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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 10.6k

A/N: 5½ months. 12 chapters. 107,600 words. All for a silly little idea I threw at my friends in a discord server. Thank you for being here. <3

Also, there's a part in this that's VERY reminiscent of a certain photo that released today. (spoiler alert, it's in the chapter card lol) I swear, I wrote that almost a week ago and the video just HAD to drop today of all days, DIDN'T IT. If Joseph Quinn is in my walls, please get him out of there. That's not a safe environment for him.

“Right, so, hang about…” Connor holds his hands out in front of him, moving one out to the side as if physically placing events into a timeline. “So, back in 192-whatever, Ralph meets Nick and that lot, who we went to school with, who have… Travelled through fucking time,” he sounds exhausted just at that phrase. You nod, and he moves his hand to continue, “Ralph falls head over heels for Little Lauren. That works about as well as anybody would expect,” he raises his eyebrows at Ralph, who shies away a little. “And Ralph joins the Army.”

“French Foreign Legion, to be exact,” Ralph pipes up.

“French Foreign Whatever, yeah,” Connor nods, moving his hand again. “He hates it, he runs away back home, he ends up meeting Homeless Pete.”

“Wait!” Grace’s boyfriend suddenly shouts, waving his hands around and making everyone jump. He points to Ralph. “That’s why your name’s always been in the back of my head! You lived in the fucking Waterstones building?!” Ralph nods. “So, you were filthy stinking rich, and you left that?!”

“Well, I… I may have left out some details about… I may have… Sort of given up most of my material possessions to Laur- the other Lauren,” he gestures to Connor’s girlfriend, who makes an expression that shows Ralph she understands that she’s not who he’s talking about. “Um, before I had left. Well, after I had left for the Army, but before I… Ended up here.”

“You were really down bad, weren’t you, mate?” Connor asks, cocking his head, and Ralph cowers back into his seat.

“Yes, well. That’s all well into the past now. Ninety-seven years in the past, to be exact!”

“Fucking mental,” Scott says under his breath. “Anyway, Connor, keep going with your…” He waves his hands in front of him.

“Yeah, so, you’ve not got nothing, Lauren rejected you and you still left her everythi- God, how did you survive without us?!” Connor shakes his head. “So you bump into H.P., who brings you to our time. You get rescued,” he gestures to you, “and…”

“Can I ask,” Scott’s partner raises a finger, looking at you. “What made you take him in, then?”

You look at Ralph and shrug. “I dunno, look at him! Who’d say no to that face?” You squish his cheeks in one hand, to his indignation, and you hear the soft laughs of your friends. “But… Yeah. Once I’d found H.P. and gotten as much of an explanation as I’ll ever get out of him, it was just… So much to wrap my head around. And I couldn’t just leave Ralph to the streets, he’d get killed!” Ralph suddenly looks very fearful, grabbing a cushion to hug to his chest. “And then next thing I knew, he was setting off alarms in the flat on his first day there, so I couldn’t exactly leave him home alone, so I had to bring him with me to Anna’s that night. I barely had the time to text you lot in advance, I couldn’t exactly leave you a voice note saying “by the way, time travel exists and I’m bringing a man who was born in the Victorian era, see you at 7!” And then the days were getting ahead of me, and I couldn’t even make any sense of it myself, let alone trying to teach any of you about it, either.”

“So, what, does he have to go back at any point? To like, restore the fragile balance of the time-space continuum or whatever sci-fi nonsense this actually proves?” Grace asks.

“Well, we thought so, and that’s why we were always so vague about him “going home”,” you explain. “But then, after Brighton, he almost - he could’ve gone home, and by all we knew back then, he should’ve -” You don’t see Ralph wince in pain at that word. “- but H.P. tol- well, told,” you hold up your fingers as air quotes, “Ralph that since the others had never returned to their own time, without consequence, he decided to stick around.” You smile comfortingly at him and he reaches out to hold your hand.

“Easily the best decision I’ve ever made,” he smiles back. “Staying with you, well, all of you!” He looks around the room. “I truly… I cannot put into words how deeply it hurt to omit the truth from you all for so long, but… Well, everything just seemed to be going so well for me, for once, and I feared that… To let that slip, I might… Lose you all,” he lets go of you to wring his hands in his lap. “Entirely selfish of me, I completely understand if you all think differently of me, now -”

Anna interjects with a sympathetic, “You’d have to do a lot worse to get rid of all of us.”

“Yeah, you’re the one stuck with us, Ralphie!” Scott jokes.

“I mean…” Lauren starts, pausing for a moment. Ralph’s face goes on an emotional journey of potential heartbreak, fearing he’s lost one of his best friends. Lauren remains stoic as she finally continues, “Yeah, it’s pretty shit that pretty much the foundation of why we’re friends is a lie.”

“Literally the only thing that Ralph and I kept quiet was the whole time travel thing, because, well, it still sounds stupid saying those words out loud,” you shake your head. “But everything else, it’s all been pure Ralph. Nothing else is based off any lies, it was just to… I mean, what would you have done if he’d have told you that night you met him, that he’d got here by getting in a lift with an old man in 1926 and ended up in 2022?!”

“I’d think he was off his tits,” Lauren admits in a quiet voice, much to Ralph’s confusion. “Yeah, alright, I guess, it’s… It’s complicated, innit?”

“Tell me about it,” you reply, exhausted, and the others laugh.

“It is a bit shit,” Connor acknowledges Lauren and then the pair of you. “But we’d all probably have done something similar. I mean, fuck me, I’d probably have left him with H.P. and let him be someone else’s problem. Good job I never found you first, eh!” Connor’s light-hearted smile falters at Ralph’s fearful look.

“Again, I completely understand if any of you feel duped into being my friend and wish to use your own agency to - just, please, direct all of your disappointment towards me and not -”

“Ralphie, babes, we’re saying we get it. Kinda. I dunno, this is all messing with my head a bit,” Grace blows out a breath, and everyone makes general noises of agreement. “But of course we still wanna be friends with you, you big nelly!”

“Yeah, we love teaching you words and things you’d never know. Now that we know why, we can teach you way more!” Scott’s eyes glisten mischievously.

“I mean, I know I’m the one who technically turned you into a bit of a Swiftie, but I’m not letting go of that any time soon,” Anna jokes, which causes Ralph to finally let out a small laugh. “And besides, whose head am I gonna pat without you around?!”

“I never meant to deceive you all,” Ralph says quietly.

“We know,” Connor reassures in the same tone, “but you didn’t really trick us into anything. And hey, it could’ve been worse. I’d rather you were a secret time traveller than a secret serial killer!”

Ralph finally lets himself smile at Connor, who returns it. He sits up a little more confidently. “I can’t tell you what a relief it will be to never have to worry about what I say anymore!”

“I mean, still, this information can’t leave the people in this room,” you explain, gesturing around to everyone. “There’s all sorts of legalities that I’ve never been able to figure out, like a passport,” you gesture to Connor and Lauren, “or setting him up with a bank account, or medical stuff -”

“I mean, surely there’s people out there who were never registered at birth or whatever, right? Maybe we just play Ralph off as one of those?” Anna asks.

“Maybe. But who do we say he is? If we call him a Penbury, as in we try and say that he’s his own relative, his last technical record from 1926 is that he enlisted, went MIA and was presumed dead,” you shrug.

“Shit, yeah, your mum does all that stuff, doesn’t she? Have a look, see what his sister’s stuff says, maybe we can sneak him in that way,” Scott leans in, and everyone else starts shuffling closer, too.

Ralph, having been sat dumbfounded for several minutes, finally finds his voice. “Sorry, but now I’m the one who’s rather lost. So… Not only are none of you ousting me, you’re planning to deceive the law for me?!”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear Anna earlier? You’re family,” Connor smiles affectionately at him, and Ralph’s ears turn pink as his lower lip trembles.

You log into your mum’s ancestry account and once again look up Ralph’s name, your eyes going wide when you see the name next to him. “Okay, so Victoria’s got about six surnames, so I’m sure we can slip you in there somewhere,” you shake your head. Having only looked at his census before, you look through the data they have on Ralph and gasp loudly. Everyone’s gaze snaps to you as you flip your phone over to show them a photo of Ralph, dated February 1926, looking exactly how you remember he did the day you met him, dressed head to toe in Army uniform.

“Oh, you could totally say that you’d been digging up family stuff and you think you’re a dead ringer for… How many generations back would that be?” Anna asks.

You count on your fingers, “Okay, so 1901… Let’s say 30 years per generation, that’s like 3 to get to you being around our age… Which would make OG Ralph your potential… Great-grandpa.” You grimace at the same realisation that Connor and Scott come to, as they point and laugh at you.

“You’re dating someone old enough to be your -”

“He’s twenty-six! Please don’t make me think of it any other way!” You wince, making everyone laugh. “Three generations of unregistered babies is a bit of a stretch…” You shake your head. “Let’s just table this for now. He’s not going anywhere for the time being, are you?” You turn to ask Ralph, who violently shakes his head, still blinking his tears away. “There we go. So, let’s just let everything�� Sink in, for now. And we’ll keep thinking of what to do in the long run.”

Ralph hugs everyone goodbye extra tightly. You offer an extra apology to all of your friends, yourself, but they all echo the earlier sentiments that they would have done the same if they were in such a predicament. That they probably would have talked you out of keeping Ralph fugitive for as long as you have. That, if anything, they’re grateful you never gave them the chance to advise you, because if you’d listened to them, none of you would have him in your lives, and one thing everyone in the room agrees on is that life’s been far better with him in it. You have to practically frog-march Ralph out of the door as he starts getting misty-eyed again.

Once you and Ralph are laying in bed, you cuddle up to him, wrapping your arm around his torso. “How you feeling, now?”

“I can’t feel much less than spectacular with you in my arms, my love,” Ralph smiles as he holds you even closer to him.

“Not just all the mushy stuff, you big sap,” you tease. “I mean, like, having to tell everyone.”

“Ah. Yes, well. That went far better than I ever imagined,” he admits softly.

“Wanna admit now that you mean a hell of a lot more to people now that you’ve found the right ones?” You look up at him with a grin.

He squeezes his arm around you to prompt you into leaning up to kiss him. Once you break away from him, he sighs happily. “I suppose, it’s a comfort to know what real friendship is supposed to feel like.”

“Exactly. You don’t give up on the right people. And you’re our right person,” you nuzzle into his neck and he buries his face in your hair.

“That sentiment is more than mutual. Goodnight, my love. Pleasant dreams.“

“Night, Ralphie. Love you, too.”

The next morning, you and Ralph both have the day off, a rare occurrence that you’re extra grateful for today. Of course, you’d love to spend it doing more of what you’d been doing just yesterday, but you’d rather be extra safe and get Ralph some protection, as well as your own birth control. And you needed to go into town for some other things, anyway. You decide to take Ralph with you, though - mostly, so that you can coach him into being able to buy his own condoms without spontaneously combusting on the spot.

Ralph wants to ask his boss something, too, so you head to the old high street where his shop is. While you do love his colleagues, you know that Babs will insist on you two staying for a cup of tea. And then another. And then she’s made you lunch. And then you’re spending your whole day off at Ralph’s workplace. Which honestly, has been fun when it’s happened before, but you do have things on your personal agenda today. And then when they’re done…

You wave to Babs through the shop window when you hear some vaguely familiar voices approaching.

“Nah, bruv, I think your mate Pete got his maths all mixed up, this ain’t when we left here.”

“Maybe we’re in whatever year he just wanted to come back to.”

“Nah, mate, I told him, clear as mud: take us back to the present day.”

“Okay, but Jase, you do realise we’ve travelled back and forth between multiple decades since -”

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, someone’s right there! We should just ask them.”

“Fantastic idea, sis. What do you want to do, rock right up and say, ‘Hello, completely normal and unaware person. Could you, for no strange reason whatsoever, happen to tell me what year it is?’?!”

You’d most certainly know that voice anywhere. Looking over at your high school crush, you smirk at Nicholas, his sister and his friends as you tell him, “March 15th, 2023.”

All four of them look incredulously at you. You can see some cogs turning behind their eyes until, finally, Jason shouts your name out. You grin and nod at him, and he yells, “Fuckin’ ’ell! How the fuck are you?!”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Still kicking about, you know how it is. What about you lot? You must’ve been… Busy.”

“Yeah! Yeah, um… Quick question, how did you…?” Nicholas starts, but pauses, trying to think of how to articulate himself.

After a few seconds, Lauren scoffs, “How’d you know to tell us what the date is so calm, like?”

“Well…” You singsong in a high-pitched tone as the door to the costume shop swings open again. Ralph emerges, to a series of shocked gasps.

“Fucking hell, doesn’t he look the spit image of -”

“Yeah, if you just slick his hair right down, and put him in a bow tie and a straw hat, I reckon - Here, you wouldn’t happen to have a great-grandad or something called Ralph, would you?”

“Wait!” Lauren shouts, holding her hands out. She studies Ralph intricately, who looks as though he’s still processing the sight in front of him. “You look just like Ralph, but all modern-like…” She points to him, and then to you. “And you know that we’ve been… In a different time…” She sticks her head out and squints her eyes back at Ralph. “Are you -?” He nods, still stunned into a wide-eyed silence.

Horace raises his arms in an excited greeting. “Ralph! My boy! We thought you’d died!” He pulls him into a hug that sweeps him off his feet. Ralph hangs against Horace’s body as though he were a ragdoll, his face still bewildered. “Let me take a good look at you,” he says as he puts Ralph down, before letting out a single cackle. “Ha, look at you! Look at this jacket, these chains! You’re a proper modern man, ain’t ya, with your sunglasses and your - How’ve you been, what you been up to?!”

“How did you get here?!” Nick asks in disbelief. You recap very quickly how Ralph found Pete - deliberately redacting that he’d attempted to return home to them - and ended up here, where you’d found him and taken him in.

Just as you finish explaining, someone approaches you with an, “Excuse me?” They tap your arm, but lean around you to look at Ralph and nod with a smile, “I thought that was him! Ralph from Twitter, right? Oh my god, I wish my phone hadn’t died, or I’d so ask for a selfie with you!”

Four confused faces look over at Ralph, but you wave the stranger off with a, “Not to worry! I can take one on his phone for him to tweet, if you want? And then you can save it for yourself when you’re home?”

“Oh my god, would you? That’s so sweet! Thank you!” They gush before posing for a photo with him. You quickly get their Twitter handle to include in his tweet, and wave them off as they walk away with a spring in their step.

“What was all that, then?” Jason asks with amusement. “Ralph from Twitter?!”

“Long story. I never told my friends Ralph was from the 1920s, so they thought anyone his age should be on Twitter by now. He kept tweeting inane shit that he thought he was Googling, people found it hilarious, and now he’s sort of social media famous,” you explain with a shrug, to everyone’s laughter.

Lauren looks Ralph up and down, not unlike the way Ralph looks at you, and rubs her hands together. “Famous, eh? I like the sound of that. Sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do, eh, Ralph?”

You feel rage burn through you at the audacity that Lauren has, clearly only interested in Ralph for a chance at fame herself. At how she could so outwardly come for your man - though, granted, Ralph’s been too shellshocked to make that much clear.

You, yourself, start to freeze up as you look over at him. What if this is it? The validation he’d been craving for so long? A second chance at the love he’d felt so strongly about losing, he’d fled the country. If he was willing to risk losing it all after having his heart broken, what else would he be willing to lose to win her back?!

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, Ralph takes a deep breath in. “I don’t think there’s anything more to be caught up on.” He holds your arm to smile warmly at you, “You captured everything perfectly, darling,” before leaning in to kiss you. Jason and Horace hoot and holler, while Lauren makes a disgusted face.

“Fair enough. Rather you than me, anyway, I’d probably get sick of him after a while,” she sneers.

“Good job I won’t, then, eh!” You flash a sickly sweet grin at her as you wrap your arms around one of Ralph’s, hugging it tightly.

“Looks like you really are out of a shot, mate,” Jason grins at Nick, who shoves him.

“Give over, that was -” he flusters, and you laugh, which he sighs at. “Okay, well, so as to explain myself and not sound like a complete lunatic, I, uh… Might have had a bit of a thing for you in school, but I was always too chicken to do anything about it. And even though that was years ago at this point, apparently I’m not allowed to live it down,” he forces a smile on his face, making you laugh harder.

“If it’s any consolation, that was mutual, by the way,” you smirk. You feel Ralph tense under your grip and bury your head against his bicep. “But I don’t think it was meant to be, in the end.”

“God, can you imagine, in another universe, it would’ve been you and Nick, Jase and Victoria, and Lauren and Ralph!” Horace laughs before faltering. “But then who’s left for me?”

You shake your head. “What are you lot planning on doing in terms of living somewhere?”

“Dunno, we brought some stuff over from different time periods in the hopes we could make some big money off some antique dealers,” Nick gestures to the bags they’d placed on the ground while talking to you.

“Good luck, things have changed a lot in the last, what’s it been, six years for you? Yeah, the housing market’s a fucking nightmare,” you shake your head.

“Paying over a thousand pounds a month to live in a shoebox, I ask you,” Ralph mutters under his breath in disgust. You shoot him an offended glance and he simpers back, “But I’d live in a matchbox if it meant living with you, my love.” You grin back, angling your cheek for him to kiss it, to more retching sounds from Lauren.

“Well, I was wondering if we could chance our luck with Ralph’s place, but seeing as though our only way in would be claiming Jason’s son left it to us in his will, when he’d be older than us in this time…” Nick shakes his head, and you and Ralph look incredulously at him.

“Sorry, what?! Ralph’s place?! You mean the big fuck-off mansion they lived in? That’s a Waterstone’s now, and even if it was, there’s no way you’d afford a place like that -”

The others look at you in confusion. “Victoria told us that the house was destroyed in an air raid,” Nick explains slowly.

You shake your head, pointing towards the bookstore. “Go look for yourself, plaque’s still there, and everything. She ended up spending all the Penbury fortune, went flat broke.”

“Explains a lot,” Lauren mutters under her breath.

“Yes, well, anyway!” Jason raises his hands up, as well as his voice. “I’m on about the one that Victoria ended up getting when he di- well, ‘died’, I guess,” Jason holds up air quotes over the word ‘died’. You both stand there in stunned silence, so he explains, “Vic said she found a letter from your dad, before the place got bombed, or… Whatever the fuck actually happened to it, it doesn’t matter, now. The letter was meant to go to his lawyer but I guess he never got to give it to him before… Well,” he gestures, and you both nod in understanding. “Anyway, so in this letter your dad had written, it said that he’d bought an extra place, for if you were to ever go off to war and want a place to come back that was all your own,” he gestures to Ralph, who swallows hard.

“Father bought… Bought me a house?!” He asks, stunned.

“He wrote some bullshit in there about how it might help you start a family and keep the Penbury name intact, that your… ‘pursuit of a wife would be easier if you already had a place of your own’,” Jason pulls a face and shakes his head.

Ralph nods in understanding, pressing his lips together with a faltering, “Now that sounds like Father.”

“So, when you ‘died’, Vic claimed that she had the right to inherit that house, and that’s where we lived. And, um… I sort of… Gave you a nephew?” Jason smiles weakly at Ralph. “But he went off and started his life elsewhere, and fuck knows what happened to him.”

“Hmm, I thought I could maybe blag our way into claiming that Jase is entitled to inherit it, too, because of the family name, but I doubt it, if JJ never came back for it. I seriously doubt Victoria’s still going,” he shakes his head. “Never mind, we’ll just start flogging this stuff and go from there. Anyway! Insane to see both of you, together, at the same time, but, y’know. Glad to see you’re both well, now.” Nick smiles at you both, and you nod.

“Good to see you guys, too! Helps put things at ease that the whole time travelling thing doesn’t make the universe implode on itself.” They laugh, and you look over at the building next to you before nudging Ralph. “Hey, they could probably try selling some of their stuff to your shop, couldn’t they?”

“There’d be no harm in trying,” Ralph agrees. “Though I should warn you, the owner is a tad… Eccentric.”

Lauren scoffs, “Fuck me, if Ralph’s calling someone eccentric, they must be a raving fucking lunatic!” She picks up one of the bags and heads to the door, slapping Ralph’s arm as she walks past him. “See you around, yeah?”

“Y-Yes, of course. All of you,” Ralph smiles, shaking the other men’s hands as they all pile into Ralph’s workplace.

Your mind starts trying to work in rapid fire, trying desperately to connect dots that seem impossible to connect. Thankfully, Ralph for once manages to keep you on task, even managing to buy what you’d asked him to - though instead of working up the nerve to seek out a cashier, he’d opted for the equally challenging task of trying to operate a self-service checkout while you frantically Google every little bump in the road you come across - though on incognito mode, of course, just in case.

Once you’re sitting down together in a cafe, waiting on your lunch, you finally try and articulate your train of thought to Ralph. “Look, all you need to prove that you’re a rightful heir is a name, a story that you’re related, and three months’ worth of proof that you live somewhere. So, granted, we’re gonna need to find something to sign you up to that’ll mail you stuff, but after that, in just three months, we might be able to get that place!”

“Well,” Ralph starts, wringing his hands together on the table. “Babs was telling me something about - about the taxes she has to file, apparently there’s some sort of form I have to be given at the end of the month, I didn’t say anything because she’s the one that pays me, but she had said something about deducting it from my pay already, it’s a… System I couldn’t wrap my head around,” he shakes his head. “But she did say… That if I’m asked to prove anything about my pay, she also has my official pay slips in her possession.”

You look at him incredulously. “So, what, they have your work’s address on them? As if you live there?”

“Not quite… She asked for our address some time ago, and I assumed it was in case of emergencies so I told her, and so I suppose that’s what she’s submitted on the slips. She said that she never sends them because there’s no point, if we want them, we can simply ask her.”

You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “So, we can take those… With your name on… Make up some story about how we found a photo online of your great-grandad who looks just like you and found out he owned that house…” You grin at him. “And it’d be ours!”

Ralph deflates a little. “I wish I could share your enthusiasm, my love, but I fear our luck has run out by now. I mean, surely I’d need a legal record, too!”

You shake your head furiously. “It only says they might ask, online. And you’ve charmed your way out of identification before on countless occasions, what’s one more time?! “

“It’s just an awfully big risk, I mean, what if we get caught? What if we’re imprisoned, questioned - would they even believe what happened with me? It’s just too close to being impossible!”

“Exactly!” You slap the table a few times before grabbing Ralph’s hands to hold them. “Everything about us is just shy of being impossible. You are a 26 year old man who was born in 1901. I am someone who’d given up entirely on love until I literally walked right into meeting my literal soulmate.”

Ralph smiles bashfully, “I wouldn’t have thought you believed in soulmates.”

“That’s my point! I didn’t either! I never would have! But you make the almost-impossible entirely possible. You made an entire life for yourself here where you are loved and admired by literally thousands of people, including the most ride-or-die friends you could have asked for. That are, probably right this second, also researching how to keep you here as long as we possibly can. Who can say they’ve got friends like that, hm? You think Victoria and all her little pals would put that much effort into keeping her around?” Ralph shakes his head. “Right. Because you’re special, Ralph. I know it. We all know it. Just… Come on.”

“But there’ll be inheritance tax, surely,” he counters, “and then, what? I haven’t paid tax in… Ninety-seven years!”

“So, if that happens, we do what Anna says. Once we’ve established that you’re definitely entitled to the house in the name of Ralph Penbury, we spin a tale that you were never registered. Sure, you’d probably be lumped with a load of tax to pay back, but…” You tut out a breath as you think before gasping, clapping and holding his hands again. “What if, we get the house, but I tell my parents we’re buying it, rather than inheriting it?! Get them to give me a loan for a deposit, you use it to start paying off tax stuff, and then instead of all our money going on rent, you can pay the tax people back and I can pay my parents back.”

“It all sounds rather hair-brained,” Ralph states, but with a smile that says he believes in the cause.

“It’s completely hair-brained,” you admit with a nod. “It’s insane and out there and nobody in their right mind would actually think it works. Which is what’s gonna make it work. Right?”

“It’s just - It’s the risk,” Ralph shakes his head, but you pull his hands up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“Ralph Do-You-Have-A-Middle-Name? Penbury.” He laughs. “I am so… Ridiculously, madly, insanely in love with you that I would be willing to put my entire life on the line for you. I would quite literally risk it all.”

Ralph’s ears burn red as he smiles bashfully. “And you call me the hopeless romantic.”

“God, I know. I guess you’ve corrupted me, too,” you pull a face, and he laughs.

“You’re right, though. What sort of man would I be if I didn’t heed my own word? Though I may have far less to put on the line… I would do anything for you, my love. As long as I still have you, I will have everything.”

“Trust you to out-fluff me,” you smirk. “So, you’re willing to give it a shot?”

He takes a deep breath in, and finally nods. “Very well. Whatever happens, we shall have each other, always.”

You kiss his hands again with a grin. “Always.”

~~~

The clang of metal against metal as the door shuts behind you makes you jump out of your skin. “Jesus fucking Christ, warn someone when you’re doing that, won’t you?” you glare over at the uniform-clad man as he wrenches his key out of the lock.

“If it’s too loud for your delicate little ears, sunshine, don’t stay so close,” he sneers.

“Got no choice, have I?” you ask, rolling your eyes and gesturing down, and an almost wicked smile creeps along the man’s face.

“That’s what you get, ending up in a place like this where people like you don’t belong,” he tuts, shaking his head. “If you can’t hack it…”

“Oi, dickhead,” a voice calls from behind you. “You’re all done, now, ain’t ya? If you want to keep that face of yours arranged the way your mother made it, you’ll jog on.”

He looks at you with a smug frown, waggling his eyebrows, “That really the sort of thing you want to be known for? Dangerous reputation around these parts.”

You groan, leaning down to press your forehead into the knuckles holding your car door open as you’re standing halfway in it. “Just get that lorry of yours out of my parking space before I get done for being on double yellow lines, yeah?” The man kisses his teeth as he clambers back into his vehicle and drives away. You pull a face as you put on a mock voice, “‘Get a man with a van’, they said. ‘It’ll make your move so much easier’, they said. Prick. Thanks for helping me deal with him,” you simper at Ralph’s friend Charlotte as she scoops up a box from the pavement.

“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta put pricks like that in their place, and it sure as shit ain’t our Ralphie,” she scoffs, and you chuckle. "Want me to go grab him so you lovebirds can say goodbye?” She says in a joking tone, pulling a kissy face at you.

You laugh, “Says the person who can’t go twelve seconds without sucking on Yankee-Doodle’s face in there,” you waggle your eyebrows.

“You’re lucky I like you, d’y’know that?” she teases, sticking her tongue out at you before turning on her heel, laughing as she faces away from you and sees Ralph emerging out from the front door of his townhouse. She wolf-whistles as the two cross paths, which Ralph looks very confused at, to your amusement.

“Sorry I have to go into work,” you pout your lower lip out in a frown as he approaches you. “They’re just so short-staffed, and I -”

“Don’t you fret, my love,” he interjects, leaning in to press a quick peck to your lips. “You must go where you are needed. Not to worry, we will remain hard at work here, and then when you return, you can relax in your new, furnished home.”

“Our home,” you correct him. “It is yours, after all. I just can’t believe that this is all real.”

“I’ve felt that way for some time, myself,” Ralph admits softly, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers, and you feel yourself physically melt against your car door.

“Right, I’m going before I end up feeling even worse about leaving you guys behind.” You pull Ralph in for another, longer kiss, carding your fingers through his curls as he cradles the back of your neck. A laugh bubbles between your lips as you murmur against him, “This isn’t helping!”

“Ah, what’s one more minute of them not having you?” he smiles coyly at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What if they said that about me coming back home to you, hm?”

Reluctantly, Ralph steps away. “Very well. Have a wonderful day, darling. Travel safely.”

You turn your nose up and shake your head. “Nah, think I’m gonna finally live life on the edge today.” Ralph gives you a look that tells you he isn’t amused, and you grin back, blowing him a kiss. “Be good!”

“When aren’t I?!”

~~~

You’re not sure that you’ll take the train every time you have to go to work, now; despite it being quicker, having to actively pay both ways and being sandwiched amongst so many people just doesn’t seem worth it. Still, today of all days, you wanted to get home as quickly as you could, despite all the local landmarks tempting your inner tourist. You’ve got all the time in the world now to explore them, and besides, it’d be far more entertaining showing them all to Ralph.

You unlock the door and are immediately greeted by the smell of something cooking, something really good. You step through the hallway and into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as you watch Ralph reading from a recipe book, squinting close to the page as he drags his finger across each line of his next instruction, his mouth moving along with every word. "Looks like you could do with some glasses," you pipe up, and Ralph yelps in surprise as he looks up at you.

"Hello, my love! Welcome home! Um, I didn't hear you come in, my apologies, I'd have met you at the door if I'd have known."

"It's okay," you soothe as you stride over to him, pulling him into a deep kiss. "What's this in aid of, is everyone staying for dinner?" A pang of disappointment strikes your chest. As much as you love yours and Ralph's friends, you were sort of hoping to have your first night in the new house alone with him.

"Not tonight, darling, this is in aid of you!" Ralph smiles over at you. "Since I have been learning, and you have been working so hard at your shop, especially juggling it all with sorting out the house and you've still been the one to make countless meals for us, I thought I would try and make your favourite meal."

You let out a small, happy whimper, kissing his cheek. "As long as it hasn't been stressing you out. Do you want any help?"

"Well, I suppose now that you mention it, I do need somebody to stand right there and just look casually beautiful, and - well, would you look at that, you're a natural!" He beams over at you, leaning in to kiss you again.

You grin bashfully, hiding your face in his shoulder. "God, look at what you've done to me! You've made me all mushy and shit."

"Happy to help, my love," he smiles, pressing one more kiss to your head before returning to his recipe.

"Sure you don't want me to help? Read things out or anything? I don't want you straining your eyes," you frown.

"Well, it's not as though I can get my eyes tested, is it?" he asks as he continues preparing food.

"But if it's just a case of reading close-up, you can get reading glasses over the counter in the shops," you explain.

"But aren't glasses rather… Unseemly?" he asks with knitted brow.

You shake your head. "If anything, the right ones would make you appear very, very… Seemly," you pull a face, not knowing if that was the correct term to use or not, and Ralph laughs gently.

"Just go and get comfortable, my love. I will call for you when dinner is served."

"Oh, yeah, forgot we have a dining room with a table, now," you smirk. "Just look at us, living the high life!"

Ralph gasps, "Oh, speaking of! Hannah left us a housewarming gift, she donated her tee-vee so that we could have one in our bedroom, as well!"

The way Ralph elongates the letters in TV so deliberately will never not charm you. "That was nice of her! How come?"

"She's moving in with that girl she met last month. All seems a bit fast-moving, if you ask me."

You look at him incredulously. "Look who's talking!"

"Yes, Hannah did point out something similar to me," he admits, ears blushing.

You chuckle as you navigate your way through to your new bedroom. It seems strange, your familiar furniture against such an unfamiliar backdrop. Every room looks so dated - naturally, it hadn't been touched since the 50s, apparently. Still, that Pinterest board you've been working on for years is finally going to go to good use.

Your heart swells when you see the bed littered with rose petals, a classic touch that has Ralph written all over it. You explore all the dressers and wardrobes in the room, familiarising yourself with where Ralph and your friends have decided to unpack your things. You open up your underwear drawer, thumbing across the carefully-arranged bras with a smile. Finding a particularly intricate number, you fish for its matching underwear, and decide to change into it. Ralph did ask you to slip into something more comfortable, right? You find something flattering to put over the whole set and rejoin him downstairs.

He's stirring something in a pan, looking rather proud of himself, when you get back to the kitchen. This time, you tap your knuckles against the door to make your presence known, so as not to surprise him. However, once he sees you, Ralph immediately drops the utensil he's using back into the pot with an almighty clatter, his jaw visibly dropping. You smile bashfully and he clears his throat, "Forgive my reaction, my darling, but you look positively ravishing."

In Ralphspeak, you know that's the equivalent of him calling you the closest thing to sexy he's probably willing to say. At least, for now. Maybe you've still a little corruption left in you. Still, it's enough to cause your heart to race. "You like?"

"I love. I mean, of course, I love you no matter what, but…" He blows out a breath that tickles the curls that hang across his brow. "You really do look absolutely delectable."

After a lingering moment, you manage to tear your eyes away to look at what's cooking. "Speaking of, so does this! You sure I can't be of any help?"

"Not at all, my dear, it's just about ready to serve. And just in time, so I can no longer fear about getting too… Distracted," he smiles coyly, looking you up and down the way he always does. There's something a little different in the way he looks at you, though. A different sort of gleam illuminates his eyes. One that makes you want to wolf down your food, drag him up to the bedroom and pull him on top of you.

But still, he's worked hard on this meal, and he looks so proud of himself. Though he dishes up, he still rushes ahead of you into the dining room to make sure he pulls out your seat for you, guiding the chair back with you as you readjust it and kissing your cheek before lighting a candle you vaguely recognise as an old secret Santa gift that you never ended up using, and going back for your food.

You exchange stories about your day: you, about the stresses of working short-staffed on a weekend during a school holiday, meaning a terrifying crossover of screaming babies and toddlers, chaotic children, less-than-trustworthy teenagers and overly-entitled adults; Ralph, about all the different ways your friends almost broke almost every piece of furniture you own while trying to get it into the house. Both equally stressful for you to recount.

At first, once you're done, Ralph insists on cleaning up after himself, but after a lot of pouting, eyelash batting and gentle touches, you coax him out to sit in the living room - another whole room dedicated to one thing, you've not lived like this since you moved out of your parents' - and cuddle up to him on the sofa.

Your embrace barely lasts a minute before your lips are on his, again. He’s desperate to get as close to you as he can, clawing at your clothes as he presses the kiss open. Holding the back of his neck to steady yourself, you move yourself up to straddle his lap, letting your tongue slip into his mouth and moaning at the sensation of his against yours. He echoes you as his hands slip down your sides to squeeze your hips. You buck them under his touch, feeling his erection grow beneath you.

He chokes out a soft, “May I?” as his fingers curl around to grip at the fabric of your top. You nod, sitting back and holding your arms up to let him take it off of you. He starts trying to fold it up behind you but, impatient, you take the garment from him and blindly throw it behind you, holding his face to kiss him again.

He takes your hands into his own and guides them back down, his kisses moving from your lips, down your jaw and to your neck, where he finds an especially sensitive spot and stays there, kissing it over and over again, all while muttering sweet nothings to you. “You are so very beautiful, my darling… How fortunate I am to be this intimate with you… Just exquisite in every conceivable way…" You rock your hips faster at his words, throwing him off his train of thought entirely as he sits back and watches you lustfully.

His gaze isn't trained on your face, though. Instead, he's transfixed on the way your breasts move, both from your heaving breaths and from grinding on him. Biting your lip, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck and start pushing it towards you as his tongue just pokes out enough to wet his lips. "Wanna put that mouth to better use?" You ask as you guide him closer to your chest.

He gasps in soft delight, looking up at you gleefully. "Are you quite sure?" You nod and his face melts into one of pure ecstacy. "Thank you, my love," he mutters before taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

His plush lips press against your flesh as he kisses, sucks and licks at your nipple. Biting back a moan, you rest your hand in his hair, ruffling it slightly and muttering with a smile, “You like that, don’t you?” He hums out an mm-hm that vibrates against your skin, and reaches up to play the other nipple between his finger and thumb. You keen towards him, grip tightening and head bending down to him as you groan loudly, “Fuck, that’s it, good boy!” Words you’d never have thought you’d say in such a context fly out of your mouth so easily, and you could swear he sounded like he was chirping with happiness as you said them.

He moves away from the breast he’s suckling on, pressing one more brief peck to your wet, hardened nipple, and starts to focus on the other, still brushing the other nipple with the backs of his knuckles. You whine, whimper and moan as your still-clothed cunt begs for sweet release. You’re constantly amazed at how quickly Ralph can bring you to an apex few had ever even managed to. “God, Ralph, need you so bad.”

“Of course, please forgive me, got rather carried away there,” he mumbles apologetically to you, but the kiss you press to his forehead tells him there’s nothing for him to be sorry for. Ralph looks around, his brow furrowing. “Um, I don’t wish to diminish the mood at all, but there doesn’t seem to be an awful lot of… Space, here.”

You cock your head, smiling coyly. “You wanna go to the bed you prepared for this exact occasion?”

Ralph returns a smaller, more sheepish smile, his ears tinting. “Ah, you noticed. I suppose, of course you did, it would be difficult not to. Still, was it alright? Or too much?” His face falls. “It was too much, wasn’t it?”

You fleetingly frown in thought. “A little, yeah.” Your expression quickly changes back into a grin, though. “But it was your brand of too much, which makes it perfect.” You lean back to unbutton his shirt. “Unfortunately, my brand is not being patient enough to wait that long.”

“I wouldn’t say that of you, you were rather patient with me all those months,” Ralph notes pointedly, and you laugh.

“Yeah, you used it all up!” You climb off of him, slowly sliding the bottom half of your outfit off, but leaving your underwear on. Looking over at him gawking, you smirk, "You sure you want this? Not exactly dressed for the occasion."

He reaches up to stroke the pad of his thumb across the intricate design of your underwear. "Of course, you had been wearing a matching set, but it was I who became so impatient that I missed out on seeing it in full, my deepest apologies, my love, I - well," he suddenly, hurriedly slips himself out of all his clothes, leaving them in a heap by his feet, making you giggle again.

"Maybe I'll still let you see it," you tell him suggestively, hooking your thumbs into the elastic of your panties. "Maybe I'll wear it all again and take some photos on your phone." With nothing left to cover it, you watch Ralph's cock twitch at the idea and bite your lip to compose yourself. "Maybe," you continue as you slowly push your underwear down your thighs, "I'll leave a video or two, as well." You watch his face as you let them fall past your ankle, stepping out of them and walking back over to him. "What do you think?"

"I think you spoil me, my love," he smiles softly. He reaches down to the jeans he'd all but ripped off of himself, fumbling through a pocket until he pulls out a condom and starts to put it on himself.

Watching the act of him wrapping it around himself and sliding it down is almost enough to totally distract you from your initial thought. Almost. "Did you really just have a condom just sitting there in your pocket? And you make out like I'm the horndog!"

Ralph blushes, "Yes, well, I sort of… Hoped we would… Christen the place, so to speak.”

You climb into his lap, hovering yourself to line up with where he’s holding his shaft. “I like that idea,” you smile softly before sliding yourself down onto him. You both let out staggered moans as you let yourself get used to the sensation of being filled by him, before kneeling yourself up to the point where you can just about feel his tip still inside you and then sinking yourself back down.

His hands grip your hips tightly as he moans your name. You repeat the motions a few times, revelling in the way it feels to drop onto him, having him enter you so deeply and so quickly. You soon start to feel an ache, though, and decide to pace yourself, keeping him bottomed out inside of you and grinding against him until you feel rested enough to go again.

You can see Ralph’s mouth constantly silently moving, as though he wants to keep complimenting you the way he always does, but he’s too blissed out from feeling you clench around him, your cunt gripping his cock tightly with no intention of ever letting him back out of you again. You especially try to make sure you commit the face he makes every time you pull yourself out just to fuck yourself back down onto him again, to your memory, knowing that just remembering the way he reacts to you would be enough to turn you on, if you ever needed anything to fuel your imagination.

At one point, while you’re rocking your hips with him inside you, you finally manage to get yourself at just the right angle to hit that sweet spot that Ralph is always able to find. Keeping yourself at the same angle, you move yourself even faster, moaning louder and more often.

Ralph seems to notice, and does his best to hold you in place as he bucks his hips up underneath your weight. You curl yourself forward, arms wrapped around his shoulders and face buried in his neck as he fucks you from where he sits beneath you. Knowing how good it makes you feel when he mutters sweet sentiments to you, you mumble against his skin, “Feel so good, Ralphie… You always know how to, you’re fucking amazing… So good to me, so sweet, my Ralph, no-one else’s… My sweet and handsome boy, knows just how to please me, fuck.”

."He whimpers and whines, music to your ears as you feel your climax start to build again. “Oh, god, Ralphie, I’m so clo- Oh my god,” you groan as he starts to massage your clit in rapid circles. “Oh, fuck, yes, so good to me, thank you… Wish I could, do more for you.”

“- Already do the absolute most, darling,” he soothes. “’M already embarrassingly near to finishing, myself.”

You shake your head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, not at all, god, please cum for me, Ralphie, and I will for you, please?” Ralph completely falls apart beneath you at your words, moaning your name and digging his fingers bruisingly into your skin. You feel yourself becoming one with him as you ride out your orgasm.

He wraps his arms around your hips, cradling you on his lap, and you rest your forehead against his as you both breathe heavily, intertwined in body, in breath, in spirit. You’d never, ever thought you’d even ever contemplate the idea a year ago, but in this moment, you really are certain that Ralph is your one true soulmate.

He leans in to envelop your lips with his own in a sweet and passionate kiss before muttering, “Forgive me, my love, but I do rather need to take care of…”

You whine indignantly, but stand to climb off of him. “Suppose I should actually change into something comfortable now, eh?” You ask humorously, and you hear his laughter from where he’s throwing his used condom away in the bathroom. The downstairs bathroom that you now have in the townhouse where you live with the love of your life. This was always pipe-dream material, but here you are. Living it.

You run upstairs, taking a moment to again admire the state of the bed and think about all the ways you plan to christen it later, and look through clothes to get changed into. Opting for a tank-top-and-pyjama-bottoms combination, you take yourself to your en-suite and freshen up as you get changed.

When you open up the door again, Ralph is just pulling a white shirt over his head, and you smile fondly at his choice to pair it with a very familiar pair of sweatpants. “Those were the first clothes I ever gave you,” you recall, and he looks at you with a similar expression.

“I believe that was also what you had chosen to wear the first night I met you, as well. When you gave me your bed without knowing anything at all about me,” he reminisces.

You giggle, “Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t even look me in the eye because you didn’t want to be ‘improper’, now look at you!” You tap his nose teasingly, and his ears flush red.

“Oh, hush,” he frowns, but the air of a laugh hangs in his voice. “You really were - I mean, to take me in as you did, in my time of need while knowing absolutely nothing about me, especially after Mister Peter told you my far-fetched reasoning for being here…” Ralph wraps his arms around your waist. “Giving me the life I have now, the friends I have, the - everything,” he sighs wistfully.

“Yeah, well. You try looking you right in the chocolate buttons and saying no to that face,” you smirk, and he laughs. “It’s like I said when we went to the inheritance people to get this place. With my gift of the gab, and your gift of the… Face, the charm, and the everything else you’ve got going for you, we’re unstoppable,” you beam.

“I still can’t believe you were able to talk them around like that,” he looks at you adoringly, and you shrug.

“The amount of backlog they so obviously had, and the amount of effort it would have taken if we hadn’t convinced them to cut some corners with us, it was a doddle,” you shrug. “I could tell they weren’t the brown-nosing type, they weren’t gonna go back to check every little part of what I said we’d set out to do was legitimately within their procedures.”

“A skill set like that is wasted on your little clothes shop,” he frowns, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, and you laugh.

“Yeah, well. Maybe it’s time I look for something new that’s a bit more local to this area,” you nod. “I don’t think Babs’d let you quit, though.”

“Heavens, no, she’d be out for my blood!” Ralph exclaims, and you laugh loudly.

Once you’re back at the sofa, cuddled up beneath a blanket and watching TV together, even though you’re curled up against Ralph’s chest, you can sense something’s bothering him. “You alright?” You ask him.

“Couldn’t be better, darling,” he replies, but the tension you feel beneath your cheek betrays his lie.

“Nah, c’mon, tell me,” you sit yourself up next to him, and he sighs heavily.

“Well, I was just thinking of how… I mean, yes, we have a house now, at least, but I’m still not legally a person, am I? I know we said we wouldn’t openly use that story about me never being registered and so on unless it were absolutely necessary.”

“Yeah, we agreed, only if you need serious medical treatment,” you nod.

“R-right, but what about the other things?” He asks warily, twiddling his thumbs.

“Like holidaying? We can survive not going abroad, Ralph,” you laugh.

“Not just that… What about… Well, we could never be truly wed, or be a family,” you hear his voice get weaker, shakier.

“Sure, we can,” you wrap your arm around his shoulders and pull him so that he nuzzles into your neck, stroking his hair. “Okay, so we couldn’t get, like, legally married, but so what? We can still use the same bank account as if it were a joint one. I could easily change my name by deed poll. We could still throw a wedding in every other aspect, just without the signing the register. And as for the other bit, I mean, you can register with just one parent and add another later, if we do get away with your story about neither of yours registering you.”

“You seem rather sure in your knowledge, there,” he notes with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, well… Maybe I looked into it all a little.” He looks over at you with a knowing grin, and you feel yourself get sheepish. “What?”

“Nothing, dearest,” Ralph chimes. “Just seems a little… What’s that word that you call me all the time?”

“Sappy? Tell me about it,” you shake your head, and Ralph laughs.

“It’s an honour to make you feel that way, darling,” he leans over to kiss you. After a few minutes, he breaks away to stroke your cheek with his thumb as he holds your face. “You seriously see a future - of us? With me? I -”

You pull him in for another kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you do so, “Yes, you big dafty!”

He chirps happily. “Well, I suppose I’ve a lot to do, then, haven’t I!”

You take a deep breath in as you brace yourself to potentially let Ralph down. “Yeah, but… look, when I said I was looking into it, I meant as in, like, way into our future, yeah? We’ve got bags of time, I just want to enjoy it all with you, you know?”

To your surprise, Ralph scoffs at you. “Well, naturally. Did you think I would propose to you in this manner? Without so much as a ring? Or even your family’s blessing?”

“Oh, well, that won’t take long at all,” you smirk. “I bet you, when we go have dinner with Mum and Dad next week, by the time we even tell them that we’re together now, Mum’ll be asking you what colour her wedding outfit should be!”

A proud smile bursts onto Ralph’s face, but it quickly fades. “Do you think they’ll fear that us getting a house together is too big of a commitment too quickly?”

“Again. Ralph. They love you,” you reiterate to him, squeezing his hand. “And once they find out you’re responsible for us moving to Southwark, where they are? Dad’ll have gotten himself ordained by the time they bring out desserts just to make sure you’d become a permanent part of the family.”

Ralph’s heart swells hundredfold at the sentiment as he embraces you in yet another kiss. “I suppose I am rather overthinking things, aren’t I?”

“Just a tad,” you scrunch your face up, and he laughs.

“I mean, it’s really no different than when we were living at your flat, really, is it?” He chuckles, and you shake your head.

“Except we could have a pet, now,” you muse, and Ralph sits up straight, his face full of excitement.

“Could we get a cat?!” He beams at you, making you laugh.

“God, you and cats, what is with that?”

“I have a theory,” he muses. “Since Cheese and I got along so well so quickly, I think because we were so similar, he put in a good word with all the other cats. That’s the only explanation there could possibly be.”

After a brief hesitation, you laugh, “Sorry, in what way are you so similar to our old neighbour’s cat?!”

“Well, both of us were sort-of confined to our little flats, neither of us technically supposed to be there. I think he could sense that of me when I first met him, back when I… Upset that neighbour of yours.”

“Because you burnt your toast so badly that you almost suffocated the ninth floor with smoke?” You ask with raised eyebrows, and Ralph slinks back into his seat bashfully.

“Well, I’ve learned now, haven’t I?” He points out.

“That, you have. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come,” you hug his arm, shuffling up to his side. “With everything. How you’ve learned to cope with all this modern stuff, all the stuff you never got to learn growing up, and just… I’m really pleased you’ve been starting to love yourself as much - well, almost as much as I love you,” you simper, resting your head on his arm. “Ugh, god, I really am a sap now, aren’t I?”

Ralph chuckles, pressing a peck onto the top of your head. “At least we can both be, together, eh?”

You sigh contentedly as he wraps his arms around you, pulling the blanket around to make sure you’re both comfortable. You look around at the walls, imagining what decorating with Ralph is going to be like in the coming few weeks, and then picturing the photos you’d hang on there. Travels with Ralph all across the country. Your eventual engagement photos, because of course Ralph’s going to make that moment as photogenic as possible so you’ll have something to capture and savour that memory forever. Wedding photos, all your friends and Ralph’s all dressed up to the nines, singing and dancing the night away to celebrate the pair of you. Pictures of your eventual babies, some with Ralph’s eyes and some with his hair but all of them with his warm, kind smile. Those kids’ first moments, their first smiles, first steps, first day at school.

You break yourself away from your trance-like train of thought to see Ralph’s watching you with all the love that could possibly exist in the world currently living in his gaze. “I’m thinking of the same, too, my love,” he whispers excitedly, as though he’s able to see into your mind telepathically. “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives, either.”

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sherifftillman · 2 years

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 4.2k

A/N: Aaaaaand THIS is where the real good stuff starts! Sorry for all the other posts, just had to start getting the ball rolling. I am aware that since this is taking place in modern London, there may well be slang used that people don't necessarily recognise. If you'd like me to make a glossary of some kind, hit me up!! I hope you enjoy Ralph In The Future as much as I do <3

"Bet it feels strange being behind here again, doesn't it?" the customer asks you. It's an older woman, you don't particularly recognise her, but she certainly seems to know you well enough to know you've been promoted since you first started working here.

You force a smile, "Not really! Sometimes the floor just needs an extra pair of hands, and it helps me know what's working and what isn't for my staff and my customers, so," you shrug.

"Yeah, I don't envy you, still working at a time when nobody wants to work," she shakes her head.

You press your lips together tightly. There are so many arguments you could make right now, but already trying to juggle two roles is taxing enough. Instead you simply tell the woman her total and ring her through. Once again adorning your best customer service smile, you thank her for her custom and send her on her way.

"D'you think she's ever worked a customer service job in her life?" Your shop floor assistant asks as they re-fold their display shirts.

You shake your head, "I think… Cushty little secretary job at her dad's business, at first. Never had to pay rent, got married to the first guy at that job to pay her attention, got a council house nice and early and spawned a couple of kids just to stop him from walking."

They let out a wide-eyed, long-drawn breath, "Daaamn, someone woke up on the salty side of the bed this morning!"

You chuckle humourlessly, "That doesn't even make sense. And yeah, sorry, it just… Really sucks that I've got major shit to do this week, but I can't just let you do all the work out here on your own, not with Karens like that around."

"Can't you get your friend to come down and cover? Or to do your manager shit on their next shift?"

"Nah, it's gotta be me. And they can't come in today because of their other job, so I'm gonna do it as overtime," you explain dejectedly.

"You're doing great, champ!" they sidle up to you to gently punch you in the shoulder encouragingly.

"Hey now, kiddo, I'm the manager here, I need to be motivating you!"

"Nah, you're sales right now. You're just as good as the rest of us common muck," they tease, and you stick your tongue out at them.

