit! You didn't even have to tell me that."
Ringo finished his drink off, allowing George to pour them a rum and coke. They still had a while before they had to be at the party, but Ringo wasn't nervous about being able to hold his drink. Even if he did end up getting too wasted, he could just crawl into bed happy with the knowledge that he and George had a good time.
"Alright, my turn." George looked Ringo dead in the eye "How many times have you wanked over me?"
It was blunt, Ringo wasn't entirely sure why he was surprised since it was coming from George. Yet again he debated lying, but it didn't feel right. It hadn't been that much, really, when you considered the short time frame that they'd known one another. Meeting George's fixed gaze, Ringo finished his drink with ease. The taste wasn't the most pleasant, but it got him well on his way. George's eyes seemed to grow darker as he watched Ringo, clearly satisfied with whatever answer he was giving himself.
"Can I repeat your question?" Ringo asked with a grin, pouring himself another liberal drink.
George ran his tongue over his sharp tooth "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Following Ringo's suit, he finished his drink off.
Neither of them said anything for a while, but they kept their eyes on one another. Ringo felt he was breathing too loud, but it was just the silence of the room that was warping his perception. Nobody seemed to want to speak first, either that or George enjoyed the tension. Eventually it was too much for Ringo and he reached for his phone.
"Music?" He asked simply, George nodded in response "Anything in particular?"
"Put on whatever." George waved his hand dismissively "If I don't like it I'll tell you and judge you immensely for it."
"No pressure." Ringo chuckled, picking one of his favourite playlists and putting it on shuffle "Figured we could get some good music in before we head out, some of the shit people play these days I can't stand it."
"In all honesty Ringo, I don't think we're gonna be spending much time downstairs." George smirked "Not if things go my way, that is."
Ringo sipped his drink, his mouth was suddenly dry. Exactly how this night was gonna turn out, Ringo saw no point in trying to guess, but the look in George's eyes told him everything he needed to know.
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We Are The Champions
Hello my Tumblr Lovelys,
Happy Wednesday!
It is new story add day but also it was my getting my hair done day too! And oh my goodness! It has been nearly a year and I am blonde again and proper blonde, so much so my own mother didn’t recognise me outside Tesco this afternoon. Brilliant! Not too mention the three inches that were taken off it too. So that was a good morning for me.
And it is a good evening for you all, as there is more Robyn and Taron on the way.
Thanks so much for all the love and reads and comments. All are very much appreciated.
Suze xx
P.s As always, here is the disclaimer. I don’t know Taron or his family and this is all fiction and a story and please bear that in mind with Robyn’s treat for Mari and also that Robyn comes from a musical theatre and performing background, so it’s not too strange for her to do this. :)
6
“I feel like I’ve been split open and stuffed with sunshine.”
Taron left the kitchen with a red face and racing heart, picking up the discarded Olaf costume on his way to his car. With the body and head of the snowman in his car, he went back to get the two feet and threw them in the back seat. He started the car, did a quick U-turn and was back home in minutes and leaving the Olaf costume in the car, ran inside, stripping himself of the disgustingly wet brown top on the way, dropping it on the floor beside the couch. The white bottoms were soon to follow once he kicked his runners off and he didn’t even bother to put them in the laundry hamper.
The coldest setting of his shower wasn’t cold enough for him and he soaped his body up three times before he was satisfied all the heat had been washed away. Sitting on his bed in a towel, the window pushed wide open to try and let some air in, he held the jar of after sun in his hands. He knew he could do it himself and could definitely reach but dropped the jar onto his duvet and headed for his wardrobe. He searched through his drawers for a pair of shorts, pulling out a dark navy pair and at his shirts, found a white one with some green and blue tropical flowers. It was light and perfect for the weather. He also took a white tank top out. He wasn’t going to put it on but rather have it to use if the shirt was too much. Taking a quick visit to the kitchen he routed out some paracetamol and swallowed them down with a glass of water, drinking another two, filling a forth before his thirst was properly quenched.
Twenty minutes after he arrived home, he was back in the car, the Olaf costume left in his living room, the jar of after sun and tube of cooling gel on the passenger seat. He had also did a little route through Robyn’s belongings and took out a pair of blue shorts and a black tank top for her. Once Mari’s party was over, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as leaving his mams to spend some time alone with her and figured she wouldn’t want to stay in the Elsa costume for the whole day. He knew she had brought a handbag with her but didn’t see any clothes in it and wanted her to be comfortable for the remainder of the evening with his family.
Parking outside his mam’s outside, he grabbed the stuff from the seat and as he closed the car door, smiled at how once again himself and Robyn had switched places, this weekend seemingly her turn to take care of him and she had done it so lovingly, helping him to make up with his sister. Entering the house, he could hear the music playing from the garden and was definitely relieved at the lack of Disney songs coming to his ears. Strolling through the house, he left the after sun and clothes on the table, going straight outside.
When Taron left, Tina helped Robyn to set up the table under the gazebo with all the face painting items, Robyn bringing out her phone to help with pictures for the girls of what they would like.
“Here Robyn use this instead. It has a bigger screen.” Tina handed over an iPad to her.
“Thank you Tina.”
“Need any help?”
“Nah I am good thanks. Why don’t you and Guy sit for a while. You both have been rushed off your feet.”
“Robyn you really don’t have to do this. The party is my responsibly and I know this is your day-to-day job and it is quite clear you are so very good at it, but still.”
“Thank you Tina but I still want to do this.” Robyn looked to her, Tina’s face in a half frown, half grin. “Ok well why don’t you sit with us then. You can help me.”
As Taron strolled back into the garden, Robyn was drawing flowers on one of the party guests. His mother was beside her washing the face paint brushes and chatting to Robyn. He pulled up a chair beside him mam, placing a kiss on her cheek.
“Seems you have everything under control.” He joked.
“Well, when I don’t have a mad snowman running around it is easy to keep things calm.” Tina chuckled. “You feel better?”
“Much.” He looked past his mother to Robyn who was concentrating very hard on making sure the flower she was painting was perfect, shading the sides of the petals in light purple. “That is quite a flower.”
Robyn smiled as she took a clean brush and dabbed it in some white face paint, adding some white strokes to the flower, giving it some more depth. “Thank you. All done.” Robyn held up the mirror Tina had got her to show the last of Mari’s party guests her face paint.
“It’s perfect. Thank you Robyn.”
“You are more than welcome.”
Taron was too busy looking through the pictures Robyn had up on the iPad to notice Mari walk over to him but he definitely felt the two arms slip around him, and he smiled at his sister.
“You’re back.” She said to him, grinning as he pulled her up onto his lap. “And you smell much better.”
Laughing Taron kissed her cheek. “Thank you Mari. How was your dancing?”
“It was good. I was waiting for you to come back before we played your song.” She moved a little closer to her brother. “Do you think Robyn would do one Elsa song for me?”
Taron gave her sister a hug. “No promises, but I will ask her for you. Let’s give it a couple of minutes though ok. She has only finished the face paint.”
“Sure. Thanks Taron.”
Hopping from his lap, Mari ran back into the garden and Taron moved to take the seat his mam had vacated as she went back into the house to help Guy set some more drinks for the party guests.
“How you feeling?” Robyn asked, turning to him, smiling at his clothes. He looked so much happier and fresher in his shirt and shorts and his face carried much less stress.
“Much better and cooler.”
“I am glad.”
“How are you still in that costume”? He asked her.
She smiled at him. “It’s getting a bit warm.”
“I brought you some clothes.”
“You what?”
“I wasn’t too sure if you brought any and we are probably going to be here for some time after the party and didn’t think you would want to be Elsa all day, so I grabbed you some shorts and a top.” He laughed as Robyn hugged him sideways. “I take that as a thank you.”
“A definite thank you. The dress is getting itchy.”
“And I brought the after sun with me too.”
Robyn had been closing the face paint pots and stopped, turning her whole body to look at him. “You couldn’t do it yourself?” She asked raising an eyebrow.
Shrugging Taron sat back in the wooden chair. “I like it when you do it.”
“Of course you do.” Robyn went back to tiding away the face paint when his hand took hers.
“Can I have some?”
“After sun? Sure. Let me clean this up first.”
“Oh no. Not that after sun. I know you are going to do that for me.” He ignored her look and kept speaking. “I mean face paint. Can I have some?”
“Face paint?”
“Sure. Everybody has some except me and you have some make up on.”
“I can’t wear face paint and if you want something sure. I can paint your face. Wanna be an avenger? Or spider man?”
“You can’t wear face paint?” Taron asked. “And no thanks I don’t want to be an avenger.”
“Well here, have a look at what you would like.” Robyn handed him the iPad. “I am allergic to some types. My skin just reacts so I don’t really use it.”
Taron nodded and handed the iPad back to her. “This.”
One the photo was a small bunch of decorative blue flowers.
“Really?”
“Sure. Matches my shirt.”
“You sure?” Taron gave her a firm nod. “Ok, well come and sit here then.” She patted the chair and Taron took a seat and pulled his chair closer to her so her knees were in-between his legs. “Ok so just sit still.”
With a nod Taron watched as she opened the blue and green face paint again and picked up one of the small brushes turning back to him and placed her left hand on his right cheek.
“What is what smile for?” He asked seeing Robyn’s lips twitch.
“It just reminds me of the 7/11.” She lightly stroked his cheek and then lifted the brush to start the outline of the blue flower for him.
“And it makes you smile?”
“Sure.” Robyn dripped the brush into the pot for some more paint. “Positive thoughts, right?”
“Right.” He agreed.
It took her less than five minutes to draw and fill in with some detail, three small petal flowers on his cheek, adding some decorative vines and leaves and even a dash of glitter. “And done.” She picked up the mirror to show him and he grinned.
“Thanks. You are good at this.”
“I have a lot of practice.”
“Taron really?” Guy came out carrying two jugs of juice in his hands, laying them on the table.
“What?” He watched as his step father motioned to his own cheek.
“And? It was face painting time.”
“Don’t you look cute.” Tina came out with two more jugs. “Suits you.”
Taron grinned a little. “Just taking part in the birthday activities. You need help with anything mam?”
“Could you get the girls for me please? I want to keep them hydrated.”
“Of course.”
He got up from his seat and Robyn watched him walk into the sun, seeing a much lighter skip to his step. She quickly cleaned up the face paint and had it all back in the box Tina gave her as Taron came back with the girls on his heels. She stood up, moving back to let the girls in, Guy quickly getting everyone a cold drink. He filled one for Robyn and she took it, taking a long drink from it.
“So, when you are finished that, would you mind helping me out with the after sun?” Taron stood beside her, whispering.
Robyn finished her drink and placed the empty glass back on the table. “Let’s go now when your family is distracted.”
Back in the kitchen, Robyn dropped the face paint on the kitchen counter, smiling at her clothes which Taron had brought for her and she was excited to have some spare clothes to change into once the party was done. The dress was getting uncomfortable and although she loved the warm weather, she was more than ready to change once the party was finished. She picked up the after-sun jar and tube of gel and came to stand beside him as he leaned by the sink.
“Thanks for bringing my clothes. I will definitely use them when the party is done.”
“No worries. You sure you don’t mind doing this for me?” He tapped the lid of the jar in her hands.
“Not at all. Step forward for me.” Doing as she asked, Taron took three steps forward and Robyn hopped up onto the counter so she was sitting with her legs dangling. “Ok and come back to me.” She smiled as he walked backwards, bumping into her knees before she set him straight and between her legs. “Wanna open the buttons of your shirt? We just need to pull it down a little bit to get to your shoulders.”
Doing as Robyn asked, Taron quickly opened the buttons of his shirt and slipped it down over his shoulders, leaving his hang at his elbows.
“Still so sore.” Robyn said to him, no difference in the sun burn since she last saw it, his shoulders still bright red.
“It’s so uncomfortable.” He answered her. “I think the problems with the costume made me forget about the sun burn but it definitely stings. A lot.”
“Least you don’t have to wear a bra.” Robyn said opening the lid of the green jar. Hearing silence from Taron, Robyn continued to speak. “Imagine how sore your skin is now when your shirt tightens over your shoulders when you move. Now imagine that with a tight bra strap constantly sitting on your shoulders. Just horrible.”
Taron chuckled. “I can’t say I have ever experienced that but I am glad I never have too. Just so sore.” He rolled his arms a little. “I don’t know if I can wait another two days for this to ease off.”
“I will make sure to add an extra layer or two of cream and gel, just to give you some extra relief.”
“Thanks Robyn.”
Mixing the cream and gel together, Robyn placed her hands on the outside of his shoulders and very slowly worked her way in, moving her thumbs in little circles, rubbing the cream in carefully, finishing at his neck with another large scoop of cream and gel.
“You ok Taron?” She asked. She felt him flinch when she touched a particularly sensitive spot.
“Yeah, even though I know you told me it would take a few days, inside there was a little bit of hope where my skin still wouldn’t still hurt a day later.”
Robyn eased the light pressure with which she was already using. “It will take three or four days before this will stop aching. We will keep the cream rubbed in. We can do it when we get back to yours later and before you lay down to sleep, we can do it again.”
“Yeah, I think that will help.”
“It will.” Robyn agreed, going over his shoulders once more. “And maybe some more paracetamol too.” She saw him nod his head.
“I did take some before I came back here.”
“That will help a lot.” With another nod Taron let his head dip to his chest. Even though it was hurting him a little, he was more than enjoying the feel of Robyn’s hands on his heated skin and the cooling relief as she so very carefully rubbed in the after sun. “What are you going to say if your mam walks in?”
“God made it so we can’t reach our backs.” He chuckled.
“Sure Taron.”
Robyn had finished delicately massaging the after sun in to his skin before anybody walked into the kitchen and she was washing her hands at the sink when Tina strolled in with two of the empty jugs, Guy behind her with the other two and some cups.
“Mari was looking for you Taron. Something about your song?” Tina was sure she saw Taron closing the buttons on his shirt but didn’t pry as to why.
“Ahh yes. She has a song request.” Taron looked to Robyn. “Wanna come out? It’s a favourite of yours.”
“Sure.”
The two left the kitchen together, Tina picking up the jar of after sun to show Guy with a wink once they were alone, her husband chuckling at her. “I knew I saw him buttoning his shirt.”
“Leave them be Tina.” Guy took the jar from her. “Maybe you could help me out.” He grinned opening the jar. “I got some sun burn yesterday too!”
Joining his sisters outside, while Robyn stood in a circle of little girls, Taron got Mari’s chosen song playing, dancing his way back to the group, Mari running to reach him. With his sister in his arms, Taron twirled her around the garden, Robyn dancing with all the other girls, Rosie right beside her. The specially written song for Taron by Elton was a firm favourite with his siblings and they sang loudly along with his verse and chorus, the group ending in a cheer. Taron hugged Mari close and grinned as she whispered in his ear.
“Let me ask her.” He whispered back, putting her down carefully. As he walked past Rosie, he stopped to place a kiss on her head too and moved into the circle of excited party guests, taking Robyn by her elbow and leading her away from the little crowd.
“Want to help me be the best brother in the world?”
Robyn turned to face him, a hand on her hip, smiling. “What do you need me to do?”
“One Elsa song.” He explained. “Mari’s birthday dreams will be complete.”
“I would love to.”
Taron smiled at her obvious enthusiasm. “It’s been your dream to be a Disney princess, isn’t it?” Even though her cheeks were red from the warmth outside, a little blush still flooded her face. “You sing them loudly in your sitting room, don’t you?”
“So, what song does she want?” Robyn asked him, taking his elbow and giving him a pull. “We should do it quickly. I am starting to melt in here.”
“Elsa doesn’t melt. She is an ice princess.” He giggled when she pinched him lightly. “Ohhh frosty!” Still laughing, he took to a light run, heading for the Alexa Guy had managed to get set up properly. He chuckled more as Robyn chased after him, trying to get her hands to him to tickle him but without the confines of his snowman costume he was light on his feet and dodged around her as she ran after him, both laughing loudly as they circled the garden twice.
Robyn loved it when Taron was giddy and playful and after his morning, it was so wonderful to hear his laughter and see that beautiful smile on his face and she was enjoying their sudden dash around the grass garden until she stood on her dress, tripped and fell over, rolling twice before she lay on her back.
“Shit Robyn!”
“Taron language!”
Tina and Guy had heard the sudden laughter and went to the kitchen window to see what Mari, Rosie and her friends were up to only to see it was Robyn and Taron who were the ones up to no good, chasing each other around the garden, dirty giggles coming from both of them but they took to a run when Robyn fell over, straight out to the garden, Tina chastising her son for cursing.
“Robyn?”
“Robyn!”
The grass was hot under her and she knew she hadn’t hurt anything except maybe her pride but still took to laughing as she lay on her back. She felt someone on either side of her and knew immediately it was Taron on her right as he took her hand.
“Every time.” She said opening her eyes, so glad Taron was leaning over her as his shadow shaded her from the bright sun. “Why do I fall over every time.” She was still laughing as Taron helped her to her feet and she appreciated how he made sure her snowflake cape was nowhere near her feet.
“You ok Robyn?” Tina asked concerned.
“More than fine. It’s my thing. I am clumsy. Slightly embarrassed though but I know Taron is used to it.”
“You hurt yourself?” Taron asked still holding her hand.
“Nah. I am fine.” She looked over her shoulder to the girls who were looking at her. “There goes my Disney princess rep.”
Taron shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Disney princess rep?” Guy asked.
“All shall be revealed now.” Taron gave her hand a tug. “Which song do you want?” He asked leading her back towards the Alexa.
“Which song does Mari want?” Robyn asked him back but as Taron got the chosen song going, she grinned. “Of course.” She took a look to the girls who immediately turned in her direction as they heard the music but she looked to Taron. “You got any crushed ice? Or if not, can you crush some really quickly for me? As much as you can manage.” She saw the confusion in his eyes. “I am doing this once and Elsa needs some snow.”
With a nod, Taron started the song again and ran towards the kitchen while Robyn turned towards the girls, singing along with the track, giving Guy and Tina a smile as she walked past them a little. Acting out the song, it was hard to keep a straight serious face as Mari was right at the front of the party girls, her face in the biggest grin. It was a song she had sung thousands of times before just as Taron had said, in her living room and it was easy to sing and float around the grass, swishing her cape behind her, the Elsa costume really helping with her characterisation. As it got closer to chorus, she prayed Taron had managed to get her some ice. She did a quick twirl catching his eye through the kitchen window and tried to hold her laugh in as he came bolting out to the grass to stand behind her just as the chorus came on, a bowl in each hand, holding them out either side of her and it was the most perfect timing as she placed a hand in each bowl and picked up a handful of wet and cold half crushed ice, her sudden props absolutely perfect for the song, and the gasps from the girls were brilliant as she threw the melting ice in the air, making elaborate hand movements just like Elsa pretending she was making snow. Taron followed her for the whole chorus so she could get some more melting ice, throwing it over her head, still singing along with the track in background and it was so clear his sisters were in complete awe as Robyn was the most perfect Disney princess.
Coming into the second verse, Taron legged it back to the kitchen, Robyn turning around to walk away from the girls, making a show of kicking her dress out and the snowflake cape too, facing the girls once more as she started to sing again, enjoying herself so much. She loved to sing and her Disney playlist on her Spotify was over used and she wasn’t embarrassed to admit that the Elsa songs were some of her favourites to act out when she was alone, even bringing cwtch into her performance.
Taron was watching from the kitchen window, crushing ice as quick as he could before Robyn got to the second chorus, thrilled with the reaction of his sisters, with how unbelievable Robyn was in character as Elsa and his heart was racing again as he watched her stroll towards the girls, walking slowly but effectively, hitting the last note of the second verse perfectly. Realising he was late with the snow effect, he grabbed four bowls and chucked the ice from the sink into them, picking them up and rushing out to the garden. He gave two to Guy to hold and jogged to stand behind Robyn, smiling at how in tune they were with each other, that she reached for the bowls as he came to stand behind her, grinning as the ice fell over him, knowing well she had thrown it up and behind her head on purpose.
On the bridge, Robyn used her hands to hold onto her cape, walking past Taron with a grin, noticing the melting ice on his hair and did one long walk around the garden, throwing her snowflake cape out once she was in front of the girls again just as the words came in, saw a new bowl of ice in Taron’s hands. She took out a handful and threw it over the girls, going for another to throw it the opposite side. With both hands in air at the end of bridge, she twirled and then stood still, her cape swirling perfectly as the last chorus came on.
Taron was prepared with last two bowls and once again stood behind her, knowing well he wasn’t hidden but with the glee on the party guest’s face, knew they didn’t even notice him, all too engrossed in Robyn’s impromptu performance and as much as the girls were taken aback, he was too. He had already seen Robyn on stage but it was amazing how easily she just became the character in an instant, how she sang with the song with such effortlessness and he could see she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
As the song ended Robyn took the two bowls of the watery ice from Taron and flung them high in the air while still holding onto the bowls, handing them back to Taron, the water coming down on everyone as she stood with her back to the girls, her head over her shoulder giving them wink. The song ended to a round of applause and squeals followed by a tackle of hugs, the next song in the frozen playlist starting as Robyn was caught up in the middle of a group of excited girls.
“Best birthday ever!” Mari was the one squeezing Robyn hard around her waist. “Thank you Robyn!”
“You are more than welcome!” Robyn chuckled as each girl chattered to her, all so excited by their live Disney princess.
Tina wandered over to the group. “Well Robyn, I think you might have set the bar for birthday parties extremely high. That was brilliant.”
“Almost like you had done it before.” Taron said with a wink.
“Says the man who happily sings George Michael without being asked twice.” Robyn joked back. “Thanks for the ice by the way.”
“You are welcome.”
“Mari is going to be talking about this for days.”
Robyn turned to Taron’s mam. “I hope I haven’t spoilt any plans you had Tina. It was something Mari has been asking Taron for since I walked in the door.”
“Absolutely not!” Tina insisted. “I just want Mari to have a nice birthday with her family and that is exactly what she has gotten and to be honest, without the face paint or Elsa impersonation, I was really at a loss of where to go next. You have been a wonderful help.”
Robyn smiled. “Thanks Tina.” Still caught in the group of girls, she chuckled as they were all singing along to ‘Into the Unknown’ which was currently playing in the background. “Come on girls!” She managed to grab Mari’s hand. “Your turn.”
Taron stood with his parents, laughing as Robyn skipped around the garden with the girls, all of them singing along, cringing a little as the girls did their very best to hit the terribly high notes of the chorus of the song but of course Robyn had no trouble with them, giving him a wink as she walked past him, acting out the second verse, the girls copying her movements. He wasn’t expecting to be dragged along with the group and found himself being pulled along by Rosie who was following along and joined in with the female company as they all spun in circles around the grass, all trying to sing Elsa as best they could, the younger girls falling onto the grass in exaggerated drama at the end of the song, Taron and Robyn following them, laying on the ground breathing hard beside each other.