The day drags, and the quality of customers certainly doesn’t improve. A man who thinks he can return an item without a receipt. A woman who insists on ordering an item that’s no longer available because she saw a friend wearing it just last week. Children.

And sure, maybe now, at 5:40pm, the customer of your dreams could walk in through the front door. But you and your coworker are exhausted, and this is the kind of shit you always wanted to become a manager to do. Taking one last look up and down the almost empty high street, save for the ones who are heading to the Wetherspoons on the corner, you decide to start the closing process early.

You manage to finish a little after 6pm, and you consider just getting all of your admin stuff done while you’re here, but also, you really can’t stand the sight of these four walls much longer. You figure you’ll just go to the coffee shop nearby, get yourself an iced latte for the walk home and think about what kind of takeaway you’ll be craving once you get back to your flat. No cooking. Not tonight.

You’re well into a mental debate about whether you’d rather have a chow mein or a biryani when something else piques your interest. There’s a man in front of you in some kind of costume. It’s either really old-school military, or… Safari explorer. Maybe he’s one of those live re-enactors. Maybe he works at the zoo. Maybe he’s just one of those quirked-up little guys. You get your phone out to text your friends, ready to ask them if they’ve seen anyone dressed similarly before, but as you continue walking you collide with something.

Someone. Your flimsy plastic cup gets crushed immediately upon the impact, pouring ice cold coffee down the strangely-dressed man’s back. Your first instinct is to shout, “Watch it!”

The man jumps out of his skin, either at your words or the ice cubes soaking his back. He spins around to look at you like a deer in headlights. Eyes like giant chocolate buttons stare you down. If he’s supposed to be dressed as an Army boy, he does not have the face to convince me, you think. Unless the message they’re sending is that literally anyone could get drafted.

“You alright?” you ask, eyes narrowing and head cocking as you study him.

“Ah - um - oh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! This was absolutely my fault, I’m just - I’m so lost, and I was trying to find a man and now he’s gone and - oh, blast, stupid Ralph, you’ve really gone and done it now!” the man flusters, looking in every direction except at you.

You whistle and click your fingers at his eye level. “Hey, Bambi! Focus. It’s okay.”

He moves his head back to scrunch his face at you in confusion. “Bambi?”

You smirk, “Yeah, you’re like a baby deer right now. You said you’re lost? Where’re you trying to get to?”

“Uh, well, I suppose I should try and find my home, um… Penbury House?” he asks tentatively.

You kiss your teeth a few times as you think of where you’ve heard that name before. “Oh!” You look at him, puzzled. “You sure that’s your house?”

“Well, my name is Ralph Penbury, so…” he wiggles his shoulders from side to side before shrugging. You appreciate the extra flair.

“Right, but Penbury House is the name of the place they turned into a Waterstone’s,” you explain. He looks lost again, so you explain, “Waterstone’s is a bookstore.”

Ralph scoffs, “Oh, pish-posh, my home has not become a bookstore! That would be quite preposterous!”

So far your entire interaction with this strange man has been a tennis match of bewilderment, just exchanging expressions back and forth. “Are you, like… On something, mate? Do you need me to get you somewhere safe?”

“I want to go home, please! And not a… Bookstore, my real, actual home!” He’s starting to sound quite overwhelmed now, so you take a step back.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay. We can calm down. You mentioned looking for a man? Do you know this man?”

“Well, not personally, but I travelled here with him. About yea tall,” he holds his hand just in line with his eyebrows, “very old. Silent man. Hair just past his ears. Looks, um. Unwashed.”

Your eyebrows raise in realisation. “Ah, Homeless Pete!” Makes sense that Pete and his crew would be involved somehow. “Shall we go and find him?”

“Do you know where he is?!” Ralph asks, his expression lighting up. He may be dressed like an absolute twat, but you can’t deny his adorable little puppy-dog face.

“I know where he hangs out, we can go see if he’s there?” you ask, and Ralph nods. “C’mon,” you jerk your head in the direction towards where you know Homeless Pete tends to hang out when he’s not walking the streets. You wonder what ol’ H.P. (as your friends call him) could have given his poor boy to make him trip like this. “So, uh, quick question. Sorry, I completely forgot. What’s the full date today?”

“Well, the last I checked, it was September the 7th, 1926,” he replies simply. You stop in your tracks, and he looks back at you with a frown. “What’s the matter?”

“N-nothing, nothing,” you shake your head and carry on walking. This poor boy must be on something pretty damn strong. “Let’s get you to H.P, yeah?” Just to find out what he’s taken. Then it’s straight to the hospital.

Ralph inhales so loudly that a guttural sound forms in his throat. “Oh my goodness! Do you think - am I in - the future?” He grips your arm tightly. “Was the lift a time machine, perhaps?”

“Maybe,” you tap his hand lightly with your own as you keep walking with him, "considering that it's September the 7th, 2022." Normally, you would be throwing any stranger that hugged your arm like Ralph now is to the ground, but there’s just something about him. Either he plays the innocent human puppy role far better than any indie boy that’s ever tried to hit on you on a night out, or he really is just going through it.

You eventually reach the underpass where a large part of the local homeless population gather, and sure enough, there is Pete himself, sat between two shopping trolleys. He spots the two of you and immediately bursts into laughter. “What the fuck, H.P?!” you yell. “You’re usually chill, what have you done to this poor boy?!”

“‘M not a boy, I’m a grown man, thank you,” Ralph mutters into your shoulder.

“‘Course you are, babe,” you murmur sarcastically as you nod at him, before once again turning to Pete. “Well?! You’ve got him talking about - about time machines, and the 1920s, I mean, just look at how the poor sod’s dressed!” Pete’s eyes widen as he waggles his finger at you, as though you’re both in a game of charades and you’re on the right track. You turn to one of the people Pete lives amongst, “What’s he been on today?”

The other person shakes their head. “Nothing, swear down! Besides, he’s a proper tight-arse, he wouldn’t go ‘round drugging any fucker going. ‘Specially not a toff like that,” they snort with laughter as they point to Ralph.

You look back to Homeless Pete. “So, you’re telling me. Time travel is fucking real.” Pete nods. “And you were in 1926, and you dragged this sad sack of shit out here with you, with no context.”

“You know I can hear you,” Ralph points out indignantly, but still quietly and still from the safety of behind your shoulder. His arms are still wrapped around yours, too.

“Yeah, but look at you, mate. You’re not exactly getting us answers as to how to get you back to… Wherever we get you back to,” you explain before once again turning to Pete. “Where is this… Time machine? Ralph said something about a lift.” Pete snarls as he gestures over to a block of flats you vaguely recognise. “So we go there, get him back in the lift, and then what? Is there a button, or a combination, or -?” Pete moves his hand from side to side. “And what does that mean, is it a random button each time?” Again, it feels like you’re in a game of charades as he silently tells you you’re on the right track. “Is the random part right?” Nod. “So, it’s not about the button, but… The floor you get on?” A shake of the head. “Is it just at random times?” Nod. “So, how do you know when to go back to it?” He shrugs, then points to his temple. “What, you get some kind of vibe, some Spidey sense?” He nods with an upside down smile. You sigh. “So we don’t know when Ralph here can get back.” A shake of the head.

“Do I have to stay here with him, then?” Ralph asks you sadly.

You sigh again. “No, c’mon. I guess you won’t want Chinese or Indian, we’ll just get a chippy dinner on the way home.” You start walking in the other direction, and Ralph quickly paces to catch up with you.

“A chippy dinner?” he asks, baffled.

“Yeah! Like fish and chips? They had that in the 20s, surely?” you reply.

“Well, yes, I suppose, but we only ever had it at the seaside,” he cocks his head as though reminiscing fondly. It only accentuates the cuteness of his whole face.

“Think you can be a big boy again now, or do you still wanna hold on?” you ask, outstretching your arm. He doesn’t appear to blush in the conventional sense, but his ears do flush a bright pink. Even more adorable. Fuck. Remember, he’s technically like a hundred years older than you. He slinks one arm around yours and you pull him in tightly by pressing your own arms towards your torso. “There we go. Now I can make sure I’m guiding you so that hopefully you don’t get bumped into anymore.”

“I think I’ve certainly learned my lesson in not standing still in front of people!” Ralph jokes, making you genuinely laugh for the first time all day. It feels strange, you can feel every muscle in your face move with it. But you also feel the weight on your chest lifting, too. You’d been at boiling point all day at work, and discovering a time-traveller wasn’t exactly helping you to simmer down. But you can make this work. He’s just an… Eccentric, extremely sheltered family friend who’s staying with you for a short while. That’s what you’ll tell anyone who asks.

“Yeah, you’ve learned that if you do, some dickhead’ll throw their iced coffee all over your back!” you laugh.

Ralph frowns, “You’re not a - a one of those, at all! You’re very nice to take me in like this. Most people seemed to think I belonged in a jungle.”

“Yeah, the old school military uniform kinda looks more… Safari explorer, these days,” you explain.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “Someone finally recognises the Army uniform for what it is!”

“Yeah, I thought I recognised it from when we went to the War Museum for school once. That was the kind of get-up they used to wear in the First World War.” You trip over your own feet a little as Ralph once again halts to anchor you to him, despite what he’s just said. He looks… Distraught. “Alright, mate?”

“Why did you say… First World War?" He asks with fear in his voice. "We won the Great War to restore the - the balance of power, how long did that last?!” He looks at you, dumbfounded.

You hiss air through your teeth. “Oh, boy. Yeah, there’s a lot that’s happened in the last century. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea telling you all of it, since once you get back, it’ll be your future, so…” You contemplate. “We’ll just keep all the questions you have to stuff you’ll need to get by in the here and now, alright? Anything you learn about history, just try and let it go over your head,” you pull him forwards gently and he falls back into step with you.

“One question I have about the here and now,” Ralph starts, and you look over at him. He makes eye contact with you to ask, “What exactly is your name?”

Laughing again, you tell him. “Sorry, I really should have led with that, shouldn’t I! It’s been a long day."

“I’ll say. About a hundred-odd years long!” A giggle bubbles out from Ralph’s lips and it makes you snicker, too.

“You’re a funny one, Penbury. For an old sod, at least,” you push your shoulder into his before leading him into the chip shop. “So, are you a fish guy, sausage, fishcake, pie?”

Ralph looks at all the options in the serving counter with an upturned nose. “What’s that one?” he asks, pressing his finger against the glass.

You look over and answer, “Battered sausage. Sausage, but in the batter they cook the fish in. Bloody lovely,” you smile wistfully.

“I might just stick to the classic cod and chips, thank you,” Ralph mutters under his breath as he stares around the small room in fascination. You order on behalf of the pair of you and take the bag from the server with a grateful smile. Ralph notices and plasters one on as well, though his definitely comes off as more fake. He basically attaches himself to your arm again the second you’re out of the door, as though you’re bound together magnetically, and you guide him to the tower block that contains your pokey little flat.

After spending several minutes convincing Ralph that the lift isn’t going to suck him into another time period, and that he’s more than welcome to traipse up all the stairs that lead to the ninth floor, he relents and stands in the lift with you, though he stands so close that you’d think his goal was for you to wear him. Brushing against his chest feels nice, though. Shut up, you’re just touch-starved. This is not your ticket out of your dry spell. This is a fever dream.

Once you’re in your flat, you quickly dig out whatever men's clothes you have laying around - some sweatpants and a white T-shirt, and you throw them at him. "Just to get out of your dirty clothes while I plate up, eat before this gets cold, then you can go shower. I'm sure there's some boxers in my pyjama drawer you could use, too, I'll find those for you in a bit." You point to your bathroom and he quietly complies.

You could've just eaten the meals straight from their wrapper, the way you always do. But you figured Ralph has had enough culture shocks as it is, you'll give him the decency of eating from a plate. Besides, spending your night with a man dressed in 1920s army gear who's eating fish and chips out of some paper on his lap might just be enough of a sight to tell you to get yourself checked into the psych ward at the earliest convenience. At least you can try and create some kind of normalcy in this moment.

A quick Google search tells you television wasn't around in 1926, so you don't want to expose him to that tonight, too. Give it a day, maybe. You could play some old-time-y music on your Echo but you're not sure what he'd want to listen to. Instead, once you're both sat on the sofa together, you make conversation with him about his past as you eat. He tells you about how the Penburys were known socialites, how he and his sister had pretty much the same group of friends, how they had recently found friends in a rather special group of people, one of which he'd fallen head over heels for, just for her to reject him, and his heartbreak caused him to join the Army, which he hated.

"It's rather funny, you know," Ralph adds. "People here talk very similarly to Lauren and the others. I wonder if they exist in this time, too."

You start piecing things together. "Lauren… Plays jazz… She the drummer in this little quartet?" Ralph nods, his eyes wide. "Kinda short, has a brother called Nick?"

"Nicholas, yes! He's tall and he wears thick glasses! You know them?!" Ralph asks excitedly.

"Yeah, Nick was in my class all through high school! Always used to fancy him," you reminisce happily before stifling a laugh. "Wait, wait. So you mean to tell me that this Lauren you're besotted with is - is Little Lauren? Oh, you poor, sweet boy."

He looks offended. "Why would you think that that’s such a bad thing?!"

"Mate, I've known you five minutes and even I know Lauren would chew you up and spit you out," you look at him sympathetically. "And you're not gonna be able to change her on that. Unless you're into all that kinda stuff," your nose turns up a little as you joke, just to get a reaction from him.

Sure enough, there go the illusive colour-changing ears. He sputters, "W- I - I don’- I’m no- That is no appropriate discussion topic over dinner!” and you collapse into a fit of giggles, falling into him a little.

“Oh, lighten up, Ralph. Things are far less proper round here, that was nothing,” you explain, to his horror.

Once you’re both finished eating, you grab a clean pair of boxers from your pyjama drawer and toss them into the bathroom, gesturing to Ralph with your head that that’s where he ought to go. “Sorry you’re gonna have to use your finger as a toothbrush tonight, I’ve not got any extras of those, but -”

“Oh, all of this is already above and beyond! Even taking me in, I - I hope you understand how truly grateful I am, and with your patience acclimating me to… All this,” Ralph gestures around with his hands.

You nod with a soft smile. “Uh, give the shower a few minutes to run, though. Goes from freezing to scalding and then you’ve just sort of gotta… Keep fiddling with it. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

The various screeches you hear from behind the closed door suggest that he is not as successful in figuring out the shower as you’d hoped. While he showers, you do a little more digging. Thankful that your mum’s weird obsession with your family tree may finally come in handy, you ask for the login to her online ancestry account. Tapping through to the census search, you type the name ralph penbury and set the dates between around 1890 and 1930 to look for any documentations of birth - or death. Sure enough, an entry pops up:

Ralph Penbury - Date of birth: 01/02/1901 - Parents: William and Delilah Penbury - Occupation: Private in the Armed Forces - Death: Announced 19/09/1926 - MIA, presumed dead

You frown at the result. Was Ralph always doomed to go missing in action, you wonder? Is he only presumed as such because he’s travelled through time? His existence hasn’t been completely erased by the trip, obviously, but how much of this was affected by it? It hurts your head to try and think about. But at least you know when his birthday is. It’s still a few months away by all accounts, you may not even get to celebrate it with him. You still make a note of it in your phone.

Ralph soon emerges from the bathroom, and the sight causes your breath to catch in the back of your throat. He already had a certain cuteness about him, but as he rubs his hair dry with the towel, his damp natural curls stick out in all directions. Some facial hair and a neck chain or two, and he’d be exactly the kind of guy you’d let break your heart in a smoking area. He studies your face carefully as you’re staring at him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No!” you snap yourself out of your trance quickly. “No, not at all. Um, you can - you can take the bed. If you want. Get a good night’s sleep.”

Ralph gasps in horror, “I could never! I am simply a guest, I must insis-”

“And I must insist that you’ve literally travelled almost a hundred years to be here. Who knows when you’re gonna be here until, so… I don’t mind. I can sleep on the sofa for now, I promise,” you smile. “Just let me get in there real quick to get changed myself too, yeah?” Despite still standing in the bathroom doorway, and therefore not in the way of your bedroom, Ralph still steps aside and gestures towards it for you.

You change into a tank top and trousers combo, grab a blanket and some cushions out from your wardrobe, and head back into the living area. “Are you decent?” Ralph asks, his eyes squeezed.

You laugh, “Down, boy, I wasn’t exactly going to come out in my birthday suit, was I?! Yes, I am, you can look.”

He opens his eyes, takes one look at you, and yelps before covering his face with his hands. “You said you were decent!”

You look down at yourself, confused. Sure, the top is well-fitting, but you don’t think it’s indecent at all. You walk over to him and pull his wrists down. His eyes are once again shut tightly. “Ralph. It’s okay. I promise. Again, this is absolutely fine and modest in these times. Unless you want to stick out like a sore thumb, you’ll have to get used to it,” you shrug, letting go of him. He opens his eyes slowly and his breath shudders as he quickly jolts away.

“Okay, very well. I’ll try my hardest,” he nods, though he seems to be making the effort to keep his jaw up to maintain a high eyeline. “Are you sure you’ll be okay sleeping out here?”

You sigh, repeating once again, “Yes, Ralph, I’ll be fine. Go get some rest. You’ve had a big day.”

“Yes, very well. Erm,” he ducks his head down and to the side for a split second, as though to kiss your cheek, before stopping himself and once again raising his head high, his eyes wide and his ears pink. He clears his throat. “Thank you, again. Good night.”

“G’night, mate. Sleep well,” you pat his arm and start setting up the sofa for the night as he enters your bedroom and closes the door behind him.

You stick the TV on, not really caring what’s playing as it only really serves as background noise, and turn your lights off. The glows of the television screen and your phone screen illuminate the room as you search for any other evidence of time travel. Nothing that matched Ralph’s story comes up. You’re somewhere deep into a conspiracy theory about someone with a mobile phone being spotted at a Charlie Chaplin premiere when you finally drift off to sleep.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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A/N: Here it is, folks. The one you've all been waiting for. Enjoy. <3

I might have been a tiny wee bit self indulgent at one point in particular. Bet you can't tell where.

You frown as you swipe to answer the call from Scott. "Who died?"

"Woooow," a very familiar sarcastic response rings through your ear. "Can't a friend just call up another in this day and age?" You let the silence linger just long enough for him to then add, "Yeah, I'm chatting shit. No, I was going to ask, are you running late?"

You frown, "No, I'm not long about to close up now. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, Ralph texted me." He puts on a voice, the way you all do when talking about your flatmate. "Good afternoon, Scott. I hope you have been keeping well, and that the snow hasn't interrupted your daily life. I would like to request your assistance, I am aware that we have been tasked with making dessert for the Pal Valentine's Day meal later, but unfortunately I have noticed that we are severely lacking in eggs. I was simply wondering if, by chance you could bring some up to the flat? I would be most grateful, and willing to more than compensate you financially! Regards, Ralph."

You groan, "I asked him to get eggs this morning, he didn't want to because there were kids throwing snowballs and he was scared he'd get caught up in it. I told him to suck it up, because they can smell fear, but he's clearly too chicken-shit to go out there."

"Aww, he's never even had a snowball fight before? What even was his childhood?!" You rasp, hoping to quickly evade that topic. "Oh my god, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You grin, “I think I am. You wanna rally the troops?”

“On it.”

You look up from your phone, still giggling, to see two of your sales assistants watching you, looking at each other and waggling their eyebrows at each other. You shake your head, “At this point, you’re well beyond barking up the wrong tree! My friend Scott and I are planning something,” you flash your eyes mischievously, and they tut back at you.

“Well, at this point, it’s not like we were expecting you to have some hot date on the other end of the line, is it?” One of them jokes, nudging the other as they run off and busy themselves at the other end of the store, still cackling.

“You two are lucky you’re my favourites!” You shout after them with a laugh. “Can I trust you to close up tonight?”

“Nah, we’re gonna loot the place,” one answers with a false sincerity.

“You poor sods won’t find much here,” you point out. “But thank you, you’re the best!” You singsong as you head past them to the back room.

“Then pay us more!” Another jokes.

“If I had control over who earns what, d’you not think I’d have done that by now? You wound me,” you dramatically push your hand to your chest as you walk backwards through the door out of the main shop floor. Once you’ve collected all your belongings, and put on all your layers, it’s pretty much time to close anyway. You salute your colleagues with a, “Godspeed getting home tonight,” and brave the cold.

Since the roads hadn’t been salted by the time you needed to get to work, you’d walked there, and while you would much rather be sitting in a heated car than feeling your cheekbones freeze over, it’s quite nice to walk through the streets of Croydon, watching the thick snow fall with the slightest bit of sun still peeking through. A gentle little reminder that longer, warmer days are just around the corner, and that winter’s soon at an end.

You’re greeted in front of your tower block by all your friends, all with varying expressions. Scott and Connor are eagerly plotting, Anna still looks a little unsure, and Grace just looks like she’s fed up of the cold. “So, what’s the plan, who’s getting him to come downstairs?” you ask once you’re with them.

“That’s what we were just deciding,” Scott replies.

“My suggestion was that Anna would be the least suspicious, but she wants no part of this,” Connor pulls a face and Anna slaps his arm.

“Shut up! I still think it’s mean,” she frowns, and you hold her arm comfortingly.

“Listen, who’d you rather be the first people to engage Ralph in any kind of snow fight, us or those little pricks up there?” You jerk your head over to where a group of middle school-age boys are playing around together.

She sighs, “Fine, but I’m aiming for his feet, okay?”

“Aw, but it’s fifty points if you hit his face,” Scott teases.

“Okay, okay, before Grace gets hypothermia, let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?” You ask, and Grace nods from somewhere beneath her fluffy hood. “Scott, he asked you to pick up those eggs, didn’t he? Just make up some guff about how they’ve locked the front doors so he needs to come push the button to let you in.”

Scott nods, texts something, and within a few minutes pumps his fist with excitement. “Okay, he says he’ll do it! I told him to wrap up and let me know when he’s on his way down.”

“Tell him you’ve had to step away from the doors so it doesn’t look like you’re loitering,” Connor adds, “so he can’t just run back.”

“Okay, this does feel a little mean, now,” you admit, and Anna looks at you incredulously.

“No, no, you don’t get to back out now! Not after all that talking me round!”

“Yeah, c’mon, you two have been smooth sailing for ages now, surely there’s something that you can only get off your chest by a one-time snowball pelting?” Scott asks, and you think for a moment.

“He did watch the rest of that new show we were watching without me and then spoiled the ending,” you ponder.

“Jail.” Grace pulls her hood back momentarily to stare at you with wide, serious eyes.

You nod, “Yeah. Or a snowball to the shoulder. Both are the same punishment, I think.”

“Totally,” Connor sneers, and you and Grace both flip him off - or you assume that’s why she’s holding the back of her hand up to him, it’s hard to tell with her wearing mittens, but it does put everyone into a heap of laughter.

Connor’s phone beeps, and he gasps as he looks at his screen. “Alright, gang, he’s on his way down! Lock and load.”

You all get into position, snowballs in gloved hands, as you watch Ralph push the door open with ease, walk through it and look back with a frown. He tentatively moves forward one cautious step at a time, his big baby-cow eyes darting around all the while. You all hide a little further back each time until he’s inevitably in line with you all. He looks at Scott first, then his hand, then around at all of you. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he whispers.

“This is for your own good, mate,” Connor grimaces as you all throw your missiles at him. With a half-scream, half-squawk sound, Ralph tensely curls himself up in self-defence, holding that position long after he’s been hit. “See, mate, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And that was all of us!”

“I thought you were all my friends,” he glares indignantly at you all, and you nod.

“Yeah, which is why we did it knowing you wouldn’t get hurt,” you point out. “You’re alright now, aren’t you?” He nods tentatively. “See? And the best bit, is now it’s your turn, and you get pick of the lot as to who you hit first.”

“Just hit me first, if you like, I won’t mind, and I won’t hit you again, either,” Anna shrugs, but Ralph studies all of you.

“Who’s idea was this?” He eventually asks Anna, who quickly points to you and Scott.

“Wooooow,” Scott shakes his head, but Anna simply flips him off.

Ralph bends down, eyes still flitting between all of you, as he grabs two handfuls of snow and immediately flings them both at the two of you. While you get a tiny little lump that just grazes your chest, at least he landed it with Scott, as that one flew out of his grip and straight into Scott’s mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Ralph’s lips and you all grin back at him.

“Okay, that was good, but a good snowball is two handfuls, smushed together into, yeah, that’s it, just like- ack!” Connor is silenced and humbled by Ralph throwing his third and far bigger snowball, straight into his stomach. “Prick,” he laughs as he scoops another one up to toss at Ralph again, who manages to evade it this time. “Mine was way bigger than theirs!” He makes another, adding, “Although, while I’m here, if you’re not retaliating…” Before extending himself to standing and throwing one at Anna with an almost evil cackle.

Anna gasps, “Only not to Ralph, asshole!” And throws one back at him with a giggle.

Before long, you’re all running around, including Ralph, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing like you were kids again. You’d never had thought, at your big age, that this is how you’d be spending a snowy day, but it brings back good memories of you and your four oldest friends, knocking at each other’s doors after the local news had announced that your school was closed, taking old bin lids up the steepest hills you could climb to slide down again. You look over at Ralph, with the apples of his cheeks glowing as red as his ears and the tip of his nose from all the cold, his whole face lit up as he catapults snowballs in the strangest fashion, and wonder what snow days must have been like for him. Obviously, he wasn’t sledding down hills on bin lids, but you’d have thought he and Victoria and their friends would have had friendly snowball fights. Though, you remember, from what you’ve learned of Victoria and her friends, perhaps those weren’t so friendly when aimed at Ralph.

Your thoughts are interrupted when another snowball hits Ralph, though not from any direction that any of you are standing. You all look over to the gang of young boys, snickering at each other for having landed one on “one of the oldies”, especially commending the offender for “getting the posh one”.

Though rage boils through all of you, it’s Grace, already warmed up from running around, who pushes her hood back to give them all a death stare and tell them, “You’ll regret that.”

As though called to arms, the five of you form a protective wall in front of Ralph and start hurling snowballs at the group of pre-teens at top speed until one of them yells, “Alright, alright, truce! Mercy! Whatever word gets you to stop!”

Just as you all stop, one more snowball flies up above all of you. Over your heads, down, down, and lands perfectly on top of the head of the kid that the others were praising for hitting Ralph. All your friends spin around on the spot so that all of you, as well as the boys, could stare in disbelief at Ralph, who has a small but very proud smile on his face. “Oi, that was sick!” One of the boys yells out. You mouth to Ralph that that’s a good thing as the other boys start laughing and cheering for him, too.

“Okay, alright, we’ve all had our fun,” you start holding your hands up in the air, “but this isn’t getting Palentine’s dinner ready, is it?”

“Isn’t it Valentine’s? That’s tomorrow, innit?” One of the boys answers.

“Nah, isn’t Pal-a-tine the wrinkly geezer from Star Wars?” Another asks.

“I thought it was that place that’s always fighting with Israel,” another comments.

“Maybe pay more attention to your teachers, yeah?” You ask them with a slight nod. You turn to the others. “Still meeting at Anna’s?” You ask, and they all non-verbally confirm. “Cool, see you guys in a bit. Ralphie!” You shout for him and he springs to attention, practically jumping to stand next to you. You smirk, “Ready to go get those eggs I asked for this morning?” He nods sadly and you nudge him towards the row of shops.

As you walk away, Ralph mutters, “I know I’m not supposed to interfere with knowledge about those world wars, but have there really already been ones in space, too?”

Had the snowball incident not already happened, you’d have absolutely messed with Ralph by convincing him that Star Wars were actual battles that took place in outer space. However, enough guilt consumes you that you correct him by trying to explain the entire movie franchise to him as you buy the eggs you need. Though he listens intently and nods attentively, you can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that nothing’s really going in, but at least he’s trying.

Baking with Ralph sounds like a nightmare, but he’s a diligent little helper when he’s trying. He measures your ingredients for you and he’s quick to wash up your equipment once you’re done with it. You’d only planned to go for the safe option of a simple sponge cake, predicting disaster, but the speed at which you’re all done leaves you pleasantly surprised. You’re even able to snap a little photo for Ralph’s instagram without him noticing. Once you’re all dolled up, he suggests you both take one to “show” his instagram and twitter accounts, but you opt to keep that one for just the camera roll. You’ve not seen or heard any speculation about your potential love life revolving around Ralph, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Once you finally get to Anna’s, after explaining that the boys outside of your flats had since decided to gather all the snow in the street to make one giant snowball, and had recruited you and Ralph to roll it when it got too big for them to, until you two couldn’t either. “Perfectly understandable reason,” Connor nods in understanding, and the others agree.

Once all the food is laid out, you’re glad that you all a) worked up an appetite and b) ended up pushing dinner back on top of that, because everybody preparing separate dishes has definitely overestimated what six portions of each part should be. Regardless, it’s another night of eating food, chatting away and ending with dancing around Anna’s living room, much like Ralph’s second night with you.

Another morning of February 14th, another empty bed to wake up in. You sit up, stretching out your arms, and grab your phone to look through the folder in your phone labelled “shitty mspaint valentines” to send to your friends and some of your coworkers, to make them laugh. You’re met with some laughing reactions, some rebuttals and a couple of reactions that you can tell were written with a sarcastic eye roll, which only spurs you on more.

You also post a photo you took yesterday to Ralph’s instagram, to keep his brand alive:

You’re about to drag yourself out of bed when the door opens to reveal Ralph, holding out a tray with two plates piled with waffles, two glasses of fruit juice and two mugs of tea. You watch him carefully set it at the foot of the bed and then sit next to you with your lower lip out in an affectionate pout. “Aww, Ralphie, what’s all this about?”

“Well, usually tradition would have it that Father and I would take Mother and Victoria breakfast in bed on St Valentine’s Day morning, as a tradition, and so Victoria insisted that tradition still be upheld even after our parents… Well, let’s not already put a dampener on the day before it starts! You’ll have to forgive the absence of flowers, I used to have the luxury of picking them out of the garden, but none of the plants in the flat are flowering, and it would be criminal of me to steal from others’ gardens, and all the florists were specifically selling bundles that were far too big for such a gesture, an-”

“Deep breath,” you coach him as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you still wanted to uphold your little tradition. You know, my dad used to leave me and Mum Valentine’s cards on the doormat, each from “a secret admirer”, though it used to terrify me at first because I didn’t realise it was him!” You pull a face as you take a bite out of a waffle, and Ralph laughs softly. “’Course, after a while, it’d get a bit embarrassing having your dad be your Valentine, but hey, it was one more than I’ve been getting these past few years!” You finish your mouthful and wave the rest of the waffle at him. “These are pushing the boat out for you! Get you!”

“Yes, my dear American friend recommended them to me! And I managed to successfully cook them in the toaster oven!” Ralph chimes gleefully.

“Look at you go!” You beam proudly. “Soon enough, you won’t even need me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous,” he mutters under his breath just before taking a big sip of his tea. “Any plans for the day?”

“You mean, other than beating the hoards of men waiting for me outside that door with a stick?” You joke, and Ralph chuckles lightly. You shake your head. “Might just do another self-care day. Be my own Valentine, as if things weren’t sad enough!”

“Well, perhaps I could join you, and we would be our own ones together,” Ralph offers. He awaits your reaction with bated breath. If that goes well, perhaps he could segue into asking you to be his actual Valentine, and that would be at least one more step above simply being housemates, over being bedmates, even.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe you could ask Ralph if he’s willing to take it the slightest step further and be each other’s Valentines. It’s just an arbitrary title, really, but at least you’d have one this year. And, whenever Ralph finally leaves, at least you can remember him as more than just your flatmate who you platonically shared a bed with. Wistfully reminiscing over a Valentine does sound more romantic.

But, you have to respect his boundaries. If he felt comfortable enough to make you breakfast in bed, he would have accompanied it with a request for you to be his, but he didn’t. He’s offering to be his own Valentine, parallel to you. Message received. “That’d be nice!” You put all your effort into trying not to sound disappointed.

It works, as Ralph reads your reaction as being very happy with that idea, and he daren’t tread over that line. “Very well. So, what does being your own Valentine mean?”

“For me? Junk food, junk TV, and in this weather, wearing at least two blankets at all times,” you count off on your fingers, making Ralph laugh. “Though I better head out and get you some of your favourites, too.”

He frowns, “There’s no need, you’ll catch your death of cold out there!”

“I mean, obviously I’d get dressed first,” you pull a face. “But yeah, you deserve to get spoiled a little, too. I mean, you did all this for me,” you gesture to the tray, but Ralph rasps flippantly. “Plus,” you add with a smirk, “don’t want you hoarding all my favourite snacks.”

“There it is!” Ralph grins, pointing a finger to you and leaning in so it hovers close to your nose, making you laugh.

“You caught me!” You hold your hands up in mock guilt. “I’ll head out in a bit, okay?”

Once breakfast is over, and you’ve washed up after you both despite Ralph insisting he would do it and trying to get in - which resulted in some rather creative ways of blocking him out of the kitchen - you get dressed ready to brave yet another cold front.

You know what Ralph’s most favourite sweets are. Jelly Babies. But the ones he loves the most aren't the kind you can get from any shop - of course not, that would be too easy, and this is Ralph. No, his favourites come from an old fashioned sweet shop that lives on the same street as the shop he works in. You remember its location vividly. as you'd made a point to think about memorising it and nothing else the day you'd dropped off a treat to Ralph while at work and seen his latest idea in action - an immersive display where he dresses up to fit in with it too. But you'd firmly blocked that mental image out of your head. Of him surrounded by Wild West imagery while wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt and very well-fitting jeans. You definitely hadn’t focused on that at all.

The trek to the old high street is a long one, especially since the snow that wasn’t quite gritted over had formed a barrier of sludge along the roadside that was creeping into the remnants of yesterday’s clean, soft, crunchy snowfall. You make the most of the childlike wonder that comes from stomping through it while you can, before it inevitably ices over into a deathly lumpy terrain.

You spot someone ahead hobbling through the snow, walking in your direction. You watch them carefully, unsure whether to try and help, casually walk past or actively avoid them, when an unmistakably pungent aroma precedes them. You study them a little closer and shout in recognition, “Homeless Pete!”

The man looks up and grunts at you. “How‘ve you been? Not seen you in ages!” He shrugs. Heart sinking, you note, “You were walking with quite a purpose there. Headed anywhere in particular?” Your fears are confirmed when he points over to the block of flats Ralph showed you that he’d emerged from almost half a year ago. “Oh… Today? It’s working?!” You ask, feeling your heart hurl through the ground. He nods, then gestures to you and flashes you a hopeful look. “What?! No! Not me! No, d’you remember, you brought a guy back with you from the 20s? Well, not these 20s, the nineteen-twenties.”

He looks blankly at you. You groan, “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of past Pete who doesn’t know about Ralph, I don’t need a migraine today.” The name seems to resonate with Pete, which is promising. “Yes! Ralph! You remember! He was all dressed up like he was in the army! And he ended up coming back with you! And then he ended up with me! S’pose I better… Could you hold off on using it until I can get him there, too?” Your words hang heavy with sadness, but you knew this day was coming.

Pete stands there in silence for a moment, thinking. He traces the air from time to time, then claps his hands, making you jump. He mimes scratching at a beard along his own stubble-covered jaw. “You mean, you’ve seen Ralph with a beard now?” He nods, pointing downwards in front of himself. “You’ve spoken to him?” Another nod. Pete looks up at the tower block, then at you, gestures with two hands towards the building, then makes an X shape with his arms, waving them down.

“Please just fucking speak, mate.” You sigh, but he just repeats his actions. As you look lost again, he holds his two hands out again, but stops, looking at you in waiting. “So, that’s you and Ralph?” You guess, and he nods. He moves his hands up towards the building. “You and Ralph went to the place with the… Time machine.” Saying it out loud still sounds insane, even after all this time. He holds one hand close to him, and waves the other one out at you. “Is that one meant to be him?” Another nods, and then the crossed-arms gesture. You frown. “Ralph… Didn’t go in with you?” He shakes his head. “Why not?” He shrugs.

The sorrow and confusion you’ve been feeling this whole conversation start to curdle into all kinds of other feelings. There’s still some confusion there, but mostly it’s anger, frustration, disbelief. He knew how cautious you were about this day finally arriving. He knew of all the countless sleepless nights you’d spent trying to figure out things like how to hide him from your landlord, what to do if he ever falls ill. He knew that every time you picked up your post, you feared a letter from the government with big red letters asking to confirm the identity of the man who’s been claiming to live there despite not being legally registered to. He knows that you’ve been up until all hours some nights searching desperately for some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, since it can’t just be something that only Homeless Pete knows about.

Things had been going so well, especially since Christmas. You’d made peace with the fact that the clock was very much ticking with how long you’d have left with Ralph, and especially after Brighton, you had been telling yourself over and over to not sweat the small stuff, and to just enjoy having him around. You’d figured that with your feelings for him growing stronger the more that he’s around, it’s better for everyone if, instead of constantly counteracting them with the negatives, you’d just let yourself get over him quietly.

Maybe you should have been more forceful. Created more boundaries. Made it more obvious that he can’t just cheat his own fate, who knows what kind of damage he’s done to… Literally the entire universe, anything could be possible! You’d thought you’d always made it so clear to Ralph to always be preparing for the day he goes back. That no matter how great the life is he’s made for himself here, at the end of the day, all this is, is a learning experience for him to take this level of confidence back with him to his own time.

Forgoing the sweet shop, and any other shop for that matter, you make a beeline home, your steps far more deliberate and angry than the gentle march you had been taking through the snow. Even the sight of the lift in your building angers you, so you push your way up the stairs up until the ninth floor, storming through your front door.

Ralph looks over at you from where he sits on the sofa, delight on his face, which quickly falls when he sees your expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Is it?!” You screech. “Have a guess who I saw out there.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure, I didn’t quite think there was anyone out there who upset you to that degree. Would you like some tea or something to calm down?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to ‘calm down’ when you are the reason I haven’t felt ‘calm’ for almost six months now!” You hold your forehead, and Ralph looks back at you, confused, sad and a little scared.

“I - I quite apologise, is there something I’ve done that’s brought this -”

“Don’t you go giving me the ‘oh, yes, quite’ spiel,” you mock his tone, “not when you’ve been lying to me under my own roof! I trusted you!” You stop yourself when you hear your voice crack at that last sentiment.

He swallows hard. “In what respect have I been dishon-”

“I saw H.P. while I was out, didn’t I?! Going towards that block of flats. So I tell him, I say, oh hang about, Pete, let me go grab Ralph so he can go back. And what do you think he told me?!” You ask, now stood next to the couch, squatting down to get eye level with Ralph.

His eyes dart as he wrings his hands, his eyes squeezing shut and open over and over again. “Yes, well, you see, that -”

“Right, all this umm-ing and ahh-ing is just… Annoying me even more,” you state, rubbing your temples. “I just want the facts, Ralph.”

“You said not to talk about anything from that weekend,” he mutters, and you look at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been holding out on me about this since November?!” You ask incredulously.

“You said! Not to talk! About anything! From that weekend!” Ralph jumps to his feet, punctuating every gap in his sentence with a chop to his palm.

You stand back up to level with him. “Yeah, as in all the shit about - God, are we really gonna drag all of that into light again, now?!”

“Well, if we could just talk about it, calmly,” Ralph gesticulates, but you scoff.

“You gave up all rights to that the moment you started lying to me,” your voice shakes. “It’s you, Ralph. You’re the one person I don’t expect to lie to me, since I don’t lie to you.”

He rasps in disbelief. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Or else you wouldn’t react so harshly. There’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there? Has your sense of charity finally worn, is that it?” He speaks with the venom in his tone that you’ve only ever heard whenever he’s talking about himself. “What, have you been counting the days down until you could throw me back out? Is that why you’re up until the ungodly hours, researching how to get rid of me sooner?”

You groan, pressing your fingers into your eyelids. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t just keep making yourself the victim here when that obviously isn’t what I want!”

“Ah, yes, well, you must forgive me for not realising sooner that everything here is exactly as it always has been for my entire life,” Ralph spits. “People pretending to care about me to then use me for my money, or my social status, is one thing, but I have nothing here. Nothing but… Being a pitiful little man.”

“How many more times are we going to have this argument, Ralph? Everybody loves you here!” You punctuate every syllable of the first word with claps. “It’s not just because they pity you, because they don’t know you! They don’t know how you got here, or anything about your shitty family, people just like you! You have to stop being so narrow-minded and start seeing how this,” you gesture in circles in front of him, “affects the rest of us! Especially me, I’m out here having to - to keep track of what secrets I’m keeping and what lies I’m telling to who.”

“Yes, well. Nobody asked you to,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

Your blood now boiling, and all rationality out of the window, you scoff, “Oh, so now you’re ungrateful?!” His eyes snap to yours, but you carry on before he can interrupt you again. “I put my job on the line every time I have to leave early for you. I put my entire livelihood on the line harbouring a fugitive that doesn’t legally exist anywhere, not to mention that I have no clue what to do if you ever need urgent medical attention, if my landlord suddenly decides to kick me out, I don’t know how I’m going to keep them from finding out about you and potentially charging me a fuckton extra, I just - You can’t just think about everything I risk for you even once, can you?”

He frowns, “How dare you say that I don’t care?! I keep a healthy diet, despite all the times you decide we’ll just take away food instead, I keep to myself as much as possible other than the things that you have me do, and whenever I do leave the flat, I leave no trace that I was ever here!”

“Look, we’re getting away from the main problem, here, and I’m not skirting around it any more,” you shake your head. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Strictly speaking, I’ve never told a lie, merely omitted my meeting with Peter from any conversation between you and I,” he points out, and you scowl at him. He sighs, “But you don’t understand. If I told you that, you’d want to know why. And I can’t - there are far bigger things at play here,” he shakes his head.

You look at him in disbelief, “Like what?! Are you some kind of time-travelling spy? An intergalactic detective?”

“Clearly not,” Ralph scoffs.

“Then what, Ralph?” You raise your voice. “What possible reason do you have for - for causing me all that grief all those months ago, just to then go against the one thing you were supposed to do, putting the fate of whatever’s out there at risk all while only living the life of half a person, hm? Why would you choose to stay here like this?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, obviously!”

You and Ralph stare at each other for what feels like hours of silence. His wide, terrified eyes boring into yours as his whole face turns red. His lip quivers and then, suddenly, he pushes past you as you’re still frozen on the spot. You just about turn around to see the last of him rush out of the door, carrying his shoes in his hand.

His coat still hangs on the door, and you can see the snow is falling again. Not realising you’d been holding a breath in the whole time, you groan it out as you grab his coat, wrapping it around your arm to avoid it dragging on the floor, and head out to follow him. You see the display above the lift counting down and curse yourself for having worn yourself out on the way up here earlier.

You huff your way back down the stairs and try to find any trace of where Ralph could have gone. You study the footprints in the snow, vaguely recognising some in the shape of Ralph’s shoes, and decide that it’s as good a lead as any to try and follow them, though they quickly disappear once you get to the main street area. You notice someone loitering and decide it’s worth a shot.

Running across the road to meet them, you ask, “I know this sounds strange, but have you seen a guy go past? Had on a fuzzy blue jumper and no coat, I mean like -”

“Like he was wearing the Cookie Monster’s skin?” They ask with amusement. You sigh with relief, nodding hurriedly and they point, “Went towards the old high street, looked like he was tweaking.”

You thank them and start running as quickly as the resistance from the snow will allow you. It doesn’t help that the wind happens to be blowing the snowfall directly into your face, causing you to constantly stop to rub your eyes or sputter at whatever lands on your mouth.

Once you get back to the street you’d just been to moments before, you sigh with exhaustion as there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. You still begin pacing the street, looking in every shop window that you pass. You wonder whether he’s hiding at his work, where you wouldn’t be able to get near him, and whether it would be worth asking in there. You’re on good enough terms with his colleague now, and perhaps the eclectic owner of the store might lift your spirits a little. There’s an awful lot of emotional weights on your chest right now, and you’re not sure which ones you’re supposed to be holding. You’re not entirely sure of anything right now, other than that you need to find Ralph.

Not paying attention to what’s in front of you at all, you end up almost vaulting over some poor baby’s stroller as their mother tries to get past you. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You apologise hurriedly, and she looks at you with a weirdly knowing smile.

“You looking for the guy who’s been cutting about in just his jumper?” She asks, gesturing to the coat in your arms.

Your eyes widen, “Yes! Oh my god! Have you seen him?!”

“Nice fella, helped me get the little’un across the road amongst all the snow. Really posh?” You nod again, hoping to egg her along. She eventually tells you, “Yeah, I told him to hurry up and get inside, he’ll catch his death! He went over there, towards them flats.” You don’t even need to look in the direction she’s pointing to know where she means.

You thank her profusely, adding a, “Cute baby!” over your shoulder as you quickly make your way down to your next clue.

Thankfully, it’s more than just that, as you find Ralph leaning against the wall of the building just next to the front door, squatting not far from the ground, his arms crossed over his torso and his head sunk low.

He doesn’t look at you as you walk over to him, but you hold his coat out in front of him. “At least put this on, yeah? That mum’ll have your throat, otherwise.” He silently reaches out for it and stands to put it on.

“He’s not here,” he mutters quietly. “Peter, I mean.”

“So, that was your answer to all of this?” You ask, your voice strangely calm considering how tumultuous your internal monologue is. “To just run back to your old life and leave this one all unanswered and up in arms? No care as to how it’d affect anyone else?”

“Of course I care about - well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag. Of course I care about you. It’s why I thought I shan’t burden you any further. I’ve already insulted your generosity by assuming you hadn’t the agency to tell me that you didn’t want me, without taking into account that perhaps you were being genuine. It’s what caused all that trouble when we were in Brighton. And I didn’t want you to feel any more obligated to do anything more out of - I can’t describe it as anything other than pity, but I never wanted you to feel as though you had to pity me, either.”

You sigh, “Look, I get it. It’s complicated as all fuck. Trust me, I’ve been trying to work out all the ins and outs and ups and downs of it all for months, now. But anything here, it just - we don’t know what it’s gonna do, you know? There’s far bigger forces at play here, you literally travelled through time, surely that’s cocked the universe up cosmically somehow? I don’t even know,” you groan in frustration.

“Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay unless I absolutely knew it wasn’t going to put you at any risk. But Peter stated that… Lauren and the rest, they’ve yet to make any sort of return. And since they could have chosen any time, they surely would have by now. I think… I think they stayed, in the past. And it’s not as though the sky’s turned upside down as a result, or that the world is being run by lizard people, now.”

“Depends on who you ask,” you mutter to yourself with a smirk, before looking over at Ralph. “I’m just hurt that you didn’t think to tell me. I know, I know, it was that weekend, but still. You could have told me that you’d thought it safe to stay, regardless of when you’d figured it out.”

“Would you have still been mad at me?” He asks quietly.

“Honestly? Probably,” you shrug. “I’d probably have argued the toss with you over every single possibility that things could still go wrong. But I’d never, ever force you to come here. Haven’t I been saying it all along? I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been dreading the day that you’re not in my bed anymore, that the flat becomes too quiet again, that I’ll have to spend my evenings watching TV alone without your constant nagging.”

“I thought that rather bothered you,” the hint of a soft smile just about tugs at the corners of Ralph’s lips.

“Oh, it does,” you admit, laughing softly, “but I don’t even want to think about a life where I won’t hear any of that, again. You know, and - and just being reminded of you all the time. All our friends always asking after you, and talking about you, never letting me get over you. I’d stay up at night, staring at the bedroom door from the sofa, wondering what’d be worse; that, or you living your old life meaning that you’d never have existed in mine, meaning I’d have no memory of you at all.”

“I’d always perished the thought of leaving - well, all of you, but especially you,” Ralph’s voice is still quiet. “You’d always - always tell me to tell my sister and Lauren to shove it, but honestly, I don’t think I could ever do that without you there with me. Even if they were to throw me out and I had to find my own way around, nobody else would hold a candle to…” He takes a deep sigh. “I always… I know I’ve always been the hopeless romantic, it’s one of my biggest flaws. And after falling for Lauren as soon as I’d seen her, and everything that happened thereafter, I swore to myself that I’d never let myself do that, again. That’s why I joined the French Foreign Legion, so I could focus on the task at hand, and learning how to build a camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. Except none of them wanted to do that. And so I left, and I ended up right here, and it was only a few streets away that -”

“That some dickhead spilled coffee all over you,” you finish his sentence with a smirk.

“I told you then as well, didn’t I, you’re far from one of those,” Ralph looks at you softly. “But I felt it all come back again. Everything I felt when I first saw Lauren. And before Lauren, when it was Maggie. And before Maggie, when it was - oh, heavens, you don’t need to hear about all my failings. But every time, I acted too quickly, and I only caused myself shame and heartbreak. And when I ended up here, I needed - well, something or someone, anything to anchor me, I had no clue what was happening to me. But you were so kind to me, from the very beginning. And I didn’t want to jeopardise your generosity by ruining it the same way I ruin most other things. So I kept my feelings to myself, for once, hoping that the time to leave would catch up before I let my feelings grow. But here we are,” he sighs. “I suppose I shall have to come clean to the others, and seek refuge with one of them. Though not one of your friends as well, I would never put you in that position. I’d have to perhaps tell Loz, out of all of those…”

You frown, “But why would you have to?” He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him, “You’ve not once asked me how I feel about you.”

“Yes, well, you made some things rather obvious in the flat,” he replies coolly.

“Fair enough,” you nod, “but don’t you think I’d only overreact like that if I was really upset? And that I’d only be that upset if I cared about you so much that it’d break my heart to think you could have lied to me? You’ve yet to ask me how I feel about all of this.”

Ralph wrings his hands together, wincing as though bracing for a physical impact as he asks, “Of course, my apologies. So… How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say,” you admit, trying not to laugh at his offended face. “Okay, I know, I’m being a dick again. I’m just… I dunno, even though, like, I know now that I can say it, it’s still not easy to just, say out loud for the first time.” You let out a long and shaky breath. “I think that… I’ve never been in love before. But if feeling safer being around you, and always wanting to share my life with you, and dreading the day I never see you again, and my heart soaring every time your face lights up with happiness… I think all of those things are the kind of guff people talk about in those romance films. And I didn’t think those kinds of feelings happened in real life, but… I think I know it, now.” You hold his face in your hands and finally say the words that have been dying to leave you all this time. “I love you, Ralph.”

He looks awestruck back at you. You study his face for any other reaction at all, and after a few beats, any sign of life since he remains unmoving, but he soon gleefully grins, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, moving your arms to wrap around his neck as you press peck after peck against his lips. His arms wrap around your waist as you just kiss him, and nothing else, because nothing else matters. You only break away from each other for air, and to turn your heads to then resume kissing each other as the snow falls around you both.