“Need to get you a blonde wig.” Robyn joked as she got to her knees, Taron still on the ground laughing.
“Need to get you a job at Disneyland!” He said sitting up. “Perfect.”
“Maybe when we all go to Disneyland. I do believe your sisters are still owed a trip because your mam and I got to go to your premier and they didn’t.”
Taron smiled brightly. “Adults can’t dress up at Disneyland.”
“No but they can Disney bound.”
“What?”
“I will explain it to you when we go.”
“Robyn!” Mari came running over to her, giving her a hug, which nearly knocked her over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Robyn smiled at Taron who was making faces at her as she hugged Mari. “Jealous.” She mouthed to him at which he frowned.
“Robyn?”
“Yes Mari?”
“One more?” She asked as the music for ‘Show yourself’ came on. “Please?”
Mari moved and sat beside her. Robyn looked at her with a grin and started to sing along as the words came on, all of the girls coming to stand around her, Taron moving to sit with his legs crossed, Rosie on his lap. As the song moved to the second verse Robyn got to her feet knowing well, she couldn’t sing the song properly or do it justice by sitting down. She walked in a circle around the group, smiling at Tina and Guy who were still standing to the side watching, nearly sure Tina was videoing the whole sing-a-long as she held her phone in her hands. Robyn continued to sing with the music giving it all she had, suddenly feeling a strong connection to the song with some of the words to the second verse, placing a hand on gently on Mari, Rosie and Taron’s shoulder’s, moving away from the group to do a small run around the garden letting her cape fly behind her before coming back into the centre of the group, crouching down and gently placed her hand on Mari and Rosie’s cheeks. She then took their hands as the bridge of the song kicked in, getting them to their feet and walking with them to the bottom of the garden the others following behind her, Taron still sitting but turning around to watch as they all stood in a straight line, smiling as the girls sang a different line to Robyn, the Irish woman throwing in some harmony, the effect not perfect but perfect for the ten little girls who looked like all of their dreams had come true, not including Robyn’s. The song ended and all the girls had their hands in the air and once done, almost jumped on Robyn again with excitement.
Robyn was chuckling with the reaction from the girls and took a look to Taron who was still sitting, the smile she had been waiting to see all day on his face.
“BEST BIRTHDAY EVERY!” Mari shouted making everyone in the garden laugh.
“Ok ok let’s give Robyn some breathing space.” Tina came over and gently broke up the crowd around her but her youngest daughter was still hugging Robyn tight around her waist. “Mari, darling.”
“Mam can Robyn come to every birthday?”
Robyn laughed and crouched down to give Mari another hug. “Maybe not as Elsa next time.”
“Belle? Or Ariel?” The young girl asked. “Taron told me Ariel is your favourite princess.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Robyn asked looked over her head to Taron who was on his feet, his hands in his pockets as he strolled over.
“What else does Taron tell you?”
Mari zipped her lips. “Can’t say. Brother sister secrets.”
“Oh, I see.” Robyn chuckled. “Well, they are secret’s that can’t be broken.”
“Yep, although Rosie already broke one by telling you that Taron told her that he loved you.”
Robyn saw the little look of fear that crossed Taron’s beautiful face at Mari’s words and his hands dug deeper into his pockets if it was possible. “Well Taron knows I love him so I think that secret is ok to share.” She looked over Mari’s head to softly smile at Taron. “Now go and play with your friends.”
“You’re not going, are you?”
“Of course not darling.” Robyn kissed her forehead. “Elsa needs a bit of water break.”
“You will come and dance with us?”
“Of course. In a few.”
Robyn stayed crouched accepting Taron’s hand as he helped her up. “Remember I told you the first time you met my family that my sisters wanted a big sister instead of a big brother?” He saw her nod. “Well now they are officially adopting you as their big sister. Robyn that was amazing. Just wow. You were Elsa.”
“You know I have had the practice.” She said her cheeks tinting a little.
“But the singing was fantastic and then getting all the girls involved. I don’t think Mari will ever stop talking about this birthday. Never been one like it.”
“Definitely.” Tina agreed coming to stand with them.
“I mean Olaf melted and everything!” Guy chuckled, earning him an angry stare from Taron. “Thanks for doing that for her. You really didn’t have too.”
Robyn grinned. “Not going to lie. I think I might have enjoyed it more than Mari and Rosie did.”
Tina gave Robyn a hug, giving her a long squeeze. “I can’t even thank you anymore.” She whispered to her.
“There is no need for thanks. I have needed this weekend.” Robyn ended the hug and looked to Tina. “What do you need help with next?” She asked. “I am sure the girls could do with a drink?”
“Nothing. Robyn, you have done your part. More than your part. Why don’t you go and grab a drink. I am going to get the cake ready for Mari and then there is only about an hour left before they all go home.”
Robyn laughed at the relief she could already hear in Tina’s voice at the prospect of a child free house, except for her own.
“You know, I think I will do just that.” Robyn fluffed her costume out from her skin. “I might even change. No idea how those girls are still in their dress up.” She turned to Taron who was still beside her. “You think Mari will be disappointed if Elsa becomes Robyn?”
“Not at all. You go change. I will hold the fort with some dancing, while mam sorts the cake.”
“You cannot play George Michael.” She said pointing to him, smiling at his grin. “Stick to pop classics.”
“Let me go with you, show you where you can change.” Taron said to her.
“I think I can find the bathroom myself. I have been there before.”
“Just, come on.” He took her hand without questioning it and guided her back into the kitchen. He picked up her clothes and led her up the stairs and into a room she had never been in yet and taking a glance around at the blues and greys, figured it was Taron’s old room but had been re-decorated since he moved out. It was overly tidy and clearly just used as a spare room but he continued to walk past the double bed and in through another door, behind which was a small en-suite. “Use to be my old room.” He explained. “Now I know I was a horrible stuffy mess in my Olaf costume and Elsa is an ice princess but if you wanted to freshen up, you can use the shower here. There are clean towels here too.”
Robyn took two steps to him and hugged him. “Oh my God yes. I am roasting after all that singing and dancing!”
Taron laughed giving returning her hug with a kiss to her cheek. “Thought as much.”
“Thanks Taron.”
“I will leave you to it.” He walked out of the room but turned when he felt Robyn following him. “You ok?”
“Yeah. My handbag is in Mari’s room.”
“Oh yeah. From when you gave her lipstick.” He winked.
“Our adoptive sister secrets.” Robyn winked back to him.
“See you downstairs.”
“Thanks Taron.”
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The One Where Jackie Settles In
Summary: Chapter 3. Jackie gets used to life with Marvin.
Warnings: death mention, violence mention
@bupine @badlypostedeverything
In the minute it takes for Jackie's mind to wake up along with him, he becomes confused as to why his chest is in agony. More confusing than that, he appeared to be in the bedroom of someone's home. In a pile on a bean bag was a pre-arranged outfit for him to wear. Dressed, he ventures to the hallway. And things finally click. Right, he was living with Marvin now. Marvin, who happened to also be Cat. The past 24 hours had been quite eventful. He'd… rather forget it.
He requests anything Marvin had on hand. If he was a superhero, surely he was no stranger to injury. Therefore, there must be something lying around to assist with pain management. To his relief, Marvin can indeed help him. In fact, he goes further and offers him whatever is required for his recovery.
With the medical care over, Marvin invites his new roommate to help himself to mini Weetabix or bread. Jackie doesn't think he can manage more than a simple buttered slice of toast this morning. The Russian blue missing her front left leg observes them from her shelf. Marvin notices where Jackie's gaze is directed.
"Indie's watching us eat, isn't she?"
"Yep." Jackie chuckles.
"Come face us, you little spy." Marvin turns around in his seat, wearing a mock scowl.
"Caoimhe was like that. I couldn't eat anything at home without her staring at me until I gave her a bit of my dinner."
Marvin is facing the table again. "Caoimhe?"
"Oh um... she was my dog before- before all this."
"Is she with friends or something?"
"I guess. Them or my dad. It all happened so quickly."
Suddenly, stories relating to pets fill the space between toast and soggy cereal. Jackie learns of the time Indie somehow found herself stuck in the space between the television and the wall. Likewise, he tells his friend all about Caoimhe's misadventures as a puppy, including her habit of attempting to snack on his drumsticks. This in turn leads to Jackie confirming that yes, he was a drummer and guitar wasn't his preferred instrument. The two of them chat at the table until Marvin realises in a shock that it was already time for him to get ready for work. Running late slightly, he blurts out his apologises and suggests Jackie finds a DVD to watch while he's alone.
Despite how abruptly it had ended, the morning had been an enjoyable one.
Joel checks up on them a couple days after the incident with Anti. He raises the issue of Jackie not having any clothes of his own. The Canadian offers to accompany him around the shops, making the point it would be a proper chance to get to know each other. With the promise expenses shouldn't influence decisions, they leave.
They manage to collect a variety of tops and jeans. Apparently ripped jeans were fashionable now. Fashion had certainly changed in the past three decades. He and Joel are still able to find items that were close enough to what he used to know. The shops they visit are lacking in leather jackets but Joel is able to offer a black denim one as a compromise. With socks and underwear also in their possession, it was time to move on from clothes shopping. Almost.
Doing so as discreetly as he can, Joel mutters quietly to Jackie. "I can see you eyeing the women's section. Why don't you have a look?"
"No, it's weird. Trust me, men were not made to wear feminine clothing."
"Listen, I have two dads and a diminished sense of gendered clothing. I am the last person who will give a damn about a guy wearing a dress. You have a similar build to my dad so..."
Joel approaches the racks, flicking through them. Periodically, he scrutinises Jackie to likely determine if the dress was right for him. The most Jackie lets his new friend buy for him is a skirt that reached his knees. It seems to please him that Jackie allowed him to get even that. He supposes it was a nice garment. And a kind gesture too.
With the clothes stuffed into the back seat of Joel's car, the duo return to explore the Tesco Metro. The older of the two triggers a whole conversation about Easter celebrations. Joel talks about the Beaches Easter parade in Toronto while Jackie grumbles about Easter Sunday masses. They both agree there's no such thing as too many Easter eggs.
"Hey, you should get a notebook or something. It might help if you have somewhere to put your thoughts about the 21st century."
"What, you want me to write you an essay about modern life when I've known nothing else? I'm 20, I was born in... 1999."
"It's April so if you want to turn 21 this year, it's 1998."
"Wh- 'if I want to turn 21 this year'? Can I please get through the rest of this month without having my life being threatened?"
Joel groans. "No, dumbass, it was advice." He leans close to Jackie's ear. "I know about Village Square and how you were born in 1966. I'm sure you want to talk about this further but I don't have anywhere I can really take you to speak privately."
"You're psychic?"
"No." Joel places his bags down, resigning himself to tackle this subject while standing outside a WHSmiths. "Sure, I can create portals but I'm no mind reader."
"Then how-?"
"I already told you, this is not a conversation we should have in public."
"What about your apartment? You don't live with Marvin and you told me you weren't living on the streets anymore."
"In Canada. And I doubt it would be healthy to send you somewhere over 3500 miles away when you sustained a major injury a few days ago. Listen, how about you text- A phone, we need to get you a phone too."
"Right."
Mobile phones are unrecognisable. How the hell did technology advance to the point where this small slab of glass and alloy was capable of receiving calls? Not to mention the plethora of things it also offered. And controlled by your fingers on top of it all off. Joel reassures him he can take it slow with this technological leap. The main reason he bought it was for communication and it could remain so if he wanted. Jackie supposes the shiny blue back was pretty.
It wasn't hard, growing accustomed to life with Marvin. His roommate would sleep in after a long night of patrolling then spend most afternoons working a shift at the local garden centre. In addition to that, Marvin would also don his Magnificent Cat costume twice a week so he could help those still on the streets. Jackie usually sat those out, feeling awkward about his new situation.
Marvin was typically the one to cook. As such, Jackie felt it necessary the head of the kitchen should be aware he couldn't have mustard. If the hero could try getting into the habit of checking ingredients and being wary of anything labelled 'spices', he'd be much obliged. Marvin does his best to follow these instructions. It seemed to be working fine as there was yet to be any allergic reactions.
At some point during that second week, Marvin invited Jackie to the kitchen. His plan was to bake his favourite cake, one containing chocolate and strawberries. Their joint efforts go well for a short while. Then Jackie gave himself an edible moustache upon stealing the whipped cream from the fridge. Marvin confiscated the can, only to follow suite. By the time the cake was ready to exit the oven, the duo were laughing, in need of a whipped cream restock and a change of clothes.
It is after returning from a shift that Marvin introduces Jackie to an unusual pizza crust arrangement.
"Pizza Hut have the best stuffed crust though. This is only the best Morrisons has to offer, as far as I've tried it."
Marvin continues on, rambling about how, while studying at university, he made it his goal to find the best frozen pizza supermarkets within walking distance of his accommodation had to offer. As such, he had designated this specific pizza as his favourite. Something about the other varieties being too liquidy or whatever. He has no interest in this subject. Pizza was pizza. But... Marvin seemed very engrossed in imparting his findings to him and who was Jackie to stop him?
"Oh, tell you who would go with us to Pizza Hut, my friends Henrik and Jameson. Maybe Chase too but he tends to be a rather busy guy. You should meet them. I think you might get on with those guys."
Marvin makes a note as a reminder to invite his friends for a meal out. For the time being, that is the end of that.
Before long, the Easter weekend arrives and with it, a chance for Jackie to finally meet Sean. It was clear Marvin looked up to his big brother from the way he spoke about him. As far as Jackie was aware, Sean was 9 years older, a video game developer and a reluctant cook, hence why the two roommates were taking care of the big meal.
He can certainly see the resemblance between the brothers. Their features were very similar. The main difference between them was hair. While Marvin was clean shaven with waves descending to his shoulders, Sean had stubble and short straight hair. It was pleasant to see them have such a good relationship, complete with teasing and half-serious threats of burning the other if he kept pushing it.
Jackie found Sean likeable. The whole meal, they kept themselves occupied with chatter. He learns Sean enjoyed painting in his spare time. In fact, he was creating the backgrounds for his company's new game. It is at this point that Marvin lets him know there was still a blue smudge, albeit slightly faded, on the side of his left hand. The afternoon is a good one but like all things, it comes to an end. Before too long, they are bidding Sean farewell and exchanging comments about the day's success.
Night, the stranger found, was the best cover. Some dark clothes to reduce visibility and a hood to better conceal his identity from CCTV cameras. With some silent fiddling, the door grants him entry.
He knows precisely which room he has to visit first. His most recent escapee is completely oblivious to the intruder. He could ensure Jackie never woke up with a single touch. But Marvin would discover the truth were that to happen. That method was too obvious. Besides, this wasn't what he was here for. The envelope slips out of his bag. In the morning, Jackie will find the surprise on his bedside table.
That done, he moves on to the other bedroom. The hero is still awake, albeit engrossed by his phone's screen. Only now does Anti allow his presence to be sensed. Marvin reacts accordingly by throwing the covers to the side and defensively leaping to his feet. A palm is raised to prevent any provocative action before it could be carried out. The message is delivered.
"Back off, Marvin. You should know by now what I'm like when frustrated. Let the next one slide and you won't hear from me for a good while."
He looks like a three year old persevering with their poorly thought out argument. He's certainly a 24 year old man in his pyjamas rather than an on duty superhero fully in costume. "I... I can't."
"One life for several. Aren't you supposed to be on the better side of the morality spectrum? Surely this is a easy choice."
Anti doesn't wait for any potential response from Marvin. The serial killer leaves the way he came.
The sun rises and with it, Jackie. Marvin was already awake, cradling an abandoned coffee. He gives his friend little acknowledgement as he enters the kitchen. The piece of paper Jackie is holding, however, gains his attention. Especially when he asks the dreaded question.
"Uh, Marv? Do you know anything about this?"
It's only a portion of an A4 sheet. A pair of scissors has been used perhaps a third of the way down. The contents is limited to a single typed line which reads:
We both know he's no doctor. Maybe you should ask why he hasn't taken you to be treated by professionals.
Jackie starts talking as soon as he's sure Marvin has read the message. "I- Listen, I will admit I had wondered why you never sent me to a hospital. But I guess I brushed it off as a secret identity thing. So why didn't-?"
"You're new to this city, right?"
"Yes."
"So you don't know Anti like I do. He likes making a point of finishing what he started. I don't know how the hell he does it. But if he's the one who put you in hospital, the only place you're going after that is the morgue. So forgive me for wanting you still around. And yeah, it's true, I am not a doctor. However, books on human biology and the internet have served me fine. I've had way more injuries than Sean is aware of. Yet here I am, walking around despite the occupational hazards my hobby is littered with."
"Marvin-"
"If you want me to apologise for prioritising you staying alive, then I'm afraid you're out of luck." The aggression radiating from him remains for several seconds. It dissipates into something softer. "But I am sorry for putting the decision solely in my hands. If that means anything."
Jackie lets the air settle between them before answering. "Alright. Listen, I am still upset-"
"Fine, then I'll leave for a while." Marvin begins making his way to the shoe pile by the door.
"What I was going to say was I'm still upset but I'd rather move on and let bygones be bygones for now. Just promise you won't do something that risky again."
He stops completely to face Jackie. "Yes, of course. I promise."
"Thank you. And, as a sidenote, if you're going to run from disagreements, at least fix that mess you call your hair. It's horrendous."
The sleep deprived hero scoffs, a tiny smile creeping into existence. "Got it."
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The Last Day of Mediocrity
AKA, “Enter Marvin, Stage Left.”
Word count: 2382
Here’s a little ditty I like to call: Whoopsie, completely forgot to put these on Tumblr so now I’m posting three chapters in rapid succession. This is my take on Marvin’s creation, hope you enjoy!
AO3 Link Here
Marvin O’Sullivan paced around his apartment, talking animatedly on the phone. “It was great, you shoulda seen the kid’s face! I think Luke took a video of it. And we made so much cash, I’m gonna make my rent and then some this winter.”
“So what I’m hearing is ‘I had a great time, Emily, thank you for convincing me to go even though I was being a stubborn brat.” replied the phone.
Marvin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for being a dick about it. But c’mon, cut me some slack! This was my first time leaving the country.”
“Well, that’s the kind of shit that happens when you’re homeschooled.”
“I’m not disagreeing.” Marvin snorted. He sat down on his sofa and started flipping through a book. “Really, Em, thank you for letting me take your spot.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it.” she said. “Gotta keep the talent fresh, am I right? Seems like it did you some good.”
“Yeah, it did. I got so inspired by the other performers there, I gotta jot some of these ideas down. Talk to you soon?”
“Sure will. Bye Marv.”
“Bye Em.”
Marvin hung up the phone and slumped back into the couch. He summoned his notebook and started writing.
quick change?
Art on stage for ambience ambiance
More riffing w/ audience
kid orented set?
balancing shit
Amethyst out of juice
Need more rosemary
Flashier teleportation: saltpeter, indigo? got a theme
buy coffee
Small flames
↑LOTS OF PRACTICE↑
Aura residue on cards
After a few minutes of brainstorming, he put down the notepad. If he was going to get
anything done, he needed to do some shopping. Which then lead to the hardest decision of any day.
What to do about his face.
He fiddled with the crude mask in his hands. Deal with disgust, or deal with disapproval? There was, of course, no good option. Either way people were going to stare at him. And normally he loved the attention. Hell, it was why he chose a career as a busker. But then, it was okay to be wearing a marker-covered mask from Poundland. At Tesco, not so much.
His hands automatically went to his cheek. Even after five years, the skin was scarred and rough. He remembered the doctor saying it would be that way for the rest of his life, never fully healing.
The flames around him grew higher as he screamed, Ma, please, help me!
He stopped that train of thought right in its tracks. He was better off now. He was a fairly successful performer, he was providing for himself. He had coworkers who respected him, and people at the local coven who said he was the most talented wizard they’d seen in years. Hell, he even went to Pride in Dublin last month! Everything in his life was flying in the face of those assholes.
He was strong. He was accomplished. He was magnificent.
“Fuck it.”, he muttered, pulling the mask over his face.
Today, he was going to be who he wanted, general public be damned.
>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<
A few hours later, he returned to his flat, arms full of bags. He hung his mask up and shoved the door closed with his hip, making a beeline for his kitchen. The green light from the orb reflected off some of the cans and into his face, so he put those away first. Then he threw the beef in the fridge, restocked the butter, and shit, he was almost out of jam. Why didn’t he notice that this morning?
Finished with the groceries, he closed the pantry and grabbed the other bags. The more volatile plants would need to be stored carefully to prevent reactions, and he needed to grab some iron shavings for that new potion, and-
Wait.
Green glowing orb?
Marvin turned toward the TV, confused. Sure enough, there was a strange sphere floating above his sofa.
What the hell?!
He backed himself slowly into the wall. Thankfully, it didn’t react, but he still moved very carefully toward the hall. As soon as he figured he was out of its line of sight, he ran into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
“Okay, okay, calm down.” he whispered. He couldn’t think of any recent spells that could have caused...that.
Which meant this was something else. An intruder?
He ran for his bookshelf. Panicking, he pulled out the largest book he could find and started flipping through it. “No... no...no, come on!” He dropped that one and grabbed another. Halfway through it, he found the section on wards. “Okay, okay, weak, strong, proactive.. ...reactive!”. Silently cheering, he went over the spell in his head. Nothing too complex, just some clove and mugwort. He dogeared the page, grabbed those herbs, and left his room.
The orb was still there.
Marvin cursed and laid the supplies in front of him. He opened the book and started to cast the spell.
“Cruinne beannaithe, iarr mé do chumhacht. Moladh dom neart agus rath a thabhairt dom.”
Purple energy began to swirl around him. He relaxed, but then noticed the other light source was growing brighter.
“Bacainn a chur in aghaidh olc. Cosain an teach seo ó dhaoine ar mian leo dochar a dhéanamh orm!”
His voice grew louder with fear. The things should have been weakening by now! He squinted, the light making it harder to read.
“Iarr mé go héasca-”
Just as he reached the climax of the spell, the light became overpowering. He dropped the book to cover his face, and his magic vanished. He could feel power swirling around him, foreign and uncomfortable. It grew brighter and more stifling, making him cry out, until suddenly there was a flash, and everything disappeared.
Including himself.
>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<
Several miles away, he crashed to the floor. “Shit, shit, shit.” he muttered, scrambling for his spellbook. If he was quick, he could whip up a teleport before anyone noticed he was here-
“Uhh…”
Marvin whipped around. Standing in a doorway was a dumbfounded teenager, holding a steaming mug. He froze, still on his knees, grasping the book. “Hi….?” continued the teen.
Marvin was on his feet in a second. “I don’t know who you are, but let me go, now, and no one will get hurt.” he snarled. The other guy took a step back. “What? Let you go? You’re the one who materialized in my cousin’s flat!”
Marvin lowered his hands. “You didn’t summon me here?” he asked. “Then what was that light in my living room?”
“Light?” the kid repeated. He perked up. “Like a green, glowy orb thing?”
Marvin nodded. “Okay, great!” the other said. “I mean, not super great, cause I bet you’re confused as hell, but that explains a lot!” He fished a phone out of his hoodie pocket. “I’ll text Seán. He’ll need a few minutes to stop recording, but then he can help you figure stuff out. You’re probably Marvin, right?”
Marvin bristled. “How do you know my name?” he hissed.
Kid shrugged. “It’s kinda complicated.” He held out a hand. “I’m Jackie. You want anything to drink? There’s still hot water in the kettle, I think.”
“Sure.” he replied, shaking Jackie’s hand warily. Marvin followed him into the kitchen, not wanting to let this stranger out of his sight. “You cast the spell that pulled me here, then?”
“Pfft, nah.” Jackie snorted. “I can’t do magic. Not traditionally, anyhow. That’s Seán’s scene.” He pulled another mug out of the cupboard. “Earl grey cool?”
“And Seán is your...cousin? The one who owns the flat?” Marvin guessed, leaning against the wall.
“Eehhh…”Jackie replied. “Technically no? He’s got custody of me, but we’re not...exactly...related. At all.”
“Then why..?”
“So we may have fudged the papers a bit. But hey, no harm done, right?”
Marvin stared at him. “And you’re just telling me, a random stranger, this? Not a great way to stay in his custody.”
Jackie shrugged, pouring more tea. “You’re gonna be living with us anyway, so why not?”
“Wait, what the hell?” Marvin stood up suddenly. “How did you get to that conclusion?”
“Shit.” Jackie replied. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, usually people like us stick together. I think. I’m still the first one here, but with the others, it seemed like-” he stopped. “Marvin, you okay?”
Marvin wasn’t listening. What the fuck did he mean by that? He’d said he wasn’t trapping him here! He hadn't felt any wards when he’d got here, but Jackie had acted like he wasn’t leaving. How was he so calm about this? His chest was tightening. Was it darker magic that had brought him here? Was this Seán dude a warlock, had he brainwashed this kid? He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want any exposure to corrupt magic. The last time that had happened…
What the hell are you talking about? Please, just help me!
“Hey, Marvin, dude.”
Marvin’s head snapped up. When had he sat on the floor?
Jackie knelt next to him. “You back with me?” he asked.
“Y-yeah.” Marvin stuttered, accepting Jackie’s help as he stood up.
Jackie nodded. “Great. You really spaced out there for a sec.”
Marvin rubbed at his face. “Sorry, I-” he stiffened. He didn’t have his mask.
Jackie backed up as Marvin started looking around frantically. “You need something or…”
“My mask. Did you see where it fell?”
Jackie shook his head. “I didn’t see any mask.”
“I need it.” Marvin insisted. He hated how standoffish he sounded, but this was important.
Jackie bit his lip. “I can go look, if that would help.”
“I need it.” Marvin repeated. “People are going to see.” See...see…
But Jackie had already seen his face. He hadn't been wearing it when the orb had shown up.
“Yeah, I got nothing.” Jackie said, returning to the kitchen. When had he left?
“Never mind.” Marvin said shortly.
“Are you sure? It sounded important-”
“Just drop it.” Marvin, pushing Jackie aside.
Jackie looked lost. “Oookay?” Then his phone dinged. “Oh! Seán’s finished recording. He’ll be down in a sec.”
Right. Fuck.
Marvin turned back to the living room. “So what exactly is going on?” he asked as they sat on the couch. His hands twitched, ready to cast at any moment.
“What did you need Jackie?” a new voice said.
Marvin turned. Standing in the hall was a man a few years older than him, maybe 25? He looked confused, but that changed to shock when he saw Marvin. “Oh.”
“Tada…” Jackie said, doing jazz hands in Marvin’s direction. He stopped when Marvin glared at him. “Where the hell am I?” he demanded, standing up. “He says you pulled me here. What the fuck do you want?” His hands glowed purple.
Seán raised his hands. “Calm down man. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Marvin’s eyes narrowed. “Explain. Now.”
“You know what a tulpa is?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Okay, so, as far as I can tell, sometimes the universe tries to make tulpas based on characters I do, but it gets lazy and just pulls someone similar here instead.”
Marvin stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“Look, I don’t get it either. Jackie can vouch for me though, he got pulled here when I did a superhero character last month.” The teen waved nervously.
“What, and you think I’m like that? I’m human, not preternatural. Don’t pull that ‘magicians are a different race’ shit, that got disproven in the seventies.”
Seán pulled a face. “Hell no. I’m just trying to make an analogy. Nothing really fits with this situation.”
“Just...okay, fine, I’ll go along with this. For now.” Marvin said, rubbing at his face.
Seán stuck out a hand. “I’m Seán McLoughlin. Nice to meet you.”
Marvin shook it. “Marvin O’Sullivan.”
“Wait, wait?” Seán pulled back. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since we were kids! How have you been?”
“Huh?” Marvin squinted at him. Then it clicked. “Jack!?”
Seán beamed. “Yeah! Man, of all people...it’s good to see you.”
“Wait, you two know each other?” Jackie interrupted.
“The McLoughlins used to be some of the strongest magic users out there. My parents wanted connections, so we used to hang out.” Marvin explained.
“Yeah, I was the only kid in our family around his age, so we’d play together when the adults were talking.”
Marvin looked Seán up and down. He seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. He was almost as energetic and happy as he had been when they were kids. And if that hadn’t changed, well, he didn't seem like the type to deal with shady magic.
“Alright then. What was it you were saying about tulpas?”
>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<
Marvin stared out the window of the bus. Thankfully, Seán had paid for his fare back to Galway, since he’d left his wallet in his flat. He’d be back to his place by midnight.
This was a lot to process. Meeting someone from his childhood like that, well, it had brought a lot back up. Stuff he’d rather keep buried. He’d burned most of those bridges, and the rest had been burned for him. Now, a lot of the wreckage from those fires was coming to light.
Oh yeah, and the whole “figment of the imagination” thing. That was a lot to take in too.
Still, it was nice to see Jack again.
Marvin looked down at his phone. Seán had given him his number if they needed to get back in touch.
Of all the people he used to be close to, Jack was probably the least asshole-y. Maybe talking to him more would be nice. Especially since they had similar backgrounds.
The drive to Athlone was short enough that he could travel it for a weekend.
He opened the texting app.
From: M. O’Sullivan
To: S. McLoughlin
M.O.: Hey, could I come back up in a few days? I’d like to hang out more.
A few moments later, the phone dinged with a reply.
S.M.: Sure thing! :)
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Harry Styles Blurb/Request #11
Hey all. It’s been...the hottest of minutes since I last posted anything. So sorry about that. My depression has been a real bitch lately, but I’m feeling a little better now and I think the writing bug has finally hit me again. I have a few updates about my writing, but I will address those in a separate post later.
Anyway, here is the highly requested second part to the “Tell me you need me blurb.” Honestly, this one will probably leave you just as unsatisfied as the first part, but I’ve left it open for another part if you guys would like. Either way, you’ve been warned.
Read Part I here.
Part II
Y/N continued on with her life. Really, what else was she to do? Sit around and wait for Harry to show back up at her door, armed with an explanation about why he’d left, sent her a message about talking to her later, and really hadn’t spoken to her in literal months? She wasn’t that type of girl in general, and she wasn’t going to start just because she was dealing with Harry Styles. They’d been friends long enough that she knew how to deal with him properly, and that typically meant mirroring his behaviour and leaving him alone until he initiated contact.
However, this was the longest they’d ever gone without any contact, so it was definitely grating on her nerves a bit. Something was off, and she didn’t like that she didn’t know what it was. She had no other choice but to live with it, though.
She’d last seen him in July, when it was scorchingly hot in London, and now it was February, and she was wearing three layers of clothes as she walked to the local Tesco in the biting wind. It was just after three in the afternoon, and she had the day off work, and figured a movie day by herself and some incredibly fattening snacks were a good way to spend it. She had a film already picked out and ready to play back at her flat, but she realised she needed more options for snacks, so a trip to the shoppe was in order.
She entered the Tesco, the electronic bell chiming as she stepped over the welcome mat. She hastily removed her gloves before picking up a hand basket and making her way to the sweets aisle.
After she’d chosen some worthy contenders, she figured she’d be a tad responsible and go pick up something to make for dinner that was simple and quick. She was an adult after all, and feeding oneself at least two meals a day seemed like an adult thing to do. And since she figured a roll of Oreos and a box of tea biscuits didn’t seem like they qualified as an actual meal, a trip to the freezer sections seemed like a good idea. While a single serving pasta meal wasn’t the healthiest option, at least it was real food.
When she turned the corner of the aisle, she was surprised to see Harry standing at the end of the aisle, peering at frozen fruit through the transparent door, seeming to be contemplating the merits of different fruits to whatever smoothies he was planning on making. Y/N was sort of astonished to see him in a grocery store himself, as opposed to his personal shopper who was usually in charge of his grocery shopping. Also, she was almost positive that she’d just seen some stupid article just the other day that stated he was in Japan, and now he was in the middle of London, in this ridiculously comfy-looking jumper and a folded up bandana tied around his head to keep his longer locks out of his face. He looked unfairly gorgeous for the whipping wind outside that he had to trek through in order to get there.
The tapping of the wellies Y/N was wearing against the linoleum floor alerted Harry to someone else’s presence at the opposite end of the aisle. He darted his head up out of habit to see who was near him, and he was struck a bit dumb when he realised it was Y/N.
Y/N had been frozen at the end of the aisle when she saw him, debating whether or not to flee the other way or carry on in her mission to get her frozen meal without really acknowledging him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Harry, it was just that it seemed like this wasn’t the time to be having a conversation after not talking to one another for nearly seven months. Meeting at one of their homes seemed like a better setting for their reunion.
“Hey,” Harry called softly, blinking out of his own stupor. He cleared his throat in that nervous way he had, and that was enough to let Y/N know that this bout of silence between them was definitely different than all the ones they had before. She had felt it in her bones the entire time this radio silence had been in effect, but knowing Harry felt the same way cut her deeper than she thought it would. What had happened to them?
“Hey, H,” Y/N responded.
When he didn’t respond in any other way to her greeting, she sighed and went about her business, turning and searching for the brand she liked. She easily spotted the meal she wanted, all the while she could feel Harry’s gaze boring into the side of her face. He hadn’t moved since they’d greeted each other, the only sign he hadn’t inexplicably turned into a human statue being that she could hear him breathing and saw the slight rise and fall of his shoulders under his large jumper.
She reached in and grabbed the meal she wanted. When she turned and Harry still hadn’t moved, her hope of him saying anything else to her flitted away. She simply glanced at him before making her way down the aisle and to the front of the store in order to check out. She made polite small talk with the cashier as they checked out her items and bagged them for her in the little canvas tote she’d brought along with her. She felt Harry come up behind her to wait for his turn to check out, and she dodged around him to get out the door.
Y/N was three blocks down before she was accosted.
“Darlin’, wait,” Harry called, a few paces behind her. “Please.”
Y/N took a few more steps to contemplate whether or not she was actually going to stop and wait for him to catch up. She finally sighed as her steps slowed before coming to a complete stop. She may have been giving into his request to wait, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of turning toward him in anticipation. She had more dignity than that, she reckoned, and if he had something that was important enough to ask her to wait for, then he’d have to be the one to really get it going. She wasn’t willingly going to give it to him.
When Harry finally caught up to her, he stood by her side silently, seemingly waiting for her to acknowledge him. She stood with her head down, though, both blocking out the chill in the air and avoiding having to make premature eye contact with him. She couldn’t ever recall a time when she had absolutely refused to look at Harry for anything other than some petty little game they played as children. She didn’t like that she was doing it now out of self-preservation. It made her uncomfortable and left a bad feeling in her stomach. This wasn’t them, but she didn’t know how to move past it if Harry wasn’t willing to be a grown up and actually talk about his feelings or just what the fuck happened the last time they’d seen each other.
Harry huffed out a breath after a solid thirty seconds of silence between them, and Y/N saw his breath manifest in the air from the corner of her eye. She was sure he was freezing in just his jumper out in the cold of the winter, but it was his own stupid fault that he wasn’t dressed in something warmer.
Finally, Harry said in a timid sort of voice, “Can we talk?”
Y/N snorted out a sound of disbelief that caused Harry to clench his jaw. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, and while that was a move that Harry typically found alluring, tonight it was a bit menacing, and he wasn't sure how to react to it.
“Seven months and now yeh wanna talk?” she asked incredulously before dipping her head back down to avoid looking at him. “You’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”
Harry ran his free hand over his face as Y/N began walking off again, in the direction of her flat. He left hr keep walking until she got to the end of the street, contemplating his next move, before he took off after her once more.
“I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth for months. I had some business stuff to take care of,” he told her, and it sounded incredibly fake to his ears. There had been business stuff, but he’d taking care of that in about a week. The rest of the time he’d spent trying to screw his head back on right, and apparently spending time in foreign countries with people he didn’t really know was the way to do it. He was lying to her, and he didn’t really understand why. He’d never lied to her before. Not about anything serious, at least.
Y/N could obviously tell he was bullshitting her, too, because she scoffed at him, continuing walking at a pace to try to get him to back off. She was no longer in the mood to hear him out. He didn’t seem to want to talk candidly with her, so she wasn’t going to force his hand. Apparently their fifteen-plus years of friendship meant nothing anymore.
“Whatever, Harry. None of my business. Just stop lyin’ to me. Better to not talk to me than give me shit excuses we both know are fake.”
Harry wasn’t surprised by her call out. She was never one to beat around the bush with him. It was one of the reasons he loved hanging out with her. Among several other things, but it was nice when he now lived in a world that told him what he wanted to hear in some strange attempt to appease him.
“If you’re gonna keep yellin’ at me, can we at least go to a more private area?” Harry asked, looking around to watch out for any stray cameras or overly interested bystanders. No corner of his life was really safe from watchful eyes anymore. He’d kept a relatively clean slate for himself since he’d become famous, and he didn’t want his first big scandal to be his best friend yelling at him in the middle of a London street in the middle of the day. No one seemed to be paying them any mind, too busy trying to make it to their destination to get out of the cold, but you never knew.
“What? Wanna get me back to my place so you can fuck me and leave again? I’m not in the mood, Harry.”
“Jesus,” Harry yelped, darting forward to gently grab onto her wrist. “Please don’t say shit like that in public.”
“I can say whatever the fuck I want,” she snarled, finally looking him in the eyes. She was sure they were licking with flames the way Harry’s eyes widened in response, but she couldn’t really be bothered. She was angry, and she made sure he knew it.
“Please,” Harry begged, definitely not above it at this point. “Let’s go back to yours and I’ll explain.”
Y/N huffed and didn’t verbally answer him, but she didn’t tell him to fuck off as she started walking again, so Harry took that as a good sign. They walked in complete silence, though Y/N was grumbling to herself about his inability to be a fucking man and just speak to her like normal people. She understood not wanting to have a private conversation in the middle of the street, especially when you were a highly sought after celebrity, but it was his fault to begin with that it had come to this. Seven fucking months! That was all on him.
She knew something strange had shifted between them that night, and while she didn’t blame Harry for being a little startled by the gravity of it and the intensity of what they’d done, which was so different than it had been all the times before, but that certainly didn’t excuse all of his behaviour. They were adults for fuck’s sake. And adults talked to one another with an open line of communication where opinions could be expressed and feeling could be understood. Leaving under the dark of the night with a single text that never had any follow up was no way to conduct oneself, and Y/N was going to make sure that Harry knew that as soon as he told her whatever he needed to say.
When they finally made it back to her flat, Harry kindly took her bag from her so that she could unlock the door. He went straight to the kitchen to start putting away their things, placing his frozen fruit right alongside her frozen pasta meal as if he lived her. And while his comfort with treating her home as his own usually warmed Y/N’s heart, she was angry with him at the current moment, so it just pissed her off more than anything. She wanted to growl at him to let his shit defrost since he was dumb enough to buy frozen food when he obviously thought there was a possibility he wouldn’t be going straight home, but she let it go. She wasn’t that big of a bitch, no matter how much the words were itching to come out of her mouth.
“Let’s have it, then,” she told him, shucking off her coat and hanging it in the small closet in the entryway. “Let’s have your amazing reason for why you left me hanging for seven fucking months. Why I woke up to a fucking bland text about how you had to go and you’d talk when you could. Why the only reason I even knew you were alive is because of some fucking rag article about you being in Japan. Why I suddenly became the least important person in your life. What the fuck did I do, Harry?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Harry told her, his voice sounding small compared to the near shouting she was doing.
“Then what the fuck? You’ve never completely cut me out like this before.” Her voice broke in the middle of the sentence, suddenly realising she was on the verge of tears. She hadn’t properly understood her own emotions surrounding this whole situation. She was hurt and she was angry. Her best friend had left her in the dust. For no fucking reason, apparently. Even when he'd been gone for months, he’d text her, send her funny memes, call her if he had the time. There’d never been radio silence like this before, and she didn’t feel good about it.
“I’m fucking in love with you!” Harry shouted, his voice finally matching the volume hers was at. His words made all of Y/N’s anger die in her chest instantly. Harry took a deep breath and her volume lowered. “I’m in love with you, and I’m fucking scared.”
Y/N’s tears finally fell, rolling down her cheeks far too dramatically for her own liking. She gulped. “Why are you scared?”
Harry clenched his jaw. He wanted to go to her and wipe away her tears. He’d never liked seeing her cry, and he’d never been the source of them before. It was killing him, but he wasn’t sure he could handle having her so close to him right then. His own emotions were raw and it was taking everything in him to say what he felt he had to.
“Because you have the power to fucking wreck me.”
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Lost Without You - Part Two
3070 words
You were sat in the library on Tuesday afternoon with Hannah and Jess. All three of you silent as you took notes from various text books. Pausing to take a sip of your coffee, you took your phone from your pocket and saw Niall had text. A massive smile appeared on your face at the sight of his name.
He had text you not long after he left your dorm room on Sunday evening, a short text telling you how great it had been bumping into you, literally. Since then you had been non stop messaging back and forth.
Replying to his message, you placed your phone on the table and carried on note taking. The library was quiet except for the occasional turn of a page and the scribbling of a pen. Your phone vibrated causing Hannah and Jess to look up, smiling again at Niall's message, which didn't go unnoticed by your friends.
"Care to share?" Hannah whispered smiling.
"No." You whispered back grinning.
"Oh come on, what's got you smiling like that? Clearly a guy!" Jess whispered back.
You didn't want to answer so just shook your head and ignored the question.
"Come on, I've had enough." Hannah said. "We've been here for like 3 hours."
"Yeah, this library coffee sucks, let's go to The Cosy Coffee Corner, no one makes coffee like Audrey." You replied.
Packing up your stuff your threw your crappy library coffee in the bin before following the girls down the stairs. Niall had text again so you replied again, pausing on the steps.
"Right, you are telling us who's got you smiling like that!" Jess demanded as they stopped on the steps below you.
You let out a big sigh before telling them you'd explain everything when you got to the coffee shop.
Audrey had left for the day by the time you had got there, but Margaret her sister in law, was there and sorted the three of you out with a coffee and pastry each.
As soon as your bum hit the seat Hannah had said the words "spill".
"Ok, so there is a guy." You began to explain.
"I knew it!" Hannah yelped.
"Ssshhhh!" You said.
"So who is he? Is it that guy from your design class, Mark or Matt or something?" Jess questioned.
"No, neither of them."
"Is it the guy who sent you the flowers? She wouldn't let me read the card when I was at hers the other day." Hannah said, looking at Jess.
"Yes, but it's complicated."
"Why is he married?! Is it your lecturer?!" Jess replied, her voice getting higher as she spoke.
"No..... God you're not going to believe me any way but it's Niall Horan." You said, making sure to whisper his name.
Both Hannah and Jess just stared at you.
"Niall Horan, as in Irish hottie Niall Horan?! You're joking right?!" Hannah said.
"No, he was at the bar a few weeks ago and some girl was harassing him by the loos. I got rid of her for him and he sent me the flowers as a thank you. Then he turned up here, at the cafe, when I was working Saturday. And then I bumped into him outside Tesco on Sunday. Any way, he came in to mine for a coffee and then we exchanged numbers, we've been texting ever since and we are going to see Lewis Capaldi tomorrow."
You had barely taken a breath, choosing just to blurt it all out to their shocked faces.
"Holy shit." Hannah mumbled. "Are you being serious?"
"Why would I lie about that?" You replied.
"Good point." She mumbled again.
Jess was silent, you could see her brain ticking over in other head.
"And you have a date with him tomorrow?" Hannah asked.
"Well, I'm not sure if it's a date. He said his friends and cousins will be going to the gig to, so I'm not sure."
"Do you reckon he could set me up with Liam? I mean he's single now!" Jess suddenly said.
You just stared at her before you and Hannah started laughing at her.
"For fucks sake Jess." You said shaking your head.
You spent the next 30 minutes talking about Niall. Jess started googling him, checking out the girls he had dated and began showing you Google images of incredibly beautiful models he'd been rumoured to have hooked up with.
"Jess, love." Hannah said. "If you're going to Google him, why don't you do shirtless or dick pics or something?! Googling girls he's been linked to isn't helping." She said, nodding towards you.
It shouldn't bother you who he had dated and been linked to, but it did. They were all stunning and were either models, actresses or pop stars. Which led you to be completely baffled as in to why he would ask you on a date.
"You know, I don't think it's a date." You suddenly said. "I really don't think I'm his type."
"Yeah you are, you're hot!" Hannah replied.
"Yeah and the messages he's been sending are super flirty." Jess added.
"I'm not so sure, I think I'm reading into it a bit too much. Maybe he wants to set me up with one of his friends or something?"
The discussion continued until you were interrupted with a message from Niall.
"Is it ok to pick you up at 6 tomorrow night? Maybe a drink in the pub before we go to the gig?"
"See he wants to pick you up." Hannah said, looking over your shoulder.