It’s only when someone clears their throat to get your attention, commenting, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but Christ on a bike,” as they push past you, that you actually step away from each other for more than a split second.

You catch Ralph’s eye and hold your hand out to him, “Wanna go get some jelly babies, put on those face masks that make you look like you’re glowing and curl up watching crappy movies and stuffing our faces?”

“I could enjoy watching paint dry in your company, my love,” Ralph smiles warmly at you as he takes your hand, and you take a step back, aghast, but still intertwined with him.

“And where was Ralph the smooth-talker hiding this whole time?!” You ask incredulously, laughing as you fall into step with him.

“Oh, that’s nothing, darling,” he comments, and your heart flies into your throat. You’d heard him call you that in your dreams a hundred times over, but actually hearing it drives you wild. “As I said, I’ve always been quite the hopeless romantic. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing that at full throttle, now.”

You cackle so hard you bend double. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m gonna see Full Throttle Ralph,” you just about manage to choke out the name through your laughter, and he frowns at you.

“I’m simply warning you that, in agreeing to our courtship, you understand that Ralph Penbury does nothing by halves.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna have to do a lot of catching up, then!” You joke, but he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, good gracious, no, you certainly don’t have to do that! You already do more than enough for me, and I don’t show love just to receive it back, anyway,” he shakes his head.

The journey back to your flat takes the best part of an hour, mostly because you keep interrupting your walk to pull Ralph in for more kisses on the way. You can’t help it, the way his face blushes with the cold just makes him look so adorable, who wouldn’t want to kiss him?!

Plus, when you’d gone to pick his sweets up, he’d told you he had somewhere else to be, run out of the shop, and returned minutes later just as you were leaving, with a bunch of flowers. “I’m cutting it a little short, I know, but would you like to be my Valentine?” He asks as he offers you them.

You take them as you exchange the bag of his sweets into his hands, gasping, “How did you find these so last minute?!”

“Well, they were in our window display,” he admits bashfully, and you laugh.

“Wait, these are from your shop?!”

Ralph nods. “Yes, but I don’t think they mind, too much. Babs was punching the air and telling me to ‘Get in, my son’, but I couldn’t leave you outside and I was technically born in time to be her father, let alone son,” he shakes his head, causing you to laugh even more.

“Shit, I forgot to answer you, didn’t I?!” You look over at Ralph adoringly. “I’d love to be your Valentine, Ralphie. D’you wanna be mine? I’m afraid the sweets won’t last nearly as long as these, as an offering, but -”

“They’re perfect. As is my Valentine this year,” he beams, kissing the part of your forehead not obscured by your hat.

Once you get home, you change out of your snow-soaked clothes and decide to wear the pyjamas you’d both gotten for Christmas from your parents. You wonder whether to tell your friends right off the bat what’s happened today. You know Ralph can keep a secret, but ever since you’d said those four words to him, he’s been practically shouting his devotion to you from the rooftops. As much as you can’t wait to share in this big milestone of yours with your best friends, you just want nothing more than some uninterrupted time to spend catching up with all the affection you’ve been so desperately wanting to give to Ralph this whole time, and vice versa. Besides, they’ve all got dates tonight, too. You don’t want to interrupt their evenings. That’s what you’ll tell them when they inevitably find out.

Instead, you spend the afternoon and well into the evening pampering yourself and your - Boyfriend? What would you even call Ralph? Although that remains short lived as he realises that face masks are just a barrier preventing more kissing from happening, and he pouts until he’s got full access once again. Every peck comes with its own sweet nothing - a declaration of love, a compliment, a comment of gratitude. Although he’d told you it wasn’t necessary, you do try to match his energy - but it just becomes exhaustive after a while.

You had your heart set on ordering from your favourite Chinese takeaway from this morning, before the day's events had transpired, but Ralph is more than happy to eat from there, as well. You even go so far as to try and teach him how to hold chopsticks, though his adorable attempts to keep interlocking your fingers to pull your hand to his lips to to kiss it instead are far more adorable.

After watching some cheesy rom-coms - or rather, spending the night cuddling and constantly kissing Ralph some more while Sandra Bullock tries to find love over and over on the TV - you eventually retire to bed. As you do, your phone chimes its specific tone to tell you the group chat has updated. Laying in bed, you unlock your phone to see a photo of Scott and his partner, on their sofa with a glass of wine each, which is then followed by Grace sharing a snap of her and her boyfriend wearing face masks together in her bathroom. Anna sends a mysterious snap of two fancy-looking meals and two glasses being clicked together, one certainly in her own hand but the other is held by a mystery man, and Connor shares a very sweet photo of him and Ralph's friend Lauren in a restaurant booth together.

Ralph's head rests on top of yours as you show him the photos, and you can feel his smile getting wider at the photo of his two friends from different parts of his life here sitting so closely together. You lean your head up to grin at him, "Should we?”

He smiles back at you as you switch to your camera app. You aim it at you and Ralph and look back over at him, for him to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, smiling into it, and tap at the screen, your muscle memory still knowing exactly where the shutter is without having to see the screen. You type “happy vday from me and my valentine, too 😘”, hit send, laugh loudly with Ralph as you see all four speech bubbles show up at once, and then put your phone on silent and lay it face-down on your nightstand.

You roll back over to snuggle up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin as he embraces you. “Goodnight, my love,” you hear him whisper in your ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Night, Ralphie. Love you,” you mutter back, holding him tight and breathing in deeply, finally free to indulge all you want in the prospect of having a relationship with the man you’ve been in love with for the last five months.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 14.2k

A/N: Jesus. H. Christ. Thank you for your patience. This chapter broke me. Goodnight.

(Also please note there is a new content warning in the tags! There is slight drug use in this chapter.)

PS i know, it's a lot of angst, and you guys are here for the cute fluffy timey-wimey boy. i promise next chapter is far nicer, i just didn't want it to get boring, is all. <3

It had been so long. He’d been doing so well. You thought you could just happily leave Ralph at home and he could stay out of trouble. But several missed calls from your friends alerts you to the incident that the group chat were talking about:

With a heavy sigh, you text your co-manager, asking them to cover for you so you could leave for what you call a “family emergency”. Thankfully, you’ve had to do it often enough in the past that they just assume you’ve got a really chaotic younger sibling or something, but it still gets a little frustrating that it’s his third month of living with you and you’re still having to be on call 24/7 for him. Surely by now, he could have googled whether it was safe to microwave a whole egg. And how on earth do you accidentally go live?! There are steps to it, it’s not as though it’s a button he can accidentally press. Only Ralph, honestly.

Still, you can’t stay mad at him. Not when he’s sat on the kitchen floor, muttering to himself in exponential anguish as he reads every cleaning product label to try and determine which one is best for the task at hand.

You spot his phone still resting on the counter and look at the screen in confusion. “How are there still three and a half thousand of you watching my wall?!” You ask into the camera.

Ralph sits up on his knees to look at his phone, too, and you hold back laughter at the camera’s shot of just his hair and eyes above your kitchen counter. “What do you mean, watching?”

“You’ve been broadcasting for hours, mate. Say goodbye to your followers!” You chirp as you hover over the button to end the feed.

Ralph sinks back to the floor with a defeated, “Oh, fiddlesticks,” and you stop the livestream.

You look at the bottles he has surrounding him and hold your hand out, “Here, gimme the green one.”

He hands it over to you, and gets up quickly, moving over to sit on the sofa in silence. You sigh in resignation, looking over at him as he hugs a cushion to his chest. Quickly wiping down the inside of your microwave, you tidy up the rest of the kitchen after him and sit on the other end of the couch, cross-legged. “Hey.” You crane your neck to try and catch his gaze, but he refuses to. “Hey. You know I’m not mad at you, right? It’s just all the stuff I’ve had going on today all balled up into one big outburst. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“I suppose you shall be on your way back to work now,” he mutters into the cushion.

You shake your head, “Nah, already forfeited the rest of the day as unpaid because the other manager’s covering. Usually I’d swap it for another shift, but we’re going away next week, so…” You shrug. “No chance there.”

Ralph looks up, the pillow obscuring everything but his sad puppy-dog eyes. “G-going away? Wher- who wi- how lo-”

“Where, Brighton,” you tap one finger. “Ever been?” He shakes his head. “Ah, you’ll love it.” You tap another finger, “Who with, please, like I have any other friends,” you scoff, “so don’t worry, you won’t be meeting anybody new -”

Ralph’s eyes widen in a double take. “Wh- I’m going, too?”

“Well, I clearly can’t leave you here with me, can I?” You ask pointedly, jerking your head behind you towards the now clean microwave. “At least the sofa in the Brighton house pulls out into a proper bed size. How long,” you tap a third finger, “we leave here tomorrow afternoon, leave Brighton next Saturday morning.”

Ralph suddenly finds all his energy, “And just when were you planning on letting me know to start packing?!”

“Well, tomorrow morning, I thought, it’s just a case of shoving some clothes in a bag for a week. It’s not like we’re going to the Ritz or anything,” you shrug. “But we’ve got time to get a head start now if you really need it.”

“If I need -” Ralph scoffs at you as he leaps off the sofa and into the bedroom. All you can do is sigh as you watch him sprint across the room.

~~~

You probably should have figured out, with six of you taking three cars, that it wasn’t going to just be six of you. Grace’s new boyfriend - who you barely recognise yourself until Ralph, of all people, informs you that they’d met on his first night out with you all - and Scott’s partner, who Ralph is thrilled to be reunited with.

It does raise some questions to you about everyone’s sleeping arrangements, since usually Grace and Anna share the biggest room, leaving the three other bedrooms in the house for the rest of you. You’re about to suggest that you sleep on the sofa here, too, to give Ralph the bedroom, when instead you watch Connor throw his bag down on it.

You frown, “Oh, I was gonna stay down here to give Ralph a-”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Anna interjects, shaking her head. “I already worked out, it’s better if you two take the biggest bedroom, the two couples share a bedroom each, and then I tried to fight my case for the sofa, but Connor insisted on it.”

“What a gent,” you comment jokingly. You wonder if Ralph saw it that way, but daren’t look in his direction, in case he takes that the wrong way and assumes you want him to react.

“So - so this bedroom that we’re staying in, is - is there -?” Ralph stammers, his eyes squeezing shut and opening at a rapid pace. You’ve been able to recognise that as a nervous reaction of his.

“Pretty sure there’s one bed, yeah. But if that’s too scandalous for you, I’m sure I can get a fold-out or something,” you explain, but Ralph’s eyes quickly look around the room before he shakes his head. He can’t quite make eye contact with you.

“No, no, it’s quite… Nothing wrong with being bedfellows, right?”

You shake your head, “Sure, whatever you say. Let me take our bags up - Connor, since yours are there, why don’t you show the newbies around the house and the rest of us can get our rooms set up?”

Connor agrees and you sling the strap of your duffel bag over your shoulder and pick up the suitcase Ralph’s using to take them both up the two flights of stairs to the biggest bedroom in the house.

You really should make work on unpacking yours and Ralph’s clothes for the week, or at least getting your toiletries out, but the bed calls to you like a siren from the deep seas. Throwing the bags on the floor, you launch yourself onto the bed. Oh, sweet spongy mattress! An actual duvet that covers all of you and then some! Pillows without an armrest digging into the back of your head!

The drive down was tiring enough that you can feel your eyes getting heavy. You try to get up again, to fight the urge to sleep too early and miss out on your first night traditions.

You’re awoken by a gentle pressure shoving your wrist down into the bed. And then your elbow. And then your shoulder. You eventually figure out that the sound that accompanies it is Ralph calling your name. “Ah, you’ve awoken! Welcome back.”

You sit up suddenly, “Oh Christ, I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to do that, oh god, what time is it?!”

“Not to worry! Everybody is waiting to go to dinner, they said this is the time you all go anyway,” Ralph assures you. You notice that he’s stood bolt upright, but with his head turned almost upside down to look at you. You let out a sleepy chuckle as you start moving out of the bed, and Ralph quickly darts out of the room. You try not to read into that too much.

You’re greeted with a chorus of, “Alright, sleepyhead?” “It lives!” “What time d’you call this?!” You flip your friends off and fake going back up the stairs before running ahead to the front door.

Once you’ve all got your food, you sit where you always do - a bench that overlooks the pier, all its illuminations making it obvious against the dark sea beneath it. Knowing you’re finally on holiday, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, in your most favourite place, enjoying one of your favourite traditions as your lap cradles the bundle of warmth that is your portion of fish and chips as you hear the gentle crashing of waves. Knowing that all your troubles are currently almost a hundred miles away. You feel a sense of contentment, a rare zen moment. You can’t remember the last time you felt this calm.

And then, ironically, a voice laced with disgruntlement interrupts your train of thought. “Is this really any way to spend a night? You can barely see anything, this is by far the least dignified way to eat, and I fear I may come down with pneumonia before the night is through,” Ralph complains.

“Eat quicker, you’ll warm up quicker,” you prompt him. “This is why I wanted to get you a hat, but you didn’t ‘trust me’,” you mock with a smirk.

“That’s ’cause I’m your favourite to shop with, innit, Ralphie?” Connor calls from further down the bench.

“The guy who bought him clothes that feature an Angry Birds and Star Wars crossover does not deserve bragging rights,” you scoff, to laughter from most of the others.

“Ignore that lot, mate, here, have mine for now!” Connor takes his hat off and puts it on Ralph’s head. There’s something rather endearing about Ralph wearing a hat with ear flaps, but even more so when they’ve folded back on each other enough that they stick out to the sides.

“Are you quite sure?” Ralph asks, eyes wide and pleading.

“Yeah, shoved my hand in my pocket earlier and realised I had a beanie in here, too,” Connor grins as he puts another hat on his head.

“You’re such a twat,” Grace laughs, and Connor acts offended.

“Excuse you! I was merely looking out for my best mate here!” Ralph’s face lights up at those words.

Trying not to focus on how cute that is, you grin, “Did you wanna share the bed with Ralph, then?”

Connor’s mood shifts at that. He suddenly shakes his head and goes quiet as the others hurriedly change the subject. They tell Ralph about how you’ve all hired out the same house from Airbnb for years now, how the tradition of visiting every year came to be, asking Ralph if he’d ever been to a beach before. He vaguely recalls going to “a sandy beach” when he and his sister were very young, for a few years. You’ve had a few heart-to-hearts with Ralph about his father’s death and his mother’s admission to rehabilitation, but he doesn’t bring it up to the group. You still give his hand a gentle squeeze, to let him know that you understand if he’s getting upset. He wriggles his hand against yours until your fingers interlock, and he squeezes back, using his free hand to pull the ear flaps of his new hat down to cover his.

You keep hold of Ralph’s hand as you walk back to the house, just to let him know that you’re still there for him - though you’d be lying if you weren’t also letting yourself indulge in the idea of you both taking a romantic late-evening stroll along the beachfront, just a little. Of course, usually when you allow yourself these small delusions, it ends up warping the little grievances the two of you have into something far more infuriating than they probably actually are - something’s got to bring you back to reality, after all. But you can’t see any reason why you’d possibly get far enough to snap while you’re on holiday.

Once you’re back to the house, and you and Ralph are making your way upstairs, you tell him to get himself changed in the bedroom while you do so in the bathroom. You grab some pyjamas from your bag, as well as your washbag, and head in to get yourself ready for the night. A quick silent pep talk with your own reflection to remind yourself that your walk back with Ralph was strictly platonic, and you’re ready to go back out to the living room for some games with your friends before bed.

As you step out of the bathroom, you hear a short, shrill shriek. Your eyes dart immediately to Ralph sat on the side of the bed who, despite the fact that he is wearing an undershirt, still censors his chest from view with his pyjama shirt, staring at you with wide eyes.The shade of his ears is unusually deep compared to when he’s usually surprised. Assuming you’re paying far too close attention to such a minor detail for no reason, you snort out a laugh, tell him to meet you downstairs and go to meet the others.

Though Ralph doesn’t understand a lot of the games you all play that rely heavily on pop culture knowledge, he’s a big fan of those that rely on skill and/or general hilarity, since his cluelessness usually helps him there. You advise that he take a backseat upon the suggestion of Jackbox, much to the others’ chagrin - you just feel as though he isn’t quite ready for that, yet. You’re proven right when he constantly asks you for clarification on just what makes a particular answer funny, or when his ears burn up at a particularly racy answer. Connor had expressed interest in showing Ralph the ropes when it came to some games, and you tried to encourage him to go over there, but Ralph insisted on you being his teacher. You assume it’s because you know better than anyone how to explain things to him, but internally your imagination is playing a very dangerous game.

When you awaken in the bed the next morning, Ralph is still sleeping soundly next to you. He’s almost at the edge of his side of the bed, back turned to you. You slowly make your way out of your side and sneak past him, out of the room and down to the kitchen.

“No Ralph?” Scott asks as you walk in.

“Hello to you, too,” you jokingly flip your friend off and he smiles sweetly in return. “Nah, he’s still sparko. Dunno why.”

“Didn’t he sleep well?” Anna frowns.

You shrug. “Couldn’t tell you, I slept like a log!”

Ralph stirs from all the way upstairs, assuming from the open door that you’d already left the room but still staying still just in case. He slowly starts to roll around to look, allowing himself a sigh of relief as he sprawls out on the bed. He’d only slept once he’d finally exhausted himself from trying to stay as deliberately far away from you as possible.

His mind would wander, of course. How peaceful you must look when you sleep. How wonderful it would be to awaken with his face a mere touching distance from yours. On occasion, he’d hear you take an extra deep breath and he’d get giddy at the realisation that he was breathing the same air as you!

That’s when he’d rein it in. Stupid Ralph. That’s exactly what scared Lauren off. It’s been months since that week, and still he hasn’t learned. In the present moment, Ralph pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and bares his teeth in frustration at himself. Desperate to think of anything other than the thought of waking up next to you just as the sun shone against you in the most perfect of ways, making you appear even more radiant than usual. Of your eyes slowly opening as you wake. Ralph finally gives into temptation and indulges himself in the idea of your sleepy smile, in this dream universe where you’d be happy to wake up to see him. And what a perfect sight that would be.

He takes himself to the bathroom, picking up his razor and twirling the handle around between his fingers and thumb, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He’s already shaved his facial hair clean off on several occasions. It keeps him remembering who the real Ralph Penbury is. You and your friends always complain when he does it, though. They tell him that he’s not Our Ralph when he looks like that. He’d love nothing more than to be Their Ralph. Especially to you. What was the point of being the other Ralph? Going back to a penniless, friendless, loveless, overall fruitless life?

But you’re always reminding him, this isn’t his era. This isn’t permanent. You’re always preparing him to go back to his own time at any point. A part of Ralph - the stupidly optimistic, nay, deluded part - hopes that it’s simply a fear of the unknown, that messing with time in such a way could cause devastating effect. Though what a stupid thing to think, in what universe would Ralph have such a massive impact?!

With a heaving sigh, he tidies his facial hair up to a minimum while keeping it intact. A part of him still hesitates, still debates going further. It's what you'd want. Except also it isn't, because you always tell him he looks better with it. Ye gods, you're a confusing one.

Ralph gets himself dressed and makes it downstairs in just enough time to catch breakfast being dished up. You whisper something to Scott as soon as Ralph approaches, and Scott hands him a plate with a warm smile alongside everyone else eating, before setting everything up to make another portion for you. Ralph wants to frown, but he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, either. Why would you immediately sacrifice your breakfast for him, when he's the one who came downstairs later? Why would you see him being fed first as more important? Why not let him make that decision? He would have been happy to wait.

You feel Ralph's eyes boring into you as he scarfs his eggs down, but the one time you try and look back at him he acts as though he's trying not to get caught. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking, until Anna starts talking about the day's itinerary. This is good, this is distracting from the awkwardness, this is what the holiday is all about.

All wrapped up for a brisk November morning, you all head out to the pier, as per tradition. As Ralph gets face to face with the rides, he looks up at them, horrified, and you frown. "Are you scared of rides, or something?" He looks back down at the pier floor, watching the waves crash beneath a gap in the planks, with more fear in his eyes. "Hey, hey," you soothe, "eyes up." Ralph eventually tears his gaze away to look at you. "I promise it's all safe. It's not like those travelling funfairs where everything gets wheeled in and out, everything's built to stay here. Alright?" He still seems distracted, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, "Wanna hold my hand again?"

Stupid. What happened to not feeding the delusion? What happened to distancing yourself? What happened to being realistic? You know exactly what happened. Those damn baby-cow eyes. Hopefully Ralph'll say no. It'll be too scandalous for him to hold hands in public with people all around, surely.

But no. His fingers very carefully slide between yours yet again as he squeezes your hand gratefully. You keep both of your hands relatively tucked away from the others' view - they've already got you two sharing a bed, the last thing you need is having to constantly try to convince them all that you and Ralph aren't an item. Despite the fact that it would certainly be a good thing for you, a constant reminder to you that it can never happen, you know your friends well enough by now to know that they’d only take it as denial. That they’d keep pressing to ‘uncover’ whatever they believe you’re hiding. And you’ve gone this long keeping your one big secret from them, what if they keep digging until they find that out?!

Your train of thought is interrupted by a loud giggle from Ralph. He sees the photo op cutout of a cop and robber chase scene and he’s delighted by it. “Wanna pose?” You let go of Ralph’s hand to take your phone out and hand it to one of your friends as you both run behind the photo stand. Ralph finds the resulting picture absolutely hilarious.

“I always wanted to do one of those,” he muses as the pair of you hang back for him to once again hold your hand, to your own chagrin. Why couldn’t you have offered to link arms? That’s friendly enough. Can’t really be misconstrued. His smile, small but contented, melts your frustrations away, if only to add to them later on as you’re walking with him.

“Did they not have people taking your photo for you, even, in those days, then?” you ask quietly, so as not to be overheard.

Ralph half-shrugs, “There were cameras, you know. Far bigger than those little pocket ones everyone has now!”

“Yeah, I think I know of them. Big box things, someone would have to stand under a curtain and hold out a thing to press to take it, right?” you ask.

Ralph holds back his laughter as he replies with amusement, “By a thing to press, do you mean a button, by any chance?”

You pull a sarcastic face at him. “I’m leaving you stranded here,” you joke, tugging him in a particular direction to show him you’re not serious. “You’re spending too much time around me, I think. Starting to sound like me and everything,” you shake your head.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Ralph asks in a small voice.

Trying not to overthink what else that could mean, you shrug, “Well, I s’pose if I’ve a part to play in you being able to tell your sister to shove it, then not really. But using my own brand of sarcasm against me?” You tut, again shaking your head. “I’ve created a monster.” Ralph laughs gently at you as everyone stops at their first ride: the Turbo roller coaster.

Everyone laughs at the shade of green Ralph turns. “I promise you, mate, it’s far scarier down here than it is up there,” Connor tries to reassure him, but Ralph is fixated on the loop in the track.

“Honestly, Ralphie babe, that is the tiniest loop you’ll ever go on. It’ll be over before you even know it, and by the time it is over, you’ll love it, promise!” Grace holds her little finger out to Ralph, who stares at it with fearful eyes for a few beats before linking his own, to everyone’s cheers.

You allow your hands to be a little less obscured, under the guise that Ralph is only scared of the ride and so you are providing a temporary comfort. Anna also rests her head against Ralph’s arm, and Scott places a comforting hand on his shoulder, at your invitation. “The more of us that comfort him, the better, right?” you explain. “Plus, if there’s any… Prying eyes…” You look around anxiously. “At least they can’t assume that Ralph and I are dating just ’cause we’re stood together,” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly. “I don’t need that sort of attention, it’s bad enough on socials.”

You don’t see Ralph’s change in demeanour. What was a quiet excitement mellowed amongst the fear of the ride, turns to full-blown dejection. Of course you’d be embarrassed to be associated with him. Who wouldn’t be? No matter what era he’s in, he’s still Ralph.

Anna interrupts his train of thought by rubbing his arm, “You alright, Ralph?” He nods, pushing a smile up his cheeks. “Nervous?” She asks, and he nods silently. She hugs his arm tight. “Honestly, there’s nothing to it.”

“Yeah, you’ll be a thrill-seeker like the rest of us in no time!” Scott grins before nudging you and Ralph each. “You two should get a photo on the Crazy Mouse for the flat!”

You shake your head, “Come off it, like either of us would want a photo of us being flung around like that! Right, Ralph?” Again, he nods without saying a word. Your brow furrows, “Are you okay? Did you want to sit this one out?” He shakes his head. “Sure? We can just go get food if you would rather watch this lot go round first and then we can go later,” you offer, but he shakes his head again.

“Besides, it’s not like it’d be the worst photo of him out there,” a completely strange voice from the other side of the queue barrier makes you jump.

“Excuse me?!” Scott exclaims.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you all! We just saw Ralph, and then you, and really wanted to get a photo, if that’s okay?” They ask you. They seem innocent enough, just asking for a picture, but you still can’t help but stand there awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m not really into that side of things, I only got my socials to make sure people are being normal about him,” you shrug them off before adding, “and to reward you all with some extra content if you’re all behaving!” They laugh, and you turn to Ralph. “What do you say, do you wanna take a photo with some of your fans?”

Ralph approaches the barrier and leans over it to pose for the photo, pressing his lips together into a smile as he holds an arm around his first in-person fan. “My friends and I just think you’re absolutely hilarious!” They smile up at him.

“Oh, please,” he laughs, flustered. Though he has his new hat on, you can guess what’s happening beneath it. “My lack of knowledge of technology doesn’t necessarily make me hilarious, anyone could do that.”

“Nah, there’s a sort of… Natural charm about you. Plus, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re really cute. Even in that photo that’s going around.”

Ralph sputters nervously as the rest of you exchange glances. You manage to hide your seething rage from your friends, though you feel it boring through your eyes as they fixate on this person. “Ah, don’t be so silly! You’re far too kind. Um, is that your friend over there waving you away?” He asks as someone approaches, thankfully dragging their friend away while talking about spotting a Twitch streamer as they head in the direction of some poor sod wearing a black and white face covering. You wonder whether that’s their ‘thing’ or if they’re doing it to avoid detection. You wonder if you’ll have to do that with Ralph at some point. His internet fame is becoming less and less of the laugh it first seemed to be with every day.

“You alright?” Anna again checks in with Ralph, who looks slightly bewildered still.

“Should I have responded differently there?” He asks.

You’re quick to answer, “No! No, I think you did the right thing, there.” You then hurriedly follow it up with a, “I mean, dating fans is never a good idea, right?”

“Yeah, not gonna lie, that made me uncomfortable,” Connor cringes. “You handled it way better than me, mate.” Ralph feels a sense of pride at his words. The line starts to move and soon enough, you’re all getting into carriages yourself.

You make sure you and Ralph are in one near the middle, so he feels safer. Once you’re all strapped in, and the attendant is sure Ralph is, too, you see him already squeezing his eyes half-shut in anticipation. You poke him gently and hold your hand out again. “It’ll be here if you need it, okay?”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, I wouldn’t want to be a -” Ralph starts, but as the coaster jolts into motion he quickly grasps your hand tightly.

Ralph’s half-laugh/half-scream serenades you throughout the whole ride, especially at the loop. Once the ride brings you back upright again, you look over at him. “Was that so bad?”

“Boy, that was exhilarating, wasn’t it?!” He beams, and everyone else cheers for him from their own seats.

“You did it, Ralphie!” “We’re so proud of you, babe!” “Reckon we’ve awoken the thrillseeker in you?” Ralph’s too giddy to answer any of those.

You can barely get him to stand upright without his legs turning to jelly, unless you get him to hold your arms while you hold his. He falls into your arms with a giddy laugh, and you gently shove him onto his own gait. “Easy, tiger!” You giggle. “God knows what you’re gonna be like on the other rides.”

Once he sees the Crazy Mouse coaster in action, that green hue in his skin returns, so you decide to build his courage up a little more. His face simply turns white when he sees the ghost train. Scott notices and rolls his eyes, “Oh my god, Ralph, don’t even worry about it, this is literally the least scary ride on here.”

His partner pipes up, “Yeah, there’s scarier creatures on the merry-go-round than there are in there!”

“I wonder if they’ve put the face back on that animatronic from last year or not?” You ask, before looking over to Ralph, who looks horrified. “It’s unintentionally the scariest thing there, and it’s not even that bad. Trust me. Remember?” You hold your hand out, wiggling your fingers. “If you need it.”

“What if… People assume?” Ralph asks, trying not to spit the word out with the venom that wants to follow it.

You shrug, “I think your face justifies your need to have someone hold your hand. If you’d rather, you can sit with Connor or Anna, I was just suggesting -” He takes your hand again in silence, and you walk him over to queue up at the ghost train.

The moment the ride takes you into a dark hallway, Ralph buries his face in your shoulder, and you pat his cheek comfortingly. However, as he starts to see the quality of the animatronics (“Was that one being held up by -” “Duct tape, yes.”) and experience how poorly timed the “jump scares” are, he relaxes far more.

You take him on the twister next, which only ends up throwing your body into his at every convenience, a consequence you’d forgotten in the year since you’d last been on it. Still, he seemed too invested in the adrenaline rush that came with being thrown around in circles to notice your proximity.

After a quick pit stop to eat, and reassurance to Ralph that you weren’t going straight back onto any rides, you go into the arcade. Ralph’s face lights up along with all the games as you explain what ones are. He excitedly tells you that he recognised the fortune teller machine and a strength tester game from his own youth.

You let the others go on ahead as you and Ralph pay for a go on the fortune teller. It tells you, “A smile is worth a hundred frowns in any market!” You look at Ralph with the biggest smile you can muster, and he returns with one of your favourite expressions of his, the big fake animatronic-style smile that could rival the fortune teller. “And lucky for you, the great Zoltar sees much happiness ahead for you!” You bite your lip at the irony. Does that mean Ralph's happiness, that he’ll be returning home soon? Your happiness, that he’ll be staying? Or is it just a randomly generating machine?

It prints off a fortune and you read it together: You may be riding the winds of change. Things may at times seem to be out of touch. Soon they will come to a better order. As the blessings of health and fortune have a beginning, so they must also find an end. Everything rises but to fall. To make sense of all this, you will find the answer is to be found in how well you relate to people. Looking at the big picture will help shape your long range plans. If things are not always smooth remember that he who could foresee affairs but three days in advance would be rich for thousands of years.

You blow out a long breath of disbelief at how weirdly on the nose that seems to be for you both and quickly pocket it to find the others. Grace is trying to get her new boyfriend to win her a stuffed toy on the cranes. Scott is trying to finesse a coin-pusher game while his partner and Connor play a dance mat game behind him, and Ralph leaves you to watch in awe as Anna plays a pinball machine. She tries to explain the mechanics of it all to him, but it seems to be going entirely over his head.

You play your favourite game for a while, trying to win as many tickets as possible, when Ralph soon joins you as well. “Any luck with pinball?” You ask, and Ralph shakes his head.

“I wasn’t sure how to play it, I didn’t really seem to be doing anything, rather just pushing an awful lot of buttons for the sake of it,” he answers.

“Sounds like you were playing it right to me!” You laugh. “What do you wanna do now?”

“Well,” he says, excitement obvious in his voice. “I saw one of those photo booths around there…”

You gasp, “Yes! Let’s do it!” before looking around with disappointment. “Ugh, how are we gonna fit everyone in, though?”

“Perhaps we can get individual ones with people across the week?” Ralph suggests.

“Alright,” you nod. “Wanna get some practice in, just us?” Ralph nods back at you, and you both head into the booth.

Once you’ve paid for it, Ralph asks, “Now how does it all work, again?”

“Right, it’ll tell you when - oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan as it takes a photo of you mid-sentence, and Ralph stifles a laugh. “Okay, quick, when’s it taking anoth- ahh!” Another snap takes you by surprise, and Ralph doesn’t attempt to hide his amusement this time. You throw your hands up in disbelief, “Well, this is a waste now, isn’t it,” before collapsing into laughter yourself.

“I am sorry,” Ralph frowns at you once all four are taken, and you wave him off.

“Don’t be! I should have set us a game plan from the beginning.” You decide on your poses: a normal, smiley one; a goofy-grinning one; one with both your tongues sticking out; and one where you kiss his cheek. You promise him that it’s not at all scandalous to pose in this way, and that between Grace and Scott, at least one of them would want a photo with him like it anyway so you’re simply getting him geared up for that. You’re promising yourself that more than him, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You end up posing for the first one with your heads touching as you smile gently into the camera. He’s not giving his usual uncomfortable smile, or his disappearing-lip act. It’s just a nice, natural smile. Which is immediately replaced with a fake smile so big, he has to hold himself up on the bench with both of his hands to hold himself at an angle worthy of the grin on his face, which you mirror. When you tell him, “Tongues out!” yours pokes straight out towards the camera, but he lets his loll out to show off the flat of his tongue to the camera instead. You remind him to look ahead for the last one by pointing at the screen, and then holding the cheek furthest from you to push it closer to you, feeling his freshly trimmed down stubble scratch at your lips as you feel them press against the warm flesh of his cheek beneath.

Once all four are done, you quickly get out to make sure both strips are still there to collect. Thankfully, nobody else has seen them, and you pick them both up to study them. You try not to focus on the bottom photo of the second strip, instead looking at the total disaster that is the first strip. Most of them are blurry and far from flattering, but the final one. What is it with the last photo with you two?! You’re laughing, as is Ralph, but the way Ralph is angled, you could just as easily fool yourself into believing that he’s looking at you as though he’s madly in love with you.

As he emerges, he asks, “So, were those first ones completely unusable?”

Quickly tearing off the bottom photo to pocket it, you crumpled up the remaining three and throw them in the bin. “Yeah, pretty much! Here, hold onto these ones, though, and we can put them on the fridge when we get back home.”

Home. Do you mean that to mean your home is Ralph’s, too, or are you speaking on your own terms? Neither of you know, to be honest.

Your friends reconvene around you, and you tell them of yours and Ralph’s plan for each of them to get a mini photoshoot with him, what with it being his first time on this holiday with you all. Everyone happily accepts getting their own photo ops in with Ralph, and you love watching how everyone poses with him. Your personal favourites are Anna teaching him how to throw up deuces as they pull funny faces, Connor teaching him how to make hand horns as they stick their tongues out, Scott and his partner both kissing each of Ralph’s cheeks, and Ralph’s feigned disgust as Grace drapes herself over her boyfriend.

After all that excitement, you decide you’ll return to the rides another day. Instead, you find a nice little Italian place to eat that’s taken over an old cafe you had used to love coming to, but this new restaurant has an even better vibe than its predecessor. That, and Ralph learning how to eat spaghetti through trial and error is hilarious, especially when he decides that the best way is to simply find the ends of as many strands as possible and slurp them all up. The rest of you make a game of picking a strand each and seeing which one lasts the longest.

On the way back, Ralph gets recognised again. Thankfully, this person knows better than to flirt with a total stranger, though Ralph still seems astounded at the whole experience. This fan says something about being able to replace their icon from “the explosion photo”, and so, remembering the one from earlier mentioning an unflattering picture, once you’re all back at the house you look through Ralph’s follower list and burst into laughter.

It seems as though his fans have taken a screenshot of his disdain after microwaving the egg and made it their profile pictures. Some have left it as is, with your kitchen in the background. Some have added further explosions and other phenomena in the background. Ralph is the only one who doesn’t see the funny side, the disappointment returning to his expression.

With a sigh, you promise him, yet again, that there is no need to be upset. You’re not upset with him, the flat was easily cleaned, the microwave remains functional. You understand that this comes from years of being raised poorly, but having to constantly remind Ralph that you aren’t mad at him, is ironically the thing that frustrates you the most about him.

The next day, after again waking up to Ralph practically on the edge of his side of the bed, you decide to go to the Lanes to explore some of the vintage shops. Mostly, for your own amusement, you want to watch Ralph react to what is considered “vintage”, but you know you’re going to have to rein it in around everyone else. The day flies by in a montage of trying on ridiculously old clothes, ones that even Ralph turns his nose up at, trying to find the most cursed old toys in every shop, and Ralph trying desperately to stifle his excitement every time he recognises something from his own time period. Ralph gets recognised again by a young, tall blonde boy and his shorter brunette friend, though those two soon get accosted themselves, which allows you to get Ralph away to the safety of a quieter shop.

After your shopping excursion, you return to the pier to play some more games, this time from the attractions around the pier. Thankfully, Ralph seems far more confident walking on it, so there’s no need for you to offer any hand-holding services - although it does already feel strange walking around with both hands empty. You manage to win a stuffed animal on a throwing game, and Ralph decides his skill set is best utilised playing hook-a-duck - though he throws the person running the game off of their rhythm when the prize he asks for is to keep the duck itself, as Ralph personally has no use for stuffed animals. The person running the game, totally baffled, ends up letting Ralph keep the rubber duck, which he seems thrilled about, placing the hook over his finger and letting the duck swing from it with great delight.

“I think I get why cats like him so much,” Connor comments from where he’s stood just behind you as you watch Ralph. “You know how you can buy them all the expensive toys they want but they just wanna play in the box?” You snort with laughter in agreement. “He’s just one of them.”

While Ralph insists on everyone referring to the duck by its name, Clarence, he apparently draws the line at your joke of offering to pay for him to shoot a photo booth reel with his new friend. He looks at you with disapproval at that one.

You still utilise Clarence in his own way, though. Everywhere you go from that point onwards, you take a photo of the duck in that area, and then post it to Ralph’s Instagram story for him, though you only do so once you’re no longer in that place, for obvious reasons.

That evening, at the house, Connor tells Ralph he’s got a surprise for him, and to close his eyes and hold his hands out. Your heart swells when you see that Connor, who had excitedly spent the best portion of an hour in a music shop, has bought Ralph his own ukulele. Ralph looks close to tears at the gift. “Oh, Connor, I couldn’t possibly -”

“None of that, you can and you will,” Connor states simply while pointing at him, and Ralph shrinks down in defeat, opting instead to look at the ukulele with marvel. You all spend the night listening to Ralph play his chords, everyone occasionally offering lyrics to the tunes he was playing. God, he fits in so well with you all. It’s going to be so heartbreaking to tell them all when it’s his time to leave.

You wonder if the window of opportunity will only be open while you’re away. It’s a risk you’ve had to take to make sure he stays safe, since he literally only proved days ago that he still can’t be trusted unsupervised. What if you miss it? Would he resent you? Would it cause some insane rip in the time-space continuum? There’s really not a lot of solid research into this whole time travel business.

The next morning, you’re shocked to awaken to Ralph’s face dangerously close to yours as it rests on the inner half of his pillow. You could count his eyelashes, they were that close. You could connect his freckles, they were that close. His lips twitch ever so slightly in his sleep as you’re studying his face. His face that’s so close to yours. His lips that are -

You quickly take yourself out of that trance and practically throw yourself down the stairs, you’re that quick to leave the room, and those thoughts.

Ralph awakens, sadly, from a dream where you’re happy to have him in your arms to find himself near enough in the middle of the bed. He wonders exactly how he got there. You’re already awake, because of course, you always are. You don’t lie awake for almost an hour every night trying desperately to stay as rigidly far away from the centre of the bed as possible.

When Ralph arrives for breakfast, the group have already decided that today is more of a lazy day. They’ll go out later, of course, but there’s no rush. Just a day spent at the house, playing more board games and listening to both Connor and Ralph playing the ukulele as Connor teaches him how to teach himself actual songs. You even post Ralph’s first photo dump to his Instagram account:

As fun as it is to get out and experience another city, especially getting to do so with Ralph for the first time, you make just as many memories on this rest day. Memories like Ralph not only playing Jackbox for the first time, but somehow winning several games. Memories like watching Grace and her boyfriend playing board games as if they’d been married for years, even though she wrongfully accuses you and Ralph of playing the same way.

In the last hour of sunlight, you realise something. “I haven’t found my rock for this year, yet!”

Ralph looks at you strangely. “Your what?” Before answering his own question. “Do you mean that shelf full of stones in the bedroom has a purpose?”

“Yes! Every year, I find myself a cool-looking rock to take back. It’s tradition,” you explain with a gesture. “Plus, it gets us all out of the house at least once.”

“W’re all goin’ out la’er,” Connor groans from where he lays across the sofa he’s been sleeping on, beneath a mountain of crisps he’s been making his way through.

“At least twice then, lazybones,” you comment, but almost everyone else is happy to stay home.

Everyone except Ralph, who hurriedly gets his shoes on. Of course, it’s just you and Ralph. Alone. Far away from home. Nothing could possibly go wrong, here.

Thankfully, you’re on a mission, here. You can distract yourself with the task of finding the best looking rock on the beach. It can’t just be the first cool rock you see, oh no. It has to be the best one. That’s always been your rule.

Ralph tries to help, but honestly, a puppy would be less excitable. He keeps grabbing the first rock he can, running up to you to ask, “Is this useful?” to which the answer is almost always “no”, and so he simply throws it back to the ground and looks again. There are three separate occasions where he shows you ones he’s already asked you about. But he’s having fun, and he looks adorable, and maybe tonight you’ll be able to delude yourself into a happy little dream where Ralph’d be happy to do anything for you. Though perhaps not quite anything, that sort of dream would have to be reserved for a time when you’re not sharing a bed with him.

You thump the side of your head with the heel of your hand, as though you’re trying to knock the idea out of your brain. There is absolutely no time and place for those kind of thoughts.

At one point, Ralph sees a young child throwing rocks one at a time into the sea, with great delight. Ralph also seems highly entertained by it, and when the kid looks over at him, he decides to join in by grabbing a whole handful of rocks and throwing them all into the water at once. The kid thinks this is the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen before. Ralph seems happy enough to keep doing it until the kid’s parents take them away. You’re happy to just sit back on the ground and watch Ralph, taking photos and videos of this moment.

Ralph soon joins you where you sit, laughing breathlessly. “Oh, what a joy that was!”

“You certainly looked as though you were having a blast,” you simper. “Though if you threw away the ultimate rock amongst all of that, I may never forgive you,” you add in a sarcastic deadpan.

“I would completely understand,” Ralph nods back, unable to keep up any monotony for any amount of time before snorting with laughter. He looks out at the horizon, pointing out how the sky looks now that the sun is starting to set. “Don’t see that very often in London,” he frowns.

You shake your head, “Nah, it’s usually too cloudy. Not that different here, we’ve just caught a good moment. Looks nice, doesn’t it, all reflecting on the water and that?” You cock your head to the side and sigh happily. “Could sit here for hours watching it.”

Ralph tenses up, trying desperately not to think of how your head just rests against his arm, the weight of it still pressing down on the padded sleeve of his coat enough for him to feel it. He swallows hard, “Yes, it’s too bad that the sunset doesn’t last long at all, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” you add with a soft smile before sitting up. “That’s why I wanted to try and get to the beach now, to get to see it at least once. ’m glad you came with me,” you muse before suddenly realising you’re treading into dangerous territory here. To save yourself, you quickly add, “Y’know, so that you get to see it too, while you’re still here. Since you were saying you haven’t been on a holiday like this since you were a kid. Maybe you can go on more of them once you’re back.”

“Maybe,” Ralph replies emotionlessly.

You sit in relative silence as you watch the sky together. You get a “golden hour” selfie with Ralph, mostly to teach him about it, though he says that he doesn’t see much difference between that photo and most of the others you’ve taken in the past. After realising that he’s brought it with him in his pocket, too, you spend a good few minutes laughing along with Ralph as you try to find the most photogenic angle of Clarence the duck to add to his photo collection.

Once the view stops being quite so aesthetically pleasing, you stop off at the pier again to buy some sugared doughnuts to share with Ralph as you make your way over to the pub that you plan to meet your friends at. You love this pub as another of your holiday traditions, because Wednesday nights are karaoke nights. You wonder whether Ralph’ll feel confident enough to sing along to any modern songs. The mental image of Ralph taking to the mic to sing along to Taylor Swift with his entire chest is enough to make you laugh out loud, which confuses Ralph, but you opt to not tell him, merely shaking your head and covering your mouth instead.

To your disappointment when you get there, the pub no longer does karaoke, but Wednesdays are now pub quiz nights. You still stick around for dinner, and after a couple of drinks, you end up signing up for the quiz, for a laugh. None of you expect to get very far, but Grace’s boyfriend really pulls through with sports questions, and even Ralph ends up answering the question that ultimately wins the whole quiz for you, one about a specific style of shoes that had rendered the rest of you clueless.

Everyone ends up watching your group celebrating Ralph. The leaders of the second-place team, an older blonde man and a dark-haired woman he refers to as his wife, even join in with their own congratulations.

A pair of young women offer to buy Ralph a drink, to which Connor starts encouraging Ralph to go with them. You very quickly make conversation about the rest of the week’s plans with Anna and Grace to distract yourself, but Ralph doesn’t seem interested, much to your confusion. You look around at your friends, who all seem to be exchanging their own looks to each other, but none of them seem to want to look at you. You shake your head and make your way to the bathroom, scoffing indignantly at the two men who barge past you to get to the door next to you.

After a few minutes of silent pep talk to remind yourself that you have no right to feel bad if Ralph expresses interest in someone else, Anna comes in specifically to find her. After promising her a full eight times that you’re absolutely fine, you both head back out to the group, where Scott had brought along a game from the house that you can all play together. You notice Ralph isn’t there, but you don’t bring it up. You’re not his keeper, after all.

~~~

“Ah, ladies, this is quite an honour, obviously, but I am out with friends and it would be rather impolite to just leave them!” Ralph explains hurriedly to the two women who have approached him to congratulate him on his efforts.

“I dunno, your mate there seems pretty keen for you to come over,” one smirks in Connor’s direction.

“I must insist, I could never live with myself for taking advantage of such generous women as yourselves, though I am deeply grateful that you should wish to spend your night in my company! I’m afraid I’m very much not from around here, and so I would get frightfully lost without my friends to guide me home,” Ralph blabbers, getting more and more flustered.

“Maybe you can come back to mine, then?” The other asks, looking suggestively at him as she touches his arm. It’s a gentle contact, but it electrifies Ralph at high voltage as he yelps, pulling it away.

“Truly flattered, but I am a gentleman first and foremost and so I simply must decline such an offer, and I shan’t be staying long enough to court you appropriately, but I wish you both very well in your endeavours!” Ralph practically shouts as he turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the toilets.

Ralph walks in on quite a sight. Two men, reasonably bigger than himself, bent double over the sinks. “Pardon me,” Ralph calls out, with the intention on simply throwing some water on his face as a wake-up call of sorts, but the men jump up in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Ain’t nothing to see here, mate, jog on,” one says, trying to square up against Ralph.

“Sorry, gents, just wanted a quick go at the sink, and then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise!” He smiles brightly, completely oblivious. He catches sight of a line of white powder along the counter and chuckles to himself as he recognises it as cocaine, thinking back to previous parties he’d held at Penbury House.

The first man growls, “Find something funny?”

“Oh, just reminiscing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen… You know,” his eyes flash over to the substance on the counter. “Just fondly remembering old times.”

“Oi, ain’t no way this toff’s a user,” the second man shakes his head.

The first one snarls with a smile, "You a copper?"

"Heavens, no!" Ralph laughs. "Not to worry, gentleman, I'm no telltale, your secret is safe with me!"

"I'm not buying it," the second one looks at Ralph with an upturned nose. "I reckon he's a snitch."

"Well, only one way to prove it, innit," the first one grins uncomfortably at Ralph as he gestures towards the counter. "Care to join us?" he asks in a voice that mocks Ralph's.

“Well, if you insist, I - straight from the counter?” Ralph asks in disgust, but the chorusing snarl answers him quite adequately. “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers!”

Just as he finishes the first line, he’s interrupted by a loud, “RALPH! Fucking hell, get your head out of there! What the fuck is wrong with you two dickheads?!” Connor grabs Ralph by the back of his jumper and throws him back. “You alright? How much have you had?”

“Oh please, it was barely even a full line, it’s nothing,” Ralph insists, to both Connor and Scott’s baffled expressions.

“We don’t have time to unpack that right now,” Connor throws Ralph in Scott’s direction at the emphasis, causing Ralph to trip over his own feet through both of the steps it takes to get there, and Scott catches him, trying to get a good look at his eyes. Connor turns to the two men. “Alright, look.”

“Don’t know that I feel up to much talking,” one snarls.

Connor pulls a sarcastic expression. “Oh yeah, beat a guy up in the same room your coke’s still out for the world to see, good one(!) Shut the fuck up, yeah? We didn’t see anything, neither did you. Just - I mean, what the fuck were you thinking, giving your shit away for free, to him?!”

The man shrugs, “Had to call his bluff, innit? Thought he was a narc.”

“Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you,” Connor sneers, remaining sarcastic as ever. “Just… Clean up and get the fuck out of here, yeah? C’mon,” he gestures for Scott and Ralph, who’s already starting to bounce on the balls of his feet, to get out.

~~~

Once you finally see all three boys re-emerge from the bathroom, as you’d asked the other two to check on Ralph, you notice something off amongst them. Ralph seems in far higher spirits than the others. You get up to meet them halfway and notice something white and powder-y on the edge of Ralph’s nostril. “The fuck is that?!” You ask incredulously.

Scott looks over and quickly pulls his shirt sleeve down to wipe at Ralph’s nose with it. “Nothing!” He lilts, though his expression as he flashes his eyes at you confirms your worst fears about it. Scott mutters, “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“No!” You and Ralph chorus loudly. You shush the man and hurriedly lie, “No, you’ve not seem him in a hospital, he’s fucking useless, faints the second he gets in, he hates it all, honestly. Give him here, just - I’ll take him back to the house, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I promise you all, I am fine, I’ve done far more than that in my years!” Ralph states. “Can we please just return to our night?”

“Respectfully, mate, you don’t know what this shit’s been laced with,” Connor warns. “I’m with Scott, I think hospital’s the best place.”

“And I’m telling you, it really fucking isn’t,” you hiss back at them. “He just needs to get back home so he can’t make any more bad decisions.” Ralph frowns at your words, but you ignore him.

“Alright, we’ll pack up,” Scott starts, but you stop him.

“No, no.” You sigh, “Look, it’s still your holiday, too. I’ll take him back, I’ll keep you guys updated, but you lot just enjoy the night without us, okay?”

“We really don’t mind,” Connor shakes his head, but you persist.

“Honestly. Just…Hang on a second.” You return to the table, spinning a tale of how Ralph’s got a migraine and so you’re going to take him home as you put your outdoor clothes on. Everyone still at the table calls out well-wishes for Ralph as you make your way back to him, informing the boys of what you’ve said, and you lead Ralph out of the door into the brisk evening air.

You walk in silence, not knowing what to say. You’re concerned about Ralph, obviously, but you’re also just so mad at him for doing something so stupid. Who accepts some rando’s offer of coke off a random pub sink?! What the fuck was he thinking?! And now, everyone else is enjoying their holiday while you spend it the way you spend every single day - babysitting a 25 year old man who acts without consequence because he doesn’t bear them, you do. You may as well be at home with him.

“You know,” Ralph finally breaks the silence as you walk up the street that the house is on, “I’m not a child. I knew what I was doing.”

You sigh, “Free drugs is a massive red flag, Ralph. You could have gotten into some serious shit.”

“Well clearly not if we’re just going straight back to the house,” he points out.

“Okay, Ralph, what do you want me to say when we get to the hospital? ‘Hi, I’ve got a man here who needs drugs pumped out of his system. Name? Ralph Penbury. Date of birth? February 1st 1901. Oh, what’s that? You’ve got him marked as being dead for the last 96 years? Then what’s he doing stood here?!’” Ralph goes quiet up until you get to the front door, where you press your hands into your face and groan. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Ralph. I shouldn’t have snapped like that, that wasn’t fair. I know you can’t help… That bit. But you can say no to drugs, surely?!” More silence. With a sad sigh, you unlock the door and let Ralph go ahead. “Want me to make you a cup of tea?” You ask, and he nods before running up the stairs.

You kick yourself internally for upsetting Ralph before then arguing with yourself. Why should you be apologising? You were right. It’s your holiday, too, and he should have thought more carefully. You have every right to be upset, yourself. But you’ll forgive Ralph for that, the way you always do, because you already know you’re going to lose him at some point, and that’s going to be painful enough, and if you can put it off for as long as possible, you’re going to.

He pads back into the kitchen in his pyjamas, looking at you with his big doe eyes as you hand him a hot mug full of tea. “It seems to be the ordinary stuff,” he states, “because it’s only just about affecting me. Same way it always does.”

“Did you… Do it often?” You ask slowly. “To cope with stuff?”

“Heavens, no, it’s no coping mechanism!” He shakes his head. “Cocaine’s always been a staple at Penbury socials. It’s… Acquiring and using it was always the thing people liked having me around for,” he explains quietly as he takes a big sip from his mug. “It barely affects me these days, just makes me… More likeable, I suppose.”

Of course there’s a dreadfully sad story to go along with this. Just more fuel for you to feel bad about snapping at him. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he continues drinking. “You know how much we all like having you around the way you are, Ralph. I mean, we might be able to make a citizen out of you yet if we just claim you as Scott and his partner’s adopted child!” You joke, and Ralph lets out a small, breathy laugh.

“It’s… Hard to believe, still. Sometimes. Sorry,” he mutters, leaning down to rest his head against yours.

“You have to trust us, Ralphie,” you squeeze him gently, “that’s part of having friends. You like having us around, right?” He nods violently. “Right! So part of making sure we stay around is knowing we want to. If you don’t trust that people wanna be your friend, they’re gonna assume you don’t want them to be.”

“Is that what Scott and Connor will think of me, now?” he asks sadly.

“Well no, because they don’t know… That, what you’ve just told me.”

Even more quietly, he asks, “…Do you -?”

“Are you really asking me if I want you around?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. “Have I not done enough to prove my case there?!”

“More than,” he admits, still quiet. He takes another long sip and asks, “Does the TV here have all the films that we would have back at home?”

“Wanna watch Little Shop of Horrors while you come down?” You ask, amused, as Ralph nods in response. You let him curl up to lay his head on your lap as you both watch the film from the sofa Connor’s been sleeping on, Ralph’s foot tapping against the arm of it along with each song.

The rest of the gang return just before the movie ends, and they’re all happy to see that Ralph looks in relatively good condition. The pair of you retire to the bed soon after. Too tired to change out of your day clothes, you simply crawl into your side and sleep, forgetting to wish Ralph goodnight in your exhaustion.

You all decide that Thursday shall be another day on the pier, with Friday being a packing-up day due to the night out you have planned, so that you don’t have to worry about packing with a hangover and can head back as soon as you’re feeling well enough to on Saturday.

You start the day out in the arcade again, firstly making sure that you, Anna, Grace, Scott and Connor get your annual photos in the booth as per every year for as long as you can remember. You show Ralph and the others photos you have on your phone of reels from years past, to which they take great delight in seeing you all in younger years. “It’s nice to have friends that last,” Ralph smiles, and it makes your heart sink. Comments like that help your brain to justify keeping Ralph around regardless. He needs to be here, with his friends, with the people he loves and who love him. There’s been no major consequence so far. You start to wonder if there ever would be.

You quickly pull yourself from that train of thought, instead opting for the certainty of being out with your friends. Grace pulls Ralph towards the dance mats, itching to teach him, and you allow yourself to stand back with Grace’s boyfriend to watch them. Ralph may stomp on each arrow with such force that the ground shakes beneath you, but there’s no way you can comment on that when his face is lit up that much.

You lose track of him when Connor pulls him away to show him a shooting game, instead opting to go for one of the coin-pushers yourself. It seems as though Ralph also didn’t last long with that particular game, nor does he have the patience to wait for your tactical plays as he starts grabbing coins from your pot and placing them in the slots from behind you excitedly. You giggle uncontrollably as he keeps putting coins in and smugly adding the occasional, “See?” when a whole pile drops.

It’s only when you feel your back collide against his chest that you’re brought back to your senses, and you tug at his arm until you’re standing beside him instead, trying to keep your tone playful with an, “Alright, then, if you wanna play that way, don’t let me stop you!” as you find another game that’s easy ticket fodder.

Eventually, you tell Ralph that it’s time for him to face his ultimate fear, that you’re all going to ride the Crazy Mouse roller coaster. He nods, still agreeing to go on it with you all, though he remains quiet. Once you’re in the line for it, you try and brush your hand against his again to let him know you’re there for him, but he makes no attempt to hold it. You hope it’s because he’s getting braver, but his stoic expression doesn’t exactly give you that impression.

Since today is warmer than the others, none of you had really decided to wear hats today, which makes the state you all end up in after being spun and thrown around the roller coaster track all the more hilarious. Ralph’s curls especially are in full force, sticking up in all directions, which the fans who recognise him today point out a lot. You notice there are more today than ever before and check his name on Twitter to see your suspicions confirmed - people are starting to publicly announce sightings of Ralph in the wild, which is leading to people congregating with the sheer hopes of seeing him out in the wild. You’re not sure how many more of these appearances you can take.

You return to the hook-a-duck stall so that Ralph can proudly show off Clarence to the man running the stall. A young man with a mullet pouts about how he was told that he wasn’t “allowed” to keep a duck, even though it matched the red beanie his friend is wearing even today. The man behind the stall simply explains that Ralph was more charming, to the hat-wearer’s amusement.

You go back to playing more games until the people working the arcade inform you that it’s nearly closing time. All of you band your tickets together and divide them fairly to redeem a prize each, though Ralph insists that he doesn’t get a share. He is more than happy with Clarence alone. If only you’d known sooner that the best way to placate Ralph would be to stick a hook in a rubber duck’s head.

Connor picks a box that contains fuzzy car dice, “for a laugh”. It certainly does raise a lot of laughs when he opens the box to find that the ones he’s ended up with are pink, but he shrugs it off. Scott and his partner pick out as many Pokémon cards as their tickets will allow them to, Grace gets a toy monkey with magnets in its hands and feet while her boyfriend picks out an inflatable guitar. Despite having already won a rather large teddy at the can game the other day, you take pity on another soft toy that clearly looks like it got into a fight with the manufacturer and came out losing, opting to take it home with you. Ralph looks at it fearfully, and you shake it at him jokingly.

Friday holds the weight of being the last full day away. Everything feels as though it's happening in slow motion, that it isn't in real time. It doesn’t entirely help that the day is filled with the mundane act of packing until the real thing to look forward to later tonight, which now feels eons away.

When it finally reaches lunchtime, you talk the others into getting delivery. “Whatever happened to the ‘we should get out of the house, lazybones’ mentality, eh?” Connor teases.

“Do you feel up to being there while Ralph gets accosted by fans again?” you ask bluntly. “Besides, you should see Twitter today, it’s obsessive,” you pull a face of disgust as you scroll through posts to show your friends.

“These people need Jesus,” pipes up Grace’s boyfriend.

“You said it, babe,” Grace herself adds. “Surprised they haven’t realised he’s staying here and started camping out.” Scott tentatively looks out of the window, but nods in relief to confirm that nobody’s waiting out there.

You decide to make it the feast to end all feasts, each of you ordering food from different places and all sitting amongst your plethora of food to talk about your highlights of the whole trip, compare photos and overall just enjoy each others’ company. Even Ralph seems to perk up, which you’re glad about. He’d been pretty reserved all morning, which makes sense given how dull the day’s events have been, but you’re glad to see that there isn’t something else keeping him quiet.

Finally, the night is upon you. Everyone’s promised that they’ll all be on watch in case anyone tries to approach Ralph, either weird fanatic or potential danger, so that you can just switch off and enjoy your last night before returning to London.

You feel as though you may get to really enjoy it when you catch the attention of a man who’s far from unattractive. He keeps making eye contact with you from where he’s stood at the bar and flashing his eyes in invitation. After a few pep talks with the girls, who seem a little hesitant at first but soon warm to the idea of you having a night where you finally get to flirt and be flirted with, and just get to feel special for a night. And who knows, maybe that’ll be all it is. Maybe you won’t even spend your last night back at the house. After all, what’s a holiday for if not to live totally differently to how you would at home?

When you finally approach the bar, he smirks, “Look who finally made a decision!”

“Look who’s already blowing their shot!” you reply in the same lilted tone, making him laugh. You exchange names and he offers to buy you a drink. This is everything you’ve been needing to fill your confidence gauge - mostly banter, with the occasional ice-breaker question and the more than occasional compliment thrown your way. And honestly, the way he already matches your wit without you constantly needing to explain yourself, or reassure that you’re joking, just makes him even more attractive in the moment.

Ralph watches on from a distance, absolutely seething. Of course, you deserve to be happy. He knows that. He knows that you clearly wouldn’t be happy with him, and that’s why you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length, constantly putting the time travelling situation between you and him. But Ralph absolutely cannot stand to see it happening in front of his eyes. And so, with nothing stopping him, he marches over to you and taps your arm. “Hello!”

Not expecting any interruptions, you jolt, “Jesus, Ralph, you scared the shit out of me! Uh, yeah, this is Ralph, my - flatmate,” you explain.

“That’s right, we live together back at home as well as here!” Ralph beams falsely at the other man. “So, what are we talking about?”

The man laughs awkwardly under his breath as he shuffles in place and you say through gritted teeth, “Uh, Ralph, do you think maybe Connor wants to talk to you?”

“Oh, heavens, no, he’s got a pair of young women on the go himself, the dog!” Ralph scoffs.

“Seems as though two is an awful lot of people for just one of him to manage. Think you could take one off his hands?” you ask, again trying to make it very obvious that you want him to leave.

He doesn’t seem to be taking the hint, though. “Oh, I’d only interrupt them!”

“How terrible that would be.” You deadpan, before addressing the man you’d been talking to. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” he tips his glass to you. “Don’t forget, it’s your turn to buy the next round!”

You shoot him a flirtatious smile and grab Ralph’s wrist to tug him away. “Listen, Ralph, mate, I think maybe… You should spend tonight more around one of the others, than with me. Yeah?”

“But what if I slip up and mention something about… The situation at hand?” he asks, gesturing at himself.

You tut exasperatedly, “I dunno, then maybe… Just really try not to bring it up? It’s not that hard, you haven’t done it yet. I just… I really needed this, Ralph. Please?”

“Are you going to leave me in the bed alone tonight?” he asks quietly. Sadly.

You sigh. “I dunno. Maybe? We’re all adults here, Ralph, you’ve spent long enough being able to sleep in my bed by yourself, I’m sure someone else’s won’t be too different.” You find Grace, who’s with her boyfriend and Anna, and park Ralph with all of them before returning to your date for the evening.

Ralph’s only half-listening to whatever everyone else is talking about. His attention is laser-focused on that man. His hair is the same colour as Ralph’s, and it’s curly just like his, but there’s more of it. His eyes are the same colour as Ralph’s, but they’re obscured with glasses. He’s taller than Ralph, and he makes you laugh more than Ralph does, and if the cup he’s holding was made of anything other than glass, Ralph would have certainly squeezed it out of shape by now, if not broken it entirely.

While the girls take a momentary bathroom break, Grace’s boyfriend nudges Ralph. “You alright, mate? You look like the nerves are taking over. Wanna do a couple shots with me? It’ll take the edge off.”

Ralph agrees, hoping that perhaps the blanket of numbness over his brain that only alcohol causes will keep it quiet. Grace’s boyfriend has already paid for the shots when Ralph looks at them in horror. The last time he saw a shot glass filled with clear liquid, it resulted in all kinds of emotions. Still, perhaps it’s another clear spirit. Perhaps it won’t make Ralph feel the way he did that night.

Or maybe this is also vodka, and once both the shots that Ralph takes hit, perhaps he’s on his way back over to you. “Hello, again!”

You look at your date with resignation. He looks back at you with sympathy. It’s him who regards the new third wheel in the conversation, “Alright, mate? Ralph, isn’t it? How you doing?”

Ralph pays him no attention at all. “I fear I have once again gotten myself into a predicament,” he tells you.

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can get yourself out of it,” you flash warning eyes at Ralph to get back to literally anyone else.

He shakes his head, “No, no, it’s, um. It’s something you had explained to me. What are the different drinks that make me feel different things, again?”

You hold your hand to your head. “Ralph, mate… Do you feel as if something’s been put in your drink, or…?”

“I’m not sure what that would feel like,” he frowns, “but you know these things better than I do!”

“Here, look,” the man you’d been talking to stands up straight. So tall. “This has been great. Really great. But I think your flatmate needs you tonight, so… I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You shake your head dejectedly. “We literally go back to London first thing in the morning.”

He frowns at you sympathetically. “You’ve got a phone though, right?” You take it out to find that it’s out of battery.

You curse internally, “Knew there was something I forgot to do tonight. I’m so sorry.”

“Well. Perhaps in another time. It was lovely meeting you.” He looks Ralph up and down with a slight look of jealous defeat. “You too, mate,” he adds to Ralph through gritted teeth before stroking your arm once more, letting it linger for as long as possible until he walks away.

Something in you finally snaps. Every part of you is just… So done with Ralph right now. And he has the audacity to perk up again once it’s just the two of you?! “What the fuck was that about, Ralph?!”

“Well, I was just going to say that Grace’s… Gentleman friend had bought me some of those shots and I think they’re the sort that have the effect on me that you remember better than I,” Ralph explains with a slight shrug.

You shake your head. “Nah, nah, there’s more to it than that. I made it very clear that I was hitting it off with him, and I just wanted a night where I could -” You cut yourself off, but Ralph feels the tension, soaking it in himself.

“Oh, go on and get it over with, won’t you?” Ralph asks, once again playing the sad card. “It’s obvious there’s things you want to say to me, just say them to my face, please.”

“Okay, you know that’s not fair when you pull that shit, because then it makes me feel bad when I am allowed to be pissed off at you!” you snap. “You want me to say it to your face?! Alright, how’s about this, then. Having you at my ankles 24/7 is fucking exhausting, Ralph. I can’t even go on one night out and talk to one person that isn’t you, I - I didn’t sign up to be some random guy’s mother -”

“I do not see you like I would Mother!” Ralph defends, offence very obvious in his expression.

“Then why am I the one always cooking for you, always cleaning for you, always fucking working overtime because I’m paying for your bills and your food and your clothes -”

“Because, as you keep telling me, I’m not a real person here!” Ralph hisses through his teeth.

“It’s not just that, though, it’s the attitude that comes with it. You are so used to your little rich boy life that you don’t see how much I’m going through. My back is in constant fucking agony from months on that godawful sofa. I don’t get a single day off to myself anymore. I mean, fuck, you’ve had more dates than I have since you got here! I supported you putting yourself out there, even though it was one of the stupidest risks you could have taken -”

“Well, it’s a good job that didn’t work out then, isn’t it? Because once again, nobody wants anything to do with Ral-”

“Here it is again. I can’t just feel something, you have to also be feeling it twice as hard so that you’re the focus here, I - I can’t have anything for myself anymore!” you shout exasperatedly. “Not even one night where for once, I get to feel wanted. I - y’know, everyone fucking falls at their feet for you, you’ve even had people ask you out while we’re here! And nothing was stopping you if you wanted to! But the moment I want to indulge in the idea that maybe someone out there would show an interest in me -”

Ralph scoffs, “That man was only interested in one thing to do with you, and it’s much too vulgar. You deserve to be courted in the appropriate -”

“We’re not in the 1920s anymore, Ralph!” You press your fingers to your temples. “It’s not a bad thing for someone to just… Want you like that. And even then, let’s hash this out. Let’s say I could have been courted by him. You think someone like that is gonna think I’m worth sticking around for when I’ve got another man constantly in my shadow, fighting for my attention? I mean, fuck, what are you gonna do without me when you go back, eh?”

“Ah, again with the going home!” Ralph’s voice is audibly slurring by now. “It’s all you ever want to talk about with me, just tell me the truth already, it’ll hurt less. Tell me you can’t wait to be rid of me.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ralph, I don’t want you gone! Far fucking from it! But I’m not gonna mess with shit we know nothing about, and putting everything back where it was is logically the best thing to do.”

Ralph looks on the verge of crying. “So, that’s it, then. I’m not even worth a -one, I’m just a -thing now.”

“No, that’s not -” You take a deep breath. “Look. We’re going off on tangents that don’t even make fucking sense now. I’m going back to the house. To the bed, don’t worry your fragile little head, I’m not gonna go stand on a street corner like the harlot I am,” you pull a face, blinking back your own tears. “Thank you for ruining the one week a year I actually look forward to.”

You storm away from Ralph, though you find most of the group congregated together at the bar. You stop by them to explain that you and Ralph got into a fight, that you don’t want to talk about it but could they please just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. They promise that they will, and so you head out of the bar, straight into one of the parked taxis and finally let yourself cry as it drives you back to the house.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Holy shit, look at this! One month to finish one chapter, and then I churn out another in 5 days. Who am I?!

Seriously, your response to last chapter blew me away. That's what got me writing so quick. That, and I can't bear our Ralphie being sad, lol. This is a very Ralph-centric chapter, so I hope you enjoy! <3

Also, this chapter introduces what may be my most favourite character yet. I can't wait to write more of her.

Set your alarm to a sound you like, they said. You’ll wake up in a better mood, they said. Guaranteed good start to the day, they said. You don’t even remember putting your phone on charge last night. You remember getting out of the taxi. You remember opening the door. You remember going up the stairs. You remember face-planting into the bed. But you don’t even remember getting your phone back out from where you’d put it.

Something doesn’t feel right about the bed, though. You roll over and notice there’s no other weight pressing down on the mattress. Turning yourself fully, you see that Ralph’s not in the bed with you. Neither are his pillows. His phone is charging on his nightstand, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Until you see some movement out of the corner of your eye, and look down to see him asleep on the floor. He’s brought his pillows down with him, but he’s only got his coat to cover him. Leaning across the mattress, you reach down over the side of it to prod him. “Hey. Ralph. C’mon, get into bed.” He grunts, shaking his head around until his face is buried into the pillow. You tut and groan, “Fuck’s sake, I’m taking a shower and then going downstairs, so just… Stop being so bloody awkward and get some decent sleep, at least.”

Holding your head as you shake it, you clamber out of the bed and trundle your way into the bathroom. Poking at the remnants of last night’s face, you try and save as much of your skin’s condition as you can by taking a wipe to it before you get into the shower.

The shower takes far longer than usual, as if you’re not already running behind on your own schedule. As you watch the water run down your limbs, words echo in your head. Having you at my ankles 24/7 is fucking exhausting. Tell me the truth already, it’ll hurt less. For fuck’s sake, Ralph, I don’t want you gone! I’m just a -thing now. Tipping your head up, you let every stream of water punch you in the face, cleansing you of all the negativity that last night had left on you.

Once you’re finally washed, dried and dressed, you don’t even bother checking if Ralph got into the bed before you go back downstairs. The friends that are awake so far greet you gingerly, and you groan, your face wincing. “Do you guys -”

“We’ve already agreed that we’re Switzerland here,” Connor interjects. “We don’t know your side. We barely know Ralph’s, he was a wreck.” You let out another small groan. “And it’s obviously very fresh so we won’t pry,” he holds his hands up.

“But, we are still here for the both of you, however you need us,” Scott nods.

You nod back, “’Preciate it, thanks. I was actually gonna ask if - I’ll happily take back anyone’s bags, to make room, but I was wondering if… Any of you had space, if you could… Take him home for me, I’d be super grateful.”

“He can come back with us,” Anna looks over at Scott and his partner, who both nod back.

“We’ll take care of him. Take the time you need,” Scott comforts you with a warm hug across the shoulders.

Once you hear one more person coming down the stairs, you feel your insides turn to lead in seconds. Grabbing some toast, you sneak your way through the ground floor rooms so that you can get back to the stairs without having to face him again.

Quickly filtering through the clothes in Ralph’s - your suitcase that he’s using, you can tell he’s gotten dressed for the day, so collecting his remainders and packing them, as well as your own, you get to loading up your car. Anna and the boys helpfully take their bags out, too, offering hugs and words of sympathy and gratitude.

“Ralph mentioned something about wanting to go somewhere before we leave, so we’ll probably be a bit late back, okay?” Anna tells you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nod, “I think it’ll do me good to have some me time.”

“I do, too. Just don’t get too angry and do something stupid, ’kay?” Anna makes you promise and gives you one final hug before you head out onto the road.

As you set your phone up to start playing music for the drive home, you notice the notifications on your lock screen:

Missed call (12)

Voicemail (9)

With a heavy sigh, you leave them on the screen, at least until you get to a service station. After filling the car up, getting some snacks and a drink for the journey, and getting back on the road, you finally bite the bullet and start playing the voicemails through your car’s speaker:

“How dare you run out on me?! You didn’t even give me a fighting chance to truly say my piece, I thought that very unfair of you. Need I remind you that all of this is extremely new to me, not to mention completely terrifying?! Life as I know it is gone, and I don’t know when I can go back. How can you not see that from my point of view?!”

“I was only looking out for you, you know. It wasn’t proper, the way he was around you. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, like you were a piece of meat, it was vulgar. And especially while you were under the influence of alcohol, how advantageous for him! What with you being so far from home, I was simply intervening to make sure you were safe!”

“And what on earth made you think that I see you as a replacement for my own mother?! For one thing, Mother never even did any of her own cooking or cleaning. I thought you were a friend. Friends don’t leave their friends stranded in loud places that they don’t know, half a hundred miles away from another place they don’t even know anymore!”

“Don’t you even worry yourself any further. As soon as we get back to London, I’m making it priority number one to go and find that old man and demanding he take me back to my own time again. I don’t care that he told you that it was random, I’ll sleep under the bridge with him for however long is needed if that’s what it takes to get me back to my home. That’s what you want, and so that’s what I’ll do. If I’m going to be an unwanted presence, I may as well do it in a time and a place that I know, where I have enough money to my name that people will at least pretend to like me without ever telling me they don’t!”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake here. I was getting upset and so I went outside for some fresh air, and then I wanted to go home too, but I can’t do that without money and so I started walking in the direction that I thought was the sea, but now I fear I’ve gone too far. I’m going to turn back. I hope I haven’t accidentally made any turns that I’ve forgotten about. Oh, what a fool I am. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ralph. Why am I even on the phone, it’s not like you can help me now. Or that you’d want to.”

“I’ve given up on walking now, I’m just sitting on the edge of the path. People keep dropping coins next to me. Perhaps those can be a consolation fee to you. Or perhaps this is how I earn my keep after all. Everybody pity poor, pathetic Ralph. Not enough to stop his father going through his staff as if our home doubled as a brothel, not enough to save his mother from the heartbreak of Father’s death. Not enough for Victoria to ever even consider me more than the social title we both held together being who we are. Not even enough to keep the only person who ever cared about me to stay.”

“Oh blast, what have I done? I don’t want to lose you. I - Just because I had promised myself that I wouldn’t repea- Gah, don’t do it, Ralph, this isn’t the proper way, stupid -”

“I realise that last message left quite abruptly. Connor found me and took me back to the bar and now we’re waiting for a taxi but I went to the toilet first. And I felt that feeling again when you look at yourself in the mirror and suddenly everything feels all wobbly. And I think I’ve said some very bad things that I can’t remember. But I do know I’m still mad at you, as well. I didn’t want to say any of those things, but you can’t deny you’re not responsible for this fight, too. I hope you’re sleeping well.”

“We are home now. Well, not home home but we are back at the house. I went up to the bedroom but you were already in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. I shan’t wake you, and I suppose I should learn my place at some point. I took the liberty of taking your phone out and putting the charger into it. I couldn’t tell you why I’m still leaving you these messages, I suppose I just… I’m upset with you, but also I want to talk to you, because you know better than anyone how to make me happier again. And I want to talk about all of this, but also I don’t know if that is such a good idea or it’ll just keep dragging this out. But won’t it be worse if we never do? Mother and Father never talked their problems out - not that we’re - oh, I give up.”

You’re not sure how you feel. You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to shake Ralph by his shoulders, but you also want to hug him tightly and let that citrusy scent of his envelop you.

He’s right, though. You want to talk to him, but you also don’t. Because you know that the things you want to say, the things you could say to the Ralph you envision in your head, the real Ralph wouldn’t reply in the same way. He’d probably get defensive and you wouldn’t actually get anywhere because he’d get stubborn and you’d get upset. Or maybe he would hear you out. Maybe you’re just villainising him at the moment because of how fresh the wounds of last night are.

Even so, even if you do start to address every elephant in the room, how far do you allow that to unravel? Do you tell him the truth, that if you don’t spite him for his actions, you’ll only keep forgiving them if only because you can’t bear to think of life without him? Do you stand there and beg for him to never leave the 21st century, consequences be damned? Do you honestly believe your life is some kind of late-2000s rom-com movie?

The closer you get back to London, the more you dwell on certain parts of certain messages. Especially the part about Ralph deciding he’ll live the rest of his days in this era with Homeless Pete. Was he serious about that? You have most of his possessions either with you or back at the flat, but would he come back for them? Would there even be a point? No, you can’t imagine Ralph would last more than twenty minutes out there roughing it.

But what if he doesn’t come back to you? What if one of your friends agrees to take him in, instead? You’re sure that your relationship with them wouldn’t change in the slightest, but you’re not certain that he would remain neutral. Would he feel too uncomfortable around you? Would there be a home amongst your friends’ that you would no longer be welcome in?

Maybe he is out of your life for good after this. Maybe he is just going to find somewhere else to live until the time machine lift fixes. Maybe going cold turkey is what you need. You were getting too ahead of yourself. And besides, even in a scenario where he really does have no choice but to return, it’s only a matter of time before all of this piles up again, and then you’re right back here. Is it worth putting yourself through this much turmoil time and again for something so fruitless?

But that insinuates that you’ve only ever been helping Ralph for your own ulterior motives. Ralph didn’t come to you seeking anything other than - well, he wasn’t seeking anything out, the poor guy just ended up here. But you happened to find him. And you took him in and gave him the roof over his head that he needed. You kept him fed and comfortable, is that not just something you’d do out of the kindness of your own heart? Is it really fair to turf him out because you can’t keep your feelings in check? Or is it fairer to cut him loose, and let him forge his own path with whomever he wants to, not just the first person he meets?

As you pull into the familiar busy streets of Croydon, you wonder just how far back Anna and the others are. Her last update, and Connor’s, all came at similar times, but where Connor was informing you all that he, Grace and her boyfriend were halfway there, Anna was texting to say they were just leaving Brighton.

Parking your car in its spot, you look up through your windscreen at the towering block of flats, resting your chin against your steering wheel. You know that everything’s just going to remind you of him in there, too. But where else could you go?

~~~

After one final trip to the beachfront, Ralph knew it was time to face the music. No hiding behind false smiles and fake words. Although, maybe he had ruined the chance at fixing things with words, even if they were true. Perhaps you’ll be truly sick of him. The way everyone always is.

Of course, nobody likes a self-pitiful fool. You’d made that abundantly clear last night. But what else is Ralph to do? It’s not wrong. He’s always been second fiddle. Never picked in classes, never favoured by his peers, never favoured by his parents, even the help were always far more charmed by Victoria than they were by him. And Ralph never understood why, he always tried to emulate his sister in every way, but that just wasn’t right, for some reason.

In the car, Anna suggests playing some songs that’ll make Ralph feel better. He agrees, and it does lift his spirits as he hears the familiar voice of his now-favourite singer, but the lyrics bring his mood straight back down again. He frowns, “I thought you said these songs would cheer me up.”

“I said they’d make you feel better,” Anna corrects. “Sometimes when you’re feeling sad, it’s better to just… I dunno, let someone else talk about how you’re feeling. Makes you feel less alone in it all. It’s cathartic.”

And so Ralph spends most of the car journey back in relative silence, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the car window as he argues with himself. What the devil is he supposed to do now?

Yes, he may have told you in the heat of the moment that he'd rather live with that awful man, and yes, in theory that does sound like the perfect solution - it gives you the closure from Ralph that you apparently want, as well as giving him direct access to the only person who can help… put him back. Those words pierce him, etching deeper into his brain every time he thinks them.

But, in reality? Ralph tries to remember the area that you’d taken him to when you’d first talked to that homeless man about how he’d ended up here. He remembers dirty people, dirty mattresses with little to no springs. No place for a Penbury, that’s for sure. Though is Ralph even one at this point?

What does he expect to happen when he goes back in time, back to Penbury House? You’d always encouraged him to tell Victoria to “shove it”, but how well would that be taken? Surely she’d just tell him the same thing and turf him out? She’d have more reason to, it’s been her place of residence and she’d surely have the other four on her side.

And did he want to win Lauren back? DId he want to come back with a bravado that she’d find attractive? Did he really want her to find him attractive anymore? Yes, he’d been drawn to her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but she certainly made her intentions with him - or lack thereof - very well-known. Ralph looks in the mirror at Scott and his partner in the back seat, both chatting away as they hold hands. Lauren would never love Ralph like that.

Scott’s reflection catches Ralph’s eye and raises his eyebrows in slight concern. Ralph simply nods with a small smile. He looks over at Anna, who’s singing along with the song that’s currently playing. She notices his gaze and briefly meets it, gesturing encouragingly as her singing becomes more deliberate. Though Ralph has yet to master lyrics to the songs he now likes, his smile does grow a little bigger as he moves his head from side to side in rhythm with the song. Anna, in turn, beams back at him before focusing on the road once again.

This is the sort of love Ralph always dreamt of having someday. Of course, there’s still more that he’d love to have. He’d love someone to wake up to every morning, to embrace and to kiss and to devote every waking moment to. Oh blast, this is his internal monologue, he can say it; he’d love to wake up to you every morning, to embrace you and to kiss you and to devote every waking moment to you.

But this sort of love is just as important. Friends who check up on him, and who cheer him up. He’ll miss that once he’s back in his own era. Not that he’d be able to keep it up for much longer if he were to stick around. Your friends are loyal creatures, and you’ve known them for far longer. It would only hurt anyway if he were to stay and they were to pick you.

Though, who’s to say that they would? The words you’d told him days ago echo in his mind. If Ralph wants to be their friend, he has to believe that they want to be his friend, too. And they’ve only ever made him feel like he was part of the group, from the day they met him. Perhaps they’d be willing to remain in contact with Ralph even if you didn’t want to. But wouldn’t that split the group up? Or has Ralph been underestimating you, as a part of the friend group as well, and perhaps you would still remain friends with him after all of this. But could he face you after the things that were said?

And how would he explain himself? You’ve obviously got it in your head that Ralph only intervenes because he wants attention. Does he explain that he wants so much more than that? That he wants a whole life with you? What would be the point in disclosing that now, when obviously Ralph’s destiny would doom any sort of relationship between you. If he knew how long he had, perhaps he could simply keep those thoughts where they already remain, in his imagination. For the sake of the group, and for the sake of just getting to spend as much time around you as possible.

Is that self-destructive of Ralph? Maybe. But if he’s on borrowed time, what’s the use in wasting it? Doesn’t he deserve these fleeting moments of happiness, too? Even if he knows they’ll only end in disaster for him, it’s not as though he’s got a lot going for him, anyway

Before Ralph knows it, he’s starting to recognise certain streets. And then Anna’s stopping outside your block of flats. Ralph gets out, with gracious nods of thanks and grateful smiles to everyone in the car, and waves them off as they drive away. He looks up to the ninth floor windows, eyes squinting with the brightly lit clouds that overcast the late November sky.

Ralph takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He squares his shoulders up. His eyes still trained on the window he knows is yours, he once again inhales deeply, holds it for a second… And promptly turns on his heel and power-walks down the street.

He’s not sure where he’s going, wherever his legs take him, he supposes. He rounds a corner and is suddenly met by a very familiar face. “Ah! Mister… P-Peter, wasn’t it?” The man grunts and waves his hand from side to side. “You’re the one that brought me here, aren’t you?” The man studies Ralph’s face intently for a moment and then realisation dawns. He clicks his fingers as his eyes widen and he nods, and then before he can react, Homeless Pete grabs Ralph by the arm and leads him back to the building Ralph first emerged from almost 3 months ago.

Ralph looks through the open doors, to the carpeted floors that look unchanged from when he last walked them. The lift doors stare back at him ominously. “Are - are you bringing me here because… Is it time?” Despite the inevitability of this moment, a tidal wave of sadness crashes over Ralph. This is it. The man shrugs and nods.

Ralph looks at him with sorrowful eyes, “Do you think I have time to say my goodbyes, at least?” Another shrug and a wrinkle of the nose bridge. Ralph is perplexed. “Well, how long have I got?” A shrug, a gesture to himself, a gesture to the lift. Until Mr Peter goes in himself, Ralph deduces.

He ponders for a moment. “Do you - what would happen, would you say, if I were to… To not go back? Would it affect… You know?” Ralph gesticulates wildly around himself. With a fleeting amused smile, Homeless Pete shakes his head. He gestures to himself, then out to the left. Back to himself, and then out to the right. Another shrug.

As Ralph’s trying to figure it out, Pete then taps his arm, holds up 4 fingers and looks at Ralph expectantly. He then points to the ground, and holds up the four fingers again. “Oh! Do you mean the four that travelled to us? L-Lauren and the rest?” The name still catches in his throat. Pete nods. He looks all around, in all directions. He shrugs at Ralph. “Do you think life is no different with them staying where they are?” Pete shakes his head.

Ralph could practically feel his brain doing somersaults trying to understand it all. So, perhaps there is a chance for him to stay, after all? But how on earth would that be feasible? He can't do anything that requires legal documentation - he could never get a job, or buy a house, or see a doctor, or travel the world, or get married. What if he became horrifically unwell? Which is the worse fate, to die a slow and physically painful death amongst friends, or a slow and emotionally painful death from a broken heart, all alone?

Even that rides upon the illusion that you and your friends would remain with Ralph until the end of his days. What if you never take him back? What if you do, but the cycle repeats itself until you leave him hung out to dry? While his lady friends are all good company, none of those are exactly chomping at the bit to talk to him. He’s usually the one that starts conversations with them. How could he expect any of them to put him up forevermore? He’d have to disclose the true nature of his existence to them eventually, and what if they took it poorly?

“Could I… Have some time to mull this over, please?” Ralph eventually asks. A grunt. Four fingers up. A point to the ground. “You would like to reconvene at 4pm?” A nod. “Very well, I shall return by 4pm promptly.”

Ralph turns away and starts walking in whatever direction he’s stopped at. He keeps walking, hoping to outrun the swarm of conflicting thoughts trying to consume his head, until he hits the high street. At the end of it, another familiar building. Far older than the rest. With a big black sign hanging off of the side wall that has a big white W on it.

Ralph approaches the bookstore as though his legs are moving him there automatically, completely independently from his own volition. He stops himself as he gets close, though - letting someone pass breaks him out of his trance. Watching so many people going in and out of his front door. He recognises a dark plaque by the side of it - it’s much too far away for Ralph to read it, but he doesn’t need to. He knows what it says by heart. Penbury House, est. 1898. It was a wedding present from Ralph’s maternal grandparents so that his parents may start a family. Oh, how his mother’s family loved that she were married to Lord Penbury. She was no lowly peasant herself, of course, but a Lord, no less!

Ralph always resented inheriting that title. It made him just like his father. And it was his father’s penchant for… Whatever he was doing with that young woman, that led to his untimely demise. A real stain on the Penbury name. If not for the twins turning their reputation around to being total carefree socialites, with free rein of a mansion, complete with the family wealth, and no parental guidance, they surely would have had no leg to stand on.

Taking another deep breath, Ralph marches past the old oak doors and into what was once his hallway. Cash registers adorn the hallway, along with a Customer Service desk right up at the front. Ralph approaches it and asks meekly, “Excuse me, do you know much of the history of this building?”

“Uhh, I know some super rich family owned it until the daughter blew all their money and it was repo’ed. Someone made it into a bookstore and then, big capitalism over here,” they gesture wildly with their arms, “Waterstone’s bought it out. As far as I know, they obviously didn’t keep any of the furniture but all of the walls and floors and that are restored as best they can be.”

Of course Victoria wasted all their family’s fortune away. With the help of those four, no doubt. Ralph wonders whether that means he really is needed back in his own era. To keep her from ruining the Penbury name. With a small nod of thanks to the staff member, he slowly starts to walk around the hallowed halls.

The dining area, filled with aisles of jigsaw puzzles and card games, like the ones he was playing with your friends over the past week. What a strangely apt crossover of Ralph’s two worlds, he thinks to himself. In the next room, there are craft supplies and children’s games all around it. Children run laps around their parents. What a strange sight to behold in a kitchen, though now it looks as though there was never a stove in it. The living area is absolutely chock-full of books. Piles and piles. “Best Selling”. “New In Stock”. “Booktok Finds”, whatever that means. There’s a couple on a book cover in a display titled “Modern Romance” who look a lot like a cartoon version of Scott and his partner. If he could, Ralph would have liked to buy them it.

He thinks back to the ukulele that Connor had bought him. Although he’d had no means of paying him back, Ralph had tried to insist on paying Connor back in some way, but he’d shrugged him off, insisting that it was “fine” and “’s just what mates do, innit?” No matter how much he racks his brain, Ralph can’t remember a time when anyone ever bought him a gift. On his birthday, he’d get presents for little boys, but not necessarily for Ralph. Footballs and train sets and toy soldiers. He had far more fun on Victoria’s rocking horse, or even games as simple as a hoop and stick, though running through the house with them always ended with harsh words and a harsher reception from his father’s cane.

The door leading out to the garage has a sign on it that says [Staff Only]. Clerks would walk in empty-handed and come out again with arms full. He assumes that’s where the inventory is kept.

He notices that there are people running up and down the stairs, and asks the very helpful clerk at the front if it’s okay to go up there. They tell him it is, and explain that there is a cordoned off area for staff only, but that there are plenty more books to be found, as well as some toilets if that’s what he’s looking for. He assures them that it isn’t, but he thanks them again regardless.

Victoria’s quarters are now the staff quarters. The bathroom… Still serves some of its purposes. The master bedroom and his father’s office are all also filled with bookshelves. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, seeing all these people walk through rooms that even Ralph and Victoria were forbidden from, back in the day.

Which leaves one more room. Taking a moment to compose himself, he steps into what used to be his bedroom and is met with the most amazing smells. Sounds of china clinking against itself as cups find saucers. The gentle chatter of people sitting in what appears to be a small cafe. So many people in his space. Nothing to suggest it was ever the room he grew up in.

He’s stood by a counter, looking around while lost in thought, when the barista behind the counter gets his attention. “Everything okay, sir? Would you like anything?”

Ralph coughs out, “Oh, please, I’m no sir. Um, it’s fine, I haven’t… Brought any money with me or anything. Just here to look around.”

Nodding slowly while frowning, the barista steps away for a moment before returning and sliding a full cup of saucer his way. “Oh, no!” they say in a very deliberate tone. “I seem to have made this all wrong for one of my customers, and I would hate to waste it! Would you mind taking it off my hands, so my boss doesn’t see?”

Ralph looks perplexed. “But I just saw you - and how could you possibly go wrong with tea, you’ve not put any milk in yet or -”

They wave him off. “You look like you need it. Call it my good deed for the day. What milk should I “accidentally” put in?” They make air quotes with their fingers, which makes Ralph chuckle.

He tells them which milk he’d prefer and they add it to his liking - “accidentally,” Ralph repeats the motions back to the barista who smiles back. “Should I tell others of your good deed, or do you wish for it to remain unknown?”

They grin widely. “Maybe no photos, but you can subtweet me if you like.”

Ralph frowns. “What’s a sub-tweet?”

“You can tweet about it without mentioning any specifics about me,” they explain. “Big fan, by the way.”

Ralph looks elated, but then his face falls. “Would - Are you going to ask me for a photo?”

“Oh god, no, I don’t think either of us are prepared for that! This chat’s been more than enough for me,” they smile at him once more before serving the next customer.

Ralph takes the cup with a warmth in his heart as he finds a free table that, once he’s sat at, is in the exact same placement as though he were sat at his own bed. He rubs his thumb back and forth across the rim of the cup, replaying that little conversation over and over. Being shown such a genuine act of kindness, with the person getting absolutely no personal gain from it, and within the walls of his own home, as well - sure, the people who wanted photos was flattering enough, but for once, someone just wanted to connect with Ralph. To validate that they didn’t think him an annoyance.

That gets him thinking yet again. About all of the times in this building he’s heard, “Not now, Ralph!” “For crying out loud, boy, will you stop?!” “Ugh, what is it now, hm?!” And about how he hasn’t heard a single utterance of any of those phrases since living with you.

Maybe it was never Ralph that was annoying - you never made him feel that way, even at the beach when he was trying to help you find your rock. Every time Ralph tried to help, you were never unkind. Even when he would get too excited and hand you one that he’d already done before, you telling him, “You’ve already shown me that one!” was accompanied with laughter. What a sweet sound that was. Ralph misses it so. Even when the day’s excursion was unsuccessful because he got distracted playing with a child, you were completely unperturbed by it.

Maybe Ralph isn’t annoying. Maybe you were just the first selfless person out there who had the patience for him. Maybe…

Ralph shoves his hands into his coat pockets and feels around. He feels something large and leaves it be, and then feels something long and smooth. He takes out the photo reel of the two of you and looks at each photo. He’d have never been allowed to pose for any of the Penbury family portraits like this. Not even the soft smiles in the top one. The smile that looks so good on you. How could Ralph ever want to do anything other than make you feel like that all of the time?

As he sips his tea, his thumb absent-mindedly rubs over the bottom photo. Ralph couldn’t believe his luck, to feel your lips on his face. Of course, he had plenty more from the rest of your friends, but it wasn’t the same. How lucky Ralph was on that day. How happy the two of you were. He’d do anything to make sure you were that happy, again.

Anything.

He pockets the photos carefully, before finishing his tea in one big gulp, thanking the barista silently but profusely, and making his way out of Penbury House once more.

He wasn’t exactly expecting Homeless Pete to be waiting outside of the building the whole time, and so it’s a rather charming surprise to see him there still. Ralph stays back for a few moments, figuring out what his next words will be to Pete, since they’ll likely be the last he addresses them with. Once he’s decided, after several minutes of deliberating, he takes a deep breath and strides up to the other man.

“Mister Peter, after thinking long and hard about this, I have decided I wish to stay. I just feel as though I still have -”

Homeless Pete cuts him off with a grunt before turning around and shuffling into the building. Ralph frowns at the sight of the back of him. He was so looking forward to getting certain things off of his chest, and it was such a big decision to make, now it all feels rather anticlimactic. It’s rather underwhelming, if he’s being honest.

Turning back and walking down the high street, he sees what appears to be a costume store of sorts. There’s a suit jacket that Ralph rather likes the look of, but it’s paired with the most hideous colour combination. Looking around at the rest of the window display, he recognises the style of tasselled dress on the second mannequin with great familiarity, though something puzzles him about the display. There’s a board on it that specifically states, “Party like it’s 1922”, but these colours were not in season at all! What an amateur display of affairs. The only thing that remains true to that year are the trousers of the suit, but again, the top half is all wrong.

Ralph does spot something on the rack behind that looks like it would go well, though. And he’s strangely taking this display very personally. Once again working on autopilot, he marches into the store and promptly starts stripping down the suited mannequin. Finding a more appropriate shirt and tie to go along with the outfit he’s designing in his head, he starts muttering nonsensically to himself under his breath.

He doesn’t notice the store clerk, who’s been watching him with amazed confusion at the sheer audacity of his actions, creeping up to him until they ask, “Sir? Can I help you?”

“Oh, heavens!” Ralph yelps before letting a laugh bubble out from his lips. “Made me jump. No, thank you, I’m perfectly fine as I am!”

“…Right.” They slowly back away into a back room, out of Ralph’s perception. Not that he was watching, anyway, he’s on the lookout for a dress that complements his new suit layout far better.

Just as he’s pulling the dress over the mannequin’s head - blindly, as he has his head turned away from it and his eyes squeezed shut, for good measure - an older woman with a kindly face approaches him. “Hello there, love. Did my employee’s window display offend you, by any chance?” she asks in a Cockney accent.

“Oh!” Another yelp causes him to jump up on the spot. “You’re a sneaky pair, aren’t you! Yes, I’m terribly sorry, it’s awfully rude of me, but you see… The colour palette was all too wrong for the year 1922 anyway, and even then, nothing really complemented each other. I just thought this looked more cohesive, and… Honestly, I’ve no idea what came over me, the more I stand here the more of an utter fool I feel for being so inappropriate, I truly hope you can forgive me but I understand if you can’t, I shall leave immediately,” he hangs his head as he rambles, but the woman pats his arm.

“Chatty li’ul thing, int’cha?” She grins. “Name’s Florence, but don’t call me that, everyone calls me Babs. Always have since I were a kid.” She provides no further context, which Ralph tries not to dwell on as she continues, “Look, ’ere’s the fing, I ain’t the spring chicken I used to be, and I’ve been lookin’ for a fresh pair o’ hands. You seem to have an eye for this sorta fing. Fancy a job ’ere?”

Ralph’s eyes widen. “Oh, I, um, I can’t - I’m not… resgistered with any… Banks, you see,” he scrambles to think of a decent excuse, his eyes squeezing shut and his fingers curling in and stretching out.

Babs, however, screeches out a cackle. “Oh, ain’t you a - ’ere, in’t he a crack-up?” She asks the person behind the counter, who nods without looking up, with the air of someone very used to Babs’ personality. “You and me, darlin’, we’re one and the same. I don’t trust them toffs at the bank, neither! They want my money, they can prise it out me cold, dead hands! That’s why I pay cash in hand, sweed’art, all I ask is you show up a few days a week and I’ll pay ya for ’em. How’s that sound?”

A job with no ties to needing any sort of administration? Sounds too good to be true. But Ralph doesn’t care in this moment. “Oh, Ms. Babs, this really does solve such a gaping issue for me, you have no idea how indebted I am, thank you so very much,” he gushes as he shakes her hand enthusiastically.

She laughs, “Calm it, Kermit, I’ve already ’ad an ’ip replaced, I’d like to keep both me ’ands if I can ’elp it!” Ralph lets go as though she’s electrocuted him, which only makes her laugh more. “Go on, away wiv ya. See ya Monday, 9 sharp! We’ll talk shop more then. And you can drop that Ms malarkey, an’ all!”

Ralph smiles and bows at her, then at the other clerk, then at Babs again, who waves him away with a warm smile. Turning on his heel, Ralph’s filled with a confidence he’s never felt before as he strides back down the high street. Perhaps he could do it all. Perhaps he could even tell you how he truly feels about you.

Or, once the tower block comes into view, he could freeze up entirely at the thought. How presumptuous of him, to assume you’d reciprocate. Ralph would be lucky if you were to talk to him again after last night’s display. And what would he even say to you? Is it worth all of the mental energy to plan a whole monologue in advance, or would you simply repeat the other man’s actions, and slam the door in his face before he got the chance to say his piece?