You quickly fired back a text saying you could meet him there if it was easier. But he soon replied that it was no trouble and that he would be at your dorm for 6 and that you'd catch the tube to Brixton and meet his cousins and friends there.
"See it is a date." Jess reassured you.
The following afternoon Jess and Hannah had insisted on coming over to yours to help you pick out an outfit. Which was ridiculous really considering you were just going to wear jeans and a top.
"Jess, we are going to a gig not a fucking night club!" You declared when you saw the skimpy little black dress she had brought over to make you wear.
"Oh come on! You'll look hot!" She replied.
"She will look ridiculous." Hannah said as she rummaged through your small wardrobe. "You should totally wear your vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. I read that he likes them. Would be a conversation starter."
That was a better suggestion than what Jess had come up with.
You managed to get rid of them both by 4:30pm which gave you an hour and a half to eat some pasta salad you had in the fridge and get ready. Not that it mattered but you shaved your legs, used a body scrub and washed your hair thoroughly before getting out.
Sitting in front of the mirror you blow dried your hair, running the straighteners along it to finish it off. You weren't one for much make up but you used some concealer, a light powder, some eye shadow and mascara. Hannah had chosen your favourite dark blue skinny jeans which you tucked your vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt into. You would finish the look with the black leather jacket your parents had got you for Christmas and your white converse.
Even though the window to your room was wide open, you were beginning to get warm, the nerves kicking in. You stood in front of your mirror, making sure you looked ok and silently giving yourself a pep talk. You were definitely confused as in to whether it was a date or not. As the girls had said, his texts were kind of flirty and he was coming to pick you up alone. Maybe he had a spare ticket for the gig and had asked you on impulse on Sunday, as he had wanted to see you again.
It didn't matter though, Niall was great company and you were looking forward to seeing Lewis Capaldi perform. His friends that he had been at the pub with when you had first met him had been cool, so you hoped they would be at the gig tonight too.
Your phone beeped from your desk, a message from Niall saying he was outside your building. Grabbing your jacket and bag you headed out your door excited to see him.
And wow. He looked good.
His usual dark jeans, a white t shirt and a beige light weight jacket on. His smile lit up his face and you couldn't help but match his expression.
"Hi." He said as he leaned in to kiss your cheek and give you a hug.
Oh and boy did he smell good too, you thought, inhaling his scent as you embraced.
"How are you?" You asked him as you reluctantly pulled away.
"Good thanks."
You walked down the steps on your building, heading for the tube station. It wasn't far and you fell into easy conversation with Niall on the walk there. The streets were pretty busy and you wondered how Niall dealt with being so out in the open, he is quite a recognisable figure. But then again around here in Battersea people were used to seeing celebs and you'd spotted a few on the tube before.
Your conversation didn't falter as you made you way into the tube station, both of you swiping your oyster cards. The tube was busy, but no one looked up at you both. You were thoroughly enjoying standing on the tube for once, holding onto the railing in the middle to steady yourself. Niall's hand was right above yours, his fingers touching yours. His other hand which was casually by his side the entire ride, reached across to you when the tube stopped. Landing on your waist, he held you so you didn't topple when the train reached its destination.
You liked it and you looked up at him and smiled, the blush creeping up your cheeks.
When you got to the pub, his friends had found a booth in the corner. You were quickly introduced to his cousins Willie and Deo, who you'd met before. Plus his PA Tara and a couple of friends, Conor and Gilly. Everyone was really nice and chatty, getting you a beer and asking you about yourself and where you were from.
When you told them you were from a town just outside of Nottingham there was an oooohhh sound bouncing around the table.
"Hey, what's wrong with Nottingham?!" You asked.
"It's a great city, just don't like the football team." Niall replied.
"Me either. Derby fan here." You said.
"Really?" Niall questioned.
"Yeah, my family has a season ticket. I went about a month ago with my Dad. I normally miss out though, as I'm usually working."
Everyone was looking at you and you suddenly felt really nervous.
When Niall explained that he was a Derby fan to, the strange looks all made sense. It wasn't until you started showing them pictures of yourself and your Dad at various Derby games that everyone seemed to warm to you again. They clearly had thought you had said that you were a Derby fan because Niall was, which was pretty lame.
You sat next to Niall drinking your beer and getting to know everyone. Your thighs were right next to each other and every so often he'd knock it against yours. You'd catch his eye and he'd smile sweetly at you. There was definitely an attraction there from you, and you hoped he felt something for you too. But to be honest you weren't even sure if this was a date.
Tara was quizzing you about what you were studying at University and started saying about how she'd moved into this great flat nearby with loads of original features. Although you were listening to Tara as she spoke, you couldn't help but hear Niall's friend whisper that they all liked you. You felt your heart flutter at that moment.
When you were walking to the venue an hour later, you were chatting with Conor and were shocked to discover that he was in the band that Jess was crazy about. She even had tickets for you, her and Hannah to go in a few weeks time.
"My friend Jess has a huge crush on you! I can't believe I didn't realise it was you. We are coming to see your band in like two weeks."
"Really is Jess single?!" Conor asked you.
"She is!" You laughed, pulling up a picture of you and Jess on your phone.
He asked you to swap numbers and promised to get you three some back stage passes. You knew Jess would be screaming about it when you told her.
"I have to tell you though mate, she did ask me to find out if I could get Liam Paynes phone number!" You replied giggling.
Niall and a couple of the lads went to get drinks at the bar while you and Tara found a good viewing spot. She was a really lovely and sweet person and you had hit it off with her straight away. You had noticed that she got along really well with Nialls cousin Willie and were about to quiz her about it when she asked you about meeting Niall. She knew the story having been told by Niall about the girl harassing him by the loos at the pub.
"I feel bad that shit like that happens to him." You said.
"He deals with it well and it's not all bad, he met you." She replied smiling.
You could feel the blush rise in your cheeks.
"Don't think he'd normally bring us all on a first date but I know he wanted to see you before he went to L.A. on Sunday."
So it was a date and it would seem that having his friends approval about people was a big deal. It did make your heart sink at the thought of him going to L.A. you had no idea how long he would be gone for and you didn't quiz Tara for any details of his trip. It really wasn't any of your business and if he wanted to see you again then you would just have to wait until he returned.
When the lads got back with the drinks everyone chatted amongst themselves before the gig started and you felt Niall's hand on the small of your back.
"Are you ok?" He asked you, his breath warm against your ear.
You turned to face him and he had a nervous look on his face.
"I'm good, I'm looking forward to seeing Lewis perform." You said, leaning in close to him.
"Yeah me too. I'm sorry it's not a conventional first date, being here with all my friends and cousins and stuff but I wanted to spend time with you before I go away on Sunday."
"Well, I didn't even realised it was a date." You smiled.
"You didn't?"
You shook your head.
"Oh um....." He mumbled and moved his hand away.
"Put your hand back." You whispered in his ear, tucking your hand under his t-shirt slightly.
It looked like any two people in a busy noisy room trying to have a conversation with each other but in reality something changed between you in that moment. His hand went back around your waist as you squeezed his hip discreetly under his t-shirt.
When the music started and Lewis came out, your group cheered the loudest as they all knew him personally. Niall stood behind you, his hand moving around your waist. You felt warm and safe in his arms as you watched Lewis sing, a soft kiss from Niall on the top of your head made you relax further back in his arms.
When the music ended, Niall moved away from you and the warmth was gone. You had been enjoying the way he had held you, and if sensing that, he moved his hand to yours and entwined your fingers together.
After a quick chat with Lewis backstage, in which you completely fan girled over him, you all headed out of the venue. Everyone had work the next day so were going home to their respective flats. With the promise from Conor that he would text you the details for his gig and after swapping numbers with Tara you and Niall got into a black cab.
Niall reached over and entwined your fingers together again as you chatted about the gig and his trip. Seems he was going to be gone three weeks and you hid your disappointment that you wouldn't get to see him for ages. He was going to finalise details of his album, finish up recording and do some interviews. It all sounded so exciting and you could tell he was really proud of it.
"Can you leave the cab running while I make sure she gets in safe please?" Niall asked the driver as you pulled up outside your dorm.
You thought it was cute that he wanted to see you into your building and were also pleased that he didn't expect to be invited in. It wasn't your sort of thing sleeping with someone on the first date and you definitely didn't get the impression Niall was like that to.
He was nervous as you made your way to your door, you could see him run his hands down his jeans and look around cautiously. It was good to know that even a multimillionaire singer could get nervous when walking a girl home after a date.
"So.....thanks for inviting me. I had a really great time." You said trying to break the awkwardness.
"Me too. And my friends didn't embarrass me too much!" He replied smiling.
"They're great fun, I enjoyed their company."
You were standing so close to each other, the tension unbearable. Just when you thought he was going to chicken out and not kiss you, he reached his hand up to cup your face.
His lips were soft and his breath minty, you smiled into the kiss realising that he had chewed gum earlier to make sure he was prepared. You finally got to run your fingers through his hair, something you had wanted to do since the moment you met him.
Part Three
https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186790083513/lost-without-you-part-three
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Fic: Snow Angel
Title: Snow Angel
Summary: Dan’s been watching YouTuber Phil Lester for years, but Phil doesn’t even know he exists. Of course, that’s because Dan is Phil’s invisible guardian angel.
Rating: PG (for Dan’s foul mouth)
Word Count: 15.4K
Author’s Note: Written for @jorzuela in the 2019 @phandomreversebang. She offered a variety of possible elements and asked authors to choose 3 or more to make their own prompt. I chose winter, party, birthday, magic, hurt/comfort, angels, AU, and coffee. She made multiple pieces of art for this story, which was incredibly generous of her! A million thanks to @ky-thewolf for the dedicated, supportive, and extremely helpful beta work! The three of us were an unbeatable team in our Twitter gc!
Also available on AO3
Phil sat on the sofa, not talking to anyone, with a paper plate of cake on his lap. It was white cake. Who likes white cake? Why did David buy white cake for Phil’s birthday? Didn’t he know Phil at all? They’d been flatmates for three years, but David bought him white cake. Didn’t he know red velvet was Phil’s favorite? Did he even care? David had taken the big rectangular white cake out of a Tesco box with a discount price tag on it, and it tasted a little stale.
David was hogging all the attention, too, telling some funny story that had everyone laughing, all gathered around him. No one noticed Phil, even though the party was supposed to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. A milestone, right? Thirty. It was a big deal. But Phil just sat there alone on the sofa. David had invited mostly his own friends, anyway. Phil didn’t have that many friends. Not enough to make a party, just maybe enough to go to a nice dinner or something, which was more Phil’s type of thing. He didn’t really like parties. He tended to hover in the corner near the snack table.
Everyone was enjoying David’s stories so much that no one even noticed when Phil got up and set his paper plate on the side table, grabbed his warmest coat, walked quietly to the front door of the flat, and left. Just got up and walked away from his own birthday party.
A few minutes later, he brushed some snow off a bench and sat down in the little park across the street from the flat. Well, not really a park, just a bit of greenery in the middle of their London neighborhood. He’d always liked snow, but tonight it didn’t make him happy like it usually did. He just sat on the snowy bench under a street lamp, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands shoved into his coat pockets to keep them warm.
—
It was just too much. Watching him suffer like that … it was too much.
—
A pair of black boots appeared in the snow some distance from where Phil was sitting. The boots had zips. He liked zips. Not Phil. Him. He liked black, and he liked zips. Zips on everything, even when they weren’t necessary. Unconventional, unnecessary zips. He didn’t wear them often, because he wasn’t often in a human body, but he enjoyed them. When humans invented zips, they’d really been onto something.
His coat had zips too. A black coat, of course. He watched Phil from afar, just sitting on that bench and staring at the ground, and then he started walking toward him. Two paper cups of coffee appeared in his hands. When he got to the bench, he offered one of the cups to Phil, who startled slightly, looking up into his face. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you there,” Phil said, then looked in confusion at the cup of coffee being offered.
“You looked cold. I thought you might like a cup of coffee.”
Thoughtfully, Phil first brushed the snow off the rest of the bench before taking the proffered cup. “Thank you. You can sit if you like.” Phil took a sip of the coffee he’d been given, and his eyebrows went up. “Exactly the way I like it!” He gazed in surprise at the man sitting beside him. “How did you know?”
“You just looked like a cream and sugar kind of guy.” They smiled at each other.
“I can’t believe I was so rude. You gave me coffee and I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Phil,” he said, holding out his hand with a guileless expression. They shook hands.
“Call me Dan.” They both sipped from their cups. Well, Phil sipped—Dan just let the liquid touch his lip and felt its warmth.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dan. And thank you very much for the coffee!”
“You’re welcome. I had to give you something for your birthday, didn’t I?”
Phil jumped, nearly falling off the bench, and turned to stare. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”
“Thirty, too. That’s a big one. Shouldn’t you be at some kind of party or something?”
Abruptly, Phil seemed to forget all about the mystery of how the stranger knew it was his birthday, and he just deflated. “Well, the party wasn’t that great, so I left.”
“That’s what you get for living with a dick of a flatmate.”
Phil really did fall off the bench this time, landing right on his butt in the snow. He didn’t even get up, just sat staring with his mouth hanging open, apparently unable to even find words. Eventually, he found his tongue. “Who … who are you? How do you know all of this?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Sitting there in the snow and staring up at a mysterious stranger, Phil set his jaw. “Try me,” he challenged.
“I’m your guardian angel.”
Phil frowned. Slowly, deep in thought, he picked himself up and dusted snow off his backside. “Okay,” Phil breathed. “There’s a lot to unpack there. But, first things first … guardian angels are real … and mine is named Dan? It’s not a very impressive, angel-type name, like Raphael or Galadriel.”
“You do realize that Galadriel is a character in The Lord of the Rings, don’t you?” Dan asked, amused.
“Of course I do!” Phil exclaimed in frustration. “I’ve seen the entire trilogy five times! But how does an angel know about The Lord of the Rings?”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Who do you think was watching over you all five times you sat through that entire trilogy? And thank, you, by the way, for only making me watch The Hobbit once. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to turn a very short book into three excruciatingly long movies?”
They both shook their heads in disappointed disapproval. “I’m sorry I even put you through that at all,” Phil admitted. Then he stared at Dan in shock. “You said ‘fuck’! Angels say ‘fuck’? And how did you know about the book?” Then he smacked himself in the forehead. “Because you were there when I read it when I was a kid.”
“Nah. I only got assigned to you seven or eight years ago. You should have heard the previous guy complain! All about how he could barely keep you from walking off cliffs or lighting yourself on fire.”
Phil scowled. “Angels complain about me? You know, I’ve heard some insults before, but that one goes to the top of the list.”
Dan waved a hand dismissively. “Puriel is as big of a dick as your flatmate.”
“There’s an angel named Puriel? Sounds like a hand sanitizer.”
Dan actually laughed so hard that this time it was he who nearly fell off the bench. When he got control of himself, he gave Phil a long look. “You’re taking all of this much more calmly than I expected.”
Phil looked contemplative for a moment, then he said, “Well, why not? I mean, blobfish are weird as heck, and they’re real. So why not angels? I feel kind of flattered that I have a guardian angel.”
“Everybody’s got one.”
“Oh.” Phil blinked. “Well, I still think it seems nice, knowing that somebody’s been watching out for me.”
“Yeah, Puriel might be a dick, but you definitely do require a lot of attention. I thought the thing about lighting yourself on fire was a joke, but what the hell made you think you should operate the stove with your fucking foot?”
“Hey, that turned out fine!” Phil replied defensively. “Nothing caught on fire…”
Dan stared at him silently. And waited. And waited.
And waited.
“Oh,” Dan saw when Phil finally got it. “That was because of you?” Dan nodded. “Oh … well, thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” Dan chuckled.
“But there’s a question you still haven’t answered,” Phil insisted. Dan shrugged, welcoming whatever Phil wanted to ask. “My guardian angel is named Dan? It just seems sort of … boring. Not very fancy, as far as angel names go.”
“You want Puriel back?” Dan quipped. Phil laughed. “To be honest, our real names aren’t in a human language, so we just use these names as a sort of convenience when we actually need to have a conversation with a human, which doesn’t happen as often as you’d think. So I usually go by Daniel, but we’ve been hanging out together for years now, even if you didn’t know it … so I figured you could call me Dan.”
Phil held his hand out again and said, “Well, now that I know who you really are, it’s nice to finally meet you, Dan. And thanks for all the help you’ve apparently been giving me behind the scenes.” They shook hands warmly. “But, hey, why did you let that squirrel bite me? And…”
Dan held up his hands. “No way you’re pinning every bad thing that ever happened to you on me. First of all, I can’t control living creatures, so if you try to pet a goose, that goose has every right to bite you in the butt.” Phil tried to interrupt, but Dan kept talking. “But I also can’t fix everything. If you’re going to try to kill yourself every five seconds, I can only catch you 99 times out of 100. And I think those are pretty good odds. So every time you’ve tripped or knocked something over or fallen down the stairs or something … just imagine if I hadn’t been there to catch you the other 99 times.”
Phil tilted his head in confusion. “But I thought you couldn’t control living creatures, so how could you keep me from falling down the stairs?”
Dan grinned. “I can’t control you, but I can make the handrail suddenly sort of magnetic so that it draws your hand to it. Or I can shift the weight of whatever’s in the bag you’re carrying. Or I can make the step rise up to meet your foot…”
“You can do all that?” Phil marveled, gazing at Dan in wonder.
Dan shrugged modestly and buffed his fingernails against his coat, making Phil laugh again.
They sat there in silence for a little while—Phil just staring at Dan in wonder—when suddenly snow started falling softly around them. Phil held up a hand and smiled. “It’s snowing again. For my birthday.”
Dan just smiled at him.
“Is that you? Are you making it snow?” Dan shrugged again, but gave a mischievous smirk. Phil stood up and stared up at the sky with his arms spread wide. “Well, if you’re making it snow for my birthday, thank you, because I love the snow.”
“Yeah, I know,” Dan replied softly, watching Phil’s blissful expression as he gazed upward and let the snowflakes fall on his face. He looked like what most people would expect an angel to look like. Dan looked down at his black clothes with their random zips, then back at Phil with his arms wide and blissful expression. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark.
Phil began to twirl very slowly, still gazing upward, arms still extended. “You’re going to trip over something,” Dan warned him.
“I have a guardian angel watching out for me,” Phil replied with a little laugh.
Dan just watched Phil enjoy the falling snow for a while before offering another warning. “You’re going to end up drenched, you know. All that snow is melting as soon as it hits the warmth of your body, and it’s just turning to water. It’s like you’re standing in the rain.”
“Standing in the rain is good, too,” Phil said. “But snow is better. I don’t mind it melting. Watching it fall is just the best thing ever.”
After a few more minutes of watching Phil gaze up at the snow, even trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue once or twice, Dan reluctantly admitted, “You may be a pain in the ass to keep alive and safe, but you’re better at this than most people."
"Better at what?" Phil looked down from the sky to see Dan’s face.
"Living.”
Phil frowned. “How can somebody be better at living?”
Dan tried to think of how to explain. “You appreciate things more, like the snow. You smile more than most people, and you make other people smile. You love more, including all creatures, not just humans ... even plants! You reach out and try to offer love where you can. You're kind. You sing more often than most people. You laugh a lot, including at yourself, which most people can't do so well. You try new things instead of always staying with what's safe, and you don't mind if you fail. You do what makes you happy even if it isn't what everyone else is doing. You create beautiful things that no one else could have thought of. You're sensitive to how others are feeling and actively increase the happiness of the other people around you. You're just ... you're better at it. You're a better human than most. You're just ... better at living. You're good at it." He ended this long speech with a slight feeling of embarrassment. He didn’t usually give compliments. He didn’t usually talk much at all, actually. But he’d been watching Phil for a while now, and he’d noticed things.
Phil stared at him in apparent awe, his eyes wide, but he didn’t say anything in response. Dan wondered if he’d been struck dumb by a random string of compliments from a grumpy, black-clad guardian angel … and figured that was actually probably the case. “Come on,” Dan grumbled. “You’re getting soaked. Let’s get you into the coffee shop around the corner to dry off.” He took Phil’s arm and dragged him along, since Phil still seemed dazed.
“I’m better at living?” Phil whispered to him as they walked.
“Forget I said anything,” Dan said gruffly, increasingly embarrassed by his outpouring of emotion.
Phil smiled and seemed a bit less dazed. “I’m good at it. An angel said I’m good at it,” he murmured to himself in wonder.
“I said forget it!” Dan rumbled threateningly.
“No,” Phil said firmly. “I never will. Not my whole life. I will never forget it. Sometimes I really doubt myself … so … so thank you for saying it.”
Dan shrugged uncomfortably and opened the door of the coffee shop, practically shoving Phil inside ahead of him.
—
The coffee shop was deliciously warm after their time in the snow, but it caused the last remaining snowflakes to melt immediately. Water dripped along Dan’s scalp, but he was lucky enough to be wearing a scarf that caught most of the moisture before it could touch his neck.
Phil, however, gave a visible shudder as melted snow practically streamed from his soaking wet hair onto his bare skin. “Do you have a towel from the kitchen?” Dan brusquely asked the startled-looking girl behind the counter. “Or even just a bunch of paper napkins?” She ducked into the back room and emerged with a tea towel which she timidly offered. Dan snatched it from her hand and began vigorously rubbing Phil’s wet hair as Phil tried to bat him away.
Eventually, satisfied that Phil’s hair would at least no longer actually drip water, Dan gave his own hair a quick rub, then offered the wet tea towel back to the barista with an apologetic smile. He knew the dimples this human face had would charm most people into forgiving him almost any bad behavior. “I’m sorry I was so rude when we first came in. It’s freezing out there, and we’d gotten quite a bit of snow on us.”
The barista flushed and returned his smile, taking the tea towel from him. “Let me just put this in the back, and I’ll come take your order. Why don’t you take off your coats and things? It’s nice and toasty in here.” Dan and Phil took her advice and hung their outerwear on the provided rack. Phil rubbed his hands together, then ran his hands up and down his arms to stimulate the blood flow.
“Go on,” Dan told him, looking around at the empty room. “Go sit at the table by the window. I’ll order us some more coffee to warm us up.” He knew Phil would like to watch the snow from the window table, and Phil did indeed smile as he gazed out at the winter wonderland.
When the barista returned, Dan placed their order at the counter before going to join Phil at the table. “Warming up?” he asked. Phil nodded happily. The coffee shop was warm enough that their hair was already drying.
Phil had rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, and was gazing out the window. “It’s so beautiful,” he said dreamily. “I love snow. And I must admit it’s nice to watch it from someplace cozy.” He looked at Dan. “I loved standing in it, too, though. Thank you for that.”
Dan rolled his eyes and said, “I already told you you’re welcome. You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“But what if I want to keep thanking you?” Phil asked impishly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”
Dan sighed heavily, trying to indicate the extreme patience he was showing in the face of Phil’s ridiculousness. He then said, slowly and firmly, “You. Are. Fucking. Welcome. Now shut the fuck up about it.”
Phil gazed at him curiously. “Do all angels swear as much as you do?”
Dan threw his head back in frustration, then raised it up again to look at Phil. “Would you rather have Puriel back? Get your hands all nice and sanitized?”
Phil laughed, then shrugged. “It was a legitimate question. I mean, you do swear a lot.”
“That’s just me,” Dan replied with a huff. “I’m not the sweet and sugary type. Sorry if that offends your delicate sensibilities.”
“I don’t mind,” Phil said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I like you just the way you are.” He smiled at Dan, and Dan felt a strange kind of fluttery nausea in his human stomach.
“Well, that’s good,” Dan said. “I don’t plan on handing the job off to anyone else, so you’re stuck with me. I don’t know why Puriel complained so much. You’re not that bad.”
Phil grinned. “Even if I do try to light myself on fire by working the stove with my feet?”
Dan laughed. “Even then. You just … keep me on my toes, you might say.”
They both giggled like schoolchildren as the barista approached the table. “The coffee will be ready in a minute, but … he said today was your birthday…” and she placed a red-frosted cupcake on the table, a single burning candle standing on top.
Phil sobered immediately. “For me?” he asked with wide eyes, looking between Dan and the barista and back again.
“For you,” Dan affirmed, then urged Phil, “You have to blow out the candle!”
Phil blew out the candle, then thanked the barista, who just smiled at him and walked away.
“Well,” Dan said impatiently before Phil could thank him again. “Go ahead and eat it!”
“Do you want to share?” Phil asked.
“It’s your birthday. It’s not a proper birthday cake, but it’ll have to do. Now go on!”
“The other cake, the one at the party, it didn’t even have any candles,” Phil said sadly as he began to peel the wrapper off the cupcake. And then he suddenly looked up at Dan with wide eyes. “Is this…” he looked at the revealed cupcake again. “Is this red velvet?”
Dan grinned. “I guess you’ll have to taste it and find out.”
Phil took a big bite of the cupcake and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “It is red velvet,” he moaned almost completely unintelligibly with his mouth still full. He swallowed and asked, “How did you know red velvet was my favorite?”
Dan just gave him that look again.
“Oh, right,” Phil giggled, then took another bite. He visibly savored it, then swallowed again. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked Dan. Phil was always like that, preferring to share anything he found particularly wonderful, instead of wanting to hoard it for himself. It was one of the things Dan had always found especially admirable about him. Something he’d always found especially endearing. One of the things that had made Dan care about him so much and not mind the constant death-defying challenges.
He couldn’t understand how Puriel couldn’t love someone that generous and kind.
But Puriel was a dick who wouldn’t recognize a truly good person if they kicked him in the ass. Which a good person probably wouldn’t do, come to think of it. But Dan would.
The barista brought their two cups of coffee and showed them the sugar and small pitcher of milk sitting on the table, then told them to let her know if they needed anything else. Phil had his mouth full of cupcake, and Dan was afraid he might spew crumbs in his attempt to thank her, so Dan quickly said, “Thanks! I’m sure these will warm us up.” The barista turned to go, so all Phil did was nod vigorously, keeping his mouth closed as he chewed.
Dan sat, pretending to sip from his coffee, and simply watched Phil devour the cupcake with great relish while looking out the window at the snow. It was like watching happiness personified.
When he’d finally finished the cupcake and chased down most of the remaining crumbs with some coffee of his own, Phil toyed with the candle in his long, pale fingers. “Another year gone,” he said, sounding a little melancholy now.
Dan nodded. “Yup. Another year closer to your inevitable death and the probable doom of this entire universe.”
Phil blinked repeatedly. “You must be the weirdest angel ever.”
“Haven’t met many, have you?” Phil nodded at what was, obviously, a fair point. “There’s some weird ones, let me tell you.”
“But … my inevitable death? The doom of the entire universe?” Phil stared at him, still obviously thrown off balance.
Dan shrugged. “It’s the truth. Happy birthday!” He made ironic jazz hands. As intended, it made Phil laugh again.
“I don’t like to think of it that way,” Phil mused. “It’s more like … another year of working toward making my dreams come true. Maybe someday I’ll actually make it all happen.”
“I have faith in you,” Dan said, caught off guard by his own unintended honesty. At first, he didn’t understand why Phil started giggling, but then he caught on. “Oh, ha ha. Faith from an angel. I get it. It’s not that funny.”
“It is pretty funny,” Phil disagreed, “but thanks for the sentiment.”
Dan thought about the word. “Hmm. I don’t usually think of myself and sentiment having much relation to each other.”
“Maybe I bring out the best in you,” Phil joked with a sunny smile.
Dan tilted his head, giving the idea some consideration. “Well, it’s the case for a lot of other people, so why not me?” Phil looked confused. “You tend to bring out the best in people,” Dan explained.
“I do?” Phil seemed surprised.
Dan shook his head fondly at Phil’s utter incomprehension of his own effect on the world. “Yes, Phil, you do.”
Phil ducked his head, suddenly shy. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Dan didn’t know what to say to that, so they both just sat there for a while. Phil went back to watching the snow falling outside the window as he sipped his coffee. Dan held his coffee mug in his hands and enjoyed the aroma while he watched Phil watch the snow. The coffee wasn’t so hot anymore, but the mug still felt good in his hands. It was nice to get to feel and smell things, one of the benefits of being in a human body.
“So what else would you like to do on your birthday? I gave you snow. What else?”
“Dogs!” Phil replied immediately, looking extremely excited.
“Um, no.” Dan sighed to show he was displaying the utmost patience. “I told you already. I don’t have any control over living creatures. You do understand that dogs are living creatures, right?” he asked sarcastically.
Phil huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Well, I mean, the fun ones are.”
Dan burst into raucous laughter. “Oh my god! That was the best joke I’ve ever heard you make! We’ll make an edgelord out of you yet!” Phil Lester, making a joke about dead dogs. Dan never would have thought he’d see the day.
Phil frowned in confusion a moment, then suddenly waved his arms in horror, exclaiming, “That’s not what I meant! I meant like, as opposed to plushies! Not … what you were thinking.” He made the cutest little disgusted face.
“Okay, okay,” Dan said, calming down from his fit of amused hysteria. “Aside from living dogs, what would make you happy on your birthday?”
Phil made his funny face where his lips moved to the side, the face he made when he was really thinking about something. “I don’t know. Maybe … sparklers?”
“Sparklers?”
“Yeah,” Phil enthused, getting more excited by the idea as he explained it. “You know, like at Guy Fawkes. You hold the stick in your hand, and you light the other end, and it gives off sparks. Didn’t you ever watch over me on Bonfire Night, all those years?”
“Yes, of course, I know what sparklers are, you moron. I just … you want sparklers for your birthday?” Dan couldn’t believe it. He had almost infinite powers to give Phil whatever he wanted, and Phil wanted … sparklers?
“I like sparklers,” Phil sulked defensively, and took a big slurpy drink of his coffee, which must have gone disgustingly cold by now. He then proceeded to cross his arms and stare pointedly out at the snow, ignoring Dan, his feelings clearly hurt.
The snow stopped.
Phil snorted, annoyed. “You did that on purpose.”
“Well, obviously,” Dan replied. “Otherwise, the snow might put out the flames on the sparklers.”
—
Phil had always loved sparklers, always loved how they seemed to crackle with life and excitement, how they left trails of light behind them when you moved them through the air, but the sparklers Dan created were different.
“Here,” Dan said. “Let me light it for you.” And just as the sparkler had come out of nowhere, the flame seemed to light it with only a gesture from Dan’s hand. The sparks began to fly, and Phil gazed at the glittering, flickering light with fascination. It made that hissing, popping sound that was so familiar from all the Bonfire Nights of his childhood.
He swept the sparkler through the air, and it left a stream of light behind it, just as it always had, just as he’d always loved, but the sparkler Dan had made left a trail that lingered longer than usual. Phil made loops and swirls, fascinated by the way the light remained in the sky for just a bit longer than he had seen before, long enough for him to create images. He drew a heart, then grinned at Dan. “Aren’t you going to do it, too?”
Dan lit a sparkler for himself and began drawing zigzags and rollercoasters of light. He wrote the name “Philip” in the sky, and then beamed at Phil.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile like that,” Phil said with awe.
Dan looked at him in confusion, the smile falling from his face. “Smile like what?”
“Like … you were happy,” Phil explained. “All your other smiles, they seemed a little sad. But this time, you really just … you just looked happy.” He looked down at the snow. “I’m sorry I ruined it by bringing it up. As soon as I said anything about it, it was gone.”
“It’s not gone,” Dan said quietly, honestly, feeling a soft smile return to his face as he gazed at Phil. “It’s still here.”
Phil returned the smile with a tender one of his own, and then turned to write “Daniel” in the sky with a flourish. Then he drew a happy face afterward and turned to grin at Dan.
Dan snickered and drew an angry face with a “v” over the eyes as furious eyebrows. But Phil just laughed and drew loops around the unhappy face until suddenly Dan saw that it was a series of gracefully shaped hearts. Something inside him stirred again, and he pressed his free hand to his chest to hold it there, that feeling.
And suddenly he knew what it was.
He didn’t want to admit it—it was against all the rules—but it was true. And he wasn’t going to lie.
Not giving himself a chance to hesitate, he turned and wrote with his sparkler, “I love you,” against the darkness of the sky. He kept staring at the trail of glowing words until they had faded completely back into darkness.
He couldn’t look at Phil.
Dan might have been developing these feelings over years of watching and knowing him, but Phil had only met him tonight. To Phil, he was a virtual stranger. There was no way Phil could understand or return his feelings. And yet he hadn’t been able to hold it in, hadn’t been able to hide it, not from Phil. And so he’d written those words in light, and their effect would endure inside him forever, even though their illumination had faded from the night.
He couldn’t look at Phil. Couldn’t stand to see his expression. The pity.
He felt a warmth, a presence by his side, and he knew it was him, it was Phil, but Dan just couldn’t look up, the sparkler still absurdly in his hand, unmoving after writing those damning words in the sky.
But Phil moved to stand in front of him, close, so close, so warm and perfect and everything Dan hadn’t known he wanted, because he wasn’t allowed to want it, wasn’t supposed to want it, and finally Dan hesitantly raised his head to see an exquisitely gentle expression on Phil’s face.
“I love you, too,” Phil whispered, but the quiet words rang in Dan’s ears like a clarion bell. Words he’d never expected to hear, never never never, and then Phil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dan’s and everything else disappeared. Dan’s entire world was those soft lips against his in a kiss that was everything he’d wanted, everything he wasn’t supposed to have, everything he’d dreamed of, and he realized now that he’d been wanting it for years, that he’d fallen in love with Phil long ago. Phil with his sunshine smile and his kindness and his love for the world. Phil who was like nothing Dan had ever seen before. Phil who was kissing him, kissing him, there in the snowy darkness with sparklers crackling in their hands. He finally began to register all this as Phil slowly, lingeringly pulled away and looked into Dan’s eyes.
Dan didn’t know what Phil saw there, but he knew what he saw in Phil’s eyes, and it was sweet and gentle and fierce all at once. “I love you, too,” Phil repeated. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know I only met you a few hours ago. But … I feel like I’ve known you for years. Maybe because you’ve been there for years, and somehow some part of me knew that and felt you there. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.” He raised a chilly hand to Dan’s cheek, where it warmed quickly against his skin. “I feel connected to you like I’ve never felt with anyone else. When you sat beside me on that bench, it was like finding another part of myself.”
Suddenly, Phil lowered his hand and looked away, biting his lip. “Does that sound stupid? You just … you wrote that with the sparkler … and then I just … maybe you didn’t even mean it. You were just messing around…”
Dan stopped those stupid words, pressing forward for another kiss, this time a little less gentle, and he let his sparkler fall to the snowy ground, where it hissed and spat before the flame died out. He wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist in his thick winter coat and pulled him nearer, wanting him as near as possible, wanting nothing more than Phil in this entire universe and beyond. He heard another hissing sound as Phil’s sparkler dropped beside his own, and then felt Phil’s arms around his neck as Phil tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and it was heaven. Dan had never been to any heaven as an angel, only taken orders like a good foot soldier in the supernatural bureaucracy, only watched over people on earth as they lived and loved in ways he never thought he could ever experience, but now he felt what he thought all those people had meant when they said something felt like heaven, because this was it.
When Phil finally pulled away—because Dan would never have pulled away, never never never, he would have continued kissing Phil until the end of time—they gazed at each other in the darkness. Without the sparklers, the night around them was lit only by the windows from the coffee shop a little distance away.
“I think I’ve been in love with you a long time,” Dan admitted hesitantly, looking into Phil’s eyes as they gleamed in the dim light. “I just didn’t know what it was, because I’d never felt that way before. I only knew that I cared what happened to you, a lot more than I’d ever cared about any of the other humans I’d protected. In hundreds of years of watching over people, I’d never felt this way. But until tonight … I didn’t know what it was.”
Phil slid his hands down from around Dan’s neck until he could entwine his fingers with Dan’s, both their hands linked together by their sides as they stood so close that their visible breaths mingled in the cold air.
“So what happens now?” Phil asked hesitantly.
And with that simple question, Phil shattered Dan’s heart and his world.
—
Dan had brushed the snow off the bench with the sleeve of his coat, and they both sat there under the streetlamp. Dan had pulled his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, clasping his hands and huddling there for warmth. This human body felt the cold. Not earlier, not when they played with the sparklers, when Phil smiled at him, when Phil stood close and they had … but now, now his body felt the cold.
He rested his cheek on his knees, face turned toward Phil, who sat on the bench beside him.
“So you’re just going to leave,” Phil said, his voice stiff and angry. “After all that, you’re just going to leave.”
“I’m not leaving, Phil. You know that. I’ll still be here.” Dan knew his words weren’t going to help, but he didn’t know anything that would, so all he could do was tell the truth.
Phil huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right. My invisible friend. And you don’t even seem to care. You’re just sitting there, like … like it doesn’t even matter.” Phil turned his back on Dan, looking toward the warmly lit coffee shop where they’d been so happy an hour ago.
“Of course it matters,” Dan rasped out. His throat felt choked, so he cleared it, but it didn’t help. Maybe it was a human thing. “It always matters. But I can’t stay. Even now, I’m breaking the rules, just by being here, by being with you.” Phil didn’t say anything, the line of his back rigid in the lamplight. “I shouldn’t take human form and interact with you in the human world at all. But … tonight, on this bench … you seemed so sad … so lonely … I couldn’t leave you here alone. And so I came again…”
“Again?” Phil almost roared, and the sound echoed in the quiet of the late night in the little park. Dan realized that he had underestimated how upset Phil was. No, not upset—angry. Hurt and angry. Because of Dan. The opposite of what he would ever have wanted. But soon that would all be erased … along with everything else. The thought brought Dan little comfort. Phil turned to look at him again, his face contorted with anguish, his voice quiet now, rigidly controlled. “You’ve been here before? Did I not see you … or did you look different…?”
“I’ve come twice before,” Dan admitted. “Only two times … times when you seemed most lonely and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I’d never taken human shape before with any of my charges, but twice before tonight I did, I came to you … but it wasn’t the same. I just … you needed to talk, needed someone to listen … needed to know that someone cared. And so I came, and I listened to you, and I let you know that I am always here, always with you, always caring … and it seemed to help. And then I erased your memories of my visit, but the comfort lingered and your smile returned … and I felt better, that I had helped you, even if you wouldn’t remember me. I would remember for both of us.” He sniffed, and told himself it was the cold, not oncoming tears, and said, “Just like I’ll remember for both of us this time, too.”
Dan, tightened his arms around his knees and turned his face as soon as he felt the tears begin to sting his eyes, turned his face away from Phil and rested his other cheek on his knees, looking away into the darkness beyond the street lamp.
“Wait a minute,” Phil said haltingly. “You’re going to erase my memories?” Dan didn’t reply, because he knew it wasn’t really a question, not after what he’d just said.
“This whole night?” Phil continued. “Everything? You’re going to wipe it all from my brain like none of it ever happened? Does it mean that little to you?” Phil sounded absolutely destroyed by the final few words, his voice shredded almost to nothing.
“I don’t have a choice,” Dan cried, still looking away, unable to look at Phil and see the expression on his face right now. “There are rules! I don’t get to just do whatever I want, Phil. I’m not like you! I’m a guardian angel, and we have rules we have to follow or the entire structure would collapse.”
After a long silence, Dan finally turned to look back at Phil, and he looked angrier than Dan had ever seen him before. An anger that roiled beneath the surface, while Phil’s face looked perfectly still. When their eyes met, Phil said slowly, carefully, “So why did you say you loved me? Why did you kiss me? Why did you do any of that, when all the time you were planning to take it back?”
Dan didn’t know what to say.
Phil nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Just getting your jollies, huh?” Then he laughed with no humor in the sound. “Christmas was a month ago, you moron.” He froze, then said, “Hell, you could have been here, then, too, and I would never know it. You could just keep playing with my brain over and over again.” Dan could see his anger grow with every sentence now, with every word. “Did we ever have sex? Because I suppose it wouldn’t count as rape if I was willing at the time, but I’m not sure if you erased my memory of it afterward…”
Dan shouted, “Stop! I told you! I was only here those other two times, and all I did was listen. This was the first time I ever … I never even realized how I felt about you until tonight.”
“And so you thought you’d take advantage of that nifty memory erasure power…” Phil began, but Dan interrupted him.
“I didn’t plan any of this!” Dan sobbed, and tears were streaking down his face now, hot against the cold of his skin. “I just … it took me by surprise. I’d never felt this way, never … never sat in a cozy window seat with a handsome man I loved … never played. I was never a child, Phil, so I’d never played before, never laughed with a friend and felt a sparkler in my hand and swung it through the air.” He wiped at his cheeks then dropped his chin to his knees again. “I … I lost control, Phil. I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to have any of this. It’s against the rules, and this must be the reason, because I should never lose control like that. I’m sorry. I should have just … I should have just listened to you like I did before and then gone. Even that would have broken the rules, but it wouldn’t have been so selfish. I should never have let the rest of that happen. It was very wrong of me. I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes, because he could feel more tears gathering, threatening to fall.
Phil’s voice was soft when he said, “You were never a child? And you think it was wrong to play?”
Dan opened his eyes, and he gazed at Phil through eyelashes covered in teardrops that glistened like crystals in the lamplight. As Dan looked at him, they framed Phil’s face like some kind of ironic halo. “I’m not human, Phil. I don’t have a life. I just have an eternity of watching from the outside, an eternity of guarding the human world, keeping people safe. That’s all I’ll ever have. Except … tonight.”
“You said you weren’t supposed to have any of this. I thought you meant love, kissing, all of that. But you mean the rest, too? Even just … even just the coffee? I noticed you only pretended to sip at yours. Was that why you wouldn’t take a bite of my cupcake? Because someone told you it wasn’t allowed?”
Dan sighed. Phil just didn’t understand. Dan gazed at him through the scattered stars of his own tears. “We don’t have anything for ourselves, Phil. We aren’t supposed to. We don’t get to have guardian angel parties, even with white cake, let alone red velvet cupcakes. We don’t have anything for ourselves. We only exist to serve. I only watch. I watch your Bonfire Nights, with the sparklers. I watch you walk through crowded streets and bump elbows with strangers and apologize to them because you’re always too nice. I watch you laugh with your family and friends, watch how you love them, how they smile at you with such affection. I watch you play video games and drink pumpkin spice lattes and take the Tube. I watch you curl up by warm fires with a blanket over your lap and a cup of hot chocolate. I watch you live a life, but I don’t live, Phil. I don’t get to have that. I was created to watch over you, to keep you safe, to make your life as healthy and happy as possible. And that’s what I do. It’s my place in the world. And I treasure it. I treasure my ability to help you, even though it is from afar. It’s my reason for existence.”
Neither of them said anything for a long beat, and then Dan whispered, “I don’t get to have a life, Phil. And, no matter what happened tonight, no matter how I feel about you, I can’t let you keep the memories, and I don’t get to stay. I just … can’t. I have no right. I just … I’m not human.”
This time the silence stretched on so long that Dan wondered if Phil was going to just get up and walk away. But then Phil asked, “So … if you don’t have guardian angel parties … does that mean you’ve never had a cupcake?”
Dan laughed on a sob. “No, Phil,” he laughed at the absurdity and his own grief. “I’ve never had a cupcake.” His cheeks were wet again now, the tears rapidly cooling in the wintery air.
And then suddenly his left wrist was grabbed forcefully, causing his other arm to fall loose and his legs to slide off the bench. He turned his head to gaze up at Phil, who stood beside him, holding Dan’s wrist in a tight grip. “Then come on,” Phil said in the most determined voice Dan had ever heard from him. “Because I’m buying you a fucking cupcake.”
Dan hadn’t heard Phil use that particular swear word often, aside from when he played video games, so he knew Phil was serious about this ridiculous idea. But this was neither the time nor the place. In fact, there was no time or place in which it would ever be appropriate for Phil Lester to buy him a fucking cupcake.
“Are you going to make me drag you there?” Phil asked through gritted teeth. “Because that might traumatize the girl who was so nice to us.”
Dan sighed. “Why would you want to buy me a cupcake, Phil? After everything I’ve just told you?”
“If you don’t get to stay…” Phil looked away and his throat worked for a moment before he continued. “If you don’t get to stay, if you have to go back to that, then I want to at least give you a cupcake to remember.”
“That sounds like a terrible Hallmark movie,” Dan laughed through his tears. “A Cupcake to Remember.”
—
The cupcake had come with three candles on it. Dan looked at Phil in question as the barista walked back behind the counter, well away from their window table.
“One candle for each time you’ve come to see me,” Phil explained with a grin. “Like your three birthdays.”
Dan would never understand how Phil could take such absolutely absurd situations and simply adjust to them, simply accept them and move on. Now he had accepted that Dan had been here before, and he didn’t hold on to any anger or recriminations. Instead, he just got Dan a cupcake with three candles.
Dan blew the candles out. Like he’d seen a million times. Like a real person having a real birthday.
“So what do you think?” Phil asked when Dan took the first bite, his voice eager as he watched Dan’s face.
A bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny—not accustomed to being the one observed—Dan chewed and swallowed, which in itself was an odd sensation. “It’s … interesting.”