Taking a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists up, he finally marches his way into the building, pressing the call button for the lift with such force that the arrow imprints in the pad of his thumb. As he’s waiting for it to come down, a familiar sound from behind him surprises him, as he turns to face whoever caused it.

~~~

Once you’re in your flat, wrestling both your bag and the suitcase into the lift with you and practically juggling them as you try to unlock your door, you take Ralph’s stuff and quickly throw it all into the bedroom, shutting the door and metaphorically shutting everything to do with Ralph in there. Except this had been his home for the last 3 months, so everything everywhere reminds you of him. Shaking your head, you go to your bag, throw everything that isn’t clothing out of it and take it out to the launderette with you. Keep out of the house, keep busy. Just until your mind stops swimming.

You watch your clothes spin around in the soapy water and wish you could do the same to your brain. What do you do with Ralph? Do you forgive him? Do you not? Do you seek his forgiveness? What if he doesn’t forgive you?

You’re still very sure that your anger was valid. But perhaps not all of it was justified. You’ve been putting an awful lot of emotional weight on the idea of Ralph. Imagining him as the perfect boyfriend, and then trying to see the worst in him to combat those feelings. That doesn’t sound like someone with a winning argument in the real world.

Something about not having the security of having Ralph safe at home has you feeling a sense of numbness. Time passes without you even noticing. You’re not doing anything to help it along. Just sitting, staring, pondering.

Once you’re back home, you check the time and frown. Based on the time Anna said she was leaving, she should have been back well before now. You text:

Panicking, you then text the group:

Pacing the flat, your mind races more than ever. What if he’s hurt? Or worse? Or what if H.P’s found him because the time machine’s finally working now? What if he’s just walking the streets because he doesn’t want to return home? What if he really is living with the vagrants? What if he’s just doing all of this to make you panic over him? Truly, anything’s possible. Truly. He’s even in your head, now.

You look out through your window, uselessly from this high up. You know your friends said that you should stay at the flat, and it makes sense, in case he does come back. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s lost? What if you need to be out there?

No. You’re useless to him and to your friends if your mind’s frazzled. You try asking your Echo if it can play you some music before remembering that a certain someone rendered it useless to you. You try and flick through your TV options but none of them are a worthy distraction.

After some frantic cleaning, you swear you’re starting to hear voices. Who else would be talking out in the hallway? Could it be? But who would he be talking to?

You press your ear to the door and pure relief washes over you as you hear the sweet, familiar tone of a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Running to grab your phone, you hurriedly text them to call off the search before swinging the door open.

“- dunno how the fuck she even got out, let alone all the way down there."

"Must have been the stairs, though it would be rather humorous if she learned how to operate the lift all by herself, wouldn't it?" Ralph chortles. Fuck, you've missed the sound of his laugh, and it's only been a day.

"Alright, look who's here!" Your neighbour cheers as they see you. They're standing in their open doorway, while Ralph is in the hall cradling Cheese the cat. Quickly, while his eyes haven't met yours yet, you snap a picture of Ralph holding his feline friend to send as a quick update to the group.

When Ralph looks around to see you, his eyes immediately fill with delight, then remorse, then excitement, then dejection, finally settling on looking at you with intent to gauge your reaction. Your neighbour, oblivious, continues, "Literally, mate, I owe you so much for finding her. Name your price."

"Oh, nonsense, just knowing she's safe and home is reward enough for me," Ralph scratches her just beneath her jaw as he rocks her like a baby, to which she purrs loud enough for even you to hear. The same cat who you'd had to being out of hiding before by standing in the doorway and throwing ham into your neighbour's flat until she came out to eat it.

"Well, if you think of anything, you let me know. I just hope nobody told the big man that they saw a cat walking around when we're not meant to have them," your neighbour grimaces.

"Ahh, if I catch wind of any grasses, I'll sort them out," you smirk before turning to Ralph again. "Ready to go?"

Ralph's big doe eyes bore into yours as he nods, gently putting the cat down and then quickly making his way back into your flat.

"He's a good'un really, isn't he?" Your neighbour simpers.

Watching him go, your wistful smile remains even as you look back at your neighbour. "Yeah. Remember what I told you when you first met him? Harmless."

"Yeah, yeah. You would think that," they smile knowingly. Narrowing your eyes, confused, you simply wave them off and go back through your door

Ralph seems to have shut himself in your room. You feel as though he's probably got a reason why he wants to avoid you, and there's many a thing you don't want to hear from him, either. But you've felt a fraction of what it would be like to lose him and that alone was torturous. Every time you felt bad all day, you only wanted to talk to Ralph. Now that you finally have the opportunity to, you're not going to waste it. Just remember to rein it in.

You knock on the door. You step back. He opens it. You exchange similar looks of curiosity, but something about him being here and in front of you overpowers you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to hug him tightly. His arms snake around your sides, and you feel his hands splay out against your back and press into it. It’s a hug that says it all. It apologises and it forgives, a crossover of exchanges between you. He smells like coffee shops and second-hand smoke, but the familiar scent of Ralph still remains as you bury your face into him.

When he pulls away from you, it’s to hold you at arm’s length with a gleeful glint in his eye. “I’ve got some news for you.”

Your heart sinks. Surely, anything that’s good for him that’s happened over the course of today can’t be good for you. But you wouldn’t be a good friend if you weren’t supportive. So you put on a smile and ask, “Oh, yeah?”

“I’ve got a job!” he singsongs, skipping on the spot. You look at him incredulously, and he explains. “It’s a bespoke costume store, run by this… Rather eccentric character, and it pays cash in hand! So I can earn some money and pay you back!”

You rub your face. “Look, Ralph, when I said those things -”

“That was a justified cause for concern, and I wish to rectify it. I, myself, said things that I did mean and things that I didn’t. But I don’t think it’ll do us good to talk about that too much.”

“I don’t either,” you smile back. “I’m glad you’ve found something to keep you occupied. Though, what about when… You know… Lift’s back in service?”

Ralph pauses. Does he tell you that he's willing to take the risk and stay as long as he can? Would you trust Homeless Pete as a reliable source or would you assume Ralph was stupid for doing so? He feels far too fragile to have another argument. And so he simply shrugs, "Then I shall have to do some awful things very quickly to ensure I'd never be welcomed!"

You laugh loudly, "Ralph!" and he grins back at you.

"Oh, and before I take this coat off…" he starts, shoving his fists into his pockets.

"Ah, yeah, we can put that reel on the fridge!” You grin, but Ralph shakes his head.

“Well, yes, but also… Um, well, I had noticed that due to my incessant bothering, you’d, um, forgotten to actually pick out a stone from the beach,” Ralph starts.

You interrupt him with a groan, slapping your forehead with the heel of your hand. “Oh my god, I forgot my cool rock this year!”

“W-well, I went back earlier this morning - goodness, was it only this morning?” Ralph asks under his breath. “Anyway, um, I know this is… Probably… A very easy shape to mistake a rock to be, but I didn’t remember seeing it on the shelf and so…” You look down, and in the palm of Ralph’s hand sits a stone that’s in a near-perfect heart shape.

“Oh, Ralphie,” you gush, pressing your hand to your chest. Even after everything last night, he still went out of his way to find that for you. If he hadn’t clarified that it was merely an easy shape to find, you’d have questioned the nature of it specifically, but he had, so there’s no need to look deeper into it. You have your answer.

“Well, I just thought even though it might not have been worthy enough for you to have picked, you still get to keep your tradition this year,” he explains hurriedly. “I know it’s just a circle with a dent in it, but -”

“But it came from you, and it’s unique to the shelf, so it’s absolutely living there,” you insist, pushing his fingers to curl up around the smooth stone and holding his hand there for a few beats. Not wanting to linger too long, you snap back and clear your throat. “Why not put it on there, I’ll order us a takeaway, and we’ll find something trashy to put on, yeah?” Ralph nods meekly and you practically float over to the sofa, you’re that happy to just have your Ralph back, for however long that may be.

“Oh, hey, good news and bad-ish news on your front,” you shout to him in the other room. “Good news is, everyone seems to be over making their icons the photo of you flapping about microwaving the egg!”

He frowns as he pops back into view. “And the bad?”

You show him the sea of icons, all Ralph, all wearing a polo shirt, all stood behind the painting that hangs on the back wall, all with a rose in his mouth. “I think they’ve found your Tinder.”

Ralph groans as he approaches the sofa to sit down next to you, and you rest your head on his shoulder comfortingly. You don't feel the need to move it as you pick out a movie you think Ralph will like. "Here, this one's good," you point out. "It's another musical, you like those."

"I do!" Ralph lilts excitedly. "What's it all about?"

"Okay, so in the seventies, there was this insanely popular group of singers called ABBA..."

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 9.3k

A/N: This thing's getting out of control at this rate! Not only do the chapters keep getting longer, I keep making more and more complicated assets to tell the story, too. I hope you like it!

Also, to all my patient angst queens (gn) out there - not sure how long it's gonna take me to write bc I'm sure it's going to RUIN ME but. Next chapter. Look out for it. :)

Also x2, big love to @steddiesandwich @joemazzmatazz and @heroeddiemunson especially for all the love and contributions they've given to this series. There's some special cameos from them especially somewhere in this chapter!

Another week goes by, another chance to check Ralph's social media numbers. Ever since he remained a trending topic on Twitter following his face reveal - along with the phrase “oh no he’s hot”, which your friends found hilarious but you found yourself feeling… Uncomfortable over. Every now and then you look up his name on social media sites, grateful that the name relatively died out to the point where he’s one of the most popular Ralphs these days, though it leaves you with a strange feeling in your stomach every time.

There’s just something about the way people tend to objectify him - he’s your friend, and you know he’s so much more than the curls in his hair and the chain on his neck and his chocolate button eyes - a phrase becoming very common amongst his admirers. Arguably the worst part about that is that, either just because you’ve been seeing talk of nothing but those details, or maybe they’re all things you’d already appreciated about Ralph, but you find yourself more and more aware of them with every day that you live with him. And with still no word from Homeless Pete about whether the time machine is awake again.

You even start to visit the building that Ralph had pointed out on that day 6 weeks ago for yourself, just to see if it really is taking that long to reboot, but it seems to be an ordinary lift every time you go to look at it. You’d be lying if you said you were anything other than relieved whenever the lift would work completely normally, even when you tried to replicate how Ralph had described Pete getting the two of them over here.

If you were a stranger, looking in on Ralph every now and then, you’d have no reason to believe he wasn’t just your flatmate. He’s been getting more confident about his own role in the modern world, even going so far as to hold brunches for his girl gang, which you’d appreciate a lot more if he ever told you in advance when they’d happen. Though you can usually predict at this point that, if you’re having a rough day at work, you can guarantee you’ll be returning to a flat full of people that you can’t decompress around.

Not that you didn’t like Ralph’s friends, of course you did - but you’ve been letting Ralph have this group to himself, so as not to make him fully co-dependent on you. You hope that, if anything, him having the confidence to keep up so many friends himself will translate once he’s back home and he can hopefully confront his sister. You know it’s a sore subject, and so you’ll never ask - and it’s not got anything to do with you, anyway - but you wonder whether he’ll seek Lauren out there as well. Whether the New Ralph will try to win her back, or realise that he deserves more than someone who even you know wouldn’t be compatible with him. But again, that’s none of your business.

Today’s another day off, and you and Ralph are sat in your living space. With Ralph growing tentatively more aware of what social media is actually for, he’s accumulated many questions about it that you’d told him you’d have to dedicate a whole day to answering, and that day has finally arrived.

“Okay, first things first,” Ralph starts, crossing his legs on the sofa cushion beneath him and opening a book he had bought a couple of weeks back. “Who is mister Stanley Loona and why do people insist on telling me his name all the time?”

You promised yourself you wouldn’t laugh in his face, that just because internet lingo is second nature to you doesn’t mean that Ralph is silly for not understanding. But Mr Stanley Loona immediately cracked you. Once you calm down, you apologise profusely. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t want to do that! But, stan in this sense isn’t a name, it’s a verb. To stan something is to be a really, really big fan of it. Loona spelled the way you see it, that’s a Korean pop group.”

“That explains all the dancing ladies that accompany that name, then,” Ralph mutters under his breath as he scrawls on his notepad some more. You bite your knuckle so as not to laugh again. “So, if I were to express my gratitude to you, would I say that I stan you?”

You feel your face get warm. “Well - not exactly, stanning is more of a parasocial thing, between fan and celebrity, or character, or franchise. For example, you might call yourself an Audrey 2 stan,” you smirk as you jerk your head over to the TV screen, where Ralph has requested Little Shop of Horrors for the fifth time since he’s been here.

He looks at the TV in awe for a moment, “That puppeteering work is just spectacular, isn’t it?!” You’d felt your emotions rise and then drop fleetingly. He’d once referred to something as being “wizard”, and you’d been dying to hear it again, but clearly it must have been a phrase reserved for the most truly special of things. He clears his throat as he reads down his list. “Anyway, next question. Why does everyone feel the need to tell me about their lack of headgear when I ask for clarification on something?”

You rack your brain for a moment before it clicks, “Do you mean that they say the words “no cap”?” Ralph nods. “That’s just another way of saying “no lie”, it means they want you to know they’re telling the truth. Remember, we talked about fact checking the things you read for the first time before you believe them?”

Ralph frowns, “Listen here, it would not be entirely uncommon for a Penbury to be loosely related to royalty, we’ve always had ties with high society for generations -”

“Something tells me that maybe you’re probably not closely related enough to a Nigerian prince that they’d be genuinely emailing you to offer you a share in their fortune,” you reach out to pat his knee before smirking. “And the less said about your potential investment in enhancement pills, the better.”

“Moving on,” Ralph quickly continues with deliberation, his ears growing pink again. “So, when you posted that photo of me, the one where I had been wearing a red scarf. It seemed to make a lot of people sad,” he frowns. “And they kept telling me I was in an era that I didn’t recognise, the one of Jake Geel- Guy- G-” He sighs in frustration as he flips his book around to show you the name he’s copied down perfectly, but you’ve already figured it out, and texted both Anna and Grace to let them know that the time has come to show Ralph the full video of All Too Well.

Neither of them respond to your text, but they’re both at the flat within ten minutes, thankfully interrupting the second after Ralph deadpan asks you for the definition of the word “bussy”.

The girls are a little taken aback at the sight of Ralph, which worries him, but they answer his concerned expression with, “Oh, sorry, there’s nothing wrong! Just so used to seeing you always looking smartly dressed. Strange seeing you in pyjamas.”

Ralph frowns, “Well, yes, you must always look smart, even in your resting hours, that’s why I got these matching pyjama sets! They don’t quite seem to be what they used to be, but I’ve been getting rather used to sleeping in shirts without buttons!”

“I’m not sure how Pokémon PJs could be considered “smart”, but you do you, bud,” Anna ruffles his hair, which he sits upright to lean into happily. Between that and his co-opting of Grace’s love of pet names, he’s become very comfortable amongst your friends’ presence. Even if you do have to find ways to make sure they don’t see you react every time Ralph calls anyone “darling”.

“Poke them on? What am I supposed to poke?” Ralph asks, pressing the graphic of the yellow creature on his shirt.

Anna smiles, “No, Ralph, those are Pokémon. That’s Pikachu.”

“God bless you,” Ralph looks Anna in the eye immediately, straight faced as anything, before looking around for a box of tissues.

“Oh my god,” you groan under your breath, hanging your head as your friends laugh. “You know, the Pokémon ones aren’t even his worst set.”

“I got some that have a man named Rick on them who became a pickle, no less!” Ralph explains excitedly, his nose wrinkling as his head bobs back and forth. “The shop assistant assured me that it was quite hilarious when it happened.”

“This isn’t even the worst thing he’s said this morning,” you look at the girls in despair. “I’ll never let Connor take him shopping alone again.” They promise not to, either, and you gesture for them to join you around the TV. Before you can reposition yourself to allow for them to sit between you and Ralph, Anna has sat herself on the other side of Ralph to you, and Grace is on the floor.

Ralph’s brow furrows. “Grace, please, allow me to sit in your place and you up here, the floor is no place for a lady to be sitting -”

Grace interrupts, in her classic way, “Women can do anything, Ralph!”

He frowns, “I hardly think that sitting on the floor is something that anyone should aspire to, regardless of gender, but I suppose if you must.” Grace and Anna exchange similar expressions that you can’t quite get a read on as you set up the video to play.

Ralph’s first thought as it starts is, “Well, that actress certainly looks far too young to be playing the part of this man’s partner believably!”

“Keep watching,” Anna hushes, though it’s only Ralph that’s looking at the screen; the three of you anxiously await his reactions to the whole video. He pulls faces of disgust at every loved-up scene, and positively scowls when Dylan O’Brien drops Sadie Sink’s hand.

“Now, why would she possibly return to him after that godawful apology?!” he exclaims. “He was clearly just telling her what she wanted to hear, there was no weight behind that at all!”

“We were all young and stupid once, Ralphie babes,” Grace shakes her head.

“But surely these men would want something far more enriching with someone their own -” Ralph falters as he remembers how he and his twin had found their father on the day he had passed away. He had always found it strange that they’d found him lying naked on top of a far younger woman, and his mother’s rushed explanation of them both performing a specific style of Chinese acrobatics never quite seemed to ring true. He shrinks down in the seat as he watches, quietly seething.

He does seem to perk up ever so slightly when he sees the protagonist celebrating her birthday surrounded by her own friends. “I’m glad she saw what an awful man he was and left him,” he muses.

“Oh no, he broke up with her,” you explain, and Ralph’s expression once again shifts to that of total horror.

“What?!” he exclaims. “And she was just turning 21?! What an awful, awful man.”

“Yeah, when it actually happened to the real couple, his PR team came out and said it was all because the two of them were in the limelight so much.”

“Ridiculous,” Ralph spits, scowling as he folds his arms.

“Yeah, so that’s why now she’s getting her side of the story out there.”

“Good for her! As she should,” Ralph nods, earning himself another head pat from Anna. He gasps loudly, “Wait!” and rushes to the bedroom, soon emerging with the red scarf that prompted this whole situation, though he holds it as though it’s diseased. “Do you think she would like this one? Could we send it to her as a present?”

A chorus of aww s comes from your friends as you shake your head, “It’s fine, mate, and you don’t even have to throw it away, really.”

He looks at it, and then pulls a face. “No, I can’t. Red has never especially been my colour, anyway.”

The girls continue teaching Ralph about Taylor Swift’s relationship history as you inform the boys enquiring in the group chat as to where everyone is. They’re talking about how she’s always written her own songs when Anna asks, “Do you play any instruments, Ralph?”

His eyes light up, “Oh, yes! I must say, leaving home… The way that I did, I do miss my ukulele.” Your eyes dart quickly to see if the girls react to Ralph talking about leaving home, but thankfully that’s not the part that they focus on.

They excitedly ask him about his craft as you text the one friend you know can help you give Ralph a little bit of his old life back:

You also tell Scott that Connor is coming over, and he lets you know that he may as well complete the group.

Connor does, however, groan when he and Scott walk through the door, “We did not come all this way to listen to Taylor Swift the whole time.”

Ralph frowns at his new favourite artist being disrespected, but you pat his shoulder comfortingly. “Why don’t you play us a song?” Everyone else nods excitedly as Connor hands him the instrument, but Ralph looks unsure as he starts strumming.

“Well, I don’t really know any actual songs, I just know the chords and then I write my own,” Ralph admits, his ears getting pink.

Scott looks at him and gasps excitedly. “I beg, play one of your songs for us!”

“Oh, codswallop, you don’t want to hear any of that!” You could fry something on the poor man’s ears, they were that red.

Instead, in a bid to satiate everyone, you tell your Echo to play Queen, but it doesn’t recognise your voice, as you’d forgotten until this moment. Sighing in half-hearted frustration, you ask Ralph, “Can you ask it to just play Queen , please?”

Ralph shuffles in his seat, shimmies his shoulders and grins proudly as he looks around all of your friends. “I’m the machine’s best friend, you know, it only wants to listen to me!”

“He set it up to be locked on his voice?” Connor asks, amused.

“And figured out he could use it to buy things,” you smile sarcastically, flicking your eyes over to a new pair of shoes sitting just by the door.

“So it’s not you that’s suddenly into tap dancing, then? Shame,” Scott teases as you flip him off.

“He did also order me those as an apology,” you gesture at the arrangement of a variety of flowers that sits on your coffee table. “Though off my account, so really it was a gift to and from myself.”

“Do you all mind, please?” Ralph asks shortly, and you all fall silent. “Thank you.” He clears his throat. “Alexa, darling, be a gem and play some Queen music for my friends, won’t you, please?”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He frowns, “My speech was quite clear, was it not?!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose, to everyone else’s quiet titters. “Three words, mate. That’s all you need to say.”

Ralph’s eyes widen with fear as he shakes his head. “That thing already knows how to do too much, once it gains full sentience, I want it to see me as an ally!”

“Then just add a single please at the end,” you explain, resigned, which he does to his own chagrin.

While Ralph doesn’t know any of the songs, obviously, he does seem to be enjoying listening out for how chord progressions go and trying to play along with them. He seems at peace with the instrument. It’s very sweet to watch.

Connor pulls you out of your trance by loudly exclaiming from behind you, “Speaking of good old fashioned lover boys!” You cringe at your friend’s segue, terrified at what that could insinuate. “Hey Ralphie, have you managed to pull yet?"

He looks at you, confused, and mouths, Pull?

You roll your eyes and shake your head before addressing your friend again. "Ralph's had enough to learn just being here, and besides, I am not laying out here while he goes at it with some stranger in my bed, thank you!" You can't even think about Ralph kissing anyone else, let alone… No. Absolutely not.

When you look back over at Ralph, his ears resemble a pair of Polish flags. “Gadzooks, certainly not! I couldn’t - I would never - not even - that would take months of courting!”

Your warning stares at your friends to not laugh at the word gadzooks doesn’t last through the mention of courting. “It’s… A bit different around here these days, Ralph. You know those things on your phone, the apps?” He nods. “And how there’s apps for everything?” Another nod. “Well, there are apps that help you connect with potential… Suitors,” even you have to bite your lip as you try to translate the likes of Tinder into Ralphspeak. “You make a profile with photos and a description of yourself, and you look at other peoples profiles to see if you like them. If you both like each other, you can talk to each other and arrange to see each other from there.”

Ralph looks entirely perplexed, but he still hands his phone over to an excited Scott. “Right, do we use a photo from his Insta that’s already doing numbers? That way we know what’s gonna be the best received.”

Grace shakes her head, “Nah, anyone who recognises him will just think it’s a catfish.”

Ralph leans close to you to ask quietly, “Why would they -”

“They’re not gonna think you’re a fish, Ralph,” you groan back in the same volume. “A catfish is someone who pretends to be someone else on the internet. So, what photo do we use?” You hope they don’t ask to look through your camera roll. You’re forever taking candids as potential shots for Ralph’s social media, but the ratio of photos you take versus ones you feel are good enough to post may give your friends ideas about just why you take so many photos of him. And you don’t need that to add even more complications to what is already the most bizarre two months of your life.

“Definitely a brand new one, right off the bat,” Grace nods.

“Could we not use one that already exists that nobody’s seen? Anyone got any of those?” Connor asks. You quickly shake your head, keeping your phone out of sight. He frowns, “All I’ve got is group photos.”

“Oh, never have a group photo as your first one,” Anna shakes her head. “Why don’t we just let Ralph choose how to have his first photo, without our judgement? It’s his profile, after all.”

Despite their complaints, the others agree to let Ralph decide what photo he should take, though you do suggest that perhaps he change out of his Pokémon pyjamas first. Your friends are quick to hurry him, reminding him that he only really needs to change his top half.

The sight that befalls you within the next twenty minutes is arguably one of your most favourite Ralph moments. There he stands, against the back wall in your flat, wearing a smart polo shirt with bottoms that are adorned with Bulbasaurs, Squirtles and Charmanders; and after having plucked out a rose from the arrangement of flowers that he’d ordered for you and inspecting it for a while, Ralph had decided that the most charming way to pose with it would be to put it between his lips. You and your friends all look to each other to silently react without Ralph catching on, and everyone seems to silently agree that the best way to do so is to stare at Anna in a way that lets her know she’s entirely responsible for this, which she takes from everyone quite happily. It puts you at ease that all your friends are just accepting him as merely being a bit quirky, rather than anything suspicious.

Scott takes the official photos, and you’re happily documenting the behind the scenes for it all to look back on someday. Or later that night. Who’s to say? After Scott deems that the perfect shot has been taken, you all crowd around to decide what else to include. Connor comes up with the idea of creating a slideshow presentation in which you all contribute to help “sell” Ralph. He agrees to it quite happily, putting faith in everyone else’s knowledge of the modern dating world over his own lack thereof.

After much deliberation, and some creative brainstorming amongst the five of you, you create the perfect Tinder profile for him:

Once it’s all uploaded, Connor and Anna teach Ralph how to use the app, showing him how to read bios, look through others’ photos and ultimately swipe either way on them. Ralph still finds it all unusual to judge people so superficially, but Grace assures him from a distance that it’ll come with time.

While the idea of Ralph having a Tinder account did seem funny to you at the time, something doesn’t sit right in the bottom of your stomach. The idea of Ralph dating? Hilarious. The reality of it? Of him finding someone he’s attracted to, of him falling in love with someone els- someone, of him leaving you and the flat to start a life with them? How would you explain Ralph’s situation to them? What if they wanted to get married, have a family? The thought of Ralph becoming someone else’s husband just doesn’t compute. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, maybe once everyone’s gone home you can scare him away from it. But then, who are you to deny Ralph a little fun while he’s here? Surely, dating around might be a good experience for him, especially around the new friends he’s made. It’d be a good confidence booster for when he returns to his own time. It might even teach him not to fall as fast and hard for people as he did for Lauren. Or to be the kind of person that wins her back. Whatever he wants. The pros of him dating massively outweigh the cons, but there’s still something in your heart of hearts warning you against it.

At the end of the day, you tell yourself, Ralph is a grown man. Only he can decide if he is ready to date someone. It’s your job, as his friend, to support him even with all his… Extra stuff.

The gang suggests going out for a late lunch, but as you prove by gesturing to your own questionably mismatched outfit, you’d originally hoped you could take today as a laundry day. It's too late to start now, though; with the sheer amount you've got to get through, it's a full-day devotion, and now that you're all ramped up from the day's events, there's no possible way you could focus on something as mundane as washing your clothes. Instead, you all order in and pass time with some games while Ralph happily strums away in the background.

You occasionally pick up on him singing lyrics such as, “It’s easy to see yourself / through a negative lens / but it’s certainly harder / when surrounded by friends” and feel yourself welling up. As if the fact that he had changed into your favourite sweater of his, the blue mohair one that Connor had written that extra-cheesy joke about in Ralph’s profile, wasn’t enough to make your heart soar. He looks the very epitome of comfort right now.

Then Ralph gets a notification. He’s got a match! He’s thrilled, bragging about how the app found his ideal match immediately, when Connor had been talking about being on it for several years by now. The rest of the group explain that Tinder is not a matchmaking service in the sense that he thinks, and that it simply means someone he’s swiped right on has done the same to him. Connor and Scott help him communicate in a succinct, non-Ralph way that allows him to quickly arrange a date for tomorrow. That knot in the depths of your stomach wrenches tighter, but you ignore it, for the sake of Ralph’s excitement.

Connor encourages him to keep swiping still, in case he gets any more matches, and that way he can arrange even more dates! It takes Ralph a while to accustom to the modern world of dating, rather than just seeking out one person and “courting” them, as he would say, but he gets excited at the prospect of going out on dates. He doesn’t mention anything about any more matches, but he does lock himself in the bathroom for some time. You know that usually means he’s talking to his girl gang about important things; ever since that first night out, Ralph’s convinced himself that the only place to have a deep conversation with his new friends is anywhere that there’s a toilet, and quite frankly, the notion is too hilarious for you to correct him. Plus it gives him a little privacy, and you definitely don’t want him to keep relying on you for the entire duration of his stay in this era.

That night, as you lay out on your sofa, wondering if your back will ever get used to a mattress again, you notice one particular notification buried amongst the others:

Tinder Someone has Super Liked you! Find out who.

You admittedly hadn’t been swiping for a hot minute, yourself - you’ve been somewhat preoccupied with a whole new flatmate to worry about - but since it was the topic of the day, you figure you’ll bite. A few ordinary profiles show up, but none of them take your fancy. Even the cute ones, their bios are just so… Dry . And then you see it. The profile that Super Liked you, the blue border perfectly coordinating with the artwork that hangs on the wall behind you.

~~~

The following morning, Ralph awakens earlier than usual. He’s excited about his date tonight, and still conflicted about something else that had happened last night. He looks through the group chat app again to remind himself of his friends’ advice:

If you don’t say anything about it, neither will Ralph, but if you do, then it’s time to sit down and discuss these feelings like the adults you both are. That’s what he tells himself.

Ralph takes a deep breath before opening the door from the bedroom into the main part of the flat. You’re in the kitchen area, finishing off your breakfast with a duffel bag full of clothes resting on the counter. It appears that almost all of your clothes must be in there, since you’ve resorted to wearing one of Ralph’s most favourite T-shirts that he’d picked out himself. The way that it fits your form so differently to Ralph captivates him into silence, and the fact that it almost covers your pyjama shorts entirely feels so scandalous to him. He has to stop looking, or else his mind will wander to uncouth places, but he just can’t .

Not until you catch his eyesight and groan as you roll your own eyes at him. “Morning, Ralph! Don’t worry, I’ll make myself “decent” now that you’re out, I think I’ve got some yoga pants shoved in the back of the wardrobe from that one New Year when I was convinced I would join the gym,” your voice disappears as you walk past him and shut the door behind you.

Ralph makes himself some cereal, once again telling himself that he has to stop living in this secret. Especially if he’s to pursue other people.

You re-emerge from the bedroom, now wearing bottoms that cover your entire legs, but they may as well not at all be, with how little they leave to the imagination. You ask, “Oh yeah, by the way, did you… Happen to find my profile on Tinder last night? Because I think you must have swiped up instead of left, and Super Liked me by accident.”

“Accident!” Ralph exclaims hurriedly, squeezing his eyes shut and open again, and clenching and releasing his fist repeatedly, desperate to change his focus onto anything else. “Yes, that's entirely what that was, I’m so glad we cleared that up! Aha! I suppose I should get ready for my date now!”

You frown, “That’s not for hours yet, and Scott said he’d take you to get ready while I - don't forget your cereal!” You call out after him as he rushes back into the bathroom but the door closes behind him before you can finish your sentence. You write on the whiteboard that you keep on your fridge that you’re going to be at the laundromat for most of the day doing your laundry, but that Scott is arriving at 12 o’clock to take him out clothes shopping and to help him get ready, as you’ll be busy. You leave him your bank card to take with him on his big date, and wish him well before heading out of the door.

Ralph rests his phone against the bathroom wall, goes onto the only group he trusts himself to keep on WhatsApp and hits the video call button before immediately pacing the room. One by one, his friends pick up, all asking various questions.

“What happened?”

“Did you talk about it?”

“Are you okay?”

“Did you have an argument?”

Ralph blinks harshly again, his arms gesticulating with a deliberate wildness to them. “You all remember that the plan was, say nothing unless I’m spoken to, and then tell the truth, no matter what?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I may have been… Distracted. And I may have shouted that it was an accident and ran into here.”

“Oh, babe, you didn’t.”

“Ralph!”

“We had a plan, hun! We mapped it all out!”

“I know, I know!” Ralph holds his hands on top of his head. “I was so ready, I was telling myself the plan over and over, and then… Well, it’s so-called laundry day, and I’ve had more time to get mine done and so my clothes were the only clean ones and -”

“Oof, god, yeah. Once you see your crush wearing your clothes, it is game over.”

“Oh, Ralphie, what are we gonna do with you?”

“Well, the damage has been done, now. It’s probably best to just… I guess, either try and get over how you’re feeling, or wait until another opportunity arises. If it does.”

“Yeah, honestly, babes, I’d say cut your losses for the day and focus on your big date tonight, that’s so exciting for you!”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna tell us everything, aren’t you?”

Ralph sighs, rubs his eyes and puts on a small smile. “Yes, of course I will. Thank you all for being my voices of reason, I do appreciate you.”

“Anytime, my lovely. Now, tell us all about this date. Where is it you’re going?”

“Well, Scott knows the location, but apparently it’s some kind of cocktail bar that plays swing and jazz and all the music that I like! I do hope there’ll be dancing,” he places his elbow on the sink to rest his head wistfully onto his fist, to an adoring chorus from the girls. They all sign off, wishing Ralph the best, and he hangs up, too. Right, Penbury, he tells himself, there’s nothing more you can do. You’ve messed up one more avenue of your love life, let’s not let it ruin another.

Instead, he focuses on his date tonight. He knows the exact look he wants to go for. And so, despite the comments he gets on how nice he looks, he just can’t justify having facial hair with such a smart outfit in mind.

Scott almost doesn’t recognise him, and calls Ralph “baby face” all day. It’s not his favourite nickname, but he’s been called worse. Scott helps him to pick out a nice suit with a bow tie - Scott had had the audacity to suggest Ralph wear a neck tie, for crying out loud - that Ralph liked because it reminded him of a suit he had back at home. Light tan in colour, with pinstripes down it. Just like his everyday going out suit. Scott had turned his nose up at it, but had admitted that “vintage” isn’t his style, anyway. Ralph had wanted to get a straw boater to really complete the look, but Scott wouldn't let him wear it past taking a photo.

Ralph gets ready at Scott’s apartment, a little more upscale than the flat, but he shares it with his partner. Ralph had only met him a few times, but he was always absolutely besotted with everything Ralph had to say, and Ralph couldn’t deny that he loved the attention. It was always Victoria that everyone wanted. But not here. People know the name Ralph here. Not The Penbury Boy, not Victoria’s Brother, or That Other One. Not Creepy Stalker. Just Ralph.

Scott and his partner help preen Ralph for his big night out at Ralph’s request, but they both audibly groan when he teaches them the hairstyle his old staff would give him - though of course, he omitted the involvement of any “staff” from his explanation.

“First the beard, and now you want me to gel down the curls? You’re killing me here, Ralphie. Literally taking years off my life,” Scott frowns as he pats down Ralph’s hair.

“I shall remember you fondly,” Ralph jokes, making Scott’s partner laugh.

“Rude!” Scott scoffs jokingly. “You’ve spent too much time with that flatmate of yours.”

Ralph’s heart still sinks thinking about his blunder this morning. Instead, he goes back to teasing Scott by composing an obituary as he styles his hair for him.

After a few final looks in the mirror, Ralph feels as though he’s gone back in time, as though the last 6 weeks had never happened. Another wave of sadness befalls him at that thought, but he pushes it aside. His nerves are a calling card for any negativity to overwhelm him, and he was determined to have a good time.

Scott walks him to the bar and waits outside with him until someone recognises him. As an extra measure to protect him from any radical internet followers, Scott borrows Ralph's phone to corroborate that he's definitely meeting his date, returns the phone back to Ralph with the reminder to ring you first and him second if anything happens, and bids the pair adieu.

Once he's gone, Ralph greets his companion for the evening by taking her hand and gently dusting her knuckles with his lips. She looks him up and down strangely, turning her nose up as she pulls back her hand slowly. Ralph could do the same, she certainly isn’t dressed for the occasion, but he won’t, because he’s a gentleman.

She does try to make the effort to get to know Ralph, at first. Making small talk about how he came to this part of London, he tells her he was simply looking to get away from his old life. She asks him what he does for a living, and seems to judge him again for saying that he was yet to find employment.

She lets him buy her a martini, despite him having ordered that with the intention of drinking it. She seemed to already be judging him for potentially ordering that drink for himself, so he ordered one of the only other drinks he knows that he likes - a double whiskey and lemonade, courtesy of Scott himself. She doesn’t seem to disapprove, at least.

Barely anybody in this place seems to be in the spirit of things. They’re all just standing. Talking. There’s a very sweet older couple in the corner who are dancing away, that Ralph watches wistfully. He gestures over to them, looking at his date. “Rather lovely,” he notes. “Do you dance, at all?”

“Not like that,” she shakes her head.

“Would you like me to show you?” He asks excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

She rubs her arm awkwardly. “I’m good, thanks. Nobody else is doing it, it’d be weird if we started.”

“Right. Right, of… Of course it would,” Ralph falters, dejected.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” his date states plainly.

Ralph nods, “Of course, I shall be waiting right here!”

As she walks away from him, Ralph decides he can still smooth things over by buying her another drink. He buys himself another double whiskey lemonade, for liquid courage, and the lady another martini, and returns to the spot he promised he’d wait for her.

And he waits.

He sips his drink.

And he waits.

When he finally turns around to ask a member of staff to check on her, he’s met with many a sympathetic look. Ralph may not know a lot about dating in the modern age, but he knows that look when he sees it a mile off. Downing both the whiskey mix and the martini, he finds a quiet corner and takes out his phone.

~~~

You’d been a fool for going to the laundromat in October with just Ralph’s T-shirt and a light jacket on. Being in a heated building means nothing if the front door is being left open all the damn time. Checking the time on your machines, you deduce that you just about have enough time to drive back, very quickly grab an extra layer and drive back.

Rushing into your flat, you look around for anything that you could throw on that’s within arm’s reach. Nothing in the living area. Nothing in the kitchen area. Nothing in the bathroom. Desperate, you burst into the bedroom and you see it.

You’ve loved that blue jumper of Ralph’s from the moment you’d first seen it on him. You’d called it his Cookie Monster jumper, though of course that went over his head. It’s always looked so soft, and he’s forever burying his face in his arms when he wears it. It’s sickeningly adorable to be around. You’ve always wished you could experience its comfort for yourself, but Ralph would never let it out of his sight, and you very rarely get the opportunity to offer Ralph a hug without it potentially causing any more confusion in the nature of your friendship with him; certainly never so while he has ever worn the jumper.

And so you jump at the chance to finally experience it for yourself. Throwing it on, not only are you immediately comforted with the soft sensation against your skin, but a familiar smell wafts around you. The ultimate makeup of the olfactory cocktail that is Ralph Penbury’s signature smell.

You wonder how he’s getting on as you rush back out to your car. Whether he’s picked his outfit or if Scott’s moulded him in his own image. Whether he’s excited, scared, confident. Whether he plans on kissing her at the end of the night.

You hit the steering wheel with the heel of your hand. Why are you worrying about these things? You never do when Connor, Grace or Anna go out. Perhaps it’s because you’re so used to being on 24/7 Ralph alert that not having him around keeps you on edge. But he’s bound to go home soon. And then you’ll be in this Ralph-less void all the time. That’s far, far worse a fate. And yet, cruelly, it’s the inevitable one.

You make it just in time for the washing machine to chime. Throwing your clothes into the industrial sized dryer, you sit and scroll through your phone. You check the numbers of Ralph’s last Instagram photo, and end up reading through the comments from all of his little fans. None of them know that he could disappear off of social media at a moment’s notice.

Except, now he could never truly disappear. Whenever he goes back, whenever his fifteen minutes of internet fame are up, he’s left his permanent mark on the world. On you, your friends, even all these people. Though they only see Ralph superficially. They see his photos, and his twitter presence, and they think they know him, especially since he learned how to reply to people when they would ask him questions. Sure, they know that he prefers strawberry ice cream, and that his favourite Gilmore Girls character is Paris, but they don’t know that he ties his shoes with bunny ears. They don't get to see that no matter how wild his bed hair is in the morning, one curl always falls across his forehead. They don’t know that he smells like citrus with an extra whiff of cinnamon.

You bury your face beneath the sweater you’re wearing and breathe in deeply. An elderly woman looks at you fondly, and you bring yourself back to reality, sitting upright and switching to a puzzle game on your phone instead. You're already fooling yourself with these delusions of imagining a life where Ralph's a more permanent fixture. You can't be letting the locals believe it, too. That's just for you.

Once your laundry's dry, you quickly fold it as neat as you can back into the bag you'd brought with you and throw the bag into the back of your car. Once you’re home, you just can’t find the energy to unpack it all. And besides, putting it away in your bedroom furniture only means you have access to it whenever Ralph isn’t there. Perhaps it’s better to keep these clothes out here in the living room, anyway.

You laugh to yourself as you go to the kitchen to find enough things to cook together to make a decent meal. If you’d have been told 3 months ago that in the very near future, you’d be living out of a bag, sleeping on your own sofa, all for the sake of a man that you’d just met, you’d have never believed them. And yet, here you are.

Once your food is made, you settle on your sofa and find something new to watch - because heaven forbid you watch one of your ongoing series without Ralph, he’d be giving you the silent treatment for the rest of the night.

You wonder how his evening is going. He should be at the bar by now. No word from Scott, though you wouldn’t exactly expect him to check in with you about Ralph’s date. Although perhaps a photo in the group chat wouldn’t have gone amiss. No word from Ralph, either.

You’re rooting for the iguana on your screen to outrun the predators that chase it, despite David Attenborough commentating his lack of faith, and it’s just escaped a tight bind as your phone rings. A particular jarring photo of your flatmate smiling his animatronic-esque fake smile fills your screen, along with the word “rALPH”.

You answer, “This better be an emergency, I’m on high alert right now.”

“Alert? In what way?”

“I’ve got an iguana I’m trying to save from some killer snakes, it’s life or death here, Ralphie.”

“Ah, right! You’re watching one of those programmes about nature again.”

“Everything alright? You sound… Sad.”

“Yes, well…”

“How’s your date going?”

“It, um… It rather isn’t.”

“What?!”

“She - She told me she was going to the women’s room. Approximately forty minutes ago.”

“Oh, Ralph. You should have called sooner!"

“And this place is nothing like I had thought it would be, nobody is giving it the respect it deserves, I’m the only one appropriately dressed and yet somehow I am the one who sticks out like a sore thumb!”

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, mate. Get to the toilet, get yourself all sorted out, I'm on my way. Make sure you’re in the right one this time, too!”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Oh, I know I am. I’ll be there as soon as I can, alright?”

While you’re still not quite ready to say goodbye to the sweater just yet, you do fish out a far nicer lower half of an outfit to go with it, before heading out the door and following Google Maps’ directions to this bar.

When you enter, you look around trying to find your friend. The first scan yields no results. Neither does the second. You’re about to take your phone out to call him again when you notice a very sad, very baby-faced Ralph talking to a bartender. He looks just like he did when you first met him - without the coffee you’d spilled over his back, of course.

You speed your pace up as you head towards him, and he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you pat his arm. He looks close to tears when he makes eye contact with you, and you immediately pull him into a hug. That clean, citrusy scent of his gets stronger as he wraps himself around you. When you start to relent, he doesn’t. With a small chuckle of defeat, you return to hugging him tightly again.

Eventually he lets go, and so you do as well, rubbing his arm comfortingly as you pull away. “You look dapper,” you comment, “really smart.”

Ralph wrinkles his nose up as he waves you off, “It’s… Really not as appropriate here as I thought.”

“Codswallop!” You grin, putting on your best Ralph voice, which makes him smile, too. “Best dressed one here, hands down.”

“I do seem to be a style icon of yours,” he muses, poking at the sweater. “It’s very becoming on you.”

“Thanks, Ralphie,” you smile, trying desperately not to blush. Instead, you pull the sleeves over your hands and ask, “You still got my card?” He nods and fumbles through his pockets to grab it and hand it to you. You lean over the bar to order two of your usual drink, and one martini for Ralph.

The bartender hisses through their teeth. “You sure? He’s already had one along with the others, he doesn’t seem in a good place to be mixing his drinks too much tonight.”

You frown, “Oh, then sure, whatever he’s been having, get him another one of those.”

You smile at the impact Scott’s clearly had on Ralph with his change in drink choice. Clinking your glass with his, you finish both of your drinks in the time he finishes his one, to try and catch up with him.

As he swills the remaining ice cubes around the bottom of his glass, a high-energy song starts to play. You grin as you outstretch your hand, “Wanna put our kitchen dance lessons to the test with me?”

Ralph looks at you sceptically, but his excitement is palpable. “Oh, heavens, we’d be the only ones dancing!”

You shrug, “So? We’d be the only ones doing it right, everyone else would be the weird ones.”

Ralph nods, “Very well,” and takes your hand. You don’t see it as you’re leading him to the dance floor area, but he’s putting all his energy into not looking completely giddy with happiness.

The two of you dance together for several songs, swinging and twirling and laughing away. You nudge Ralph to show him that you’d even inspired some other coupl- other pairs of people , you correct yourself, not wanting to slip up and accidentally refer to yourself and Ralph as a couple in front of him. Other pairs of people are now dancing just like you two were. Ralph looks around in awe just as the music slows considerably.

He looks at you with uncertainty, squeezing his eyes and his hands as he does when he’s conflicted or trying to correct himself, though he’s yet to say anything to you. “May I - I mean, we - would you like to - we could stop now, if you like, or -”

You cut Ralph off by placing your hands on his shoulders. He places his ever so tentatively on your hips as you sway from side to side together. “Thank you,” he mutters to you.

“Well, you seemed close to having a stroke over getting your words out, figured I had a good shot at guessing what you wanted before I had to call for help!”

He chuckles softly, “Not just for that. For… Everything, really. Over the last two months. I really haven’t shown you the proper gratitude.”

“I’ve not been keeping you around for gratitude’s sake, Ralph,” you shake your head. “You’re not that bad to be around, you know,” you smirk. “I’m sorry that girl didn’t see that in you. But I’m proud of you for trying!”

“I don’t think I want to try much more,” he tells you quietly.

“Don’t blame you. I gave up a while ago, myself,” you admit. “But you did it! I bet the Ralph I first met wouldn’t have done this.”

“I am quite the changed man, thanks to you,” he says with a small smile.

“You sure don’t look it at the moment! I don’t know who this is, but I’m looking forward to getting Ralph back when we’re home.”

He frowns, “But this is how I always looked before I met you!”

“I know, but it just doesn’t… Suit you. Not like your new look. I mean, I guess if you go back in time looking like The New Ralph, everyone back there would think otherwise, but… I dunno,” you shrug your shoulders. “This doesn’t feel like the real Ralph.” Recalling a conversation you’d had with him a couple of weeks ago about how he was perceived back in his time, you add, “This is just That Penbury Boy.”

“I like that you all see a side of me that you don’t mind having around,” Ralph admits bashfully. “And I like spending time with you - all.”

“We love having you around too,” you grin. “But I am being serious, I’ll hold your head under the bathroom sink here if we don’t get that shit washed out of your hair soon.”

Ralph laughs, stepping out of the hold to extend his arm out to you. You take it and walk out of the building with him.

You laugh at the ooh! that comes out from him as you step out into the brisk air. “Yeah, all that whiskey finally kicking in?” You ask with amusement.

Ralph shakes his head, blowing a raspberry sound out into the air. “Just a tad!”

“I’m excited to see what Whiskey Ralph is like,” you muse, still keeping your arm around his as you lead him down the street.

He frowns, “Are there different versions of me based on what I drink?!”

“Different versions of Drunk Ralph, yeah,” you grin. “Martini Ralph is super sociable. Vodka Ralph, an emotional wreck. We stay away from vodka,” you warn, and he nods, remembering the shot he had taken weeks ago and shuddering again. “And from what you’ve told me, Champagne Ralph really loved to party.”

“Oh, I do so wish you could have been there for a Penbury social!” Ralph muses. “They were always such a blast to plan. I just… Sometimes I wish that Victoria let me be the “main event” host rather than the “planning” one.”

“Well, when you go back, you can down a couple of martinis, tell her to shove it, and then throw the greatest bash Penbury House will see before it gets filled with tote bag-carrying indie kids and grandmas hiding romance novels between murder mysteries,” you laugh, though it’s strained. You know it’s only fair to make sure you’re both still actively talking about him returning home, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

Ralph gives you a small smile, “I’m not so sure about that. I think it’s far more than a few drinks that make me the man that I am while I’m here.” The way he bites his lip back bashfully would have you holding him by the cheeks and kissing it back, were you a couple more drinks in. He quietens after that, and you simply allow him to stay in that moment rather than pressing him as to what exactly he means.

Once you’re back home once again, you change back into comfortable pants while Ralph washes his hair under the shower. You also finally look at your phone’s notifications to see a lot of activity in the group chat:

Ralph re-emerges wearing another jumper and some sweats, but instead of sitting at his usual spot on the other end of the sofa to you, he sits far nearer and leans himself onto you. “Hello,” he greets simply, a dopey grin smeared across his face.

You cock your head as you smile softly at him. “Hello, cuddly-drunk Whiskey Ralph.”

“Is that what it is?” He asks, his voice slurring a little. “Do you mind?”

“Nah, just give me my arm back,” you tease as you move so that your arm is no longer trapped beneath him, instead draping it where it’s most comfortable - which just happens to be over his body.

You show Ralph the things everyone has been saying in the group chat, and he smiles into your torso. "Can I expect this jumper back any time soon, by the way?"

You grin down at him, "Yeah, you can have it back when it stops smelling like you. It's too nice to give up."

His ears burn pink as he gently settles further down until his head rests in your lap. “Do you want to see if your iguana made it out safely?”

“Oh, yeah! Here, I’ll restart the episode for you, I need you to care about this lizard as much as I do.”

Commentating alongside the documentary with Ralph proves a far more entertaining watch than before, and you both cheer as you watch the iguana finally climb up some rocks to the safety of its friend. At some point, your fingers end up absent-mindedly stroking back and forth through his hair, and you notice his chest starting to heave up and down heavier than usual. Leaning over, you see his lower lip move in and out ever so slightly with each breath as he sleeps. He looks so peaceful, and you could honestly keep him here forever. But, realistically, you can’t feel your legs and your body will certainly be unforgiving over you sleeping while sat upright.

You gently prod at Ralph all over until he wakes up. “Hmm, what?”

“Eh, what, what,” you tease, once again putting on your ‘posh voice’ before returning to your usual cadence. “C’mon, if you’re gonna sleep, go do it in a bed, please.”

“Of course,” he mumbles wearily.

When he stands up, you realise something with a laugh. “Oh, no! Oh, I’ve done a real number on your hair, look at it!”

Ralph reaches up and pats his wildly spread curls with a sleepy smile. He faces you, then turns to the bedroom door, then back to you. He repeats this a few times, and just before you can ask, he shakes his head. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“You too, Ralphie,” you grin as you push yourself around by your fists to lay across the sofa for the night.

When you wake up, Ralph is yet again trending on Twitter. Wondering what on earth he could have done, you’re horrified when you see paparazzi-ish photos of Ralph with you as you both danced last night. The original tweet with the photos going around has the caption, “Pack it up, girlies, Hot Ralph is taken”

Making sure your current account is most definitely still set to private, you make a new one under the name @RalphsFlatmate. You tweet an old selfie of you and Ralph with the caption, “hi, ralph stans. just here to remind you that sometimes people can be just friends and that’s it. please don’t take my photo without my consent in future. kinda insane that i have to ask that but here we are. cheers x”

Once Ralph is awake, you borrow his phone to retweet yourself onto his profile to make sure people see it and get ready for work, dreading what is now to come with also being perceived on the internet.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 6.4k

A/N: I literally had last chapter's cliffhanger planned before most of the fic pahahaha, thank you all for reacting exactly as I'd hoped. You're the best community of writers a gal (gn) could ask for. <333

The next five seconds seem to last nine whole days as you and Ralph stand in front of one another.

You don’t seem to be running out the door, which Ralph is at least thankful for, but you’re not exactly looking certain about what’s about to happen. Surely, if it was your friends that told Ralph about this New Year’s tradition, you’d know full well about it, too. You won’t even look him in the eye, for crying out loud. Had you forgotten about this tradition, or something? Were you just approaching him to ask him something, not realising the time? You had been in the kitchen, after all, perhaps you’d lost track of time entirely.

Still, it’s the perfect moment for him. When else is he ever going to get a chance this good, to kiss you with no other consequence? Perhaps if this goes well, he can tell you all about the interaction he had with Pete- No, Ralph, we don’t talk about that weekend anymore. At least, not while that particular boundary is still very newly set. He’s still got to prove himself worthy of your forgiveness before he can toe that line again.

You manage to lock eyes with him as they flicker ever so slightly, as though he’s arguing with himself in his head. You wonder whether he feels obligated to kiss you, whether he even wants to. Had you predicted correctly, that he’d be far too flustered to kiss you under societal pressure, hence why he’d thrown that plastic mistletoe as if it burned him? And again, that circles back to whether it’s a matter of a lack of relationship between the two of you, or just a lack of attraction to you on his part.

Not to mention the fact that all of your friends are here. Sure, most of them will have their New Year’s kiss, too, but not all of them. Will you kissing Ralph be papped by one of them? Will it be the talking point of a whole other group chat? Will they assume more of what’s going on between the two of you? You once again contemplate the consequences of admitting to your friends that you’ve been lying about Ralph’s situation, about how well they’d take it versus how much they’d still trust you if they found out you’d had them hoodwinked for this long.

But there’s just about enough alcohol in you to convince you to say fuck it all, it’s New Year. Once Ralph’s eyes focus on you, you give him a silent, very subtle look, checking in on him. He swallows, and then nods gently.

Trying desperately to keep your smile of affirmation as small and soft, rather than the ear-to-ear grin that so badly wants to stretch along your face, you lean towards him. You expect Ralph to stay standing upright, so you’re surprised when, as your eyes close, you feel him sooner than you’d thought.

Just as the firework display broadcast on the TV starts to go off, your lips connect with Ralph’s for the very first time. The lips that press against yours envelope them - so plush and so soft, tasting ever so slightly of whiskey and lemonade - and his facial hair tickles all around your mouth as he keeps leaning. It’s just a peck, it’s not a real, deliberate kiss, but somewhere between the euphoria of finally getting this contact, the alcohol you’d already consumed so far tonight encouraging the butterflies in your stomach, the fireworks going off in your own imagination drowning out the ones on the television, and Ralph not quite knowing when to stop moving, you feel yourself become light-headed.

Your hand flies up to Ralph’s cheek to steady yourself, and he takes the hint by stopping himself, pulling himself back upright again. His ears resemble sun-dried tomatoes, and his blush has even reached his cheeks, just dusting along the top of his beard. He seems a little dazed himself. You try and gauge how he is by smiling at him, “Happy New Year, Ralphie.”

“Yes, rather!” he beams, still not apparently fully present. He nods to you as some movement catches in the corner of his eye, which he flickers over to notice, “Ah! Connor!” and head on over to his best friend. You start to go back to the kitchen, but take a detour into the bathroom to lock yourself in and just sit on the edge of Connor's bath for a bit.

You've kissed Ralph. You've kissed Ralph. And the universe didn't implode on itself, and he didn't seem to hate you for it. Your friends weren't all crowded around you, watching you like spectators at a zoo. It was… Just a kiss. A kiss that felt so good, even if he did almost fall on top of you. You bring your face up to your cheeks, feeling as though you could turn Connor's heating off entirely and keep the house warm from your blush alone.

You splash some water from the sink onto your face and dab it dry a few times, in an attempt to cool your face off before making your way back into the main room.

Ralph feels as though he's walking on clouds as he recognises Connor. He can't even begin to process everything just yet. Connor, who had chosen to nurse his bottle of beer as his way to ring in the New Year, looks at Ralph and grins, "Happy New Year, mate. Did you end up near anyone?"

“I certainly did!" He beams, his head bobbing back and forth, before he stops and frowns. "But you didn't get to kiss anyone, now you'll have bad luck all year, will you not?"

Connor shrugs at him, scrunching his face up, "Eh, there's always 2024." Ralph looks puzzled as to why someone so insistent on a luck-based tradition would be so carefree about having bad karma for a whole year. Connor, seeing this, gets him back on track. "At least you got your midnight kiss in! How was it?"

Ralph’s eyes light up as he gestures wildly. "Oh, Connor, it's been quite the rush! I'd never had a New Year's kiss before now, why, I'd - the only time anyone's ever kissed me was my sister's friends, but I think those were dared to because they would run away in an instant and wipe their mouths to be rid of me, but my, what a rush kissing is when it’s not a practical joke! Why doesn't everyone do it all of the time?!" Ralph rambles until Connor puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Easy, fella. Take a few deep breaths." Connor coaches him through a couple until he somewhat returns to a normal breathing pace. "Firstly, fuck them other girls for doing that to you. But I'm glad you enjoyed this one. Think it had anything to do with who you were kissing?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Ralph looks away momentarily, eyes unfocused and yet still staring intently at nothing at all as he escapes into his own thoughts. You kissed him. You kissed him! And he got to kiss you back and you didn't shove him away. You didn't run off to a chorus of "ew"s and "yuck"s. You were even smiling as you'd wished Ralph a happy new year.

Oh, drat. You'd said that of him and he hadn't even returned the gesture. What a terribly rude impression to leave, especially after having kissed you. What are people even supposed to do after they kiss? Was Ralph supposed to have stayed and kissed some more? The others certainly did, though they were very established with who they were kissing. Has he already locked shut the one open door that could have led him to a more fruitful relationship with you?

You’re ushered back into the room at the same time that Ralph is shaken out of his trance to make sure you both can take part in the singing of Auld Lang Syne. You end up between Scott’s partner and Ralph, linking hands with them both and singing away. Ralph doesn’t seem to really know the words, but he’s certainly having the time of his life bouncing his arms up and down and nodding along to everyone else’s singing. Scott, Anna and Grace take great delight in copying Ralph’s addition of swinging his hips from side to side as well.

When it stops, Ralph squeezes your hand. You turn to him, and he holds your hands up between the two of you. “Alright?” You ask with a laugh, unsure of what is happening.

“Happy New Year to you, too. Apologies for not remembering to say it back sooner,” he nods sincerely before dropping your hand and leaving you to simply watch him, in your confused state, go over and greet Scott for the new year, too.

From there, you all start to wind down with a few rounds of Jackbox, which has quickly become Ralph’s favourite game to play with everyone. Even when he doesn’t entirely understand the assignment at hand, he gives it his best shot, and unless there’s an outstanding answer amongst the group, Ralph’s always tend to get singled out and voted on unanimously, just for trying.

Grace and her boyfriend are the first to excuse themselves for the night, naturally. You glance over at Ralph, wondering what the vibe will be between the two of you once it’s just you two. No party atmosphere, no other people to distract yourselves with. Just you and him in the flat. He certainly didn’t seem too offended over the two of you kissing - him rushing over to Connor seemed more fuelled by the excitement of the night than out of a need to get as far away from you as possible, though he didn’t exactly stick around for more. Perhaps the whiskey you could taste on his breath had affected him already by that point - you wonder how much more affectionate-drunk Ralph you’re going to have to handle tonight.

The whiskey on his breath. You look over at him chatting away to Scott and his partner, stroking his jaw as he listens to them. His hand right where yours was just an hour ago, when his lips were pressing against yours, soft and sweet and eager. You’d overheard snippets of Ralph talking happily about his first New Year kiss, which explains his excitement over it. The rush of still experiencing new things must be exhilarating for him. It almost makes you feel bad for enjoying the kiss for other reasons.

Anna’s gentle touch of your arm startles you out of your trance completely. “Oh, god! I was miles away,” you giggle as you hug your friend goodbye.

“Staring, eh?” Anna smirks, and you panic, flustering as you try and think of an excuse.

“Just… Tired, is all. Wasn’t aware I was staring. Getting too old for all this staying up late nonsense, I think,” you chuckle under your breath, glancing over at her. “I think I was trying to see if Ralph was looking tired, too, and I crashed for a second.”

Anna nods slowly, a little too knowingly and disbelievingly, but the events of the night have you too mixed-up to notice that. “I’m sure he’s ready to go when you are.” Before you can say anything else, Anna’s shouting, “Ralph!” and extending her arms out for a hug.

Matching her energy, Ralph practically bounds over to her, wrapping her into an embrace so strong they both end up stepping side-to-side just to stay upright. “Happy New Year to you, Anna.”

“And to you, my little protégé,” she grins back at him, ruffling his hair before pulling away from him. “Are you staying for much longer, or are you getting sleepy?”

“Well, now that you’ve said that,” Ralph begins, the rest of his sentence lost in the yawn that follows. “Oh, goodness, excuse me for yawning like that in the presence of you both! How uncouth of me.”

“’S fine,” you say through your own yawn. “Anna’s being evil by making you want to,” you tease.

“Anna’s not evil!” Ralph defends with a frown, crossing his arms as his eyes dart back and forth between you and her.

Anna giggles, “Ralphie, are you just trying to get more head pats now?” The look he gives her says it all, as does the delight on his face when Anna reaches up to pet him again. “Who needs a puppy when you’ve got a Ralph, eh? Night, you two!”

You both chorus a goodnight before deciding between you to go around saying your goodbyes to the others, too.

You’re not certain exactly how you and Ralph came to be linking arms on your walk home - you didn’t offer yours out to him, he didn’t to you, and you would have felt it if Ralph had done it intentionally without asking you - though he’d never do that. But here you are, walking the streets of Croydon, the air still being littered with the occasional firework and thick with the sounds of celebration.

“So,” you break the silence between the two of you. “You’ve seen the year 2023 now. Mad.”

Ralph muses, “It’s not exactly the flying cars and automatic humans that I had imagined a hundred years ago!”

You laugh loudly, “I’m sorry to disappoint young Ralph there!”

Ralph shakes his head with a small smile, deliberately not looking at you as he says, “Oh nonsense, this life is far from disappointing.” He fears that if he looks you in the eye and tells you that directly, he won’t be able to stop himself from telling you how meeting you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and that he never wants to be without you again, and that -

Just at the right time to cut off that train of thought, he looks up and watches a particularly large firework go off, his face illuminating red and green with it as his eyes fill with wonder. Yet another moment in which you find yourself feeling that if your inhibitions were just the slightest bit more compromised, you could kiss him again. Again. Instead, you try and commit that face to memory as best as you can as he carries on walking, arm still wrapped around yours.

When you’re back up at the flat again, you notice Ralph’s collar is upturned at the end and start to fix it for him. As you do, all of the highs of the night seem to come crashing back down on you, along with the crushing weight of reality. This will be the last year you get to spend with Ralph. Almost certainly. This time next year, you’ll be coming back to an empty flat, all by yourself, just like all the others have been - except not like the others, because next year you’ll know the loss of Ralph’s presence. Next year won’t be filled with old-timey slang to censor swear words. Next year won’t have the constant need to explain every slight pop culture reference. Next year won’t have mornings filled with sweet greetings, chocolate button eyes and swing dances around the flat to start your day.

Your hand lingers as your heart sinks, and you look up at him slowly. His big, warm eyes look down at you with an emotion you can’t quite read. You wonder whether you could get away with one more kiss. Just a goodnight one.

Ralph contemplates the same, except it would be his kiss. Not just one he almost fell into, but he could take your face into his hands and he could pull you close to him and he could keep kissing you until you knew just how much he cares about you. But he couldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to you, assuming that you’d just let him have his way with you. He’s not sure enough about that, yet, despite the tiny bit of whiskey-addled brain telling him to go for it, anyway. If he’d have had a drink or two more, perhaps he would throw more caution to the wind, but he couldn’t risk alcohol clouding his memory. Tonight is something Ralph wants to remember for the rest of his life. His first real, reciprocated kiss.

He leans back ever so slightly to remind himself of the social boundaries of the platonic friendship the two of you share, and you clear your throat, letting his collar slip between your finger and thumb. “Don’t even know why I thought to fix that now, bit late, innit?” you laugh, and Ralph chuckles, too. You look into his eyes, and ask him, “We’re gonna make this one the best one yet, aren’t we?”

“Most certainly,” he grins back, and you pull him close for a hug. Maybe you can’t kiss him again. Maybe you can’t tell him how much you care about him, and how heartbroken you’ll be to live your life without him. But perhaps if you hold him tightly enough, he’ll know.

You bury your face into his shoulder, and he rests his head on yours as you both sway gently from side to side. Your arms wrap tight around Ralph, willing every ounce of your affection for him into the embrace. He does the same back, and for a fleeting moment you wonder if it’s for the same reasons.

Until you remember how quick Ralph was to reciprocate Anna’s excitement just from the tone of her voice. Of course. Ralph always gives as good as he gets. That doesn’t mean he feels the same way every time, he went from hyperactive puppy mode to sleepy in a second back at Connor’s. You’ll never know the truth from subtle exchanges like this, but you can keep your happy little delusion alive for one day more.

Thinking that thought makes you yawn again, and Ralph chuckles in your ear. “You should take the bed, tonight.”

“I’m getting deja vu here,” you giggle, and Ralph makes a noise of confusion. “This is almost exactly how your first night out with us ended, remember?”

“I’d rather not, I made quite a fool of myself,” he admits bashfully. “But I did make a lot of friends that night.”

“You always do,” you tell him with a smile, still holding onto him. “Wherever you go, you can make anyone like you. Don’t ever forget that, will you?”

Ralph understands what you’re talking about, now. You’re still assuming he’s going back to his own time soon. “I don’t think there should be any reason for me to any time soon,” he says softly into your hair. He allows himself the luxury of placing his face into it gently. Not to kiss your head, but his lips happen to make contact with it as he rests his face against you to keep hugging you.

“Well, we’ll just make the most out of you while we still can, eh? Like I said, best year yet.”

“Absolutely,” Ralph whispers into your hair. “Suppose I should get my things ready to sleep on the sofa tonight.”

“Or…” You curse yourself as soon as you say it, knowing you've doomed yourself. What, are you going to suggest that you suddenly start sharing the bed now? Besides, with all of this talk of him going back to his own time, it’d only be another thing to add to the pain of him not being around. No longer having him wish you a good morning every day is one thing, to get used to waking up to him every morning just for him to disappear from your bed forevermore would be heartbreaking. “Or… If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Just go to bed, Ralphie, I’ll be fine.”

He pulls away from the hug and frowns at you, but you raise your eyebrows at him and he sighs in defeat. “Very well. Goodnight to you. Pleasant dreams. And a Happy New Year.”

“Same to you. See you in the morning,” you smile softly, rubbing your eyes before heading into the bathroom to get ready for the night.

Ralph wakes up unusually later than you the next day. You even manage to shower without waking him. Once you’re dressed - in another set of pyjamas and the bathrobe that Grace had bought you for Christmas, you consider knocking at the bathroom door but, as if knowingly, he swings the door open himself.

“Ahh, he awakens!” You exclaim, before groaning, “Oh, god, I sound just like my dad!” You start to laugh, but Ralph looks white as a sheet. “You alright? You look as though you’ve seen a gho-”

“Please do not talk of ghosts or anything of that matter to me!” Ralph cries out, marching into the bathroom hurriedly.

You frown, calling after him, “Ralph? What’s wrong?”

After a few moments he reappears, still looking shaken. “Well, I… I couldn’t get to sleep last night, and so I thought, perhaps I will ask the people that talk to me on the Twitter would recommend some light reading to help me doze off. Next thing I know, somebody’s sent me one of those… Long sentences you click on, and it’s got the word pasta in it, so I thought, well, perhaps it’s a tale of an Italian chef of sorts, how interesting, but…” He looks off into the distance, horrified, and you realise what’s happened.

Quickly video calling your one friend who knows the website you fear Ralph has been on better than anyone, Connor’s yeah? doesn’t get acknowledged as you focus on asking your flatmate, “Okay, but Ralph, did the link just say pasta or did it say creepypasta?”

“Ah, fuck,” Connor says over the phone. “Okay, I’m with you now, I’ll be down after work. What did he read?”

Ralph mutters, “There were… Many… I did ask them to stop sending me the creepy pasta stories, but that seemed to egg them on tenfold.”

“How many times have we told you, never tell Twitter not to do something,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. Ralph sighs apologetically, and Connor hangs up, promising he’ll be as quick as he can. You look at him sympathetically, “Well, you know what this calls for?” He shakes his head, and you beam. “Perks of getting a shit ton of skincare stuff for Christmas means… Self-care day! Go put on your comfiest clothes, you can use my old bathrobe too, if you like, we can do it together!”

Ralph takes a deep breath out and nods, heading back into the bedroom. While he does, you take your phone out and tweet:

You collect a variety of face masks and other skincare products together, finding as many large tubs as you can and filling a couple with warm, soapy water. Ralph meets you, wearing the white tee/grey sweatpants combo from his first night with you beneath your old bathrobe, and sits on the couch with you. “So, what is all of this?”

“Well, we’ve got different kinds of face masks, would you rather have the kind you smear on your face, or a sheet one?” You ask, holding different packets up.

“Um, well… These look a lot less messy… Would they still be alright with my facial hair?” he asks, taking a sheet mask packet from you.

“Do I look like I’ve got experience with beards?” You ask with raised eyebrows, making the pair of you laugh. A quick Google search tells you that with the amount that Ralph has, it shouldn’t be too bad. He still runs to the bathroom and trims it as short as he can get it while still keeping it, which you silently appreciate.

As you take yours out and apply it, you hear an, “Am I doing this right? It rather feels as if I’m not.” Based on how muffled his voice is, it sounds the same way. Once yours is on properly, you look over and burst into laughter as you see Ralph with his sheet mask starting halfway down his forehead, his eyes barely visible through the holes and the rest of the sheet hanging off of his face entirely.

As you fix it for him, you try and explain through your laughter why you find it so funny, “I’m sorry, it just looks like you’re some kind of serial killer who’s wearing his victim’s face!”

You feel Ralph’s eyebrows knit together beneath your touch. “A rather specific example. Not exactly a humorous one, either.”

“Oh, cheer up, Dwight Schrute, you’re all fixed up, now,” you giggle as you finish placing the mask on him. “Now, we just bring over those tubs and -” you let out an exhaled gasp of relief as you put your feet in one of them to soak. “Sensational. Go on, Ralph, you too!”

Ralph dips his feet in, and a delighted ooh! bubbles out of him. “That feels wonderful! But… But I wash my feet every day and it doesn’t feel like this!”

“Yeah, soaking just your feet hits different. Especially with your new job, you’re on your feet all the while, it’s nice to just give them their own little break.”

Ralph giggles as he wiggles his toes amongst the bubbles, and you find something nice and wholesome that definitely won't scare him to watch on the TV while you both relax.

You later show him what a pumice stone is and how he should use it, though you lead by your own example rather than demonstrating on Ralph himself, which proves a good idea as you quickly learn through him that Ralph has very ticklish feet. After a highly entertaining twenty minutes, he finally manages to properly exfoliate and moisturise his feet, and so you move onto his hands.

“I don’t want them painted,” he states plainly with a slight frown.

“Good job I wasn’t offering to, then,” you smirk, “but a manicure is more than just painted nails. Look.” Despite you showing him how to refresh his cuticles, and properly clean out under his nails to trim and buff and shape them, he looks far too puzzled over it, and so you take his hand in your own. Last night still very fresh in your mind, you focus entirely on the task, terrified of how you might react to the tenderness of holding Ralph's hand.

After a few more products, you grin at him, “Now go have a look at yourself,” as you gesture towards the bathroom door.

Ralph hops up, disappearing into the other room, but you can tell the moment he’s seen himself in the mirror by his immediate, “Good heavens! I’m simply glowing! Look at me! This is remarkable!” You laugh as he runs back out, mouth wide open in a grin of pure joy as he holds his cheeks. “Why, I look incredible! I feel incredible! This is spectacular!”

“You should tell all of your Twitter friends that you’re feeling better,” you smile, and Ralph’s face falls.

“I’m not so sure I can trust them,” he states, shaking his head.

“Nah, give it a go, I’m sure there’s some far nicer replies to that one tweet by now. Just don’t click anything with the word Reddit in it.”

Ralph goes back to admire himself in the bathroom some more as your front door knocks. You head on over and let Connor in, debriefing him on what had actually happened with Ralph and the tweet he’d posted.

“Yeah, I should be able to filter his feed in case he ever ends up on Reddit again,” Connor nods.

Your conversation is interrupted as you hear a scream of anguish from the bathroom. As you and Connor both rush over to the other side of the flat, Ralph comes marching out of the bathroom to meet you, brandishing his phone in outrage. “My tube is broken as well, now!”

Connor pulls a face, “Dare I ask what tube you’re referring to?” but you wave him off, knowing exactly what Ralph means.

“We’ve been over this, Ralph, the app is called YouTube for everybody.” Ignoring Connor’s snorts of laughter, you prompt Ralph to explain himself.

“Well, I tapped on the first reply that you can click on that I saw on the Twitter, and it was a video of a song, which I thought a little strange, how is that supposed to help? And so I scrolled down to the next one, and lo and behold, the same man! Every one that I click! Who is this mystery redhead and why can’t I see any other videos and why are you two laughing so hard?!” Ralph asks exasperatedly as you and Connor fall against each other, holding each other up as you crease up laughing.

“Oh, mate, you are a legend,” Connor grins at him. “You lot wanna do dinner together, since I’m here?”

“Uh, yeah, but we’ve not really got much in the way of drinks anymore, we’ll have to pop over the road.” You slip some shoes on and look over at Ralph, gesturing at the door with your head. “Coming?”

Ralph looks puzzled at you. “Without getting dressed?!”

“It’s the shops, mate, it’s hardly New York Fashion Week. Why, is there someone you fancy working there?” It comes out before you can stop yourself. It’s the way you’d usually tease Connor, but it hurts more to say the same of Ralph. Connor’s head also snaps to look at him intently.

Ralph simply shakes his head. “Well, no, but who’s to say you need to impress others before keeping your own dignity intact?! Whatever will people say of the people walking around in dressing gowns?”

“There’ll be at least three other people there in the same clothes, I promise,” you nod, kicking Ralph’s shoes his way. “C’mon, I’m not giving you the choice now, you can come with us and I can prove it’s not a big deal.”

Ralph shuffles uncomfortably the whole way there, trudging along behind you and Connor as you find some drinks, but also a dessert you could all share, as well as something for dinner tomorrow… As you’re getting carried away, Connor notices something and grins wickedly. “Dare me to do something truly evil?”

“Do it,” you grin back, and Connor takes his phone out, types at the speed of sound, and pockets his phone again.

“Wonder how long that’ll take,” he muses as you carry on.

A few short moments later, Connor hears something familiar over the speaker playing through the shop and points upwards at it, grinning as a radio presenter says, “And now, someone who wishes to remain anonymous has requested a special song for a special friend. You know who you are.”

You and Connor look at Ralph expectantly, who seems totally disinterested in everything except others’ potential perception of him, despite nobody actually looking at him. He has no idea what’s happening around him - until a now-very-familiar song starts playing throughout the store. That’s the kicker that activates the sleeper agent within Ralph, that brings him back to life.

Looking horrified at the two of you, he wails, “I didn’t even tap anything this time and I can still hear it!” He wrestles his phone out of the pocket of the bathrobe he’s wearing, throws it down into your hands and yells, “Burn it!” as he runs out of the store.

You and Connor hold yourselves against whatever’s closest to you to keep yourselves upright as you laugh harder than you have in a long time. “Oh, we really are menaces,” you eventually sigh.

“Nah, it’ll do him good, get him working all that post-creepypasta tension out,” Connor shakes his head.

You give Connor your key and tell him to go after Ralph, that you’ll pay for your shopping and meet them back at the flat to explain everything to him. While queuing, you catch the others in the group chat up on the day’s events and invite them over, as well. Despite Scott’s joke of “ugh, don’t I get a day off from you people?”, everyone agrees to meet at yours.

You get back to the flat to see that Ralph has been quick to forgive Connor, as your oldest friend is now teaching your flatmate how to play a new song on his ukulele. You tell them to go practice in the bedroom so that they can surprise everyone with their performance, which Ralph agrees to, suddenly excited at the thought of putting on a show for his friends.

After the six of you have all reconvened, eaten together and laughed about everything that’s happened today, Ralph claps his hands together, “Would you all like to see something that Connor and I have been practising today?”

“I was wondering why you two were in the bathroom together,” Anna waggles her eyebrows.

“Hardy har,” Connor smiles back sarcastically. “Ralph couldn’t handle me as a lover even if we were compatible,” he jokes, making Ralph’s ears blush. “C’mon then, mate, let’s show them!”

You clap and sing along with the two boys as Ralph strums the tune of The Beatles’ I Wanna Hold Your Hand. You burst into a full round of applause at the end of the song. “Ralph! You did so well!”

“Well, it was a rather easy song to pick up on,” he admits bashfully.

“And at least it’s not bloody Taylor Swift,” Connor comments, turning his nose up, causing a scoff and crossed arms from Anna.

“Oh, because The Beatles are less basic?!” All of you start laughing at that, even Ralph.

“You know, there’s something different about the way you all argue and tease each other,” he states. “And I felt it when you played that practical joke on me earlier. Once it was explained to me, I actually found it funny, too. Not like the ones that are usually played on me.”

“Well, yeah, because like I said last night, fuck those girls from before,” Connor pulls a face. “And, y’know, it’s why we as a group work so well. We tease each other to show we care, it’s what we do.”

Anna sidles up to Ralph to coo, “Yeah, we bully you ’cause we love you.”

Ralph’s eyes wobble with tears as he whispers, “Love?” She and Grace nod, shuffling over to wrap their arms around him. “Nobody’s ever really - I mean, especially not as friends, I - I rather don’t know what to say.”

Grace and Anna each kiss one of Ralph’s cheeks, causing his ears to darken, as they cuddle up to him. Connor also reaches over to squish his cheeks together. “Course we love you, mate.”

“Definitely,” you simper. You consider saying something along the same lines as everyone else, but anything you could say catches in your throat. The thought of telling Ralph that you love him is far more daunting than the others, though you certainly don’t think any lesser of him as you do them. As you watch Scott animatedly tell Ralph what his presence has meant to the group, you start to fearfully ponder how platonic the love you feel for Ralph really is.

Once your friends have left for the night, you stretch out and yawn. “Suppose we should hit the hay, too, we’ve both got work in the morning,” you tell Ralph, but he’s staring at the dark void that is the open doorway to your bedroom. “Ralph?” You ask, holding his arm.

“I, um, is it any lighter in here than it is in there at night?” Ralph asks. “Oh, it’d be pointless, of course it wouldn’t, and I can’t sleep in the light.”

“Are you that scared, still?” You ask quietly.

“I know I shouldn’t be, that it’s silly to, but I just can’t shake the things that I’d read,” he shakes his head.

You sigh in defeat. It’s almost as if the universe wants this to happen. “What if… You weren’t alone tonight?” Ralph’s head snaps around to look at you, perplexed. “Well, yeah, I mean, we’ve shared before, right? And that way, if anything scares you, I’ll be right there. Sound good?” Ralph nods, and you smile at him, squeezing your grip before going to the bedroom and turning the light on for him. Once he feels comfortable doing so, he follows you in. “Any side you prefer?” You ask him, gesturing to the bed, and he points towards the side furthest from the door. “Oh, that works out perfectly then, I used to sleep on this side anyway!”

The pair of you get into bed, Ralph still trying to keep a respectable distance away from you. You reach around under the covers - an extremely dangerous game - and find his hand to squeeze it. “I’m here for you, remember?” You ask softly, and suddenly, in a complete 180, Ralph rolls over to hug your arm, his head naturally nestling on your shoulder, just under your jaw.

“And you’ll stay?” He asks. “Even while I’m asleep?”

You laugh softly, “Course I will, silly sod, why would I willingly go back to the sofa?”

“Always?” He asks, his voice thick with sleepiness.

One more day of delusion, you’d told yourself. Of course, that was last night, but it had technically been past midnight which means today still counts, right? You rest your head on his, since your arm is now being held captive, and close your eyes as you breathily tell him, “Yeah, Ralph. Always.”

Contented, he mutters, “Goodnight to you. Pleasant dreams.”

Your plan was to let him cuddle up to you long enough until he fell asleep properly, when you could gently shove him back away from you so that you weren’t embracing each other all night. But the soft snuffles of him falling into a deep sleep, his chest rising and falling as it rests against your side, his curls tickling your cheek. One more day of delusion, you repeat to yourself as you very gently press your lips onto the top of his head, safely knowing he’s too far gone to notice you doing it.

You don’t get to see the sleepy smile that adorns his face as, while he dreams of being in your arms entirely, something about the way his version of you kissing his head feels especially real.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 8.3k

A/N: Fun fact: with this chapter, the BSBL timeline now coordinates perfectly with our own! Ralphie's living in real time now :)

This chapter does define a specific family dynamic with reader, which I know puts a lot of people off because it's not identical to theirs, but I needed to make it something so that the story could progress. I hope you still enjoy it!

“What on earth is that monstrosity?!” Ralph asks with disgust as the door closes behind him.

“Good afternoon to you,” you say in a voice that mocks Ralph’s before returning to your own usual tone. “Good afternoon, Ralph! How was your day at work? Oh, it was quite spectacular, I helped transform a gentleman into another man named Elvis, not that I’d know who he is or why he’s so important that people want to dress up as him, but nonetheless, what a marvellous day! Why, you look absolutely swept off your feet, what sort of old-school gentleman would I be if I didn’t insist on helping? Oh, well that’s very kind of you, Ralph, thank you so much for offering!”

You look up and burst into laughter at Ralph’s highly unamused expression. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You point at the object in front of you. “’S a tree. Big thing, grows outside, birds live in it. Mind you, that’s the real deal, this thing’s just made of plastic,” you wriggle a branch up and down as if that demonstrates your point at all.

“I know what a Christmas tree is, I mean are you really putting all those lights on it?” He asks with an upturned nose.

“What’s wrong with these?” You ask as you lift up the chain of Christmas lights from where they’d been resting across your shoulders.

“All the colours, it’s so… Where’s the consistency, where’s the theme?” he asks.

You roll your eyes, “Oh my god, I should have known you’re a white-lights guy. Anyway, it’s no fun limiting yourself to just one colour or whatever. If I see a decoration that I like, I buy it. Simple,” you shrug. “I could really use a hand with these, though, if you’re free,” you offer, waggling your eyebrows.

He frowns, "After all that?!"

You sigh in exhaustion, "Sorry. Twenty minutes untangling these pissing lights has made me a bit of a bitch.”

Ralph offers a small smile. “Then I suppose I should prevent your mood from getting worse, shouldn’t I? Um, where should I -?” he asks, gesturing and leaning from side to side, his eyes following the wire that encompasses you as he tries to find the end.

You giggle, “Here, I’ll keep this end, you get ’round the other side of the tree and I can hand the lights over to you. Just make a little gap between the wires,” you show him how, “every now and then and put it round a branch. Got it?” Ralph nods, looking at the tree intently.

On three separate occasions, Ralph worries that the lights aren’t long enough to fit all the way around the tree. You promise him that they’ve been long enough for the last three years, and you’re sure they haven’t shrunk while they’ve been in storage. “And how did you even manage this ordeal on your own for this long?!” he asks incredulously.

“It’d start off with me kicking the tree stand around and around,” you explain, “until it got to the lower, wider parts and I’d just give up and throw the lights over the top and pull them back down again.” Ralph giggles at the mental image before continuing the job at hand.

“Now, what did I say, hm?” Ralph eventually asks exasperatedly, gesturing towards his side of the bottom of the tree. “Not enough for this area!”

You crane your head around to look and grin, “Nah, that’s perfect!” He looks at you, bewildered, and you laugh, “Look, you just,” you start pushing the tree around so that the one bald patch is facing the wall next to the socket the lights plug into, plug the lights in and step back with arms out to show off the tree. “See? Looks great! We did it!”

He frowns, “It’s not… Perfect, though.”

“Well, maybe not,” you shrug, “but we did it, and the effort we put into it is what makes it perfect for this little flat.” Ralph’s ears turn pink at the notion of you potentially calling something you’ve done together perfect. “Right, now it’s time for the ornaments. And no judging them, okay?”

Your warning doesn’t stop him. “What on earth is this?”

You look over and grin. “It’s a monkey! Look at its little face,” you coo. “I got given it ’cause I like monkeys.”

“But why is it skiing?” Ralph asks, poking at the crocheted skis stitched onto its crocheted feet.

“Because it’s Christmas, duh,” you deadpan sarcastically, squinting at Ralph as though it were the most obvious thing in the world as you point out the Santa hat it’s wearing. He mimics your expression back to you, making you laugh, which only makes him smile as he eventually admits defeat and puts the ornament on the tree.

Once the tree is decorated, you step back and huff out a harsh breath. “Please tell me it’s all over now,” Ralph groans.

You giggle, “If you wanna stop, then fine, but I still have to put the decorations around the rest of the flat.”

“N-no! We have to - we’re decorating together, aren’t we?” Ralph asks hurriedly.

“Well, yeah, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to, I can take it from here, I only really needed help with the lights -”

“No! It’s fine! I can help!” Ralph rummages through the box closest to him and pulls out something long, plastic and green. “What is this?” he frowns.

“Oh!” you laugh, embarrassed. “Oh, we don’t have to put that one up this year. That’s, um… Have you ever heard of mistletoe? The plant you’re supposed to… kiss under?” At those words, the fake sprig flies out of Ralph’s hands as though he’s been poked by a cattle prod. You watch it eventually land on the other side of the flat, impressed at its airtime, before continuing. “Yeah, it’s a dumb joke everyone makes about me being chronically single, so they put it up over the door in case I happen to come in with someone else, but obviously now I… I have you here, so… It’d. Be weird,” you falter as you instead focus on digging out a garland of tinsel to drape across the table, and definitely not on the thought of potentially having an excuse to kiss Ralph without consequence. You definitely don’t keep staring at the fake mistletoe on the floor and you definitely don’t consider hanging it up anyway.

Of course you can’t. Ralph blushes at the mere thought of his hand being held, to force him into a situation where he’d feel coerced to kiss you is far worse than never getting to. Instead, you just find a natural excuse to move over to that part of the flat to kick it out of sight. No need to acknowledge it any more.

Not that Ralph could acknowledge it anyway, either, his mind’s too full of thoughts of being able to hold the mistletoe between you two whenever he had the urge to kiss you and you having to comply, followed by his own silent self-scolding of how vastly inappropriate such an action would be.

Once the house is finally all decorated, you and Ralph collapse on the sofa. “Well, thank goodness that’s all over!” Ralph exclaims exhaustedly. “Though, I must say, it does still look… Festive. Even if not all of it is coordinated.”

“Wanna know the worst bit?” you hold back laughter. “We’re not even gonna be here to appreciate this on actual Christmas Day.”

“We’re?” Ralph asks, before nodding in sad realisation. “Ah. Because you’re going away and I can’t be trusted to provide for myself, still,” Ralph scolds himself quietly, but you frown, leaning yourself against him sympathetically.

“It’s not that! You’ve been doing pretty well lately, actually,” you smile at him. “No, I’m going to my parents’ for Christmas, and they wanna meet my new friend, Ralph.”

His ears turn bright red. “You - You, want… Want me to meet your p-parents?”

“Yeah! They already know all the others, they like to stay up to date with all the people in my life. Figured it’s about time they met my flatmate, eh,” you nudge him with your elbow and he laughs half-heartedly.

“Yes, quite,” he replies faintly. He still hadn’t found the right time to tell you about his encounter with Pete, and the momentum of bringing back anything from that weekend especially has long since gone. So as far as you know, he’s still on borrowed time. And now you want your family knowing about him? What sort of motivation would you have for taking him with you?

Unless, of course, you had been telling Ralph a white lie when you’d said it’s not that he can’t be trusted in the flat by himself. You probably just still want to keep a close eye on him. That has to be it. There’s no other logical reason.

~~~

“Remind me again how you two met, then?” your dad asks Ralph at the dinner table.

From memory, Ralph recites the backstory you’d created on your way there in a slightly stilted tone, “I am a family friend of Connor’s, who I know you’re familiar with.” You ignore the disapproving looks your parents share - of all your friends, Connor was always the one they were the least keen on, which is why you felt it safest to use him as a backstory since they’re the least likely to talk to him - as he continues. “I had recently left an… Unfortunate situation, I sought him out, he unfortunately had too many housemates as it was, but…” Ralph looks over at you, seeking approval in his storytelling.

“But then I came to the rescue,” you beam, quickly squeezing Ralph’s hand in affirmation under the table. The pink of his ears is obscured from your view when he looks over to you, as you smile at him proudly while your parents aren’t looking.

“What I don’t understand is,” your mum starts, takes her time chewing an entire mouthful of food, then carries on, pointing her fork at you, “have you moved and not told us, then? ’Cause I swear you were living in that one-bed, unless…” she waves her fork between the two of you with raised eyebrows, and you roll your eyes.

“There’s a sofa too, Mum,” you explain. “It’s fine, honestly.”

“Well, still, the sofa is no place for a young man like him to sleep on long-term, what about his poor back?” she asks.

Ralph looks at you like a deer in headlights, silently asking you if you should admit that he’s not the one sleeping on it. You try your best to give him a reassuring look as you rack your brain to think of a response, but your dad catches on, dropping his cutlery onto his plate in outrage. “Do not tell me you pay almost a grand a month to sleep on your own sofa.”

Ralph’s head hangs in shame, but you come to his defence. “I don’t! Ralph pays towards the rent now that he’s got a steady job, and it only started because I didn’t realise he was going to be staying this long.”

“So, I assume you’re saving up for your own place in the meantime, then?” your father asks Ralph, who has been too busy focusing on eating the rest of his meal in silence. Ralph simply nods at him, and your dad grunts, “Well. At least you’re getting there. And you both haven’t killed each other, yet, so things must be going well!” he laughs loudly, and Ralph forces out his own laugh in slight fear.

You roll your eyes again, “God, Dad, you’re so weird sometimes. C’mon, Ralph, help me clear the table.” You gesture with your head as you stand up and start collecting the plates. Ralph follows suit, following you into the kitchen. You mumble, “Really sorry about them. If it helps, my dad’s only ribbing you that much because he likes you. It’s his weird way of scoping you out to see if you can take it.”

Ralph nods with a frown. “So, should I also be as verbally biting back to him? Is that what he wants?”

“No! No, no, no,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “Just laugh along with him, maybe a quick quip back every once in a while to catch him off guard if you can think of one, but not too many. He’ll just get offended. You know how dads - Fuck,” you slam the heel of your hand into your eye. “You - yeah, sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s quite alright,” Ralph reassures with a small smile. “It’s actually quite refreshing to see parental figures who are… So invested in their child’s goings-on.”

You give him a quick hug. “If it’s too much, just excuse yourself and shoot me a text and I’ll be right up with you, okay?”

Ralph nods. “I should be alright, but thank you for your concern nonetheless.” His smile is faltering, but he’s trying to keep it up.

Once you’ve both washed everything up from dinner, you go to take both your bag and his up to the bedroom, but Ralph soon chases after you to take his own. “I can take it if you want,” you assure him, but he shakes his head. “You scared to be left alone with my parents?” you ask, amused, and he shakes his head again. You narrow your eyes. “Are you lying?” Ralph hesitates before shaking his head again, and you giggle.

Bag in tow, Ralph hurriedly makes his way halfway up the stairs before stopping and leaning over the railing to look down at you with a frown. “I am going the right way, aren’t I? Only you don’t seem to be following me.”

“No, no,” you stay stood there, crossing your arms and smirking with a sarcastic smugness. “You clearly know exactly where you’re going, don’t let me stop you!”

Ralph meekly makes his way back down the stairs to you, and you grin wickedly, “Why’d you come down for?”

“W-Well, because you sai- Excuse you!” Ralph exclaims as you rush past him and run up the stairs, laughing maniacally. Ralph sighs wistfully. If you were his, he would chase you up the stairs and into your bedroom until he could wrap his arms around you and tackle you onto your bed. He would tickle you mercilessly until you relent, both of you breathless and grinning and mere inches away until he would kiss you, and then you’d kiss him back, and then he’d kiss you back, and -

“Oi! Ralph! You coming up, or what?” Your voice from the top of the stairs pulls him back to reality with an almighty thud.

“Y- Uh, coming!” he calls up, running up the stairs to meet you. “So I really was right?”

“You ought to believe in yourself more, Ralphie boy,” you tease. “But also, yeah, you might have ended up sharing a bed with my parents instead,” you giggle before leading him into your childhood bedroom.

It’s no longer quite your childhood bedroom - the posters of boybands are thankfully stripped from your walls, most of your old toys have either been collecting dust in the loft or given new homes by now, and there’s a desk that takes up most of the room now even without the added fold-out bed. But it’s unmistakably yours.

Ralph takes out a plush toy that’s certainly seen better days and smiles fondly at it. “You did say you liked monkeys,” he notes, holding it up towards you.

You take it out of his hands and look at it affectionately, “Yeah! This was one of my first ever toys. Man, we’ve been through some stuff together.”

“Is that so?” Ralph moves from sitting on the fold-out bed to sitting next to you on your one. “I can’t particularly imagine you being the type to parade around a comfort toy.”

“I mean, not now, obviously! But as a kid, we were inseparable.” You tell Ralph stories from throughout your childhood, both from your own memory and ones recited by your parents. He listens attentively as you ramble on, so deep into your storytelling and pointing out other things in your room to help accentuate the story that you can’t see the adoration in Ralph’s eyes as he revels in hearing you speak.

Ralph can tell that he’s doing it. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game. Perhaps he can let his guard down a little, surely. After all, he knows that he’s not exactly on borrowed time anymore. Perhaps he could allow himself the luxury of assuming that the only barrier between friendship and more with you, is simply that you don’t know.

Not yet, he reminds himself. There’s still some work to be done. He manages to regain his composure in time for you to look back at him. “Ugh, but you don’t want to hear me keep on about all of this.”

“No, actually, I’ve rather enjoyed it,” Ralph blurts out, and you hide your face so that Ralph doesn’t see you blushing at such a simple comment.

Your parents call the two of you downstairs and you squeal, gently slapping down on Ralph’s thigh as you clamber off of the bed. “C’mon! It’s time!”

“Time for what?” Ralph frowns, trying desperately to ignore the warmth that lingers from your touch.

“All the real Christmas traditions to start!” you beam from the doorway.

“Ah, then I’ll simply be intruding on your family. I’ll be just fine waiting up here for you all, I shan’t interrupt,” he nods meekly, but you furrow your brow at him.

“You’re included too, idiot,” you grin affectionately, “now come on!” You wave him out of the door with you and he follows, dumbfounded.

You join your parents in the living room, sitting on the floor by the tree. You pat the spot next to you for Ralph to sit, too, which he does, crossing his legs as he gets comfortable. “What is all of this about?” he asks. “Why are all of the presents tucked behind the tree?”

“We get those out later, so they don’t get confused with these,” you point out the two gifts in front of you. Ralph studies them both, perplexed, and so you explain, “These are our Christmas Eve boxes!”

“Wh- what is a - I didn’t prepare for this,” he mutters to you, looking upset.

“Oh, don’t be! This isn’t an everyone tradition, it’s just something Mum and Dad always did for me, and any friends that’d come over for Christmas Eve,” you shrug. “That includes you!”

Ralph wells up, “I - I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s nothing, really,” your mum waves off. “It’s just some silly things we put together for the night ahead. Gets us all into the Christmas spirit, you know?”

You nudge Ralph’s box towards him and grin. “Ready to open?”

Ralph kicks his knees up and down excitedly, “Yes! Oh,” he stops himself immediately, “but you should go first.”

“We can open them together, you big silly,” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly before placing your hands ready to rip at your gift and looking at Ralph expectantly. He nods, and you both open your boxes at the same time.

As always, there’s a set of Christmassy pyjamas, some fluffy socks, a small packet of hot chocolate along with various toppings and various snacks. Ralph has identical contents. You beam up at your parents, “It’s a movie night this year!” You quickly explain to Ralph that your parents either plan Christmas Eve night to be a movie night, game night or some other activity that they provide the necessities for in your Christmas Eve boxes.

“Yeah, well,” your dad shrugs, “we didn’t want to subject Ralph to a family game night just yet.”

“Yeah, we want him to like us, first!” your mum laughs, and Ralph’s face lights up.

“Oh, please, rest assured, Mrs -”

“Oi!” she interrupts, and Ralph’s face falls again, but she softens immediately. “No formalities here, alright? We’re family here.”

He’s family. Ralph once again battles the urge to cry as he simply states with a smile, “Right, well, there’s certainly no chance of me being anything but eternally grateful for your generosity.”

“Now why can’t you be more like him, eh?” your dad asks jokingly. “How come we get all the sass?”

“Because I was raised by you,” you point out with a smirk, and your dad barks out a loud laugh, ruffling your hair as he does so.

“Go on, away with you both, get yourselves ready!” he ushers you both away and you scoop your box up in your arms as you get up. Ralph does the same, and you tell him to get changed in the bedroom while you go into the bathroom. You meet back in the hallway, and instinctively hold your cheeks at the sight in front of you. Whether it’s the delusion the two of you wearing matching outfits creates, or just the sight of how adorable Ralph looks while drowning in fleece, you frantically regain yourself long enough to take a photo in the big mirror on the wall to send to the group chat before leading Ralph to the kitchen to prepare your snacks.

You make up the hot chocolate for the pair of you while Ralph has the simple task of pouring sweets and snacks into corresponding bowls. Once he’s done, and placed them out in the living room, he returns looking quite proud of himself. “Alright, ready to top off your drink?” You ask as you grab the can of whipped cream out of the fridge, shaking it and squirting a dollop into your mouth for good measure. You point the can at Ralph, who looks at you quizzically before opening his mouth out of curiosity. You give him a mouthful, too, which he tastes with delight spreading over his face. You mirror him. “It’s good, innit?” He nods excitedly and you wave him over to where your two mugs sit. “Okay, so you wanna get it at the right angle, you want it on the drink, but you don’t want it to blow the stuff out of the mug. Got it?” Ralph watches you with great intent, nodding slowly, and you hand the can over to him. “Now you try!”

You really should be utilising the time making sure Ralph gets his aim right, or at least by adding the rest of your favourite toppings, but instead you’re having to spend it restraining yourself from thinking all kinds of thoughts about the way Ralph’s tongue pokes out between his lips as he concentrates, especially when it moves around with the nozzle.

It’s only when you notice the pile of whipped cream looking especially tall that you finally grab his wrist with a giggle. He breaks his trance to look over at his compared to yours, and he ends up laughing as well. “Oh, drat, I’ve rather overdone it, haven’t I?”

“Just a little,” you laugh before grabbing your favourite toppings and adding them to your drink.

Your parents laugh when they see the state of your drinks as you and Ralph sit on the sofa together, and you quickly look over to make sure Ralph isn’t offended by it, already planning on your damage control spiel, but he seems to have… Accepted that they aren’t laughing unkindly at him. Your heart swells at the thought that he feels just at home with your family as he does with your friends. If only you could all keep him around all the time.

Despite you being the one to pick out your favourite Christmas movie to show Ralph, it’s hard to concentrate on it when he’s grazing at his whipped cream like a baby cow to grass, especially when some of it gets caught on his nose. You stifle a laugh at that, but he hears and looks over at you in confusion. You swipe it away with your thumb, then suck at your thumb to get it off of yourself as you turn back to watch the movie. Ralph is grateful both that you decided to look away, and that the room is so dimly lit, though his ears burn so harshly they could well be glowing regardless.

You’re not certain how far you made it into the movie before you drifted off to sleep, but you definitely don’t remember being leant against Ralph with a blanket over you at the time, despite that being how you wake up now. As you stir, you jump up suddenly, which alarms Ralph, too. You notice your parents are no longer in the room. “Ah, finally, I was going to, um, perhaps try and wake you myself so that you weren’t down here all night,” Ralph explains.

“Too used to sleeping on sofas these days,” you smile sleepily, and Ralph chuckles under his breath. “How come you’re still here?”

“Well, I’m at the end of the seat, so you would have just… You know…” Ralph mimics the motion of you falling flat onto the couch cushion with his hand, making you giggle. “Can’t have that. I, um, pulled the blanket over from the back of the seat, too. I hope that’s okay with your parents.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “Blankets are for sleeping under.”

“Yes, but… I didn’t know if it was just there for decoration,” he explains.

You shake your head. “Ralph, mate, we’re not rich enough to have decorative shit and purposeful shit. It’s all… Shit,” you shrug with a laugh. You flash your phone up to check the time, “Ooh, it’s almost midnight, we’d better go upstairs before Santa gets down here!”

“You know he isn-” Ralph cuts himself off and starts again, softer this time. “You really do get into the whole Christmas thing, don’t you?”

You shrug as you both climb the stairs, “It’s all about spending time with loved ones and showing each other you care.” Loved ones. Loved. Ralph has to squeeze his thumbs to make sure he doesn’t visibly show any kind of reaction to those words.

You clamber into your old bed, and Ralph does so into his little camping bed for the night. “Goodnight,” he calls. “Pleasant dreams.”

“You too, Ralphie.”

The next morning, you wake up super early, as per usual for you. No matter how old you get, the excitement of Christmas morning never leaves you. You happily text all of your friends a Merry Christmas and catch up on some social media posts, silently reminding yourself to make sure you get a good photo of Ralph later for his.

He stirs not long after you, looking up at you and smiling sleepily. “I guessed you’d wake early. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” you grin. “Ugh, yeah, but now Mum and Dad insist on having a “lie-in” and having “breakfast first”,” you make air quotes with your fingers and roll your eyes.

“Well, if you wanted to exchange some gifts early, I could, um… Well… There’s one that I can give and another that’s… Sort of… More abstract,” Ralph stammers, looking and feeling around for his bag.

“Calm it, Ralph, it’s okay. Here, can I give you mine first, and then you can figure out all the… Logistics of yours?” You gesture around with your hands, and he nods.

You take his present out of your bag and hand it to him, and he immediately frowns. “This looks big. Little on the heavy side, too.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you smirk.

“Well, I should rather hope you didn’t spend too much on me, since you’ve already done more than eno- Oh, heavens!” Ralph exclaims as he reveals his present. “Is this -” You nod with a grin, and he gasps. “But, how could you - I mentioned seeing it one time when we met up for lunch that day weeks ago, I - This must have cost a small fortune -”

“Hey, having other friends in the same industry helps. I got it for cheaper than you’d have seen it for, if that makes you feel better accepting it.”

“I should very much like to try it on, but perhaps while wearing something a little more… Dignified,” he says softly as he admires the coat you’d picked out for him. “Anyway!” He folds it very, very carefully and then protrudes his ukulele from his bag, plucking at strings to make sure it’s still in tune.

You gasp excitedly, “Ralph, did you write me a song?”

“Oh, heavens, no, I could never write a song worthy of all you have done for me!” He shakes his head violently. “No, but, well… I know we’ve sort of… Never really spoken about, about that weekend that we were away, but I knew that I would only say the wrong things, and… And on the drive back, Anna had told me that sometimes songs exist to put words to things that you can’t do yourself, and so… I mean, of course, not all of the lyrics, pertain, but enough of them say what I want them to… Oh, fiddlesticks, I’m rambling now…”

You cock your head to look at him with a humoured grin. “Ralph… Can I guess who the original singer of whatever you’re about to sing is?”

His ears tint pink. “Can I just… Play it, please?” he asks nervously.

You nod sincerely. “Of course. The stage is yours.”

Ralph starts playing a song you recognise as Afterglow by, of course, Taylor Swift. You’ve heard the song on occasion, but coming from Ralph, with nothing but his strings accompanying him, the lyrics really start to hit close to home. “I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue / Put you in jail for something you didn't do” … “It's all me in my head, I'm the one who burned us down, but it's not what I meant, sorry that I hurt you / I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you / I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you” … “I lived like an island, punished you with silence / Went off like sirens, just crying”

Other lyrics sound an absolute delight in Ralph’s voice. If it weren’t for his little disclaimer that not all of the words echoed his thoughts, you could have convinced yourself he was singing to you. “Why'd I have to break what I love so much?” … “Just wanna lift you up and not let you go / This ultraviolet morning light below / Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh” … “Tell me that you're still mine / Tell me that we'll be just fine” … “Tell me that it's not my fault / Tell me that I'm all you want”

You’re moved close to tears by the time he finishes, but you still make sure you applaud him, in fear of making him think you feel anything less than an immense appreciation for him. “That was… Beautiful, Ralphie. Thank you,” you mutter quietly, trying to hold yourself together. “But… You know, you don’t need to shoulder all of the blame for that night, right? I was bang out of order, too, it was just a lot of built-up stress and - and alcohol, and -” You shake your head. “Anyway. Those words are… So sweet. Too sweet. It wasn’t all you. And look! We didn’t lose anything, right? And we’re not gonna.” The last part catches in your throat. You are gonna lose him, eventually. Whenever Homeless Pete informs you of your doomed fate. You instead pull Ralph in for a hug to show your gratitude.