“Just interesting?” Phil sounded disappointed. “It’s a red velvet cupcake! You don’t like it?”
Dan considered how to explain. “Well, to be honest, I’ve never eaten anything before, so I don’t really have anything to compare it to.” He took another bite. The cake felt spongey in his mouth, with a rather pleasing texture. He liked it better than the sweeter icing.
Phil’s jaw dropped, literally. The gaping mouth was not his most attractive look. “You’ve … you’ve never eaten anything before?”
Dan looked around, making sure the barista was not within hearing distance. “Phil … I’m not human. Guardian angels don’t eat. We just … watch. I just watch over you. I see you eat every day, see you enjoy food, but I don’t get to enjoy it myself. I’m glad when I see you enjoy it, though. I like to see you happy. If all I can do is watch, I like to watch you be happy.” He chuckled a bit to himself. “Food seems to make you very happy. Especially popcorn and sweets.” He took another bite of the cupcake. Eating really was a very strange experience.
Phil shook his head in wonder. “You really … wait! Here! Drink some of my coffee!” He pushed his mug into Dan’s hand. This time they hadn’t ordered two, just a coffee for Phil and the cupcake for Dan. Dan looked at Phil in confusion. “A cupcake is much better with coffee! And I’ll bet you’ve never drunk coffee before, either, even though I’ve seen you hold it in your hands.”
Obediently, not sure why he felt compelled to humor Phil’s whims, Dan took a sip of the coffee. It was warm and sweet and smooth in his mouth, and it washed cupcake crumbs with it as it flowed down his throat. He imagined he could even feel its warmth in his belly. He nodded to Phil. “It’s good.” He smiled.
In the end, the cupcake defeated him, and Phil had to finish it, which he did with great enjoyment, despite having eaten an entire cupcake of his own not long before. Dan, in turn, finished the coffee. He decided that he preferred coffee to cupcakes, but opted to keep that thought to himself, lest he hurt Phil’s feelings. Phil had been so excited about the cupcake, after all.
They sat silently together at the table, an empty plate in front of Phil, an empty mug in Dan’s hands, both of them watching the snow which had begun falling again outside. This time, Dan hadn’t needed to prompt it.
“So,” Phil began softly, “you can’t stay.” Dan shook his head. They met each other’s eyes, sharing their regret. “Do you need to leave right away? Could you stay until tomorrow?” Phil looked hopeful, but Dan silently shook his head again.
Dan looked down into his empty mug. He’d tasted food and drink for the first time tonight. He’d played in the snow. He’d kissed someone he loved. He couldn’t ask for more. He’d already taken too much, far more than he should.
“This is all…” he began, but Phil interrupted him.
“Against the rules. I know.” Phil sounded bitter now. “You know, these rules really suck.”
That surprised a laugh out of Dan, but then he nodded in reluctant agreement. “They really really do.”
“Are you going to erase my memory now? Leave me sitting in a coffee shop wondering why there are three candles on my empty plate?” Phil’s quiet voice held pain and acceptance.
How could Phil accept even this?
How could he accept it when even Dan could not?
Because Dan found that he couldn’t. He must be the worst fucking guardian angel in the history of existence, because these rules made no fucking sense to him, and he absolutely could not accept that he had to erase himself and this wonderful, beautiful night from Phil’s memory.
“What if…” Dan began hesitantly. Could he really do this? Visiting Phil was one thing, but this … this would be a much more serious breach of the rules. He’d never heard of anyone doing such a thing. “What if I didn’t erase your memory?” he finished in a quiet rush.
Phil’s head came up and he stared at Dan, shocked. “I thought that was…” but Dan interrupted him.
“Against the rules. Yeah. It is. But what if I didn’t?” Dan gazed anxiously at Phil.
Phil shrugged in confusion. “Then I would remember everything we did tonight.” He smiled. “Everything.” His gaze flicked down to Dan’s lips, then back up to his eyes.
“But, that isn’t everything that would change,” Dan insisted, frustrated with Phil’s lack of understanding. “You would always know, from now on. You would always know about me. That I’m watching. That I’m there. That’s what’s not permitted. Humans can’t know about us or it might change their behavior, and we’re merely observers. We’re not supposed to change your lives except in the small ways we help to keep you safe.”
Phil put his hand on Dan’s underneath the table and met his eyes with steely determination. “So I would know for the rest of my life that I wasn’t alone, that you were always with me, that someone was always on my side and watching out for me. I don’t see how that could be a bad thing.”
“I’m not going to do it,” Dan said, making the sudden decision at the same time as the words erupted from his mouth. “I’m not going to erase your memory.”
“But what about the rules?” Phil asked, suddenly anxious. “Will something happen to you if you don’t?”
“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing this before. But I’m not erasing this night, not for anything. I don’t want to hold the memory for both of us … I want us to hold it together.” They smiled at each other like shy co-conspirators.
They held hands tightly, and Dan never wanted to let go. He’d heard it so many times, but he’d never understood it when humans said that, when they said, “I never want to let go,” but now he knew. Because now he felt it.
“Are you sure you can’t stay? Absolutely sure?” Phil sounded despondent.
Dan felt pain in his chest and wondered if this was what humans meant when they talked about “heartbreak.” How could he learn so much in one night? And all by breaking the rules! Was this why the rules existed, to prevent guardian angels from learning about humans, instead of preventing humans from learning about guardian angels? Or both?
He spoke firmly, despite his own agonized feelings. “There are rules, Phil, and I might be breaking a lot of them tonight, but this is the biggest one. It’s impossible. No one has ever done it.”
“Just because no one has ever done it doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Phil replied with just the slightest amount of hope in his voice, but Dan just shook his head and gazed morosely into the empty coffee cup.
“I can’t stay, Phil. I have to go. But you know I’m not actually going anywhere. I’ll still be here.” He looked up to meet Phil’s beautiful, gentle, loving eyes. So sad, but so beautiful. “Will you promise me something?”
“Anything,” Phil replied without hesitation.
“Promise me you’ll move out of that miserable flat,” Dan insisted, fighting off his own despair with bravado. “Away from that terrible cunt of a flatmate. Find someplace of your own, someplace you can be happy.”
Tears gathered in those beautiful eyes. “I promise.”
“You know I’ll see if you break your word.” Dan tried to smile, but felt he probably did a poor job of it.
Phil gave a wobbly smile of his own. “I won’t. I’ll give David my notice tonight and find another place. I’ll be out by the end of next month.”
“Just … be happy, Phil. Nobody deserves it more than you do.”
Phil didn’t say anything, just gazed wordlessly at Dan.
“And … just know … I’m always here,” Dan added at last.
They both sat there a moment before Dan gave into his impulse, winding his hands into Phil’s hair and pulling him into a quick, fierce kiss which immediately gentled into something achingly sweet before he let their lips part. He looked into Phil’s pale eyes for a long moment, enjoying the warmness of him, the realness of him, the realness of them both, their last moment of togetherness. And then he let go and stood up from the table.
Dan walked away from Phil and past the wide-eyed barista, opening the shop door and hearing the chime as he walked through. He would not let himself look back as the door swung shut behind him. He stepped into the falling snow and relished its cold on his skin as he walked away from the coffee shop and into the darkness beyond its windows, beyond the lamplights. He walked into the dark until all he left behind was the imprint of two zippered boots on pristine white snow.
—
He saw Phil sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, holding the empty mug in his hands and looking at the three candles on the empty plate in front of him, occasionally gazing out at the snow with a melancholy smile and eyes shining with tears.
And then he got to watch Phil walk home to tell his shocked fucking fuckwad of a flatmate that he was moving out.
—
Phil and his friend Chris packed kitchenware together into a large box.
“How long have you been flatmates with this bloke?” Chris asked.
Phil shrugged. “About three years, I think.”
“And you still keep all your plates and mugs and things in separate cabinets? After all this time?” Chris seemed offended on Phil’s behalf. Dan could tell he thought David must be a real twat.
He was absolutely correct on that score, of course.
“David didn’t want me using his things,” Phil replied, and Dan wanted to strangle the selfish little twat with his inconveniently incorporeal hands. But the all-important rules said he mustn’t affect the lives of anyone other than his assigned charge, which was Phil, so he couldn’t even cause any kind of accidental mishaps that might send Phil’s soon-to-be-former flatmate slipping on some conveniently located ice or anything. Phil added, “He says I break things.”
Well, okay, Dan had to admit that was fair.
Chris nodded. “Well, that’s fair,” he said, echoing Dan’s thoughts. Dan liked Chris. In fact, Dan liked all of Phil’s small collection of friends. Phil had good taste in people, in general, because he looked for humor and kindness above all, and those were excellent qualities, in Dan’s opinion. Dan had to admit that he even considered himself to display those qualities. He might not be the most cheerful entity in the universe, but he did think of himself as kind—to those who deserved it—and he certainly saw the humor in things—probably even in many things he shouldn’t. He liked irony, sarcasm, and dark humor. He wasn’t sure if those above him in the power structure would approve, but he didn’t really care.
He cared less about them, and about the rules, than he used to, even if he’d never been the most obedient and obliging of employees. He’d always tried, and he still tried today … but he just cared more about something else now. Or, rather, someone.
Half an hour later, Phil and Chris began carrying boxes down the steps to the small lorry Phil had rented. Phil misstepped and very nearly fell all the way down the stairway and broke his damned neck, but Dan made the stair quickly rise up to meet his gigantic clumsy foot, and Phil instead only came dangerously close to dropping a box full of mismatched crockery.
“Watch it there, mate!” Chris called out in surprised concern. “You’ll crack your head open falling down these concrete stairs!”
But Phil only took a few more careful steps before replying with a slight smile, “My guardian angel must be watching over me.”
In his incorporeal heart Dan smiled, too, even though Phil couldn’t see him.
—
On Valentine’s Day, Phil refused his friends’ invitation to go out together. Phil often refused invitations to go out, as he preferred to stay in, so this was nothing unusual, but instead of video games or his other usual pastimes, Phil sat on his new sofa in his new flat, surrounded by cardboard moving boxes, and watched The Notebook on Netflix, sobbing as if his heart was breaking.
Perhaps it was.
Or perhaps it already had.
Had Dan done that to him? Had he betrayed his only reason for existence by actually hurting the one person he was meant to protect from harm?
In the evening, Phil took a bus to the coffee house near his old flat and ordered a red velvet cupcake. The young man at the counter told him that they didn’t sell red velvet cupcakes. When Phil argued that he’d bought one only two weeks prior, the employee assured him that the bakery did not provide them with red velvet cupcakes, and so they’d never been available at this location.
Phil nodded slowly, giving a secret little wry smile as if he understood that Dan had made those particular cupcakes happen on that particular evening just for him, and Dan again felt a smile burgeon within his angelic heart. It was a slightly sad incorporeal smile, though, because it hurt to see Phil back in that coffee house alone, remembering him.
Phil ordered a plain chocolate cupcake with a cup of coffee and went to sit down. Half the tables were full, including the one at the window, so Phil sat at another table nearby to wait for his name to be called. With more than one table occupied, the employee working the counter certainly wouldn’t bring orders to the patrons’ tables as the friendly barista had on the night Dan and Phil had been there together.
When Phil’s name was called, he fetched his order and sat at a table not too far from the window, discreetly watching the couple sitting there. When they moved to stand up, Phil moved as quickly as was politely possible to claim the table before anyone else could.
He sat a long time at the table—their table—gazing out the window at the falling snow. He nursed his coffee, drinking the entire thing as slowly as possible, but he only ate half his cupcake, and there were no candles on the plate beside it when he left it behind.
Afterward, Phil sat on the bench in the little park until he was shivering with cold. His dark hair drenched with melted snow, he walked slowly back to the bus stop, where he sat with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground, until the bus eventually came to take him back to his new flat.
—
“You’re listening to the Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil, and that was Lion Babe! Did you like it? If so, shoot me a message to tell me what you think. And now I have a special dedication. It’s a belated Valentine’s Day dedication to everyone out there who spent this particular holiday alone. Don’t give up, because there may still be someone out there for you! This is an oldie but a goodie, and it’s called ’Someone to Watch Over Me’…”
—
Phil visited Florida with his family, and Martyn commented that his little brother seemed more subdued than usual.
“I’m just … missing someone,” Phil replied, obviously so relaxed in the company of loved ones that he wasn’t thinking to be circumspect about his words.
Martyn heartily clapped him on the back. “I didn’t even know you were dating anybody!” he said with obvious happiness.
Phil blinked. He looked at Martyn. “Oh,” he stammered, “I’m not.”
Martyn looked confused, but said in a more subdued voice, “Well, then, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Dan knew Phil wouldn’t talk about it.
—
Phil attended a major YouTube convention, where he met a great many people—both members of his audience and fellow content creators—who hugged him, and Dan wanted to cut all their arms off, because these strangers shouldn’t get to hug Phil when Dan couldn’t.
The desire to dismember people wasn’t a very appropriate thought for a guardian angel, but since when had Dan confined himself to appropriate thoughts?
One fan after another told Phil that watching him had changed their lives, and Dan just kept thinking, “I’m not alive, I don’t have a life, I don’t get to have a life, but … same.”
—
“You’re listening to the Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil! I’ve got a request here from @snow-dude, so we’re going to play Evanescence’s ‘My Immortal’...”
—
Phil looked more uncomfortable at this particular party than Dan had perhaps ever seen him before. He’d been told to expect just a few friends, but the few friends had brought another few friends, and Phil’s mate’s flat ended up filled with more people than Phil usually socialized with in a month. Or even two.
Wearing his minimal Halloween costume of cat ears on his head and whiskers drawn on his face, Phil sat on a sofa in the lounge, looking at his phone, obviously hoping no one would talk to him.
A rather handsome fellow dressed as Thor—lacking somewhat in the muscles department, despite the fact that he obviously did work out a bit—joined Phil on the sofa and said hello. Dan would have gnashed his teeth if he had any.
“Hi,” Thor said, smiling in a very friendly way. Not too friendly, not edging into creepy, but just friendly enough to put a nerd like Phil at ease.
“Hi,” Phil replied, putting his phone down like any polite Englishman would when confronting a blatant social assault.
“A cat, huh?” Thor commented. Dan decided that the guy must be a moron.
“A cat/human hybrid,” Phil replied, then held up his hands like claws and showed his teeth before laughing awkwardly.
Thor laughed along with him. “So … um … Bryony tells me you do YouTube. I know she used to be into that, but I don’t know much about it. What sort of videos do you make?”
Phil looked physically pained at his complete inability to escape this conversation. And then Thor slid his hand down onto Phil’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. Dan didn’t have fists, but in his mind he clenched them anyway. He clenched his nonexistent fists in an overwhelming desire to punch this Thor fucker in the fucking face.
But Phil just scooted away slightly, avoiding Thor’s hand, and looked away. “Um … I’m sort of … I’m sort of hung up on someone…”
Thor looked mortified. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry! Bryony didn’t tell me, or I wouldn’t have…”
Phil smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I haven’t really told anybody about it. But I just can’t move on, you know?”
Thor looked extremely uncomfortable when faced with a complete stranger’s romantic sob story—he, too, was English, after all—and so he removed himself from the situation pretty speedily.
“That’s right!” Dan thought. “You just keep moving! And you don’t look anything like Thor, anyway! Just so you know!”
But Dan had watched every moment of Phil’s life this past year, so he knew Phil hadn’t dated anyone in the past several months, and so if he was hung up on someone … it was still Dan. And that really shouldn’t make him happy, because it was making Phil miserable, and Dan’s job was to try to keep Phil happy and healthy.
But it still made him happy.
Not that Phil was sad. He wasn’t happy about that, of course not.
But the fact that Phil still thought about him, about that night in the snow together … he couldn’t help but feel happy about that, because Dan hadn’t forgotten it for a single second since it happened.
—
Phil scrubbed the stovetop from where he’d spilled some pasta and it had burned into a crusted-on mess. He had to exert quite a bit of effort, but he got into a sort of rhythm with his scrubbing as he hummed in time with his movements.
Then Dan recognized the song Phil was humming.
Knowing Phil, it wouldn’t be long before he started to sing, and sure enough a moment later Phil started belting out Betty Who’s “Somebody Loves You.”
Who’s around when the days feel long
Who’s around when you can’t be strong
Who’s around when you’re losing your mind
Who cares that you get home safe
Who knows you can’t be replaced
Who thinks that you’re one of a kind
Dan tried to contain an inward chuckle at Phil singing alone there in his kitchen, scrubbing at his disgusting stovetop, but he didn’t have to try very hard. He actually didn’t find it all that funny, because he really hoped that Phil thought of him when he sang this song.
Dan suddenly realized he’d been hearing Phil humming this tune for days, but just hadn’t identified it until now.
Phil continued singing.
I’m around when your head is heavy
I’m around when your hands aren’t steady
I’m around when your day’s gone all wrong
Dan listened until he finally couldn’t help it and in his mind he chimed in unison with Phil, “Ooh somebody loves you…” even though Phil, of course, couldn’t hear him.
—
“Phil? Martyn? Will one of you come help your poor mother?” Phil’s mum called out to her sons. Most of the decorations already adorned the tree, but only the pinnacle remained.
Phil looked up from where he had been placing one of the final baubles on a lower branch and asked, “What is it, Mum?”
“It’s the angel,” she replied, and Phil blanched. “We need to put it on the top of the tree, and I’m not tall enough, even with the stool.”
“Ask Martyn,” Phil choked, and he raced out of the room.
Phil fled to the guest room containing his things and closed the door, sliding down to sit with his back against it, making sure that no one would follow him in to ask what was wrong.
And then Phil cried. Silently into his hands, not wanting any of his family to hear. He cried for a long time.
And if Dan could have, he would have cried, too.
—
Phil was eating dinner with four good friends at a rather nice Thai restaurant. Nothing uncomfortably fancy, but not a place he would casually frequent. Dressed much more nicely than usual, he seemed quite at ease and happy with his companions, who laughed perhaps a bit more loudly than he did, but Phil was rarely a loud person, except occasionally when playing video games.
Phil smiled with contentment, and Dan couldn’t help feeling as if he’d played a role in getting Phil to this place in his life, that he’d set Phil on this better path even if it had only been by encouraging him to leave that wretched flatmate behind last year.
Dan could barely believe the change in Phil’s circumstances. He was thriving now: living in his own flat which he’d furnished with his own things exactly to his own tastes, succeeding admirably both on YouTube and on his radio show at the BBC, closer than ever to both friends and family.
But there was one fly in the ointment. That lingering bit of sadness behind his eyes. That sense that he longed for something—someone—he’d lost forever. Those song dedications. His refusal to date.
—
It was just too much. Watching him suffer like that … it was too much.
—
A pair of black zippered boots appeared, attached to a black-clad form slightly hidden in the grass some distance from the door to the restaurant. It had been a warm January and so the snow had not settled in the warmer areas, but a bit lingered at Dan’s feet in the shadows.
He stepped onto the pavement and walked to the restaurant’s door, opening it and going inside, where a rather officious-looking little man at a podium asked him if he had a reservation. Dan hesitated a moment, then told the host that he was with the Lester party.
As the man led him through the restaurant, Dan began to feel increasingly nervous. How would Phil react? Were people staring at him? Could they tell that something was not quite right about Dan? Would Phil’s friends find him odd? Would he make Phil uncomfortable at his own birthday celebration? Perhaps this had been a bad idea.
But it was too late to turn back now, because Phil had seen him.
Phil’s friends continued their conversation, but Phil simply stared at Dan, his mouth slightly open in shock. When Dan arrived at the table, Phil didn’t say anything, though his friends all fell silent, turning to look at Dan with open curiosity. The host glanced uncertainly at Dan, obviously wondering now whether Dan had lied about being a member of the party at the table, wondering whether he’d be forced to somehow eject Dan from the premises despite Dan’s comparatively impressive size.
Dan glanced at the floor, then back to meet Phil’s eyes again. “Surprise?” he offered lamely. “May I … I thought perhaps I might join you. If … if you like.”
The restaurant’s host glanced between Phil and Dan, clearly uncertain. “Sir, this gentleman said he was a member of your party. But if he is bothering you…”
“No!” Phil replied quickly. “No! He’s not bothering me … us. I mean … yes … I know him … he is with us.”
With their odd-numbered party of five, there was, in fact, a spare place setting at the table. It was at the opposite end from where Phil sat, and Dan hesitated, nervous about joining the group and sitting so alone. Phil’s friends looked from Phil to Dan, clearly waiting for some explanation of the situation.
Phil stammered in obvious disbelief, “This is my … friend … Dan. I … I haven’t … I haven’t seen him … in a really long time. I had no idea he might be coming.” His friends seemed a bit confused, and Phil noticed their reactions. “He’s a very dear friend,” he hurried to explain, and Dan felt a surge of emotion at the description. “Would you … would you mind changing seats so that we can sit together? It’s been far too long since I’ve seen him and … I just…” Phil trailed off in wordless shock. But his friends just smiled and rearranged themselves, moving their plates and things with them as they scooted along to make room for Dan to sit at Phil’s right side.
“Hi,” Dan said quietly, with a bit of a shy smile.
“Hi,” Phil replied with more happiness in his eyes than Dan had seen in a very long time. In a year, perhaps, since that night in the snow. That tiny lingering sadness had completely disappeared.
“I’m Bryony,” one of Phil’s friends introduced herself when it became apparent that Phil was not going to do the honors. Dan already knew her name, of course. She was one of Phil’s closest friends, and Dan already liked her immensely. He gave her a warm smile.
Phil jolted out of his daze and quickly introduced everyone else. They all welcomed Dan with open friendliness, as kind and generous as Phil himself. Phil had such excellent friends. Dan felt honored to finally meet them. He said as much, and they looked at him oddly. “Phil has … spoken of you often,” he said awkwardly, because that wasn’t quite a lie. Phil had spoken of them often, just not directly to Dan. “I feel as if I know you already.”
“That’s odd,” Phil’s friend Thomas commented, glancing at Phil. “He’s never mentioned you.”
“I asked him not to,” Dan explained quickly, uncertain if perhaps he was just making things worse. “Our relationship has been … an odd one.” Thomas’s eyebrows went up, and Phil’s friends exchanged knowing looks. “Not the way that sounds…” Dan stuttered, realizing that he’d just implied a secret romantic relationship and may have made Phil uncomfortable.
“Exactly the way that sounds,” Phil said firmly, smiling at Dan. He looked at his friends. “I’m glad you finally get to meet him. Dan and I have been very close for a long time, but I never thought I’d get this chance for you all to know each other.” He reached out and took Dan’s hand with a smile so full of bliss that all Dan’s doubts fell away.
“How long are you staying?” Phil asked. “I mean … how long will you be in town?” He glanced uncertainly at his friends, clearly trying to behave and sound as normal as possible in this ridiculously abnormal situation.
“I thought I’d stick around this time,” Dan offered tentatively. “Move here. We could see each other all the time, you know? So I’m looking for a flat.” Dan floundered. “And … er … a job, I suppose. I’ll need one of those.”
Phil’s face went pale, then flushed. “You’re … you’re staying?” he asked, wonder in his voice.
Dan nodded. “If that’s … what you want.”
“Yes!” Phil exclaimed without hesitation. “Yes, that’s what I want! Of course that’s what I want! I can’t believe … you’re really staying? Permanently?”
“Permanently,” Dan affirmed, reassured by Phil’s excited response.
“Well, if you’re staying,” Phil’s friend Thomas interrupted with good cheer, “then you may as well break bread with us. We’re sharing everything family-style, so help yourself!”
Dan looked at the various dishes on the table with some trepidation. He knew what all the foods were, as he’d watched Phil eat and discuss them on previous occasions, but he had no idea how they would actually taste. He reached out toward a green curry, which he knew Phil liked quite a bit, but Phil put a hand on his arm to stop him. “That one’s a bit spicy,” Phil warned. “You might want to start with something milder. Maybe the pad thai.”
Phil’s friends had resumed their eating, but now paused again to glance in confusion at this exchange.
“This is my first time…” Dan began, uncertain how to explain.
“His first time having Thai food,” Phil finished for him, saving him. Dan nodded. It was true, after all.
Everyone else at the table expressed their surprise that Dan had never had Thai food before and all made suggestions regarding which dishes he should try first. Dan followed Phil’s suggestions and ended up with a modest amount of food on his plate.
Dan had heard people talk about food millions of times. He’d watched people eat millions of times. But that red velvet cupcake last year was the only food he’d ever tasted, and now ... he tasted all kinds of flavors. Like a real person, he was just … eating, which was completely different from observing it from the outside, from an immeasurable distance.
It was an overwhelming experience. So many sensations all at once.
He glanced at Phil and saw him watching Dan with concern. And suddenly everything was all right. He was with Phil. He took another bite of pad thai, and he tasted noodles, and he heard Phil’s friends talk to him as if he were real, because he was real, he was finally real, and he was human, and he was with Phil.
He chewed his noodles and swallowed, and gave Phil a smile. He wasn’t just an invisible guardian anymore—he was part of this world. With Phil.
In the end, he decided that his favorite dish was the fresh spring roll with shrimp, dipped in a peanut sauce that left a slight burning sensation on his tongue. That must be what “spicy” tasted like.
When they’d all finished and the plates had been cleared from the table, a member of the waitstaff arrived with a white-frosted cake topped with four flaming candles. “Three candles for the decades, and one for the additional year,” Bryony explained, and everyone laughed. Phil blew out the candles, and the cake was placed on the table where they could all see it in greater detail.
On the white surface, a forest scene had been hand drawn in primarily red piping. Squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and hedgehogs cavorted among plants and trees piped in green, with blue-piped stars scattered above their heads. The candles had been planted among the stars.
Dan immediately recognized the style, and along with everyone else he turned to look at Phil’s friend Will, a well-known artist. Tears gleamed in Phil’s eyes as he whispered, “It’s so beautiful.” Dan couldn’t help remembering the horribly disappointing cake from the previous year, and he felt proud that he had encouraged Phil to grow closer to his true friends instead of relying so much on a flatmate who didn’t care for him at all.
Dan gave Will a warm smile and said quite honestly, “I recognize your art style. It was wonderful of you to do this for Phil.” Will returned Dan’s smile and looked down at the table shyly, nodding his silent thanks for the compliment.
“But we can’t cut this up!” Phil insisted. “It’s too pretty to eat!” Bryony took several photos of Phil with the cake, then several of the cake itself, then encouraged him to cut a slice, because the beauty would be well preserved in photos. Still, Phil flinched slightly when he sliced into the cake for the first time. “Who wants some stars?” he asked, then he glanced at Dan.
“I want the hedgehog,” Dan requested in an effort to sound normal and divert attention away from himself.
“Take the stars for yourself,” Bryony suggested. “You certainly deserve them, and more.” She leaned in to give Phil a kiss on the cheek. Dan decided he rather loved Bryony. He hoped they would become good friends.
The idea of having friends felt strange, but good. Something fluttered in his stomach, and he thought it might be happiness. He would have to identify all these feelings as time went on.
He had so much to learn.
“It’s red velvet!” Phil cried as he pulled the first slice out of the cake. Everyone laughed at his surprise. Because of course these people would know he loved red velvet, that it was his favorite, and they would go out of their way to get him what he wanted most, and they would spend hours decorating it, and they would give him the quiet sort of party he enjoyed. Dan doubted that anyone had purchased this cake at any Tesco, and he looked at Bryony, guessing that she had probably baked it herself.
This was friendship, and this was love. This was the very best of what it meant to be human.
This was what Dan had chosen, and he doubted he would ever regret it for a moment.
—
When they emerged from the restaurant, everyone began discussing who should share taxis, all in a noisy, happy jumble of conversation.
Dan looked at Phil. “Want to go for a walk?” It wasn’t only food he would need to get used to. Five different people talking to him across the dinner table had been rather a lot to follow. He just longed for a moment alone with Phil.
“But it’s started snowing again!” Thomas objected, sounding concerned.
“That’s perfect,” Phil said, smiling at Dan.
—
“So you just quit?”
“So I just quit,” Dan affirmed as they walked side by side along the pavement and the snow fell lightly around them, landing on their hair and coats.
“How do you ‘quit’ being a guardian angel? Do you submit your letter of resignation to heaven or something?” Phil sounded amazed and baffled.
Dan shrugged. “I don’t know anything about heaven. I always just got orders to watch over someone, and so I did it. And today I decided I wasn’t going to do it anymore. That I was going to be with you for real, instead.”
“So you quit?” Phil was repeating himself now, still sounding dazed. “You just walked away?”
“So I quit. I just took human form again and decided I’m going to stay here.” Dan didn’t say anything else for a moment, but he stared intently down at his feet as he took each step. Finally, he burst out, “I couldn’t stand to be with you, but have you not able to see me.” Dan clenched his fists as they walked. It had been horrible. “I couldn’t stand to not be able to talk to you, or drink coffee with you, or … I couldn’t stand to not be with you, really with you, not even for one more day.”
Phil put a hand on Dan’s arm to stop him, to turn him and meet his eyes. They stood in the falling snow and looked at each other. “I thought you said it was impossible,” Phil reminded him in hushed tones, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.
Dan reached up to take Phil’s hand in his, smiling at him. “And you said I couldn’t know if it was impossible, just because no one had ever done it.” He leaned in to kiss Phil softly, then whispered, “I did the impossible for you, Phil Lester.”
And then Phil gave him a real kiss.
—
“You know, if you’re going to be a proper human person, you’ll need a last name,” Phil teased as they continued their walk, hands linked and swinging idly between them.
Dan hadn’t thought of that. He considered. “Well, I’m sort of being born in winter, right? ‘Winter is coming,’ and all that. Perhaps something from ‘Game of Thrones,’” he mused.
Phil chuckled. “Daniel Stark?”
Dan shook his head, laughing. “I’d feel too much like the son of Iron Man or something.”
“Dan Lannister?” Phil suggested, clearly joking now. “Daniel Greyjoy?” He snorted, he was laughing so hard.
Dan tilted his head, thinking. “I see myself more as the silent protector type,” he mused. “Lurking unseen until finally I make myself known at just the right moment.” It sounded perfect.
Phil looked confused. “What character is that?”
“A direwolf,” Dan said smugly, referring to the powerful animals that had protected the Stark children.
Phil raised his eyebrows. “Those names might call a bit of attention. Dan Ghost? Daniel Nymeria?”
“I was thinking of something less literal. Maybe something related to wolves in general. Daniel Wolfe? Is it too obvious?”
Phil shrugged. “That could work. Or maybe something about howling?”
Dan nodded, pleased. “I kind of like that one, but the spelling needs work, because the word ‘howl’ wouldn’t look like a proper last name.”
Phil suggested, “What about ‘Howell’?” and he spelled it to show what he meant.
Dan grinned. “I love it. Daniel Howell. The direwolf who’s been protecting you silently from the shadows all these years.”
“I love it, too.” Phil stopped and gave him a serious look. “I love you, Daniel Howell.” And then Phil reeled him in for another kiss.
“Daniel Howell loves you back. More than you know.” Dan wrapped his arms around Phil and just held him tight, feeling how real he was, how real they both were, together.
—
“What happens now?” Phil asked eventually.
Dan continued walking beside him. “Well, I hoped I could stay at yours, just until I figure things out … if that’s okay with you.” He glanced at Phil’s face, then back down at the pavement, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“No,” Phil said, and Dan’s stomach dropped. He’d always wondered what that expression meant, and now he knew. It was horrid. “I mean, yes, of course,” Phil continued, squeezing Dan’s hand in his. “Of course you can stay with me, but I meant … in the larger scheme of things.” Dan looked at him and waited, not sure what Phil was trying to ask.
Phil frowned, trying to find words, then asked hesitantly, “Are you still an angel? Or are you human?”
Dan shook his head, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I could go back to just observing from the outside if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. Right now I’m human, and I plan to stay that way. To stay with you.”
“Will you always look like this, while I get old and wrinkly and gray?”
Dan laughed. Phil honestly seemed worried about this. “I don’t know, Phil, but I doubt it. I expect this human body will age like any other human body does. So I assume I’ll age with you. We’ll get old and wrinkly and gray together.”
“Forever?” Phil asked. “Do you promise?” His eyebrows were drawn together in a little pinch above his nose as if this was the most important question he’d ever asked.
“I promise you,” Dan replied seriously, trying to calm his love’s fears. “Philip Lester, until your very last breath. I’ll always be with you.”
“And after that? After my last breath? What happens then?”
Dan hadn’t really thought about that. The important thing was to be with Phil. The rest would work itself out. Phil was the important thing.
“To be honest,” Dan said, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen past this, past what you humans do here on earth. But whatever it is, whatever happens next, we’ll do it together. Nothing’s going to make me let go of your hand. Not ever.”
Phil squeezed Dan’s hand, then pulled Dan into his arms and kissed him. His lips were cold but fantastic. “Together,” Phil affirmed. “Forever.”
Dan nodded his head and then leaned back slightly, just enough that he could see Phil’s pale eyes in the light from the street lamps. Dan smiled. The snow fell soft and quiet around them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, and it was the first day of Dan’s life.
The very first day.
And it was glorious.
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Flashback \\ Jack n Jasper
meme lost to the sea.
The commentators stood in their box, microphones hard to their lips. “Welcome back!” The accent was diluted for TV, a slight tinge of Scottishness, less broad than Jacks. “It’s boxing day, we’ve all had a marvelous Christmas! But to the task at hand, the Wee Prick Olympics are in full swing here. Now, Phil, would you care to Phil us in on the proceedings in the last half?” The commentator turned to his colleague, who let out a hearty chuckle. “Hohoho! Good one, Dave. Well, all our athletes are in top form tonight, absolutely stunning scenes we’re seeing out there. Our top performer, Jack Low, he’s already had eight pills, as you can see his nose is stained red,” the studio cameras zoomed in on Jack. His jaw rocking, his eye’s rolling back in his head, he was twitching quite furiously. “Oh yes, and is that blood?” Dave asked. “No, it’s actually residue from crushed up pills. Now, the venue tonight is what would be commonly referred to as a trap house, owned by one Gareth Bean. Our top performer actually spent Christmas here, doing eccies and generally practicing being a Wee Fanny. His family are very worried about him since they haven’t seen him since Christmas eve. Christmas eve. The games are about to commence, lets see how it all unfolds.”
The conversation in the house was practically unintelligible. The scenes were shocking, an exercise in reducing not only the number of brain cells but potentially overdosing. Jack was younger, just a teenager. He was wearing a shell suit, drinking from a bottle of Buckfast beside his friend, Kyle, who’s face was beat red, sweat glistening across his forehead. “Aye, Jacko, you ken I’m your brother, you ken I’ll dee anything for ye’, honestly, me and you until the end.” “Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, ye’ ever seen a bus dee a backflip eight times into a field? ‘Cos I’ve nae, but I’ll tell ye’, I fuckin’...” His eye’s rolled back in his head again. He forgot what he was talking about. “Here, yous ever listened to Westlife?” The room went silent, the paranoia set in. “Naw, honestly, I thought the same, seen them at Belladrum, honestly, that fuckin’ bass.” The music was just as unintelligible as the people. Foreign chanting accompanied with hard bass. The door opened. The room went icy. “We have a new challenger on the pitch!” Dave said, the door opened, two guys came in. The room went silent. Dead silent. These guys did not look the same as the rest. They were older, much older, and clearly on something serious. One of them collapsed next to the radiator almost instantly, a chorus of “and he’s out of the game already!” Phil yelled into the microphone. “Now, Phil, who’s the scary looking older guy who just walked in?” “His name’s Darryl -- local hard-man. I don’t know what he’s on, but look at the state of him. Fists already clenched, staring at all the girls like a creep -- this guy means trouble.”
Gareth came through. “I made sausage rolls!” He exclaimed. “Gareth, we’re all oot our tree on rons. Why the fuck wid we want fuckin’ sausage rolls?” Kyle groaned.
The party’s energy was unequivacly altered with Darryl’s presence. He was standing in the corner, glowering at everyone, nobody felt safe, or comfortable. Jacks girlfriend at the time walked past him. He pushed her. She flew over the table. Jack jumped up and punched him. Darryl went to hit him back, but Fat-Adam held him back. “Woah! Fuckin’ woah! Settle!” Fat Adam yelled. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Christy, Jacks girlfriend said. “Whit the fuck did you do that for?” Christy asked Darryl. He just kept breathing heavily. “Aye, fuckin’ wisen up!” Jack yelled. “Look... We’ll fuckin’ leave it for just now. But fuckin’ wisen up.” Fat Adam released Darryl. It was all over. People started talking among themselves again. Darryl kept staring at people. “Aye -- but you get why you’re puttin’ abdy on edge, aye?” Kyle said to Darryl. Again, just heavy breathing. “Fuckin’ lighten up.” Jack said, grabbing a sausage roll and bouncing it off Darryl’s head. “Oh, oh!” Dave announced. Darryl became like a man possessed, jumped at Jack, Kyle jumped for Darryl, someone who didn’t know what was going on threw a punch at Fat Adam -- the room just errupted, “IT’S ALL KICKING OFF!” Phill yelled, girls were screaming, fists were connecting with the wrong people, friends, in their confused state of mind, were turning on friends. “And he’s made a grab for the bottle,” Phil said, Jack grabbed his bottle of Buckfast. “Is he going for a smash? No -- no -- it looks like he’s going for a throw, dangerous move and --” Dave stopped in his tracks, Jack threw the bottle, the bottle completely missed Darryl, instead darting off and smashing. Jacks eye’s followed the bottle. It had crashed directly into the face of the guy who had collapsed beside the radiator. Shards of glass stuck in his cheek, in his eye, he was stunned at first, then came the screaming. “AND IT’S A BAD MISS FROM JACK!” Phil yelled. “But, after all, this is the Wee Prick Olympics, and as such that’s an outstanding move! Throwing a bottle? Top class in itself. Hitting the only person not doing anything? Brilliant. Total prick move.” Dave explained. “And this is the first time Jack’s ever seriously hurt anyone -- this carries a charge of grievous bodily harm, correct?” “That’s right Phil, that’s right, and the ambulance has been phoned, as has the cops. As you can see, Jack and Fat Adam are making a quick B-Line for the door. What an outstanding show of totally arseholery.
The scene abruptly cut to Jack. He was in tesco, pushing a trolley around a few weeks later. He stopped dead in his tracks, surrounded by cleaning supplies he saw the man -- the man he’d hurt. His mother was helping him walk around the store. He was holding onto one of the shelves, his face was covered in stitches, his eye’s covered by blacked out sunglasses.
“Oh, he’s going to regret that one for a loooong time. But that’s the game, folks,” Dave said. “And from us in the studio, it’s goodnight.”
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Ceramic Bowls Are Too Cold
"Good morning, sleepy-head" Phil chuckled as Dan walked in. He had slept in, which was rare, contrary to popular fan belief, he was usually the first one awake. He makes breakfast most days, and watches whatever show he's been watching without Phil. He turns it over once Phil comes in, and they then eat breakfast together whilst watching an anime- they're currently watching Erased. Dan made a small noise in response. Phil chuckled even more. "What's wrong baby?" He asked, turning to fully face his boyfriend, and take in his gorgeous, bed-head self. His curls were completely wild, having grown out for a while, in a fashion similar to their Getting Over It video; his eyes were heavy lidded, still somehow sleepy; he was wearing nothing but an old pair of Phil's boxers, and one of Phil's oversized hoodies, that managed to look like a dress on Dan, giving him sweater paws. This will always confused Phil. Dan is taller, and they have the same clothing size, and yet Dan can manage to look tiny in Phil's clothes. Dan shuffled over to the sofa and plopped down, resting his head on Phil's shoulder. "Why're you so tired?" Dan only shrugged his shoulders in response, grabbing onto Phil's arm and holding on, like a baby koala. Phil smiled and ruffled his hand through Dan's curls.
"Mmmph," was Dan's response.
"Did you have nightmares? Stay up late on Tumblr? Get to a good chapter of whats-it-called?"
"Something like that," Dan giggled, his voice still soft from sleep. "Cereal?" He asked as he let go of Phil's arm and looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. "Are you sure? I thought we were having healthy breakfast this week?"
"Cereal?" Dan repeated. Phil caved immediately and got up, gently easing Dan off of him beforehand. "Okay sugarplum, which cereal?" Dan shrugged again. "Golden Nuggets, Crunchy Nut, or Chocolate Weetos?"
"Golden Nuggets please" He asked softly, rubbing his eyes. Phil tried his hardest not to coo out loud. He instead opted to laugh, "Nice manners today." Dan smiled. Phil looked into his boyfriend's eyes and smiled back. It was impossible. The dimple was just chilling there, existing, and it was the best. He got a ceramic bowl out, and Dan whined. Phil raised an eyebrow in question.
"That one's too cold! That's why I bought plastic ones last month." At least Phil's original question was answered, but it raised many more. Ceramics never ever annoy Dan. Sometime's he'll opt for a plastic one, but he's never complained about ceramics being 'too cold.' Phil poured in the cereal and as he went to grab the milk, Dan whined again. Phil let out an exasperated sigh, throwing up his hands, he sarcastically said, "What now? Chocolate milk?" To which Dan replied, "Well actually..." And Phil had to comply. Because Dan looked utterly heartbroken over Phil making fun of him. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He asked as he handed Dan his bowl of cereal. Phil had opted for some Crunchy Nut, with normal milk, in a normal bowl. Dan just rolled his eyes and started eating his breakfast. "Don't wanna watch Erased today, what about that new babysitter one everyone's been talking 'bout?"
"Gakuen Babysitters?"
"Yes"
"Okay..?" Phil paused, Dan hated starting a new anime in the middle of bingeing another one. This confused Phil especially, because Erased was only one season, meaning they were almost finished it. They probably could finish it today, but alas, Lord Daniel desires a change of scene.
They put the anime on, but Phil didn't watch it. He watched his boyfriend, intensely, trying to figure out if everything was okay. Dan's bright eyes were glued to the screen, breaking every now and again to make sure he didn't spill his cereal on himself. Every so often he would let out a soft giggle. That was definitely new. He had heard it once or twice every now and again, but never multiple times in the space of 10 minutes. "Baby?" Phil finally asked. Dan turned, his cheeks suddenly dusted with pink. He looked at Phil to signify he was listening. "Do you promise me you're okay?"
"Mhm" Dan nodded vigorously, then looked down shocked as some chocolate milk split on him. He furiously wiped at his chest and pouted. "I'm fine, aside from spilling this on myself" He said, finally in a normal voice. It was short lived however, as the soft sleepy voice returned as he asked if Phil could make him a coffee whilst he got changed. "Of course sweetheart."
Phil set the kettle boiling, and got Dan's favourite mug out, along with one of his own. He put the correct amount of coffee, sugar and milk in -he even considered putting chocolate milk in Dan's before deciding against giving the boy even more sugar- and then went to grab the fully boiled kettle. He heard a sob come from their bedroom. The speed at which he ran towards it, is a speed Phil saves solely for Dan Related Emergencies. Dan rarely cries audibly, which meant he was either badly hurt, or something really bad had just happened. "Baby, baby, what's wrong?" Phil puffed as he swung the bedroom door open. The sight he saw was pitiful, Dan was sat down on the floor, a clean hoodie half way on, but seemingly abandoned, and every single drawer in the room had practically been emptied. "I can't find it."
"Can't find what?"
"You'll laugh," he sniffled.
"Of course I won't."
"Lion."
"My lion?" Dan nodded in response. Phil thought for a moment before going into the AmazingPhil room. Lion sat decoratively on the dresser, and Phil scooped him up, then turned on his heel and brought him to Dan.
Dan took lion and immediately stopped crying. "I thought he was lost," he sighed. Phil just shook his head, smiling as he returned to the coffee mugs. Dan eventually padded back into the living room, lion held firmly in his little fist, and they pressed play on the anime. Phil snorted as one of the adult characters began playing with the children. "He looks like one of those weird kinky people that act like babies," he laughed at his own joke before sarcastically adding on, "I'll never make you wear a nappy whilst we have sex, so you better not be a DDLB kid, those guys are nasty." Dan visibly froze. "You're not, right?"
"Absolutely not, they sexuality kids," he scrunched his nose up and pretended to gag. Phil laughed in agreement, and sipped his coffee. "Shit, I forgot to-"
"Bad word," Dan scrunched his nose up.
"Daniel, darling, have you ever heard yourself playing Mario Kart? You, good sir, are the King of bad words." Dan just pouted and huffed through his nose. Phil giggled and kisses the tip of his nose.
"As I was saying, I forgot to tweet about a new video coming soon." Phil pulled his phone out and began opening said app before he even finished his sentence. "Also, people are @ing me asking where you are, you've been inactive for a while, I recommend tweeting, or at least replying to some replies to your older tweets."
"Ugh, fine, if I must."
"You do realise how incredibly lucky we are for this to count at us doing work, don't you?" Phil laughed, as he finished composing his tweet, "If you don't like it, I'm sure Tesco is hiring."
"I don't know where my phone is"
"That doesn't come as much of a surprise to be honest babe." Dan stuck his tongue out and started checking under the couch cushions. "Do you want me to call it?"