Ralph can see something bothers you about the words that you’ve said. Now is the time, he tells himself, giving himself a little pep talk. Now he can tell you all about what happened, why he went ‘missing’ that weekend. He can tell you that he’s here to stay, as long as you want him to.

But instead he watches you push him out of the hug, hold him at arms’ length and shake your head. “No, that’s it, I’m not getting any more upset or else I’ll get your nice new PJs all snotty. From now on, that weekend is a banned topic of conversation. We’ve both said our piece, now. There’s no need to revisit it. Deal?” You hold your pinky out at him.

Defeatedly, he links his little finger with yours. “A promise,” he says with a nod, before realising. “Oh, heavens! There’s another part to your gift, isn’t there!”

You frown, “Mate, you’ve only had one paycheck so far, I hope you haven’t blown it all on me!”

“Not all of it, um… This is more of a… Well, I spent more in effort than I did in money, let’s put it that way.” He leans down to pick up a small parcel that now rests on the fold-out bed, that you open to find a small binder. About the size of your palm, but longer. You start to flip through the coloured slips of card kept in the plastic wallets of the binder. This coupon entitles you to: a night out at that jazz club we liked. “Apologies,” Ralph pipes up, reading over your shoulder to see which one you’re looking at, “I forgot the name of the club itself. But you know where I mean. They’re all colour-coded, so the purple ones mean ones where we go out somewhere, blue means I do something around the house - something big, mind you, we share the jobs, I haven’t forgotten - green are to do with yo- our friends, yellow are…” He scrunches his face up as he tries to remember, “Oh! Yellow is for more fun things to do that don’t cost much, orange ones are ones that have a time limit on them, and red, well… Red are… I’m not sure how to explain them."

You thumb through the binder. This coupon entitles you to: one three-course meal cooked by me* *My cooking will be fully supervised by a separate third party. This coupon entitles you to: a full-group picnic that I will facilitate. This coupon entitles you to: a phone-free movie marathon evening. This coupon entitles you to: Exactly three days’ access to that blue jumper you like so much.

You bark out a laugh at that last one, “Only three days at a time?!”

Ralph pulls a face, “Be thankful you’re getting any days without guaranteed complaint!”

“True,” you nod in acceptance. You flip to the first red coupon and your heart sinks. This coupon entitles you to: kick me out of the flat for a whole day. “Ralph…” you state quietly, sadly.

“Yes, well…” Ralph’s voice is stilted, too. “I know that I’m an awful lot to be around, and I’m not saying that for pity’s sake! But if you ever need a day all to yourself, you can just… Hand me one of those, and I’ll find something to do with myself instead.”

You look through all the red slips. Several entitle you to a Ralph-free day, as well as switching you both between the sofa and then bed for a period of time left blank for you to determine. Another few simply state that they entitle you to tell Ralph to stop talking. “Why would I want that from you?” you ask softly, showing him that coupon specifically.

He shrugs, “Well… If I’m prying too much, say, into things that are too personal, instead of arguing again, you can just give me this and I’ll have received the message, loud and clear.”

You nod slowly, and Ralph’s eyes widen as you start taking out red slip after red slip. You look him dead in the eye and say, “I respect the time and effort you put into these, but,” you grab a handful of them and rip them in half, “you’re gonna have to think of a new thing for reds to be. Sorry.” You keep ripping them up until there is no more entitlement to suppress Ralph being Ralph. “I do love all of the others, though. Really. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Once again feeling the urge to cry, you hug him again. This time, it’s tighter. It’s warmer. It doesn’t seem to have an end.

Until you finally hear your parents call you down for breakfast.

After you’ve all eaten, and you and Ralph have cleared up the kitchen for your parents, you make your way to the tree, where your parents have sorted out three small piles. Ralph looks perplexed at the small box left over. “You seem to have forgotten one, should I put it with - Oh,” his eyes widen as he picks it up and reads the words To Ralph written on the label. Looking up at your parents, he shakes his head. “Oh, p- please, you and your family have already shown me far too much generosity, and I haven’t got a single thing to share with you -”

Your dad waves him off, “We’ve heard that you’ve been in a bad spot up until now, and just thought you deserve a little something nice to see the year off with.”

“Why don’t you start us off, dear?” your mum encourages him to unwrap his gift, and he does so tenderly, looking agape at the box as it’s revealed.

“Oh, wow, what a beautifully packaged - Well, that smells delightful!” he chirps as he takes a small bottle out from the box.

You look at your parents incredulously. “So, when I’d known you for all eight years of my life at the time, and I asked you lot for a Furby, you got me some cheap knockoff from the market that was definitely possessed by the devil since it wouldn’t shut up even after we took the batteries out, but you know Ralph for five minutes and you give him -” You glance over at the bottle filled with a viscous purple liquid to read the label and then look back at them - “Dior soap?!”

“Well, yeah, we like him better,” your dad teases, laughing loudly.

“We just… Have a bit more money these days, and like you said to us, he deserves to be spoiled a little after the time he’s had,” your mum simpers.

“Yeah, well, next year I want my Furby,” you grin, taking the bottle from Ralph’s hands and smelling the lid. “Oh my god, that smells amazing!”

“Doesn’t it, though!” your mum chirps. “And, get this, the main reason we bought it was because we saw the photos of him that you’d sent us, and the man on the adverts for that particular scent -”

Your dad interrupts her with a groan, rolling his eyes. “Here we go again, you know what your mother’s like for her lookalikes.”

“What do you mean!” Your mum frowns at him. “He did look like Ralph!”

“You expect me to trust the same person who thinks Ryan Reynolds and Ryan Gosling look identical?” You raise your eyebrows at her, and she frowns.

“They’re very easy to mix up!” she defends.

Once presents are open, it’s time for your favourite part of the day. You’re not sure what brought on your insistence on this tradition, but you’d warned Ralph ahead of time, and he’d gone on a little shopping spree with Scott to pick out his “fancy outfit” that has been the dress code for your family Christmas dinner for as long as you can remember, now.

Once again, you opt for the bathroom as your changing room of choice, and tell Ralph to meet in the hallway when you’re both ready. Feeling confident that you’re looking especially ready for the family photos this year, and excited for Ralph to be included in them, nothing could prepare you for what he’s dressed in.

You rack your brain trying to remember a time when you’d ever told Scott of the ideal outfit you’d always imagined your ideal partner wearing whenever you’d envisioned these fancy family dinners. Because here Ralph is, in a powder-blue dress shirt with just a few buttons undone, underneath a brown striped sweater vest paired with brown corduroys. His now-classic neck chain and rings adorn him. You try not to let your jaw hit the floor as you see him looking… Absolutely everything you’d spent your life imagining your perfect partner would look like.

“My goodness, you look… Radiant,” he gushes to you.

“Thank you! You’re looking especially handsome yourself,” you allow yourself that compliment to him. It’s a perfectly normal thing to say to your friends. You’d say it to any of yours. Definitely. Justifying yourself to your internal monologue is a completely normal thing to do.

You take some photos of him for his Instagram, though only one makes it:

The family dinner is as amazing as always. Ralph finally looks at ease around your parents as everyone compares Christmas cracker jokes, and your parents regale stories of past Christmases with you to him, to Ralph’s delight.

It seems such a shame to have to leave this little bubble, but unfortunately, the real world awaits. As does the next week of Pure Retail Hell that is the Boxing Day sales. You leave shortly after dinner so as to get plenty of rest in tonight.

Ralph gasps with delight as he realises, “I can wear my new coat with an outfit this nice!” Just when you thought the outfit was enough to see you off, it being topped off with the long, tan coat you’d bought him makes you want to grab it by the lapels, push him against the wall and kiss him until his brain short-circuits.

Instead, you focus on one particular feature of it, “Oh my god, it’s so swishy!”

Ralph looks at you, perplexed. “Swishy?!”

“Yeah! Like, look, go like this,” you rock yourself from side to side, mimicking the motion you’re expecting the coat to make with your hands. Ralph copies you, and positively giggles as he watches the swishing in motion.

“Look at it go!” He practically twirls himself around your parents’ hallway as you say your goodbyes.

“Keep hold of that one,” your mum says into your ear as she hugs you. “He’s a good’un.”

Your dad echoes a similar sentiment of, “Well, I don’t hate him.”

~~~

The next week is a blur of non-stop sales, returns, and most of all, Karens. You’re relieved to finally get a day off on the 31st, which is when you and your friends have decided to celebrate your own Christmas together.

Ralph insists that he will give everyone their own gifts as soon as he can afford to, to which everyone waves him off. “You’ve given me the gift of being able to yell about Taylor Swift to someone who has no idea what I’m on about. That’s all I’ll ever need,” Anna grins at him, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, and now I’ve got a new best mate to jam out with!” Connor nudges Ralph with his elbow. “Your uke’s just the beginning, wait until I teach you the guitar, and then, oh! We’ll be unstoppable, you and me!”

“Yeah, where would any of us be without our Ralphie, eh?” Grace asks, simpering at him.

“So, with all that being said…” Scott protrudes a final gift and hands it to Ralph. “We all clubbed together to get you something from all of us.”

“Not again!” Ralph wells up, looking at you sadly, but you grin.

“Go on, then! Open it!” you encourage him, and once again a familiar box appears beneath the wrapping paper.

“Oh! This is just like the soap your parents bought me, isn’t it?” Ralph asks, and you study the box.

“Yeah, but this is an actual aftershave, so you can smell like it even more now!” you explain.

“Aww, no more lemony Ralph,” Grace mutters sadly as Connor realises something.

“Did your parents happen to suggest that one because they thought the guy advertising it looked familiar?” Connor asks with a wicked grin, leaning towards Anna, whose face falls.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me your mum and I both thought the same person looked like the same person,” she groans, and you laugh.

“Don’t you think that Harry Potter kid was so good as Frodo in Lord of the Rings?” Connor teases in an impression of your mum, and the whole group laughs.

“Okay, in Mum’s defence, that’s one of her better comparisons,” you comment.

Anna frowns as she spots something poking out from underneath your kitchen counter. She goes to investigate and her curiosity becomes absolute glee as she protrudes the fake mistletoe from where you’d forgotten to pick it up and tidy it up. “What’s this doing here, then?!”

“Piss off,” you laugh, chasing her around the flat trying to take it from her, but she passes it onto Connor who brandishes it proudly.

“Ooh, I was wondering why this wasn’t in its usual spot! Who’ve you been smooching, hmm?” He waves it in your face as you approach him to snatch it out of his hand.

“Nobody! That’s why it’s been forgotten down there!” you frown.

“Yes, I think that’s rather my doing, I… I picked it up and then learned what it’s used for and I didn’t want anything… Presumptuous to occur,” Ralph admits, faltering as the sentence goes on. You don’t see the looks your friends all give each other as you frantically put it away in the first drawer you can find and usher them out.

“Okay, okay, this isn’t getting all the food and drink ready for later before all the shops shut, now, is it?”

As the day turns into night, you and Ralph get ready to celebrate at Connor’s. His place is the biggest, after all, and his housemates are all braving the bars of London on New Year’s Eve. You and your friends are all happy enough just bringing various platters of food and drinks each and ringing the new year in together.

Ralph insists on wearing his Christmas outfit again, much to your own dismay. You’ve already been ribbed enough by your friends over a simple plastic decoration, if they spot any sign of you showing any kind of genuine affection for Ralph then it’s all over. They’d want to play wingman, and you’d have to admit that you can’t pursue him. You’d have to tell them why, and admit that you’ve been lying to them for almost four months.

When you do show up at Connor’s, everyone’s obviously obsessed with Ralph’s outfit. Scott constantly makes sure some of the praise is returned back to him for choosing the clothes. You keep yourself busy while Ralph’s the main topic of conversation by organising all the food that everyone’s brought.

Several hours, several plates of food and several drinks later, the TV’s on with 10 minutes to go until midnight. Once you excuse yourself to the bathroom before the big countdown, everyone else nods to each other, setting their own plan in action. Connor and Grace each take a spot either side of Ralph, grinning as they simultaneously stretch out a, “Heeeey.”

“Hello,” Ralph looks at them both, confused.

“So, don’t know if you know this, what with you being all… Shut off from the modern world or whatever you had going on,” Connor starts. “But… There’s this sort of… Tradition when it comes to New Year's.”

“Of course, you kiss your loved ones. I’m not completely out of touch, we had that one growing up as well,” Ralph admits with amusement.

“Right, but obviously not all of us are loved up, see,” Connor continues.

“So, those that aren’t, can still get in on it, because obviously it’s bad luck for the whole year if you don’t get kissed at midnight,” Grace manages to keep a straight face as she lies to Ralph. “And we’re really superstitious here.”

“Y- You are?” He asks, his eyes darting between the two nervously.

“Yeah, but it’s easily avoided,” Grace wraps her arms around one of Ralph’s. “If you’re single, and it’s midnight, you just kiss the closest single person to you,” she looks up at him hopefully.

Ralph feels his mouth go dry. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. And flattered as I may be, mate, I don’t think it’s gonna be me,” Connor laughs.

“Right. Well, I appreciate you for keeping me in the loop,” Ralph nods, and the pair return the gesture, smiling coyly at each other before running off.

Two minutes to go. Everyone that’s brought a date is actively chatting away to them. Ralph is standing by the wall, anxiously looking around. You make yourself busy by making yourself another drink, and Scott notices, peeling himself away to quickly jog over to you. “Hey, uh, I think Ralph was looking for you.”

You frown, “Is he alright? He’s not gotten drunk already?”

“No! He won’t say what’s up, you know what he’s like, he’s in one of those where he doesn’t want to call for you, but we can all tell he wants something. Y’know? And you know him better than anyone. Better hurry it up, though,” Scott adds with a slight grimace before running back to his partner.

It takes a moment to find him, skulking in the outskirts of the room. He doesn’t even notice you approach until you nudge his arm. “You alright?” you ask him, and he looks at you like a deer in headlights.

“Um… Uh… Well, yes, but rather… Oh…” He flounders as everyone starts chanting a countdown from 10. Ralph licks his lips, his eyes flicking down to yours before quickly snapping back up to gauge your reaction nervously.

It almost seems too perfect. He smells of his new aftershave, all woody and floral but still that classic citrus note remains. He’s wearing that outfit. His big brown eyes are almost enough distraction from the way the tip of his tongue pokes out to trace his lips, but not quite enough. You feel your breath getting heavier as the sound of your friends shouting drowns every other thought in your head.

“- 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 –!”

A/N: I know. I'm the worst. Happy New Year, babies. ;)

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 9.2k

A/N: Thanks for being patient! I know this one took longer than the other two, but yeah. Back pain is no joke, and also, as you can see, this became somewhat of a monolith lol. This whole fic is my most favourite thing to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Also, apologies for the horrific photoshop job I did trying to recreate a certain social media layout, lol.

The first few weeks of living with Ralph are certainly… An experience. You’re able to teach him how to cook basic freezer meals, how to use a hob and the importance of never taking your attention away from food when you’re preparing it. He’s got his favourite TV shows, especially now that you’ve trusted him with access to your streaming services, too - though you did have to make him a separate profile on your account when your current obsession had been drowned out in your Continue Watching queue by Ralph watching half an hour of whatever was showing up first, giving up and moving onto the next thing. He’s got a rapport as “that eccentric young man who lives in flat 912”, who befriends all the local outdoor cats and bows to everyone he makes eye contact with. Plus, with all the extra attention Ralph gives them while you’re not there, your plants have been thriving more than ever.

Another morning of waking up on the sofa. You reach blindly for the pain relief and water bottle you now keep close to you and chug them down before peeling yourself away. At least today is a day off. Except it isn’t really, as you’re reminded when you hear the shower going. You’re still a full-time Ralph-sitter. You decide to treat the pair of you to a full breakfast, something that your new housemate had considered “grotesque” as “grease is not a food group”, but you’d acclimated him to it eventually. As long as you cut him some bread soldiers to dip into the yolks of his eggs. That’s his favourite part.

You scroll through Spotify on your phone to see what playlist you’ll ask your Echo to play for you. It recommends, based on your recent listening (by which it obviously means the battle your algorithm faces trying to find common ground between your music taste and Ralph’s), an electro-swing playlist. Excited, you ask Alexa to play the playlist as it’s titled, and start bouncing along to it as you get everything out to start cooking.

Ralph emerges, hair still wet, with a smile on his face. “Good morning!” You understand and appreciate his efforts to try and blend in a little more aesthetically, but arguably the worst thing your friends have convinced Ralph is that he looks better with a bit of facial hair. Which, of course, is true, but that’s what makes it so terrible for you. “What is this?!”

You shrug, “Dunno, it said electro-swing and I figured that sounds like the perfect mix of both of us. You like it?”

Ralph nods, “I mean, it’s certainly not the classics, but I could definitely get used to this!” He starts moving his feet in very deliberate ways, and you smirk at him.

“Did you ever learn how to swing dance, by any chance?”

“Guilty!” he lilts, rolling his eyes up. No matter how much he may try to look like a 21st century man, he’s still unmistakably Ralph. “Yes, Mother got Victoria and I enrolled in a school to get us out of the house. Father wanted me to join some new-fangled group, the Scouts?” You’d think you’d be used to all the culture shocks by now, but hearing that Ralph could have been one of the first ever Scouts still knocks the wind out of you a little. Ralph, completely unaware, continues rambling, “Yes, but it was all… Swimming and climbing and… Outdoor survival,” he shudders. “So, Mother sent me away with Victoria to her dance classes.”

“Were you any good? Or did you enjoy it, at least?” you ask.

Ralph smiles as his head bobs with excitement, “I was rather exemplary, yes! Ms Lillian often paired Victoria and I together, knowing we could practise at home as well, though when we got to a… Certain age, Victoria decided she would rather have other male partners.” You can tell from the sadness in Ralph’s tone what he’s about to say next. “And, well, she was on such good terms with the other girls in the group that… Well, none of them wanted to be paired with little brother Ralph, so the teacher was my partner. ‘Little brother’, I ask you, only by twelve minutes!” he starts to mutter under his breath.

An urge swells within you to find Homeless Pete, insist he find a way to fix that time machine up as soon as possible, and travel back to that time just to shove every one of those rich little brats. Instead, you focus that energy on comforting Ralph, reaching your arms around his shoulders in a quick hug. “I’m sorry, mate. Though, I don’t suppose you remember those moves you learned?”

His eyes light up. “I certainly do! Did you want to learn how to? The teacher did say I was quite the natural, I could teach you if you wanted!”

You grin, “I’d love nothing more.”

You spend the best part of an hour learning how to do things like the Charleston Step, the bow tie and the one that Ralph calls one turns, two turns, which you can tell is his favourite based on the smile he gets when it’s his turn to get twirled around.

Eventually, you heave with exhaustion. “Well, that’s worked up the old appetite, though I dunno how I’m gonna cook when I can barely feel my legs!”

Ralph giggles, “Oh, please, that was nothing! Ms Lillian would have you in tatters.” You give him a death stare and he stops laughing immediately. “Would you like me to get us something from the baker’s? I could get you some of those doughed nuts that you enjoy.”

“For the last time, Ralph, doughnuts don’t actually contain nuts and you can have some yourself, too!” you groan as you start replacing everything you’d taken out of the fridge.

Ralph tuts, shaking his head. “I have no interest in your nuts, thank you.” That’s one to send to Scott and Connor later, you think to yourself as you open up your phone and add to the note “Ralph Quotes”. “Perhaps the nice old lady who calls me chap will be there,” he muses with a small smile, “I like her.”

“Hop to it, then, old sport,” you say in a mock-posh voice, earning you a glare from Ralph, which only makes you laugh as you make your own way to the shower.

When you’re out and dressed for the day - in the clothes Ralph had worn on his first night with you, but only because they’re your go-to comfort clothes anyway and you don’t exactly plan on leaving the flat - you go through your usual routine of checking the news app for the headlines, and then the trending topics on Twitter, just to see if there’s anything your friends will be talking about.

You giggle at the fact that the name Ralph is trending, screenshotting it to send to the group chat later. Out of curiosity as to which Ralph the internet is obsessing over today, you tap it and scroll through. It’s mostly people in fandoms, making threads called ‘[series] as ralph tweets’. The “ralph tweets” in question seem to be of someone tweeting as though they think Twitter works in the same way as Google.

Your stomach drops as you realise some of them look a little too familiar. Almost as though you know a Ralph who’d be this far out of touch with the modern world. Almost as though you could track the very conversations that would lead to some of these to that particular Ralph.

You click through to the profile @RalphOnTwitter and scroll all the way down to see exactly when he must have gotten an account:

You send a single message in the group chat: GROUP MEETING, MY FLAT, ASAP. ALL MUST ATTEND.

Your friends all arrive relatively quickly after that. You simply herd them all onto the sofa one by one until the last of them has arrived, but just as you’re about to lay into them, the man of the hour arrives, having fumbled with the lock for a good minute with his arms full of baked goods.

“Ah, good morning, all! It’s a good job you’re all here, it was that young woman serving today and she always gives me extra food even though I don’t ask for it or pay for it, I don’t know why -”

“It’s ‘cause she fancies you, mate,” Connor grins, causing Ralph’s ears to turn a vibrant shade of red.

“Can we please discuss Ralph’s love life another time?!” you interrupt. “I need to know which of you is responsible for giving him access to a Twitter account.”

You know Anna’s in the clear, you’d been helping her in the kitchen, but the other three look at each other shiftily. “Well, it was sort of all of us? We just thought it might be fun to teach him,” Grace explains. “It’s not often you meet someone who’s never heard of social media.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ralph,” you call out, eyes still closed, “what do you do when you need to know the answer to something?”

“I do what you taught me when you first gave me my phone,” Ralph answers, perplexed. “I tap the very last square, I type in my question and I wait for an answer. A lot of them are just people being rude, but eventually someone will be helpful.”

“Sounds about right,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“Wait, you mean, you still do that even after we put - you didn’t think to just move one to the -” Scott’s eyes widen. “Oh, god.”

“Why would it move?!” Ralph asks, taking a bite out of his favourite pastry and chewing anxiously.

Anna starts giggling as she scrolls through his account, “Aww, but it’s so funny! And it’s not hurting anyone, what’s the damage in it?”

The fact he’s not supposed to be alive and yet he’s suddenly very much perceived, maybe? The fact he could accidentally tweet something that would give him away? The fact he could tweet something vastly inappropriate at any moment?

“Yeah, you could really capitalise on him while he’s here,” Connor smirks. “Get him on Instagram, too, get those brand deals coming.”

“Yeah! Ralph On Twitter’s face reveal, make it a whole thing,” Grace grins.

You sigh. “I dunno. It feels like a really bad idea.” You look at Ralph, who looks blankly back at you. “But… Maybe we could make something of you. As long as I’m your PR manager, obviously, and you don’t go talking directly to anyone.”

“I don’t think I know how,” Ralph shakes his head, “I thought it was the searching thing that you’d told me about.”

“Good. Never learn,” you point at him, “and give me your phone.” Your friends all cheer as they crowd around you, watching you download Instagram onto his phone, as well. You give him the handle @ralphoninsta “to keep the brand alive,” you explain as you set up his profile.

“Now we need a good first photo,” Scott holds his fingers and thumbs up in a rectangle shape to frame Ralph in his own field of vision. “Let’s get him into some good lighting.”

Sitting him in the best-lit corner of the flat, Scott insists on playing photographer, telling Ralph to sit and smile. However, Ralph does not seem to do well in front of the camera. He sits bolt upright, every part of him looking stiff and uncomfortable, and his smile isn’t right. It’s far too forced, it shows all his teeth and yet somehow the smile itself stretches beyond them. “Maybe we should take him out and about, get some candid shots of him,” Anna suggests.

You groan, having just started on your second doughnut. “Fine! I’ll leave the house today, but I won’t be pleased about it!” You shake your half-eaten breakfast at your friends, who laugh. “And you guys better come eat these, too, Ralph wasn’t kidding about these freebies.” You hold out another doughnut and wave it in Ralph’s direction, “Sure I can’t tempt you with one?”

He leaps onto his feet and backs away from you, “How many times must I ask you to keep your doughed nuts out of my face, please!” As expected, Scott and Connor crease up in laughter.

“You’ll love ‘em when you try ‘em, Ralphie,” you grin, taking another bite of your own, but Ralph isn’t as amused by it all.

Once you’re all adequately full, you begrudgingly throw on a hoodie and go out with everyone else, trying to find the right lighting, the right backdrop. Even with everything, Ralph just doesn’t seem to pose very well. His posture becomes so much more awkward and his facial expressions just aren’t… Ralph.

When he starts to express his apathy for the whole thing, you think of one more thing that might help. Standing him in front of a brick wall, you position Scott and set his phone camera to video, earning you an, “Ahh, good shout.”

Scott starts recording as Ralph stands in place, looking over at all of you. “So, what is it I’m supposed to do, now? Do I have to pose again? How?”

You shrug, “I dunno, just… Be Ralph. Stand however you want. Look however you want. Just, keep it moving around, yeah?”

He may still look a little awkward but you’re able to get him to do plenty, at least. Getting him comfortable is easy enough, you start getting him talking about his new favourite TV programmes and he very vaguely - and mostly not entirely correctly - describes the plots of them, with all the excited sincerity of a lifelong fan. Grace also asks him about his favourite local cats he’s befriended whenever he’s been out and about, which he lists happily and extensively.

When Scott feels as though he’s got some good angles, he stops recording and you all crowd around him to review the footage together. While you all have different opinions on which angles are best, you can all agree on one thing - Ralph certainly photographs far, far better candidly. You all eventually settle on pausing and screenshotting at two specific moments, though Ralph is still perplexed. “But I’m not posed for either of those pictures, doesn’t that make them bad? I mean, I’m not even looking in that second one!” He points to a shot where he’s looking down, itching his jaw.

“No, trust me, it’s fine, they’re great,” you insist, maybe a little too quickly. Nobody seems to have noticed, though. Thankfully.

“And in this one, the sun is in my eyes! I’m all squinty!” He frowns, swiping to the previous shot.

“That’s called a smoulder, babes, everyone loves a smoulder.” You watch in amusement as Ralph’s ears turn pink at Grace’s words. No matter how many times you’ve told him that Grace calls everyone by that name, it still gets Ralph all nervous to be referred to by it himself. “You’re a natural, when you’re not actually trying.”

“Is that a good thing?” Ralph asks, his eyes darting around the group to gauge everyone’s reactions.

Anna nods, “It shows promise, right, Scott? Scott’s big into his photography shit, he’s got a proper camera and everything, don’t you?”

Scott nods. “If you ever wanted to try and get more comfortable with it, we could definitely shoot together sometime.”

Ralph shuffles over to you to whisper in your ear, “What do guns have to do with -”

You interrupt him to quietly explain, “You shoot photos on a camera.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Addressing Scott, he smiles and claps, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “If I am still around, I should rather enjoy that!”

“Fuck, I forgot we’ve only got you on borrowed time,” Anna complains, before gasping and clapping her hands, addressing you. “This is your weekend off, right?!” You nod, and she squeals, holding her face in her hands. “So, we have to show Ralph what a good night out is, right?!”

Excited reactions from the entire group, except one, obviously, but the others seem too keen on planning tonight now to respond to any of his reactions. “So, do we just take him out, or out-out?” Connor asks.

You look over at Ralph’s face, trying not to laugh too loudly at him looking as though he’s been asked to solve quantum equations in his head. “You trying to figure out the difference there, mate?” you ask, and he nods. “Right, so going out usually means just to the local pub, pretty casual attire, you say you’re only going for a couple of beers but then it’s approaching midnight, the poor sod behind the bar is calling last orders and you’re five deep, trying to gather everyone for the walk home where you drop them all off one by one. Going out-out is dressing up, it’s going into the city itself, it’s going to bars and nightclubs and getting super overpriced cocktails until it’s 3am and you’re sat outside a McDonald’s waiting for a taxi home with whichever stragglers you’ve managed to hold onto by the end of the night.”

“Dressing up, you say?!” Ralph lights up at the idea, but you put a hand on his arm.

“Not in the suit and tie way, I’m afraid.” You frown, “I don’t actually know if we’ve got any out-out clothes for you at home, you know. I haven’t had a chance to get you to any shops where you can try nice clothes on yourself.”

With a collective gasp, Grace and Anna each loop an arm around each of Ralph’s, with Scott joining in their chorus of, “Shopping trip?!”

You groan, “Can I at least go back and get changed if you’re gonna keep making me leave the house?”

“I mean, you don’t have to come with us, if you want a break,” Anna suggests. “You trust us with Ralph, right?”

“So what, just the four of you will be going, then?” Connor asks, to the others’ groans. “Oh, come off it, what use would I be?!”

“Connor,” Anna starts. “How often are we ever likely to ask you for your opinion as a straight man again? You need to come with, for your people.”

Connor sighs in resignation, though he can’t fight his own smile. “Alright, fine, but you lot are buying all the coffees I’m gonna need to get through this.”

You slip Ralph your bank card, mutter to him that the others will teach him how to use it, and salute the others as they all make their way to the high street before turning on your heel and heading back to the sanctuary of an empty flat.

Straight away, it feels too empty. Too quiet. Sure, you’ve trusted Ralph to just pop across the road and back, but you’ve got way more alone time now. You ask your Echo to play your favourite playlist as you make a start on the chores you normally can’t do with Ralph around.

Though you expect that to take up until they return, you’re done before the hour is up. You let out a long exhale, tutting through it as you look around your little living space and wonder what on earth to do with yourself. You start watching the next episode of the show you’d been watching, but even that didn’t feel right without the constant interjections, feeling as though you have to explain who characters are, what plots have already happened and why certain scenes are especially important.

You text the group chat a few times, but only Connor ever responds, and as is on brand for him, it’s always a sarcastic comment about how Ralph is obviously going to show up in the most garish outfits known to man. You take comfort in Connor being the one to make those jokes, at least, as if anyone else were to, you might be more inclined to worry that Ralph’s own tastes might just be a little too eclectic for the South London nightlife. At least Connor will be there to talk him down into dressing somewhat appropriately.

You also ask Scott to send you the photos for Ralph’s Instagram profile, telling him you’re happy to edit them to pass the time before eventually getting them onto Ralph’s phone to upload them. He sends you the screenshots, along with the video itself. One little watch, you tell yourself. Then to editing.

An indeterminable amount of time later, you’re replaying a part where you’re constantly correcting Ralph on the actual plot of Gilmore Girls versus what he seems to have retained that it’s about, where you’ve reached the point of uncontrollable laughter and he’s laughing at your laughter. His smile is so pure when he’s genuinely happy, and yet it’s so rare to see it that way. Even without his manufactured pose, when he’s smiling amongst you and your friends it still feels stilted. You often wonder whether he misses the familiarity of home, whether you’re doing a good enough job at helping Ralph to fit in. But seeing that look on his face, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s the first time you’ve been able to really notice him looking comfortable. You take a screenshot of that moment, but not necessarily to add to Ralph’s profile. Maybe this one stays as a memento of Ralph’s time here, just for you.

When you get the text in the group chat letting you know that a) they’re finished, and b) everyone’s getting ready at Grace’s since her housemates are all out for the evening, you hurriedly edit those two photos Scott sent, empty your wardrobe of all your “out-out” clothes into a duffel bag, throw in whatever toiletries and cosmetics you can find and make your way over there.

Scott, Anna and Ralph are nowhere to be found, at first, but Grace assures you that they’re simply helping him “look the part”. You’re more worried about checking in with Ralph, seeing if he’s overwhelmed at all, and most importantly, making sure he hasn’t blown his cover.

Grace is more than happy to help you pick out your outfit for the night, while Connor’s input remains a constant and totally helpful series of grunts without even looking up from his phone. Grace helps you get your face and hair ready, too, though not without scolding Connor for not participating either way, despite his constant rebuttals that he is taking care of “the most important thing”. You quickly shoot him a text thanking him for helping to take Ralph off your hands for an afternoon, and reassuring him you’ll buy him a drink to show your appreciation. The absolute wordsmith that he is, Connor sends a thumbs-up emoji in response.

There’s a ring at the doorbell, which even Grace is puzzled at. That fills you with a sense of concern, too - if Grace isn’t expecting someone at her door, who could it be? Connor seems pretty confident at going to open it, though, and you see why when he eventually shows up with the pizzas that he clearly ordered. “You didn’t have to be so cryptic about it!” You shake your head at him as you make sure everyone has drinks made up as well.

Scott’s head pokes out of a door to ask, “Everything okay? Who was at the door?” You and Connor both point to the food and Scott grins, “Ah, nice! Right on time! Okay, folks, are you ready to meet The New Ralph?”

The three of you clap and cheer as Scott and Anna make a big show of revealing Ralph, and thankfully you weren’t holding any of the glasses you were making drinks in, or you’d have surely dropped them. Wearing a dark fitted polo, very well-fitting jeans and some crisp new Adidas trainers, Ralph stands between your friends, looking around at the three of you. When he catches your eye, he only makes very fleeting eye contact before looking your own outfit up and down and then hastily looking back at the others. He rubs at the tops of his ears - you can’t quite see from this distance, but you wonder if he’s blushing, and whether he’s doing it over everyone’s reaction, or just yours.

You set everyone’s drinks up around the living room, deliberately seating you and Ralph together. “I wasn’t sure what kind of fancy-schmancy drinks you’re used to, and none of us exactly have champagne on tap, but I thought you might like a martini?” You say to him as he takes his seat on the sofa next to you.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “I do rather enjoy a martini!”

“That’s my guy!” Connor cheers from his corner, raising a slice of pizza in a toast of sorts. Ralph tentatively takes a slice and does the same, but you hurriedly follow it up by grabbing a plate and holding it beneath Ralph’s slice for him.

“Don’t want to ruin your nice outfit before you’ve even been seen out in it, do you?” You fuss, and Ralph nods, taking the plate from you and holding it directly under his chin as he eats, which makes you laugh. He could literally look like anyone in the world, but little mannerisms like that will always tell you that that’s your Ralph.

When he’s had enough to eat, you take the plate from him to take it out to the kitchen, though Grace is quick to whip it out of your hands, too. That’s when you notice the plate seems to have moved something underneath the collar of Ralph’s shirt. You move it aside slightly and, with all the might of keeping any kind of flustering behaviour at bay, you ask, “Is that a neck chain you’re wearing?” Is this what manifesting is?

“Yes! Do you like it?” Ralph scoops it out into view with his finger. “Just a plain one, but Anna said it really brought the whole outfit together, didn’t you?” He asks her excitedly, and she nods back.

“She’s got a good eye, that one,” you grin. “You look so good, Ralph.”

“As do you,” he mutters, gesturing quickly to your outfit. “I see what you mean about dressing to the nines, now. It’s nice to see this side of you, too. All of you, really,” he stammers, looking around.

“Right, last minute hair and make-up touches and then I want photos of all of us!” Grace announces.

Ralph’s face falls as he asks you quietly, “Would you like to teach me how to take them, since I’m not good at being in them?”

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him. “We’ll get some good ones of you tonight, trust me. And if you wanna see a bad photo, wait until you see the atrocities this lot take by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We’ll prepare a slideshow of your finest moments for him, shall we?” Scott retorts, to both yours and Ralph’s laughter.

“Maybe we should save that for a special occasion. A birthday, perhaps?” Ralph asks with amusement.

“Yes, Ralph!” Connor and Scott cheer in unison, both slapping his shoulders excitedly as you gasp in mock offence.

“The betrayal!” You can’t actually be mad at Ralph, though, not with how good he looks when he’s this happy. It’s even more captivating in person.

You shake your head as you go to make sure you’re all freshened up after your meal. You can’t keep thinking these things when you’re sober, or else who knows how that’ll manifest when you’re less so.

Your friends all love learning how to get Ralph distracted enough that he doesn’t even realise half the time that his photo is being taken. Scott, being the photography setup genius that he is, even gets his phone out, sets it on a timer, and manages to get Ralph laughing while looking at the camera, in the middle of the group, all while successfully running into the shot himself. Everyone’s in love with that photo, even Ralph, and when Scott sends it in the group chat, you promise him you’ll print one for the flat, and an extra one just for his room.

“What about the other ones that everyone else took?” Ralph asks. “Could I get those ones on my phone, too?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Ooh, speaking of! Before we go! Gimme, gimme,” you make a grabby hand at Ralph, who eventually takes the hint that you want his phone as he hands it to you. You send over the two edited shots - and that’s all - and, on his phone, successfully upload them:

“No caption?” Anna asks, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, it’d look a bit dodge if he’s tweeting to ask his phone to stop changing his words for him, but then he’s a total whiz at Instagram, wouldn’t it?” You explain, to everyone’s agreement.

Finally, you’re all piled into an Uber and on your way to your favourite bar. It’s in the car, cramped between you and the door, that Ralph realises something in a panic. Frantically tapping your arm, he whispers, “Won’t they ask me to prove I’m of age to drink there?”

You shake your head. “Don’t sweat it. The staff know us like the backs of their hands, they’ll trust us that we’re not bringing in some teenager. Besides, you look far less baby-faced now,” you wrestle your arm out enough to ruffle the beard he’s starting to grow with your fingertips. “So we’ll be fine. Promise.”

Ralph, too, wrangles a hand out to hold his little finger towards you. “Promise?”

With a small laugh, you link your own with his. “Yes, but less of that around the people we have to convince that you’re not a kid, okay?” Ralph nods with a very serious expression, and you copy him before settling back into conversation with your friends.

It takes a few bats of the group’s eyelids and some convincing c’mon, mates but the bouncer soon lets Ralph in with you all, to which he enthusiastically thanks them over and over again. You hurriedly rush him in ahead of you before he arouses too much suspicion.

Connor makes a point of letting Ralph know where the toilets are, and Ralph immediately disappears off into that direction. You ask the boys if one of them should make sure he’s okay getting there, but everyone scolds you for fussing over him too much and moves you along with the rest of them to order everyone’s drinks. You want to hold onto Ralph’s for him but, as Scott reminds you, it’s safer for him to, so that you can look after your own. Just in case.

Soon enough, as with every night out, the group starts to scatter. Scott is happily chatting between Connor and a girl you don’t recognise, most likely playing wingman. You can spot Anna and Grace in amidst a small group of people whose heads are turned away from you. Still no sign of Ralph for a while. Ringing his phone does nothing, but the music is quite loud, he might not be able to hear. The bar is small enough, you tell yourself. He’ll find you eventually.

As you’re craning your head around the bar one more time, you don’t realise anyone is in your immediate vicinity until you almost trip over someone behind you. They catch you with a, “Whoa, easy there! How many have you had?!”

“Barely any, that’s the scary thing!” You laugh.

The man smiles at you. “Sounds like I ought to buy you one then, eh?”

You shrug, “Sure, what’s a free drink?” You gesture that you’ll walk up to the bar with him and order your drink. He tries to make small conversation, and you start to get into it a little, until he starts trying to flirt. He’s not exactly your type, anyway, and his total lack of game really doesn’t help matters. You try and get away with a simple thank you, a promise that you’ll find him later to buy him one back but you really must get back to your friends.

“Ah, what’s the rush? Surely it’s easier for them to come and find you if we stay here, right?” He asks. You look around desperately, trying with all your might to use some of that manifesting power you seemed to have earlier to will one of the boys back, both to rescue you and salvage Ralph.

~~~

Ralph was having quite the experience. Having heard the other boys talk of the bathroom, he assumed that was a prompt for everyone to go, but only once he could see the door to it did Ralph turn around and realise he was completely on his own. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. What seemed dimly lit now appears almost pitch black. There are lights of all colours shining everywhere. Music that doesn’t quite sound like music thumps in the background. Twenty conversations happening around him turn into white noise, until someone approaches him. A total stranger. Two of them, actually.

“Alright, mate? Do me a favour?” One asks, despite Ralph’s expression clearly being one that should let anyone know that he is in no position to be giving out any favours. They continue anyway, “Look, I have to draw something, and you have to guess what it is, okay?” Ralph, still bewildered, does not respond in the slightest, but before he knows it, the other person has turned around so that their back can be used as a surface. The original asker now splays a napkin of sorts against their friend’s back as they try and draw something.

Ralph tries his absolute hardest, but as no amount of squinting and focusing can help him, he tells them, “Oh bother, I’m terribly sorry, chaps, I’m honestly trying but I’m really coming up trumps, I do apologise.”

They give him looks of confusion and concern. “Are you on something?”

“Why does everybody assume that of me, just because I’m ever so slightly more well spoken than the average resident here?!” Ralph complains with a frown. “Can this not just be how I talk?”

“Oh my days, you’re a right laugh,” the other grins. “Here, come and do a shot with us, you have to!”

“I- Do I?” Ralph asks, and they nod. “Well, I really should get back to my friends -”

“Oh, c’mon, one shot and we’ll help you find them. Deal?” They ask.

“Well… Alright,” Ralph sighs in defeat. If he can’t find you, he can at least find a constant to anchor onto in the meantime.

“Oi, lads!” The two call out as they approach the table they’re leading Ralph to. “Time out on that game for a minute, we’re doing shots with this legend!” They both look at Ralph expectantly, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Oh! Yes! Hello, everyone. My name is Ralph. Fabulous to meet you all,” he smiles as he looks around the table.

“Isn’t he sick?!” The artist of the pair grins at his friends.

“Quite the picture of health, actually,” Ralph retorts with a side glance.

“Oh, isn’t he a cutie,” a girl coos from the table. The other of the pair starts to clench his jaw.

“Oi, come off it,” another comforts from around the table. “Any bloke that uses the word fabulous isn’t exactly stealing your girlfriend, is he.”

Ralph’s not even sure how to answer to that, but he isn’t given much time to, either, before being whisked away to the bar with this new group. They hand him a tiny glass filled with clear liquid. Ralph wonders if a shot is perhaps some sort of palate cleanser, a mouthful of water between drinks.

The fiery sensation that travels down his throat as he drinks teaches him that it certainly is not. But once the unpleasantness clears, the strange comfort of alcohol starts to fill Ralph with warmth. It’s certainly happening a lot faster than he’s used to, but then these drinks are far stronger than Ralph’s usual tastes.

Briefly forgetting his own arrangement, he returns from the bar with his new acquaintances - and another martini in hand - and sits back at the table with them as they continue playing their game. It’s played on one of their phones. Someone taps through prompts and reads them aloud. Sometimes it’s challenging a player to do something themselves, sometimes it’s challenging them to approach a stranger, as they had done with Ralph. Sometimes it’s asking them completely arbitrary questions to vote upon amongst the group. They all certainly seem to be having a great time playing, anyway.

Once they declare a round over, they ask Ralph if he wants to join in the next one. “Oh, I’m rather… Old-fashioned, I don’t think I’d be a good fit for this, but I’m sure my friends would love it! Shall I go and find them?”

“More the merrier,” one shrugs.

Ralph excitedly jumps up and starts patrolling the bar to find a familiar face amongst the crowd. He’s yet to see any at all, until one makes his heart drop. He sees you, in the arms of another man. Ralph had really been priding himself on repressing his feelings around you. He wasn’t going to repeat what happened with Lauren. He wasn’t going to scare you off too soon. He was going to keep it to himself. He had tried so hard. And yet, this sight is truly unbearable.

Biting at his quivering lower lip, he storms back into the direction of the bathrooms and keeps going, shoving the first door he finds open as he tries not to cry.

His sorrow is quickly replaced with horror as he finds several women all standing in various places around the room. Some just standing and chatting, some calling to friends in the stalls, some checking themselves in the mirror. After the scene finally sets in for Ralph, he lets out an ultimately high-pitched shriek, swivels around and immediately starts scolding himself. “Oh, bother and blast! Please, forgive me, girls, oh, what an absolute cad I am, I’ve truly disgraced myself, just when it couldn’t get any worse!” His voice gets shakier with every word, and he flinches when a hand appears on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” One of the girls apologises hurriedly. “I just wanted to let you know it’s okay. Are you alright?”

“Please do not ask me if I have taken any sort of drug just because I am well-spoken!” Ralph half-cries, and the hand squeezes him comfortingly.

“We won’t, promise. Did you need a wee, or just a wind down?”

“I’m not sure, I just… Ran. I’m terribly sorry,” Ralph sighs.

“It’s fine,” the voice reassures. “Wanna turn around and talk to us? I promise, there’s no better therapy than a night in the girls’ loos. Right?” A chorus of agreement fills the room.

Ralph slowly turns around to see an awful lot of smiling faces. He sniffs harshly and nods, “Good evening.”

“Hi!” The one who had approached him smiles. “I’m Lauren!”

Of all the names! “L-Lauren?” Ralph practically squeaks out as he feels himself start to well up, and her own face falls in some kind of realisation as she shakes her head.

“Or Loz! Just call me Loz! All my friends do! Forget the other name entirely. Sound good?”

Ralph nods. “I’m Ralph. A pleasure to meet you, despite it being under my most horrific actions.”

The other girls introduce themselves, as well. “So, Ralph, this, uh… Girl With The Forbidden Name, is she why you’re all upset?”

“Is she?” One pipes up from the very back. “Because you point her out and I’ll sort her out, no holds barred.”

“See, this is what I tell you, you get like two vodka red bulls down you and you’re ready to throw hands at any inconvenience,” her friend groans next to her. Ralph very quickly taps the square with the bird on it and types a message out to ask the internet “why do people throw hands at each other”, quickly followed by “what sort of hands do people throw”. He decides he’ll check people’s answers later, so as not to appear rude.

“Look at him, though!” The more hot-headed one gestures to Ralph as he wipes away the tears that had been threatening to fall. “Look at those eyes! Like melted chocolate, they are. What kinda sadist would possibly make that happen?!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s all futile,” Ralph shakes his head, but his new friend Loz points at him.

“Oi. Nothing’s futile here. This is a safe space. Let it out.”

Ralph starts to explain that he had fallen for a Lauren, dove in headfirst, had his heart broken and vowed not to let it happen again, but that seeing the housemate he cared so deeply for in the arms of another just brought all of that sadness back up again. The girls are all very sympathetic, and very good at knowing exactly what to say to make Ralph feel better. The rather boisterous one keeps trying to speak negatively of you, but Ralph won’t have any of that. You’re your own person, and it’s up to Ralph to get over his own feelings. The girls commend him on his emotional maturity. Apparently not a lot of men have that.

They ask if he wants to talk it through with you, but he shakes his head, telling them that he isn’t certain how long it is before he can go home again, and so he doesn’t want to commit to anything or risk either staying with you with such an emotionally charged elephant in the room at all times, or being turfed out indefinitely.

"That's quite the predicament you've got yourself in, Ralphie, babes," Loz hugs him arm, and he allows himself the comfort of leaning against her.

Suddenly, a stall door swings open violently, and a whole new girl appears, holding her phone up to her face. Before anyone else can ask if she's okay, she gasps loudly, "I bloody knew it!"

Everyone looks at her quizzically, including Ralph, and she continues. "Well, I thought, guy called Ralph who sounds really old-fashioned, I wonder if… And then some of the things he's said kind of sounded like those tweets, have any of you seen that Ralph On Twitter guy?"

A few more gasps of realisation dot about the room. Ralph's ears turn pink as he recognises the word Twitter from the conversation you’d had with the other four this morning. Loz frowns, "Are you sure it's -"

"Is this your insta?" She turns her phone around to show Ralph her screen. It says Instagram on the top, so Ralph takes out his phone and presses the square that also says that, showing it around to see if that's right. Excitedly, all the girls crowd around to make sure they get Ralph's handle right so they can follow him.

One girl - Ralph's already lost track of them, honestly - announces, "So what I'm hearing is, girls' room photoshoot with Ralph from Twitter?!"

Ralph laughs nervously, "Oh goodness, I'm flattered, but those are all taken candidly, would you believe! I am certainly no poser, I have been told this enough times today already."

"Bollocks to that!" The loud one shouts. "We'll teach you how, won't we, girls?"

Before Ralph knows it, he's squatting amongst all his new friends who are trying to teach him how to do the smoulder look he was doing in his photo on purpose when the main door opens to reveal you standing there, looking absolutely bewildered. "Oh my god, Ralph! You're okay! Thank fuck for that!"

As you frantically update the group chat that you’ve found Ralph safe and well, Loz reaches for his hand to squeeze it. The loud girl starts to tense up behind him but Loz waves her down from behind his back. “Yeah, he’s just been having some drunk girl therapy,” she explains calmly.

“God, I could do with some of that right now,” you groan. “Honestly, you trip and fall onto a guy one time and he thinks you’re soulmates, it’s horrendous!”

Ralph’s face lights up all of a sudden. “You’d… You’d fallen on him?” Concern falls back onto his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, physically, I’m fine, but I don’t know how I’m going to mentally recover from listening to one man talk about himself so much,” you groan into your hands as you hold your face. “I forgot why I stopped dating in London.” You notice that one of the girls puts her arm down after having held her phone up at a particular angle. “Oh my god, wait, you guys were taking photos together?” A few of them nod. “Would you like me to take them for you? Rather than one of you trying to fit everyone in at arm’s length.”

“Oh my god, would you?” one of them sighs with relief.

You nod, gesturing to Ralph to hand you his phone again.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the presence of so many other people in the photo with him, but Ralph blends in so much more naturally in the photos you take now, even when you suggest different poses and expressions. One of them - Ralph quickly introduces her as Loz, and no other name - asks around for phone numbers of the girls that, you assume, had all just met and bonded over whatever Ralph was in here for. You take over the role of adding everyone’s numbers into Ralph’s phone, and see that Loz adds him to a group chat that she names “Ralphie’s Angels”. You laugh at the name, and send all the photos you’ve taken into the group chat.

“Right, I can feel myself sobering up now, and we can’t have that,” one of them calls out, making the rest of you laugh. “Shall we all go and face the music?”

You pull a face, “Ugh, that means I have to go back and face… Him.”

“Nah, you stick with us, hun,” the one who seemed hostile with you at first suddenly seems to be fighting your corner now. “He even looks in your direction when I’m around, I’ll make him wish he didn’t.” You give her a comforted smile in response and the whole horde starts making its way out of the bathroom.

Your friends also catch up with you at the bar, grateful to see Ralph’s face again, too. Grace is hanging off some new guy’s arm, Anna is half-present in the whole conversation but also half-texting somebody, and Scott is catching up with Ralph. You spot that Connor isn’t talking to anyone and head over to him, “What are you drinking?” you ask loudly over all the music. “I still owe you, remember!”