"No!" He practically yelled.
"Chill out Dan, I don't care what you've set your ringtone to this time"
"It's not that-"
"I'm calling it, shush, we need to listen." The two men stood silent for a while before they heard vibrations. "Great. I love hunts for phones that are on vibrate." They both began walking around the living room, pausing every few seconds to listen. Phil almost face palmed as he saw it in the Kitchen.
He marched over to the kitchen island, and picked it up. "Uh, Dan?" Dan froze again. He looked up at Phil with fear in his eyes. "Why is my name on your phone, 'Daddy <3' when you told me years ago that you don't have a daddy kink?"
"I don't have a daddy kink." He said, stomping his foot. Phil tried to swallow the bubbling anger, but when Dan lies to him when the evidence against him is very prominent, it's very irritating. "Stop bullshitting me Dan"
"I knew you'd react like this"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Please don't yell at me," Dan begged, Phil could see the tears forming. He inhaled, and carried on more gently, "Daniel, I don't like it when you lie to me. Please tell me why my name is daddy."
Dan looked at him pleadingly, before inhaling sharply and hurriedly saying, "I'm not into DDLB, I'm a safe for work age regressor, which means sometimes I'm little," the last bit was said all in one breath, "SosometimesIuseadummyandIlikestuffiesandblankies-"
"Hold on baby bear, slow down, I heard that it was non sexual, so take your time. I'll listen. And I won't judge."
"Sometimes I use a dummy, and I like stuffies and blankies, and I get fussy and sometimes sleepy, and in my mind you already look after me like a daddy so the other day I was little and thought it'd be a good idea to set your contact number as such."
The discussion took around 4 hours, of Dan showing Phil his private sfw agere tumblr, teaching him signs of when he's little, and setting boundaries for when that happened. They agreed that Phil should look into it some more before officially becoming Daniel's daddy, and finally, a month later, that's where they were. "Daddy! Get! Up!"
"Nooooooo"
"I want pancakes"
"Go make them then"
"Okay" there was silence for a moment before Phil realise Dan had called him daddy, and he shot out of bed, just in time. "Don't touch the oven!"
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I Dare You To Stay - Chapter 13
Yes! It’s finally here!! After literal weeks of me writing and revising!! After a lot of writer’s block!! After deleting like half of it and then rewriting it!! It’s finally here!!! Enjoy!!! @dansyellowshirt
Tags for chapter: fluff, themes of verbal abuse, protective!phil, some angst
Words for chapter: ~4.6
Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?
(ao3!)
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Dan was not happy.
In fact, he was fucking pissed.
When he and Phil had finally parted ways, Dan had walked into the coffee shop in absolute bliss. The shop looked to be in the process of being half-open when he entered, most of the lights being on and the self-serve bar already filled. Jaime wasn't anywhere to be seen, though Dan could hear the sounds of someone moving in the back. They were probably out of cups again.
While he waited for Jaime to resurface from the supply room, Dan tied on his apron and pinned the name-tag to his chest. He was starting to set the register for the day when he heard steps behind him and the closing of the heavy supply door.
"Jaime, you'll never fucking believe what the hell happened, I-" Dan started, turning around to face his best friend with a huge grin on his face. Jaime wasn't the one to stumble out from the supply door, though, and Dan could feel his happy mood shatter as none other than Steve surfaced, accompanied with an impossible amount of things in his arms threatening to spill over any second.
Instantly, Dan's smile crashed and his heart dropped to his toes. Fuck….where the hell was Jaime?
"Would you stop staring and give me a hand? It's bad enough that you're late to work anyways." He grumbled, his frown already deepening. It was like Dan's presence was just...sucking the life from him.
Dan could say the same.
He didn't immediately move to help due to equal parts of reluctance and utter surprise at seeing his prickly coworker instead of his Jaime. He jerked into action however when a bag of coffee grounds decided to kamikaze off of the top of the armload of things Steve was carrying, scooping it up before it could touch the ground and depositing it onto the counter.
"Oh, that's all you can carry, huh?"
Dan turned, a scowl on his face that matched Steve's perfectly.
"Sorry, but I was a little thrown off to see you here instead of Jaime. You could have just taken a second trip, you know."
"Yeah, and you could have just shown up when you were supposed to. Besides, Jaime said she told you we were working together, so that's bullshit."
Dan wanted to scream and they hadn't even opened already, one, because of Steve's asshole attitude, and two, because Jaime didn't tell him, but he just clenched his jaw and turned back to the register. He could pull a shift with Steve without knocking the guy's teeth out, he's done it before, he can do it again.
Maybe with a miracle, Dan thought as he heard Steve stumble through starting the many coffee makers, grumbling to himself and making a mess that Dan would surely have to clean up.
He was restocking their supply of change in the register a few moments later and feeling a tad bit better about the situation—assuming they would both be able to just keep to themselves the whole shift—when something was thrown in his direction, hitting the side of his head and making Dan drop all of the coins in his hands onto the floor in surprise. The coins scattered in every direction and Dan swore loudly, looking up at Steve with murderous eyes, one hand coming up to his temple where whatever Steve threw at him had hit, even though it hadn't particularly hurt. Steve met his gaze with a mildly surprised expression—complete with a raised eyebrow—and shrugged.
"Didn't mean to hit you in the head, but I can't help but notice your...well, hair. I don't think my uncle would want his business represented like that, so, put the hat on."
Dan glanced down to see one of the coffee shop employee hats crumpled on the ground. They were only required to be worn to pull an employee's long hair back and were otherwise completely optional, so Jaime and the other part-time girls that worked here were the only ones that really bothered with them. Dan flicked his gaze back up to Steve and glared with all of his might, trying to just murder the guy with his eyes.
"I've never had to wear one before I don't see why I have to now." Dan ground out, his jaw clenched.
"To my knowledge, Daniel, you've never decided to dye your hair before, so I guess this is a new experience for all of us." He responded, his voice dripping with distaste.
"What about Jaime's hair, huh? You've never said anything to her about her dyed hair so what's the big fucking deal with mine?" Dan shot back, his temper rising faster than he would have liked. His anger flared even further at being referred to as Daniel. Steve knew perfectly well that Dan didn't like his full name.
"She wears a hat, does she not?" Steve quipped.
Dan narrowed his eyes, but he didn't really have a smart-ass comeback for that because she did, it just wasn't because her hair was more red than a cherry was, but because of its length.
Not that Steve would fucking acknowledge that, though.
"Exactly." Steve said after Dan didn't immediately respond. "Put on the hat. And stop swearing."
Dan was about ready to explode, but this asshat's uncle was his boss and owned the whole damn shop and Dan barely had enough money as it was working as much as possible on a decent pay grade, so he really didn't need to get fired and have to work at minimum wage at some grocery store. Not to mention he would have to move or work roughly nonstop to pay his bills at that much of a pay cut.
So in the effort of his future, Dan bent down and picked up the hat, fitting it over his straightened hair with as much distaste as he could manage. Steve smirked and turned back around to continue beginning to brew coffee.
Angry and sufficiently humiliated, Dan shuffled about on his hands and knees, picking up all of the coins he dropped and sorting through them to put back into the register. They didn't say anything to each other, but then again words weren't needed to be able to feel the tension and utter hatred in the air between them.
After that, they finished the chores that they needed to accomplish without anything else being thrown or spilled, even if the split was uneven and Dan ended up doing the most of them. They opened and worked side by side in relative silence, serving a wide range of coffees in a short amount of time with a very abrupt influx of customers. The only thing that broke the monotone between them was the passive-aggressive bullshit Steve pulled. It was little shoves and almost-trips as Steve passed Dan, making Dan's blood rage in his ears because there was no way that he could go to his boss about this—Steve had his uncle wrapped around his little finger. God, he fucking hated Steve.
When Mary popped in not that long after opening, even she easily picked up on his sour mood.
"Why the long face, love? Is it because Jaime isn't in today?" She asked him, after exchanging their normal pleasantries.
Dan didn't really get the chance to answer before Steve was walking past him as Dan was in the midst of making Mary's coffee, bumping Dan out of the way. Dan hissed as some of the scalding hot liquid splashed up on his hand, pulling his hand away immediately on reflex and pressing the back of his hand to his mouth where he licked away the coffee and tried to sooth his skin. Dan lunged for the sink, turning on the cold water and thrusting his hand under it, breathing out a little in relief as the frigid water rushed over it. The skin where the coffee had made contact with was red and angry, throbbing and still hot to the touch when he dried his hands off. Dan bit his lip and gave Mary a sheepish almost-smile as he threw out the ruined coffee.
"Don't worry, I'll have another one for you in a minute." he muttered, already starting to make it. He was favoring his right, non-burned hand because his left ached something fierce, but it was fine. Everything was fine.
Mary, however, was frowning.
"Daniel slow down, I'm not in a rush. And please, for heaven's sake stop using your hand! You just burned it! Why don't you take a break and find a bandage for it, hun?" she cried shooing her hand at Dan from behind the counter as if to make him stop working herself.
Dan chewed at his lip again, a nervous habit he picked up years ago. He could technically take a break any time he needed if he was injured, and there was definitely a first-aid kit in the employee break room, but then again, Steve would probably give him hell over taking an unscheduled break, if anything call up his uncle after their shift and give him an earful about Dan "being clumsy" and "costing the business money". He looked down at his hand and noted the aggravated skin and dull pain, and decided he could make it until lunch. He could properly address it then—surely a few hours without care wouldn't be catastrophic.
"If you keep it up like that then you're only going to injure yourself more. Besides, I need to give that other young man a talking to that was no way to act." Mary continued, huffing and already looking past Dan as if she was trying to find Steve and chew his ear out for being a douche. The mental image made Dan smile, and he turned his attention back to her as he took his injured left hand off of the coffee machine.
"Hey, it's no problem, I've burned myself before." The last time being back during training, probably. "And don't worry, Mary, we've got bandages in the back." That Jaime would 100% let me go get, the only problem being that Jaime isn't here. "I'll fix myself up after I help you with your coffee." A few hours later, that is, but who's counting?
Mary didn't look convinced, but only set her lips in a tight line and watched carefully as Dan finished making her her replacement coffee like she would vault the counter and help him herself if Dan so much as injured himself even a tiny bit further.
After another stern warning to take care of himself and a death glare in Steve's direction, Mary shuffled her way out. Dan gave her a little wave and kept the small smile on his face until she was gone. However, immediately afterwards he let his smile slip and double-timed it over to the little door that separated the public from where the employees made coffee. He passed Steve, and when he gave Dan an incredulous look, Dan just pushed past him, giving him a bullshit excuse of needing to go to the bathroom.
And, technically, Steve couldn't complain about that, so, fucking suck it, Steve.
Dan shoved the door open with his shoulder and let out a breath of relief when there turned out to be no one else in there. He went immediately to a stall and locked the door, sitting on the toilet seat and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it, and before he could google information on burns via coffee, his eyes caught on several text notifications.
>> From: my maraschino cherry
hey dan, look i know this kind of sucks
but im kinda having a crisis? u remember
that acting role i was going for right? well i
got a call-back (!!!) and its in a few hours
and i cant come in to work today
i tried to sweet talk the boss into it NOT being
steve but idk if it worked
also
answer ur phone stupid i didnt want to type
all of this
plus i might have wanted to gush with u via
phone but whatevs
anyways im stopping by on my way back later
like probs around dinner so u know my pizza
toppings and we're going to iron shit out we've
got a lot to talk abt danny boy
(also get some ice cream in case this doesnt
go well kay ty)
The timestamp read to be somewhere around the time that Dan got up this morning, so as it turned out, yes, Jaime did tell him that she wasn't coming into work today, and he would have known that if he had only looked at his damn phone.
Dan read over the texts again and felt his heart surge for his best friend. Jaime had wanted to be a thriving actress since she was three, and so far had only gotten as far as school plays and extremely minor parts in bust shows. It was a dream that the both of them shared, but unlike Dan, Jaime was still going for it.
She auditioned for every opportunity that she got. Movies, plays, shows, anything. Sometimes, like now, she would get call-backs, but more times than not she wouldn't hear anything back. It wasn't because of her lack of talent, but mainly due to large productions looking for people that were already known, as much bullshit as it may be.
Dan remembered this one that she was going for. It was a musical that had so far received decent press and attention, and if Jaime could land a significant part in it, it could potentially help her career as an actress take off.
Smiling widely, Dan typed out a few texts congratulating her and wishing her the best of luck even if by now she would probably be mid-audition. He also readily promised the pizza and ice cream, but not after making sure to tell her that she wouldn't need it, because she was going to do great.
Dan looked at the clock on his phone, and sighed before slipping it away. If he spent any longer in the bathroom, it might start to look a tad suspicious to Steve, so he might as well avoid the WebMD diagnosis of his death-via-coffee-burn until lunch.
He exited the stall and caught his own eye in the mirror, fixing his blue hair under his hat so it didn't look too much of a mess before slipping back out of the bathroom and returning to his position behind the counter. Steve was in the middle of making a frowning CEO-looking guy his coffee, and there was luckily no one else in the queue.
"About time you got back. Damn you take longer than a girl." Steve muttered just loud enough for Dan to hear as he passed him. Dan bristled, but like normal didn't say anything back. He just took a deep breath and smiled at the mum and her young kids walking through the door and up to the register.
"Hi, how can I help you?"
~~~~~
"Dan, why don't you make yourself useful and go wipe down the counter, yeah? My uncle isn't paying you to stand around and do nothing all day."
Gritting his teeth impossibly hard, Dan stomped over to the counter in question (that he had cleaned twice already today, and it was barely even noon), both of his hands in tight fists, one of them strangling the cleaning rag.
The few moments of calm and secondhand happiness for Jaime that he had had in the bathroom ended up carrying him over for an hour before he just sunk right back down to his previous state of miserableness from before. But that was a few hours ago. Now, he was seething and tired and about ready to snap.
He started to hate-clean the self-serve counter, roughly putting things back where they went after he wiped the surface down, and refilling the sugar so aggressively a uni student veered away from him with wide eyes.
Dan didn't give a flying fuck, he just wanted to go home.
He was nearly finished when a hand touched his arm. Immediately he tore away from the hand and threw down the rag, spinning around and already opening his mouth to just fucking scream at Steve because damnit Dan could take the verbal abuse but he would bring hell before he let Steve put his hands on him. He nearly choked when he found Phil standing there with concerned eyes, his hand still outstretched from where Dan ripped away from it.
"Dan?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together, "Are you okay?"
The fight in Dan just...drained out of him and he let out a deep sigh, feeling his shoulders droop and head fall. He ran a hand through his hair and gripped at the strands, messing it up and rucking up the hat on his head.
"Yeah I just…" He let the words fade, not even having the energy to try and come up with a summary of his morning brief enough that wouldn't worry Phil further.
Phil looked like he wanted to wrap Dan up in his arms and Dan honestly would have welcomed it, but in the universe's normal fashion, the chance went up in flames with a shout from Steve behind him.
"Dan, I'm going out for a cigarette, take over!" Steve called, not even waiting for Dan to acknowledge him and making straight for the door outside after walking right past the massive line of people waiting for service.
Swearing under his breath, Dan rushed past Phil to get behind the counter, helplessly giving Phil an apology over his shoulder.
By using probably all of his luck for the next year, Dan was able to give the half a dozen people in the queue their coffees without spilling a single one of them and in a relatively timely fashion, only one of the customers becoming annoyed with the slower than normal service.
That's what happens when there's only one person working the counter, asshat.
Dan ran up the latest person on the register and automatically started to run up another sale when someone else stepped up to the register. Dan put the money he had been handed from the last customer in the register tray as he half-heartedly greeted whoever was in line now.
"Hi, how can I help you?"
Out of the corner of his eye Dan saw the cleaning rag he had completely forgotten about and left behind plop down onto the counter and held back a sigh. If he was going to have a customer chew him a new one for accidentally leaving a rag out he was going to quit on the spot.
"Yes, I need you to take a break."
Dan breathed out as he recognized the voice. Phil. Of course, always Phil.
Dan laughed a little.
"If only, Phil."
"Dan…"
The tone of Phil's voice made Dan look up. Phil had the same look as before, but it was darkened by anger. Dan felt his stomach drop. Was Phil mad at him for something? What did he do?
Dan must have been too exhausted to try and mask his emotions because Phil sighed and grabbed Dan's hand over the counter.
"I'm not mad at you. Is that 'the guy' from earlier—the asshole Steve you were telling me about?"
The feeling of Phil's thumb dragging over Dan's knuckles was normally so soothing, but Phil had grabbed Dan's left one, also known as the hand that Dan had aggressively burned earlier thanks to his wonderful coworker. Hissing under his breath as Phil's gentle touch sent pain shooting up his arm, Dan withdrew his hand hastily. Phil looked hurt and surprised, but his gaze fell on Dan's burned hand and his gaze once again darkened. Dan wanted to cry but instead just shut Phil down from asking about it by hastily replying.
"Yeah. Jaime's at an audition, so she's not in today."
The bell above the door ran once again, and Dan pulled away further, reluctantly ready to deal with more customers. However, Steve walked through the opening, and Dan wasn't sure if he was more relieved at the prospect of not having to fill another order, or resigned to the end of his brief break from Steve.
Phil, however, brightened immediately and plastered on a fake smile.
"Ah, you must be Steve! Cool, Dan can take his lunch break now that you're back." And before Dan could try and tell Phil that that really wasn't how things worked, Phil was already reaching over the counter and stealing Dan's pin and apron, shoving them into Steve's arms with a bright smile. Steve sputtered, protesting, but Phil just straight up ignored him, turning to Dan and beckoning him. In a sort-of daze, Dan followed, and once he was out from behind the counter, Phil grabbed his non-burned hand and pulled him out the door of the coffee shop.
Phil gave Dan's hand a squeeze and looked back at him, his eyebrow once again knit and frowning. His eyes roved over Dan's frame, taking in his exhausted stature and overall ragged state of being. He frowned further and reached up, plucking the hat off of Dan's head.
"You shouldn't hide your hair."
Satisfied at the moment, Phil's attention shifted, and he hailed a taxi, opening the door for Dan and sliding in next to him, leaning up and telling the driver an address that Dan didn't quite hear before settling back into the seat. He draped his arm over Dan's shoulders and pulled the younger man into his side. Dan went willingly.
"Phil, where are we going? I'm still going to have to get back for the other half of my shift." He muttered, trying to will his body to relax.
"We're going home to my flat because you need a break. And don't worry, I'll have you back, but not after you get in some proper rest."
Dan tried to protest at that, because really, Phil didn't need to spend the money for a taxi just for a half and hour before Dan would have to go back, but Phil wouldn't hear it, just shushing him every time Dan tried to point out how they could have just stayed at the shop and that he wasn't worth the trouble.
"There would be no way that you could properly relax while in the same place as him. And besides this saves me from getting arrested for assault and buying a coffee just to dump on his head." Phil glowered as if the mere thought of Steve upset him, and Dan laughed, imagining passive Phil dumping a coffee on anyone.
"Don't laugh, someone has to defend your honor, Dan."
"Well thanks for assuming I have honor, you spoon," Dan laughed, bumping their shoulders together playfully. He still felt tired and drained as hell, but Dan felt a little bit better than he had been. Progress.
They were at Phil's flat in no time, Phil paying for the taxi despite Dan's protests and leading Dan up the steps afterwards.
Phil's flat was just as it was when Dan had last been in, and Dan kicked his shoes off at the door like he had last time before flopping face-first on the couch. He heard Phil move around in the flat for a few moments before Phil returned to the lounge. Dan didn't lift his head up from where it was shoved into the couch, but he did relax, even as Phil rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Can I see your hand? I have a bandage and some cream that should help you."
Dan wordlessly lifted his hand up, unsure of where Phil was standing over him since Dan was trying very hard to become one with the couch at the moment, but Phil just grabbed his hand by the wrist as gently as possible, leading it over and resting it palm down on Phil's knee. Curious, Dan unburied his head from the cushions and turned it. Phil was sitting on the table, a look of careful and intense concentration on his face as he grabbed the tube of cream, squeezing some out onto his fingers and massaging it into Dan's skin. It didn't hurt—Phil was too gentle for that—but Dan could still feel his face heating up and his breath catch a little.
It had been awhile since he had been treated like something precious.
He watched as Phil worked, and laughed as Phil rubbed the excess cream on his fingers onto his jeans with a grimace. Phil grabbed the little roll of gauze and started to wrap up Dan's hand, glancing up with a pout.
"Here I am, sacrificing my jeans to make you feel better and you're laughing at me. Remind me why I love you."
The comment was a passing thought, obviously not meant to be taken with too much weight, but it still had Dan's heart skip a what was probably a few beats in his chest. He knew that Phil didn't mean it like that, but the notion that he did still warmed Dan's body all over and had him smiling as he watched Phil bandage his hand.
When Phil was finished, he dropped a kiss onto Dan's knuckles.
"There we go, all better."
Phil left everything on the table and stood, walking out of his lounge and to his kitchen. Dan could hear him shuffling about—opening cabinets and rifling through the contents in his fridge.
"I've been putting off a trip to Tesco's for about a week now, so how does unhealthy snacks sound for lunch? Or we could always venture out and try to find something?"
Dan smiled even though he was alone in the lounge. Phil was offering up the opportunity to have a legitimate meal, but didn't he know by now that Dan would much rather hole up and eat junk, just the two of them?
"Bring on the snacks, Lester."
Phil came back with an armful of various snacks, and Dan peeled himself up off the couch so Phil didn't have to sit on top of him. Dan cheered when he saw that Phil had his favorite flavor of crisps and stole them from Phil with a wide grin. Phil pouted—or at least tried to—but Dan could see the smile peeking out as he turned on the TV. Phil flipped through the channels until they found a movie on that was worth watching for the little bit of time that they had until Dan had to get back to work, and settled back, sneaking a few crisps from Dan while he was at it.
They're sides were pressed completely together with how they were sitting, and even if he ended up getting a few stains on his shirt because he couldn't be bothered to get up and grab a napkin, or whining when Phil dragged him out of the flat and back to work, or pouting in the taxi ride back to the coffee shop, Dan was still soaking up all of Phil's time and attention, loving having him near enough to hold his hand and kiss him.
Dan ignored the glare from Steve as he walked back behind the counter, even shooting the guy a smile as he fitted the hat back on over his hair.
"You can take your lunch break now, thanks for covering."
Steve looked insanely suspicious and overall pissed, but Dan didn't care. His spirits were renewed and he felt refreshed. He could last the rest of his shift, no problem.
Dan smiled at the lady walking up to the register.
"Hi, how can I help you?"
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