Connor shakes his head, “Nah, don’t sweat it. Ralph’s a good’un, it was no bother.” Speak of the devil, Ralph excitedly hands you and Connor drinks that one of his new friends insists on buying for everyone, then grabs his own glass from Scott who’s followed him to clink against yours and Connor’s before hurriedly rejoining his group. You and your friends laugh in unison before Connor downs his martini, gives you a quick hug and heads home for the night. Grace and her new friend are the next to leave - you never did catch his name, and you’re not sure you’ll have a reason to remember it anyway.

You dismiss Anna and Scott, telling them that Ralph will probably be a while yet, and that they don’t have to wait up for him just because you do. At first they insist on staying with you, but eventually tiredness consumes them both and they bid you goodnight.

As though preying from afar - because that’s most likely what he was doing - your admirer from earlier appears as soon as your friends are out of the door. “Well, well, we meet again.”

Your eyes narrow as you groan out a breath. “Yeah, hi -”

“I can’t believe your friends would leave you alone like that,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, they haven’t, I’m still waiting on -” Your knight in 21st century armour, Ralph, walks over to the pair of you. “Ah, there he is! Are we going home now?”

“Would you like to?” Ralph asks, concern in his eyes, and you nod with fervour. “Then yes!”

The other man pulls a face. “Wait, sorry, you’re going home with - who the fuck is this?!” He gestures at Ralph, a nasty expression on his face.

Thankfully, Ralph’s cavalry come to your defence, led by none other than an incredibly loud, “Oi, dickhead! Who the fuck are you?! Fucking look at my friend like that again, see what happens, yeah?” Despite being perhaps half a foot shorter, Ralph’s most fiery friend easily squares up against him.

You tap her shoulder in thanks, take Ralph’s hand and guide him out of the bar. The cool air outside hits your face, but the alcohol in your system acts as a blanket around the rest of you. “You good?” You ask Ralph, and he nods. “Good. I’ll call for an Uber.”

Ralph frowns, “But aren’t those taxis, parked up over there?”

“Well remembered! Yeah, but a drunk girl once told me that those charge extra for all the time they’ve spent sitting there, and I’ve never felt bougie enough to spend the money to find out if it is true, so I like to play it safe.” You book an Uber that says it’s four minutes away and sit on the edge of the path. Ralph joins you. “Sorry we lost you, earlier, by the way. I did keep trying to look for you.”

“Pah! My own fault, really. I got all frazzled, you know,” Ralph’s eyes widen as he gestures wildly, making you laugh. “I still feel a tad so now!”

“It helps to kind of start resting your head for a bit. Here,” you pat your shoulder and Ralph takes the hint, tucking himself inwards to rest his head on your shoulder. Yours head falls onto his instinctively, and you set your phone to the front camera. You see Ralph’s small, contented smile, quickly plaster one of your own on and snap a photo.

Ralph then frowns, “Oh, no! I wasn’t prepared!”

“Exactly. Look,” you say fondly as you show him the photo. Both of you looking happy and comfortable, despite some bumps in the road. A perfectly normal first night out for Ralph.

“Can you put that one on my phone too, please?” he asks sleepily.

Reluctantly, you push his head away from you. “Yes, but c’mon, sleepyhead. We still have to get home.”

Ralph doesn’t make it the whole journey home, his head once again flopping against yours in the back seat of the taxi as he sleeps. You manage to prod him awake once you’re back outside your block of flats, though, and he trudges along behind you into the lift and along the hallway until you’re back in the safety of the flat again. “Gimme a minute to grab some PJs for the night, yeah?”

“Of course. I think I should use the bathroom properly now,” he nods.

You pull a face, “Yeah, the fact you’ve gone the whole night without it is honestly impressive!” You hear Ralph chuckle under his breath as you go back into your room, blindly head to your pyjama drawer, take out the first top and bottoms that you can feel, regardless of whether or not they match, and head back into the front room, opting to duck beneath the kitchen counter to change.

Ralph re-emerges a few minutes later, his voice drawling wearily as he asks, “Would you like the bed for tonight? I can’t imagine the morning should be pleasant for either of us.”

You walk over to him and put your hand on his shoulder as you chuckle, “It’ll be fine. You probably need it more than I do, that was probably heavier than what you’re used to.”

“I had a shot tonight, you know,” Ralph tells you with intrigue.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, yeah? And how did that go for you?”

“Absolutely awful,” he replies simply, pulling a face of disgust, and you both laugh.

“Yeah, you’ll definitely need the bed, then,” you nod. “Did you have a good time, though?”

“Oh, most certainly!” he grins. “I’ve made so many new friends! And I really rather think I’ve made a good impression on your friends, as well.”

“You know they’re your friends too, right?” you ask, cocking your head. Ralph tries to wave you off, and you pull a face of disbelief. “Come off it, they love you! I bet you had a great time with them earlier, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely! Um, but… I did… Um… It wasn’t quite the same without your presence there,” he mumbles.

You frown, “Did you say anything about your past?”

“Oh, no, that never came up! Just… Oh, ignore me, I’m dreadfully tired,” Ralph rubs his face wearily.

“Yeah, you’ll be thanking me for the greasy-ass breakfast I’ll be making us in the morning, so get ready for that,” you grin at him before pulling him in for a goodnight hug. He may smell like a fragrance store with all the proximity he’s had to several perfumed people, but there’s still something comforting about being able to bury your face into his shoulder and taking a deep breath in. Ralph’s arms tighten around you as you do so, as he allows himself the luxury of squeezing his eyes shut and just enjoying the moment.

You eventually pull away with a yawn, “Alright, I think we’re both about to fall asleep standing up, so… Night, Ralph.”

“Y-yes. Of course. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams,” Ralph smiles awkwardly at you before walking quickly to the bedroom.

You set yourself up on the sofa and start looking through the day’s photos. Ralph’s little instagram photoshoot doesn’t feel like it was only this morning, and you can’t help but let yourself fall into the trap of looking at the photo of him laughing again. Shaking your head again, as though that’ll do anything at this point, you scroll through to the photo of all six of you in Grace’s house and set it as your lock screen. You keep scrolling through hurriedly to your other favourite photo of the night, and, while it may be a little delusional, you set the photo of the two of you at the end of the night as your home screen. You’re used to being into people who you can’t have, be it from their disinterest or other reasons, so what’s the harm in indulging yourself a little by imagining a world where the two of you could always be like that?

That’s what Ralph tells himself too as he stares at the photo on his own phone screen until the need for sleep finally takes over.

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sherifftillman · 2 years

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Thanks for all the love on chapter 1, gang! This one's a real slow burn so I hope you're all in for the ride, haha. Also, I had picked the date Ralph arrived at random based on the general timeline I have for this fic, but it was only when making the fake text screenshots that I realised that the following day may have been a major event in the UK, so I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not Ralph was responsible for that one lmao.

Also!! Big, beeg love to everyone in the jq server for enabling, encouraging and basically co-writing this whole premise, but especially to @hawkinsbanishedhero whose one-off typo, as featured in this chapter, inspired the absolute monolith this fic has become. <3

You wake up to a shooting pain in your back and an ache down one side. You groan as you stir into consciousness; for years you’ve always been able to pride yourself on the ability to sleep literally anywhere perfectly fine, you’d never understood why your friends always complain about back pains and knee pains when you’re all still relatively young, but now you get it.

You manage to pull yourself to standing and stiffly make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. You look over at your closed bedroom door, wondering whether to wake Ralph up before you go to work. You don’t have to be there for opening, at least, but you do hope he’s not one to lay in for too long. Besides, the earlier you can get in to catch up on admin stuff before Head Office complain at you, the better.

As though he could read your thoughts, the door opens and a very sleepy Ralph emerges, rubbing his eyes to adjust them to the sunlit room. It’s positively adorable. “Morning,” you smile at him. “Sleep well?”

“Ah, good morning!” Even through his yawns, his voice remains very prim and proper. “I slept delightfully, apart from the occasional din coming from outside. I only noticed that when I was already awake, though.”

“Yeah, perks of being in South London, police sirens are pretty much 24/7 here. You get used to it,” you shrug, and Ralph looks horrified, ignoring your silent offer to make him a cup of tea.

“So, crime just happens? Everywhere? And it’s all just par for the course?!” he asks in shock. You nod, and he frowns. “I don’t think I want to leave the house.”

“You might need to someday, bud,” you point out, still making him one just in case. “I need to go to work, and you might end up going stir-crazy in here all the while,” you gesture at the four walls of your living-kitchen space.

“Yes, it is rather… Cramped in here,” Ralph comments with an upturned nose, though he takes the cup of tea that you slide over to him happily enough.

“Yeah, well. This is how far £900 a month gets you,” You shrug as you take your first sip, and Ralph chokes on his.

“I beg your pardon?!” he sputters out. “Ni- Nine hundre- How much is that really worth?!”

Nodding silently, you hold a finger up and take your phone out. As seems to be routine whenever you and Ralph learn about the stark differences between your time and his, you take your turn to react, almost choking and spitting out your mouthful. “Nineteen pounds?!”

“Well, that still sounds rather extortionate to me!” Ralph replies with wide eyes.

You walk over to where you had last thrown off your jacket and dig out your purse, taking out a £20 note and handing it to Ralph. “This, right here, would have been enough in your day to pay for this whole flat for a month.”

Again, Ralph scrunches his nose in disgust. “I rather feel as though you’re being swindled.” He holds the money up, turning it over and over in his hands. “Is this what money looks like nowadays?!”

“Yeah! Here,” you empty the monetary contents of your purse out onto the kitchen counter. You explain what each note and coin equate to. “I’ll leave them here in case you need to go to the store and get something. C’mere,” you wave him over to the window, pointing down below to a row of shop fronts at the bottom of another estate of flats. “There, on the corner, that’s a supermarket. It’s like, a greengrocers, a pharmacy and a clothing store, all in one. Then, next to it is the gardening store, my number one money sink.” You gesture to the houseplants that adorn the room.

“You do grow a lot of plants,” Ralph muses, smiling to himself as he gently holds a monstera leaf.

“All legal stuff, I promise,” you laugh. “But, yeah. Landlords don’t allow us to have pets, and so I’ve gotta have something to take care of. Of course, if I’d have known I’d be adopting a man born in the Victorian era, I might not have spent so much…”

Ralph, now more awake, bounces on the balls of his feet. “I-I can take care of them if you would like! Our gardener used to teach me all about how to water plants. It came in handy, being out in the garden sometimes. Much… quieter, out there,” Ralph falters, running the leaves between his fingers.

You place a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “Wanna talk about it?”

He takes a deep breath in as his shoulder tenses up under your touch. “Oh, no, it’s quite alright, you’ve got enough on your plate as it is!”

“Okay. Well, if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m more than happy to hear you out,” you rub your palm against him in a single circular motion before pulling away. “Don’t feel like you have to bottle things up around me, okay?”

Ralph chuckles, though there’s no amusement in it. “Oh, it’s fine, honestly, I’ve no trouble with bottling things up. Rather, it’s the fact that I don’t that leads to most of my problems!”

“Okay. You know what you’re happy to share, I’m not gonna push you. But don’t make yourself sad unnecessarily, ‘kay?” You hold your little finger out. “Here, I want you to pinky promise me.”

This time, Ralph does crack a smile. “Pinky… Promise?”

“Yeah!” you grin. “Like, you know how usually big decisions are made with a handshake to make them official?” Ralph nods. “Well, little decisions that still require a commitment are usually made with a pinky promise. It’s like a handshake, but only linking your little fingers. So, pinky promise me you’ll always tell me if there’s something I can help you with? This whole mess is scary for both of us. But we’re in it together.” You smile softly at Ralph, and he returns it. In the early morning light, you can see freckles bouncing off of his face. Of course he has freckles.

Ralph sticks out his little finger, too, and you wrap yours around his for a moment before letting go. “That was… Fun,” his ears tinge a slight pink.

“It was!” you grin. “Now, what would you like for breakfast? I’ve got cereal, I could cook you some eggs and bacon. Or, ooh, there’s one more shop I can show you!” You point out the last one in the row. “That’s a bakery. We can go pick up some fresh pastries if you wanted those, too.”

“Whatever is easiest for you,” Ralph insists. You pour him some cereal and milk in a bowl, stick a spoon in it and hand it to him, offering him to join you on the sofa.

“Okay, so while I’m gone, I obviously don’t expect you to sit here twiddling your thumbs until you get back. Now, this thing here, it’s called a television. Sometimes called a telly, sometimes called a TV. This,” you brandish the control at him, “is called a remote, it’s how you control it. You know how you could project films and stuff onto a screen, in your day?” Ralph nods. “This does that without needing a projector. And you can get all sorts of shows and films on there. I wouldn’t recommend you watch the news, just because… Well, you know why,” you pull a face and he nods slowly. “But I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like, there’s enough out there, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, so the T… V… I can watch people perform on here?” Ralph asks, and you nod. You show him how to flick through channels, and his eyes light up. “Fascinating!”

“And if you want to listen to music, there’s a special speaker, here,” you point to your Amazon Echo. “It has a name, and you can talk to it. So you could say, Alexa, play me some jazz,” you hold your finger up to tell Ralph to wait as the speaker flashes blue.

“Playing songs from playlist Jazz Classics,” the smooth robotic voice tells you, and sure enough, the room fills with the sounds of brass and percussion working in an upbeat harmony.

Ralph absolutely giggles in delight. “Marvellous! What a spectacular creation! And I could ask it to play any sort of music?”

You nod, telling the Echo to stop. “You can even tell it to play music based on what mood you’re in. So, if you need to wallow for a bit, you can have some sad songs to listen to, or if you’re feeling high-energy, you can ask for songs to match that. That should tide you over,” you nod as you take his bowl and yours to the kitchen sink. “I’ll be back around lunchtime to drop you off some more clothes and I’ll get you some lunch too, but if you want a snack in between, feel free to make yourself a sandwich, or…” Another quick Google search tells you toasters were around in 1926. “Or toast! You could make some toast, if you wanted. We’ll go food shopping soon and get more specific snacks for you, but I gotta get going.” You throw your jacket on.

“But what about your money? What if you have to pay for something?” Ralph asks, concerned.

“Don’t worry, mate, I’ve got it covered. That’s yours, yeah?” You point to the kitchen counter. “You can use it however you want when we go out. Just… Don’t go crazy, okay? I don’t exactly break the bank.” You throw your jacket on and wave him goodbye, “See you at lunch!”

Once you leave the flat, Ralph suddenly feels completely stranded. He tries to drown it out by pressing buttons on the “remote” until something shows up. It’s a show about people buying houses that are bare, and fixing them up to sell on. Ralph feels as though they end up looking worse, but he understands why he would feel that way. He just doesn’t understand the modern style, that’s all. It’s not their fault that taste clearly deteriorated over time. Then he watches a show all about “antiques”, though again, it takes him a while to acclimate to recognising certain pieces of furniture as items he’s witnessed being sold in stores just before he left for the army. He wonders, if he keeps watching, will there be an item that once belonged in Penbury House?

His mind wanders back to that comment you had made yesterday. Penbury House. A home that had been in the family name for generations upon generations, now a lowly bookstore. What could have possibly led to it being lost? Were there truly no more Penburys? Had Victoria gone absolutely mad and lost the entire family fortune? Was his accidental trip through time the catalyst to the death of the Penbury name as it was once known? Well, wouldn’t Mother and Father have a lot to say about that. Typical Ralph, can’t hold onto anything. Not even the estate tied to him by his last name, the only thing giving him any purpose.

He realises he needs a distraction. Something to keep him busy. You had mentioned something about toast, the kitchen staff had been very excited to receive a toaster oven not long before Ralph left. He remembers helping the cook, who didn’t know how to read, understand the instructions. It only toasts one side at a time, Ralph knows this. Spurred on by his pride, he finds the bread and puts it in the toaster.

As he’s trying to find the right button, switch, dial, lever - there’s so many extras on here, which one does he touch? - Ralph begins to get overwhelmed again. Echoes of his parents’ quick deflections, telling him to go ask the staff. The staff telling him that they’re far too busy to entertain children - other than the nanny, of course, who also made it very clear that she was only tending to Ralph’s needs because she was paid to do so. Victoria finding the art of making friends becoming second nature to her, and yet not to him for some reason. It’s not fair, he was just like her. So what made people want to be her friend and not Ralph’s?

Head swimming as the toast pops up, he remembers to turn it around to make sure it cooks on both sides - not realising that both sides had already cooked quite well. Soon, a strange smell starts to fill the flat. Then smoke quickly starts billowing out of the toaster. Ralph, terrified, slowly starts backing towards the door. Then an alarm of sorts goes off. Ralph wrenches the door open and backs out, his moon-wide eyes staring in horror.

Someone from the flat opposite opens the door and starts yelling, running in to unplug the toaster oven, pick up some… Tool that clamps together when they press it so, use it to take both slices out to throw them onto the counter. Ralph watches, back pressed to the wall as though he's tethered there, as this brave soul opens as many windows as they can before marching out to him, coughing their lungs out. "The fuck is wrong with you?! Who are you?! Are you supposed to even be here?!"

Ralph finds himself too stunned to speak. The neighbour rolls their eyes. "Do you at least know the person who lives here?" Ralph nods. "We'll see about that."

Being at work again, ironically, feels like it's been a century despite it only being a day. But the floor is running smoothly, everybody's here and working just great. You're even on track to finish all your admin stuff at long last, when - your phone rings as your neighbour's name pops up. You answer it, confused as to why they would possibly need to call you. “Hello?”

“You dating a dickhead, by any chance?” You hear their voice, a constant panicked hooting that - despite you having just met him - you could easily place as Ralph hyperventilating, and your smoke alarm in the background.

You sigh, “Not dating, but my… An old family friend is staying. Proper sheltered guy, sounds like a massive Tory. Is he okay?”

“Sheltered to the point of not knowing how a fucking toaster works?! I should call the fucking police on him for endangering the whole block!”

“No! No, please, I - Like I said, he’s just very… Look, I don’t have time to go through his life history with you -” read: I don’t have time to bullshit something right now - “but can you just… Keep an eye on him while I get back? I promise, he’s not bad, he’s just…”

“An absolute idiot?”

“Yeah…” You sigh.

“Alright. But only because you’ve been so good about keeping my cat secret.”

“I’ll buy Cheese her favourite tuna on my way home as a thank you!” you squeal in relief as you hang up.

You quickly ring up some clothes in the same size as the ones you’d given Ralph last night, explain to your staff that there’s an emergency at home and to call if they need anything - but please, god, don’t need anything, you think that last part to yourself.

Grateful you took your car this morning, you’re able to get back in a matter of minutes. You run into the supermarket to grab a can of tuna, a toothbrush for Ralph and, in a stroke of genius you’d had on the drive, a SIM card. You manage to successfully pay for everything - thanking whatever's out there that your phone's wallet system actually co-operated with the self-checkout for once - and run everything back to the flats, wanting to prioritise getting back to Ralph over getting the car into the right car park. You can do that once your poor neighbour is relinquished of their Ralph-sitting duties.

Once you get to your floor, you see your door still propped open, and your neighbour sat in their open doorway. With a relieved sigh, you fish out the can of tuna from your carrier bag and hand it over. “I will supply as much of that, and anything you want, as thanks for all this. Please don’t be mad at him -”

They raise a finger to interrupt you and lean over, revealing Ralph sitting on the floor of their flat, absolutely beaming as Cheese the cat paces in front of him, rubbing her head and body against his knees at every chance she can get. Ralph even pets her on occasion, which she takes happily.

Your face drops. “How - I have to use that tuna just to get a sighting of her when I come round and feed her!”

Your neighbour shrugs. “I’m just down here because I’m still convinced she’s doing it to lure me into a false sense of security -” You laugh with them at that, and they sigh in resignation. “But look at him. He’s harmless, isn’t he?”

You nod. “He’s just… Not used to living life on his own.”

They rasp as they stand up. “That’s an understatement. What, was he in some sort of imprisonment?!”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know. I just know that he wanted to get out of where he was. And he ended up here, with me.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, then.” A look of realisation dawns over their face as they grin at you knowingly. “Isn’t your flat a one-bed -”

“I am sleeping on the sofa!” You point at the pillow and blanket that still remain strewn over the back of your couch, just about in view of where your neighbour had kept open to keep watch of the flat. Your neighbour laughs as your cheeks turn pink. “I’m not expecting him to stick around, so I’m toughing it out until he can find his feet.”

“Yeah, well,” they shrug. “Just teach him how to use things in a way that doesn’t involve committing arson, alright?”

Ralph finally notices that you’re stood in the doorway, and the delight on his face immediately turns to shame. He stands and bows his head, quickly heading out and into your flat, not making eye contact with you. You frown, though nod a final thanks to your neighbour who thankfully nods back in understanding, and follow him in. “Hey, you alright?”

“I have failed you,” Ralph says simply, his back turned to you.

You walk over to him, deciding he probably doesn’t want physical contact just yet. “No, you didn’t, I did. I should have left instructions, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how it worked.”

“Is it all ruined?” he asks in a small voice.

You put your bag down on the kitchen counter to look at the toaster and shake your head, throwing the burnt toast away. “It’s absolutely fine, Ralph. Promise.” You lean down until you can make eye contact with him and offer him a smile. “Need a hug?”

Ralph, looking on the verge of tears, nods and you walk over to him with your arms outstretched. He buries his face in your shoulder as you feel his breaths become more and more regulated. You smell the smoke still clinging onto his shirt and tap his shoulder to get his attention. Once you’re out of his embrace, you can’t help but wish you’d lingered just a moment longer. You empty out the shopping bag you’d brought in, telling Ralph, “I bought you some new clothes. And a toothbrush. And something else I’m going to show you later. Go have another shower, get that smell out of you.”

While he’s in the shower again, you go to your junk drawer, thankful that you’d decided not to throw away your old phone when you upgraded through your contract. Putting the new SIM card in, you put your old phone on charge and start Ralph-proofing it. You delete all apps except for Google, so that he can find things out for himself. You’d tell him about Alexa’s capabilities there, too, but you feel as though Ralph isn’t quite ready to understand it can’t answer everything. Not like the internet can. While he's somewhat safe in the shower, and while the phone charges enough to power on, you quickly make sure your car isn't getting towed. That would just be the icing on the cake today.

Still, once you're back in the flat, all that stress seems to ebb away when he comes out of the bathroom. “You look smart,” you chime as he walks out wearing the outfit he’d chosen for himself from the clothes you'd provided: a brown plaid shirt and some jeans - you'd overestimated to be safe, but they didn't appear too baggy. Enough for a belt to manage, but they could fit better.

“Well, I couldn’t find a - a suit to co-ordinate anything with, or a tie, so I’ve had to make do. I hope this is suitable enough,” he brushes his shirt down with his hands and fiddles with the collar.

“It looks great, Ralph,” you reassure, waving him over. “Now, this is gonna be a really big thing I’m going to be teaching you about now, so we’ve gotta focus up, okay?”

You teach him how to send a text message to you, the only contact in the phone now. You teach him how to call you. You have him practise calling by going to your room and waiting for him. He gets all giddy when he’s figured it out. You teach him that if typing is difficult, he can press a button, speak into his phone and the words will come up. You also tell him that if he taps the last square on the screen, and types in a question, it’ll tell him everything he needs to know.

Once that’s out of the way, you remember something. “Ah, shit. Uh, hey, Ralph, I’m supposed to be going over to my friend’s place tonight for dinner. If you want, you can join us, or I can cancel -”

“No, please don’t cancel on my account! Oh, but I can’t be trusted on my own here, can I, oh blast…” Ralph falters, but you once again put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Nah, don’t be silly, you can come with, it’s fine.” You send the group chat a message:

“They say they can’t wait to meet you! All’s good,” you grin.

“It certainly isn’t, what about your job?” Ralph asks with a frown.

You sigh. "Let me make you lunch, I'll pop back in to finish my stuff. It's been a slow one and I've got a good team on so hopefully they understand if I need to dip early to come back to you. Literally, just text me or call me if you need anything, promise?" Ralph holds out his little finger and you link it with an affectionate smile. "I'll leave the spare key out here on the counter if you want to leave. And anything you want an answer to straight away, that I might not have time to answer, you can tap that last square on the main screen and type in the box, okay?" Ralph nods. You make the pair of you some sandwiches and take yours on the road with you, fishing out your spare key and showing Ralph where you're putting it ("just in case").

By the time you've driven to work, you have a notification on your phone, which you finally read once you're back in the office:

Once you're finally done with admin stuff, for the time being, you go back out onto the floor to check on your team. You fill them in on an old family friend coming to stay, he had a bit of an unfortunate incident with a kitchen appliance, all is well but you're keeping your phone on you just in case. They, naturally, want photos and details, which you promise them soon. When you notice you haven't heard from him in a while, you text him:

Your coworkers watch you with amused concern as you go from snorting with laughter to looking at your phone in horror:

Opting to simply wave them all off rather than try to explain what you'd just witnessed over the past half an hour, you help your sales assistants out as much as you can until you feel another buzzing in your back pocket. Half-terrified at what Ralph could possibly text next, you brace yourself:

You let out a stressed breath as you send that last one, and finally, your team wear you down. You explain that your new temporary housemate now has free reign to leave the house, and after the events of the morning, you'd started to regret letting him. When you tell them all that he's 25 (which technically isn't a lie, he's got the body of a 25 year old), they assure you that even the most simple-minded of men surely could only navigate so far. Still, you can't help but pace the shop floor anxiously, refolding shirts and reorganising displays, until:

Laughing with relief, you excuse yourself for the day. You tell the team that you feel awful for leaving them, but they seem to understand that you have a greater purpose ahead of you.

You call Ralph to tell him that you're on your way home, mostly to make sure you don't still hear the sounds of the street behind him. Thankfully, there seems to be some jazz music playing in the background, so he must have figured out how to get music playing, too.

You unlock your door to see Ralph humming along to a tune, wiggling himself around rhythmically as he sprays the leaves of some budded flowers with water. He acknowledges you with a wide, genuine smile. "Hello!" He singsongs. "I thought I'd spruce them up a little before they go to their new home. Just a couple of African Violets, the shopkeeper said. The ones already in bloom on display looked quite wonderful."

It's not that you're not happy to finally see him excited about something he knows about already, but this is the same man who almost burned the whole flat down making toast just hours ago. Still, look at him. It's nice to see him acclimating.

Since Anna doesn't live too far away, you and Ralph walk over to her flat. He's holding his plants and looking extremely proud of himself, until someone almost walks into him and he's suddenly pulled back into the reality of the streets of modern London. His big eyes dart around as he desperately looks out for danger, wrapping his arms around his gift protectively. You take him by the cuff on his wrist and guide him, weaving through strangers who couldn't care any less about their surroundings.

You hadn't told Anna to expect a gift today, and so she seems thrilled to meet Ralph and take the plants out from his grip. He immediately follows her to start babbling on about what the shopkeeper had said were the best conditions to keep them in. Once she's finally able to set them down, Ralph is still tailing her, looking expectantly for more reaction. Amused and slightly confused, Anna reaches up to pat Ralph on the head. He giggles and rushes over to you. You and Anna share a look before you lead him to meet the rest of your friends.

Scott, Connor and Grace all greet Ralph enthusiastically, and he seems to be bursting at the seams at the prospect of so many people being happy to meet him. He stays relatively quiet as you catch up with your friends.

"So, Ralph…" Scott starts. He goes back to looking terrified. "How are you settling in living with this one?" he shoves your shoulder, and you bat him away, playfully flipping him off.

Ralph looks taken aback at such a casual display of vulgarity, but he continues, "Well, it's only been for the one night, and there's certainly a lot to learn about… This… London," you can tell Ralph doesn't lie well, and appreciate that he's trying to word things in as honest a way as possible. “But, your friend here is a remarkable host and teacher,” he nods, smiling to you. It’s up there with one of the strangest compliments you’ve ever received, but it makes you blush nonetheless.

Anna asks for some help in the kitchen, and while Connor is the first to stand up, Scott pushes him back down with a slowly emerging smile on his face, looking directly at you. “Why don’t you give us the chance to get to know Ralphie here?”

You narrow your eyes, “Why do you say that like you’re in your villain arc?”

He laughs, immediately softening. “I just wanna know what makes him tick. Get to know what he really thinks, y’know?”

Ralph’s eyes dart between the two of you. “Rest assured, I have to reason to lie about anybody here in the slightest!”

“I’m just yanking your chain, Ralphie,” Scott laughs, though Ralph is not amused.

Connor rolls his eyes, “Don’t let him put you off us, Ralph. You can get to know us, too, without a certain someone embarrassing us in front of their new friend,” he pulls a face as he points to you with his thumb.

Ralph grins with excitement, his feet running on the spot where he sits. “Do you have a lot of tales to tell between you, then?”

“Oh, we’ve known each other for years. Went to school together.” You explain as you stand, following Anna’s anguished look from her kitchen door.

Ralph licks his lips, sadness dawning on his face. “Does that mean you all knew Lauren, too?”

Scott pulls a face, “How do you know Lauren, of all people?!”

Quickly assigning yourself as damage control, you pipe up, “Before he came to me, when he was living elsewhere, he met Lauren, Nick, Jase and Horace.”

“And yet he only mentioned Lauren…” Scott teases.

“Would you stop?” Grace slaps Scott’s shoulder as he laughs, moving over to accompany Ralph, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “Clearly things didn’t work out. Her loss, mate.”

Even Connor gets in on the teasing as he snorts with laughter while pointing at you. “What a twist of fate, remember when Nick -”

“You know I never actually asked him out, right? I wussed out at the last minute and just told you all that he turned me down,” you interject, to almost everyone’s groans.

“Nah, that makes sense,” Anna calls from the doorway. “Explains why you’re still such a chicken these days. Speaking of chicken,” she ushers you into the other room hurriedly.

As your friends grill Ralph on what he knows about you so far (“Very little, I’m afraid!”), what his intentions in London are (“Sort of making it all up as I go along, really!”), and his tastes (“I’m really not quite sure, um, I’m quite new to all of this… Modern… I’ve always known the classics, you know?”), you help Anna with her final preparations.

“So, how long d’you think you’re gonna keep him around for?” Anna asks.

You shrug, “It’s not really up to me. It’s whenever he’s ready to go back home, I guess.”

“I wonder where home is for him,” Anna frowns, and you shrug, focusing on your task. “He’s so… Out of touch. I know Scott was out of line guessing he’s escaped from a cult,” she mouths the word, “but, like, would him going back home really be the best thing?”

“Babe, you’ve known him for all of five minutes, and all you know about him is that he bought you some plants.”

“Exactly! You two are made for each other,” she muses, to which you grab a tea towel to flick at her.

“I’ve only really known him a day, myself,” you counter.

“And still you let the man live with you,” Anna raises her eyebrows at you.

You shrug again, “I dunno, he’s harmless, i’nt he?” You look over at him, a trace of wistfulness in your gaze as you watch your friends tap his phone for him, pointing things out to him. “I guess we’ll just see what happens.”

Once everything is dished up, you go out to the other room to call them all to pick up their meals. “Hope you haven’t traumatised Ralphie too much,” you comment.

“Not at all!” Ralph beams. “Look at how many new people I have to call and to text message now!” He shows you the addition of your four friends’ numbers in his contact list.

“That’s great, Ralph,” you nod with an affectionate smile. “Now let’s go eat. Sorry none of your favourites are on the menu tonight, mate.”

“Ooh, what are your favourites?” Grace asks.

“Oh, anything with aubergine on the side is always a five-star meal for me!” Ralph grins, and Connor and Scott snort with laughter.

“Hey!” Anna scolds. “No vulgarity at the dinner table, please!”

Ralph frowns. “What is it that’s so vulgar about aubergines?!”

You see multiple people start volunteering themselves to teach him, and hold your hand out to stop them all. “Ralph, there are some questions that you’re better off finding the answers to all by yourself.”

Ralph gasps and points at you, “By using my phone!” You click a finger gun back at him in affirmation. He excitedly taps out a sentence - part of you wants to double-check for him, but you don’t want him to be entirely dependent on you, and besides, he’s a grown man - and frowns at his phone. “Hm, perhaps it takes a while for it to find the answer.”

You groan, “Has the data not kicked in yet? Sorry, that’s on me.”

Dinner goes by delightfully. Of course your friends would make Ralph feel at home. They are home. You wouldn’t even be able to tell amongst the table that one of you was actually from old money - really old money, at that. After dinner, everyone practically fights over getting to play their favourite songs to see how he reacts to them. You could cry every time you see how genuinely happy Ralph looks - though you didn’t want to pry too much behind his back with Anna, you are curious about his life back home. He doesn’t seem too happy thinking about the past, and if he’s so hung up on Lauren, who he barely knew, there can’t have been much luck with any other relationships. Maybe you’ll get to learn more about him. Maybe you won’t have enough time.

But, for now, you’ll happily take the arm he extends out to you as the song changes, laughing as he twirls you amongst the friend group you’ll happily share with him, for however long he needs them.

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sherifftillman · 2 years

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 1.4k

A/N: This is just a bit of backstory, the real good stuff's coming very very very soon!

It wasn’t until Ralph stepped out of the car and was faced with his own front door that he suddenly regretted every action he’d taken to get back here.

It was one thing to finally find someone he felt he could start a life with in Lauren. It was another for her to remain distant even when he started trying to make his intentions known. It was another for her to not only refuse to accept or reject his proposal to his face, but to learn through listening in that neither her nor the rest of the quartet seemed to be very fond of him. It was another for him to feel as though the only solution was to join the war efforts, digging out his late father’s old uniform and setting off. It was another for him to absolutely hate it there; the physical effort, the mental toll, the treatment he received from his peers, he hated it all. It was another for him to sneak out in the dead of night and run off home.

And now, the final straw on the camel’s back. What is he even expecting out of returning? Everyone to just welcome him back with open arms? It’s not like anybody ever even wrote to him while he was abroad. And he’d left all his banking in Lauren’s name, could he really expect to ask for it back? Would she have spent it already? Was she the type? Ralph would hope not, but then he had also hoped she wouldn't turn down his proposal. Though, to be fair, he didn't give himself a lot of time to get to know her before he'd acted on his feelings. Such is life for a hopeless romantic.

Instead, he goes back to the car and asks the driver to take him into the town. Perhaps he’ll find inspiration to return to his family home while he’s there. Perhaps he’ll find something new to dedicate his life to. Perhaps he’ll get attacked by a street vagrant and that’ll solve all his problems for him. Ralph presses his forehead to the window as he watches his family home disappear from view once again.

As he’s walking the high street, Ralph notices a familiar building. The very few times he was allowed to go out with the quartet, the one called Nick had been very taken with it. He would often talk about it being a way for him to get home. Ralph wonders, if Nick and Lauren are siblings, and this is where Nick planned on getting home, could he help them? Could he still win Lauren's affections that way?

Ralph starts to enter the lobby when he sees the most peculiar man waiting for the lift. He certainly looks like the sort of riff-raff Ralph’s mother would tell him and his sister to steer well clear from. But something about his attire seems very out of sorts to Ralph. It’s rather akin to the clothes that the quartet were wearing when he and Victoria first met them. He’s wearing those peculiar blue trousers and spongy shoes - Ralph recalls Jason calling them “jeans” and “trainers” respectively.

Despite everything he’d been taught, Ralph still approaches the strange older man. He wonders whether clearing his throat would be enough of an indication or if the man would be hard of hearing and may need more physical engagement. Ralph would rather avoid touching him if it were possible, but this is about more than his comfort. This is about winning his place back in the family, as a part of the group, and maybe even in Lauren’s affections, too.

Opting to play it safe and cover all his bases, he clears his throat as he taps the man on the shoulder at the same time. The older man turns around and glares at Ralph, who tries his best to stay looking cheerful. “Hello!” he singsongs. “I don’t suppose you know where this lift may lead to?” Well,” he laughs lightly, “of course, it leads to upstairs, I’m not braindead, but is there a guide as to what is on which floor?”

The old man sneers as the lift doors open. Before Ralph can react any further, he's being grabbed by the underside of his arm and shoved into this cramped little box. "E-excuse you?!" Ralph sputters, but he's ignored as the old man shoves him against the back. Instead of pressing one button, as any normal human being would, this man starts pressing a number of them, some in succession and some simultaneously. Ralph finally plucks up the nerve to shout, "Sir, I demand an explanation for what is happening to me!"

The lift doors start to close, and the old man turns to grin toothlessly at Ralph, pointing upwards. Ralph looks up to see the strangest sight. The ceiling seems to be disintegrating, disappearing into a vacuum of sorts, except one that glows bright blue. Paralysed by the fear brought on by what Ralph is assuming is his timely demise, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of anything pleasant to be his last memory.

But what? What makes him happy? His sister, far more liked than he? His Lauren, who he'd idealised so much in his head that he’d had to learn the hard way was never even his Lauren? Truly, a calm washes over Ralph, as he comes to terms with his true fate.

Then he hears the familiar ding of a bell. The sound of lift doors sliding open. Ralph opens one eye to see the strange man hobble away. "Ah - excuse me!" He calls after him, but to no avail.

This floor certainly looks nothing like the foyer to the building he'd just walked into. It's far less… Polished. Writing all over the walls, carpet pulled in in random spots, damp spots littering the walls and ceiling.

Ralph studies the keypad, totally unaware of what on earth the old man had pressed to get him here specifically, but he tries the button that says 0 anyway, just in case it still works like a normal lift would.

The doors close. Ralph looks up in fear, replaced with immediate confusion at the perfectly intact ceiling. No glowing blue portal of doom. Just a godawful clunking sound as the lift rattles and squeaks. Numbers flash all on their own, counting down until 0 when the door opens again to a far dingier hallway. A single fluorescent light flickers annoyingly over a floor with several tiles missing.

Ralph exits tentatively, eyes as wide as moons as he looks around. He makes it outside safely, but whatever outside is, it certainly isn't London. The roads are filled with machines that sort-of resemble the cars that Ralph knows, but in all different shapes and sizes and colours. It's noisier than the London Ralph knows and it smells far worse. Some buildings look similar to those that he knows and others most certainly don't.

He's interrupted by someone on a bicycle ringing a bell and yelling, "Move, dickhead!" Ralph can only stare in stunned shock as he watches the cyclist disappear. How rude! The dialect sounded familiar, though. Not unlike how Lauren and her friends would speak. Had Ralph found where they call home?

From the corner of his eye, Ralph spots the strange old man. Making haste, he tries his best to catch up. For someone who looks elderly, he certainly moves fast! He's so fixated on his task, he ends up bumping shoulders with several strangers, some who just give him strange looks and one who asks, "Alright, Jungle Jim?" Ralph isn't sure what makes them think he's from a jungle, or that his name would be something like Jim, but he doesn't have time to contemplate such things. Does nobody in this part of England recognise and respect the obvious presence of a man in an Army uniform?

Ralph once again loses sight of the man in a sea of people and comes to a total standstill, sighing in defeat.

He immediately regrets standing still in the middle of a path when someone directly collides with his back, followed by an uncomfortable wet sensation. "Watch it!"

next chapter

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 9.7k

A/N: Sorry this one took so long, gang. New work rota to get used to (which, as a night shift worker, is a rough one) and then just as I got some good time off, I got hit with a MASSIVE cold that I'm still fighting off but it's been a downer on the ol' creativity.

Next chapter's a REALLY BIG one plotwise, so hopefully it shouldn't take as long!

You wake up to an empty bed and an overly natural lit bedroom. Pouting at the lack of Ralph, you throw yourself out of bed.

Thankfully, he's in the kitchen, sitting at one of the stools you'd recently bought in the January sales, since Ralph had said that he had enough of eating from his lap like a "feral animal". His eyes light up when he sees you, greeting you with a soft, "Good morning, darling!"

"Morning, yourself, handsome," you grin back, going to start making breakfast. "I know I couldn't avoid work today, but I'll still make us both your favourite, yeah?"

"Aren't you forgetting a little something?" he asks in a hopeful lilt. "Something for the birthday boy, perhaps?"

You roll your eyes, "Of course not," as you walk round to him, trying not to get too distracted by how simply adorable his little anticipatory shoulder wiggle is. Reaching over to cradle the back of his head, you pull him in for a kiss. His soft, sweet lips, still minty from having brushed his teeth, sandwich your top lip between them as he kisses you eagerly. You pull away with a soft, “Happy birthday, Ralphie,” before giggling, “and what have I told you about brushing before breakfast, it’s pointless!”

“I’m afraid I get rather a bad case of halitosis when I first awaken and I would hate for you to have that sully your opinion of me,” Ralph admits, frowning at your lack of presence as he watches you walk over to the other side of the counter.

“We all get morning breath, babe, you don’t have to worry about that!” you wave him off. Somehow, you know that you’re making him breakfast, but the actions don’t quite seem to match up. Before you know it, you’re sliding a plate in his direction. “Here you are, my love.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Ralph asks, a small smile on his face as he points to his ear.

“Shut up, you heard me, you just want me to say it again,” you shake your head, laughing under your breath. He simply smiles contentedly as he starts eating, and you watch him adoringly.

A strange noise starts to ring in your ears. It sounds as if it’s coming from outside, then as though it’s in the room with you.

Finally, you jolt awake, face half-buried in your pillow as your alarm rings over for the twentieth time. You grumble until you look at the time and you practically throw the phone at the wall as you yelp. How the fuck do you end up oversleeping through your alarm for twenty whole minutes?! Today, of all days, too. Head Office are coming in and your regional manager has stressed the importance of all hands on deck.

You finally emerge for Ralph to see you for the first time that morning, running between your bedroom and bathroom shouting a chain of, “Shit, fucking piss-stain wanker! Dogs-bollocking, dick-shitting nipples, fucking - ahhhh!” You shout as you violently brush your teeth.

Going back to throw on the first vaguely business-casual outfit you see, you stride out into the main part of the flat and face Ralph for the first time. With half a piece of toast in his hand and a crust sticking out of his mouth, he looks at you in horrified fear. You groan, “Sorry you had to hear all that. I’m running so fucking late, oh my god, why did I do this?!” You let your muscle memory take over the act of finding your jacket and shoes as you continue scolding yourself internally.

Ralph finishes his mouthful and pouts, “Aren’t you forgetting something? A certain birthday boy, perhaps?”

With an exasperated sigh, you continue running on autopilot, huffing an, “Of course!” Marching towards him, you hold the back of his head and gently bring it forward to kiss him in a sweet, lingering peck. “Happy birthday, Ralphie,” you smile before rushing out of the door, not noticing the surprised and confused look frozen onto his face or his beetroot ears.

As you hear the lock of the door click behind you, the realisation of what you’ve just said also clicks. You freeze, accidentally mirroring Ralph’s expression. What the fuck did you go and do that for?! You certainly weren't dreaming that time. You should go back in there and apologise. You should go back in there and assure both yourself and Ralph that it was purely an accident.

But then your phone buzzes with the name of your regional manager illuminated on the screen. With a sigh of resignation, you tap to answer the call and tell them, “I know, I know, I’m literally on my way in now, I’ll be there in time, I swear.” You run down the stairs, not even thinking of waiting for the lift, and once you’re in your car you catch your reflection in the rear view mirror just long enough to scream at yourself for being so fucking stupid. How you’re going to talk yourself out of this one, you just don’t know.

Ralph remains frozen in the same position, with the same expression, for several minutes. When his brain finally allows him to actually do something, the first thing he does, naturally, is slap himself across the face. He rubs his stinging cheek with mixed confusion and realisation. He can’t be dreaming. But why on earth would you just kiss him like that, out of nowhere? Had Ralph missed a cue or… Seven, if you’re at the stage where you’re happy to just up and kiss him? Could he have been outwardly courting you this whole time? And since when was this an established thing between you, anyway? The only other time you’d kissed was exactly one month ago to the day and -

Of course. Reality falls on him like the setting winter sun - quick, harsh and cold. You kissed him to celebrate the New Year, and so now you’re kissing him to celebrate his birthday. It must just be another tradition. Of course he shouldn’t have expected anything more. If there were any other potential for an actual relationship between you and him to blossom, you’ve had plenty of chances to let him know that you’re interested, and you never have. Your kiss was simply a nicety for his big day. Nothing more.

Still, Ralph’s heart is racing. What a rush to feel your lips on his again! Though he immediately scolds himself for indulging in his selfish fantasy. It’s honestly unfair to the both of you for him to keep pretending that you could possibly seek his companionship. It would put you in an awkward position, and its inevitability finally being addressed out in the open would surely break Ralph’s heart to no end.

To distract himself, Ralph goes to make himself a coffee, but curses internally at the empty jar that’s been left on the side. Of course, stupid Ralph. He’d already used the last of it up yesterday, and you’d told him not to worry, that you’d pick more up on your big weekly shop. Ralph thought it wouldn’t be a problem, but now he needs a boost to keep his mind moving, to stop him dwelling on… Whatever just happened.

He strides over to the other side of the flat to look out of the window. He could go to the supermarket, though this smaller one doesn’t have the coffee you like to buy, and the last thing Ralph needs on today of all days is to cause more friction between the two of you. And so, with a heavy sigh of resignation, he goes to get dressed before begrudgingly making his way out of the house.

“Hi!” The barista grins from behind the counter. “Are you… Okay? You look kinda… Not sure if you’re lost, or just… Grossed out,” they cock their head as they try and study Ralph’s reaction.

“Well, I certainly never thought I’d be stepping foot in this… Coffee house of yours since it replaced my favourite shop,” Ralph frowns.

“Ahh, yeah. Sucks to see the old plant shop go, but I guess there’s not enough gardens in South London to keep them in business, eh,” they shrug.

He scoffs, “My friends and I are more than proof enough that you don’t need a garden to enjoy having greenery around!”

They put their hands up, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry? I dunno, I didn’t have any say in what happened here, I’m just one person.”

“Yes, of… Of course you are, my most humble apologies,” He squeezes his eyes shut, but the barista offers him a forgiving smile. “I… Have no idea what any of these things mean.”

“Oh, what, the different types of drink?” They point at the board behind them, and Ralph nods. “You ever drink coffee before?”

“The kind you would make at home, yes,” he nods.

“Okay, so that’s pretty much the cafe au lait,” they point to the entry up on the board. “If you’re looking to expand your horizons a little bit, a flat white’s similar but it’s made with espresso, not filtered coffee, so that’ll pack a real punch. An Americano is a diluted espresso, you can ask for milk with it but as a coffee snob, I will judge you a little for it,” they joke. “If you like milk, lattes are a safe bet. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, we’ve got cappuccinos, or mochas if you really like it sweet. If you’d prefer a cold drink, I can make you an iced latte, mocha or a tea of some kind, if you’re into those…”

“I’m still not quite sure what I’d like,” he frowns, more puzzled than ever.

“How’s about we start you with a cafe au lait, then? See how you like it?” Ralph nods in agreement, and the barista taps away at their register. “Wanna start a loyalty card?”

Ralph turns his nose up, “Feels like a betrayal.”

“Oh my god, I promise your houseplants won’t care that you’re buying your coffee here now,” the barista groans sarcastically.

Ralph sucks his lips in before looking to the barista and nodding. “Very well.”

“Just need your full name and date of birth, please,” they ask, and Ralph freezes up. “Alright there, mate?”

“Y-yes, of course, just need to check something,” he frantically takes his phone out, taps the calculator and works out what 2023-26 is. “Ah! February 1st, 1997!” Despite knowing he now lives in a year that starts with a 2, the notion of saying 1997 out loud still feels alien to him.

The barista ducks their head to look up at him past their eyebrows, disbelievingly. “You just check the date to try and get free shit?”

Ralph looks shocked at their vulgarity. “Not at all! It truly is my birthday today, why would I lie about such a thing?!”

They shake their head, “Whatever. Have a birthday every day if you really want, no skin off my back,” they tease.

Ralph takes his free coffee back to the flat with him, expressing his gratitude to the barista before leaving.

After replying to texts from both your friends and his little girl gang, Ralph finishes his coffee and starts looking around the flat for something to do. Everything is clean, he daren’t get any shopping done without you for fear of getting it wrong… If only he could do some redecorating of some sort. That would be nice. It’s all looked the same for the last five months, and who knows how long before?!

As he goes to check Twitter, to read through some inevitable birthday greetings, he accidentally clicks open Instagram instead. Terrified, he notices that all of the adverts are for home decor. It’s bad enough that the speaker knows his voice, now his phone can read his thoughts?! He slams his phone down and marches back out to end up back at the coffee shop. “Hello, again.”

“I liked that drink, but I feel a little… Adventurous,” Ralph’s eyebrows waggle. “May I try that flat white now?”

“Sure thing,” the barista smirks. “Have you downloaded the app yet?”

Ralph frowns, “What app?”

They point to a sign detailing the loyalty reward scheme. “You need to scan the code from your phone to get the points to get the prizes. Get it?”

His eyes narrow. “I don’t think I can trust my phone anymore. Mine can read my thoughts. Can yours?”

The barista looks at him, bewildered, until they finally understand. Laughing, they shake their head. “Listen, mate, you seem like a decent guy and all, and I wish I could help, but I don’t get paid enough to learn all the ins and outs of datamining just to teach you.”

“Fair enough,” Ralph admits quietly. “But so, you mean I’m not the only one being targeted?”

Another head shake. “It’s just how advertisers get to you now. Don’t sweat it too much, it’s inevitable.”

“Very well. I promise I shall bring my phone back next time. Though you may have to teach me how to use this new app, I’m not very good with them. I apologise if my inadequacy is frustrating to you.”

“Normally it would be, but I dunno, there’s some strange charm about you that makes me actually kinda want to help you?” The barista asks, confused by their own sentiment.

With a small smile, Ralph muses, “I do rather seem to have that effect on people.”

Ralph’s journey through the coffee menu proves very educational to him. The cafe au lait seems boring in comparison to the flat white, but the flat white was far stronger than Ralph could handle, for now at least. The latte proved to be too bitter, the mocha too sweet. Cappuccinos seem to finally hit the sweet spot with Ralph, but once he’s finally realised that, the barista cuts him off. “You are literally vibrating, mate. That’s enough caffeine for you.”

“Are you quite sure? I’m finding this all rather riveting! Are there any more drinks for me to try, perhaps? Or I could start making that cappuccino a regular thing!” Ralph babbles, his own speed ramped up hundredfold.

“Very sure. Come back whenever you’ve come down from your high and then we’ll talk, alright?” they smirk, flashing their eyes towards the door for Ralph to take a hint.

“Could I at least have one to take back with me? I promise I won’t drink it as quickly!” If there is one thing Ralph has learned in recent months, it’s that he’s got a face that few people can say no to, and even if they do, he can make it more persuasive. He lowers his chin ever so slightly and makes his eyes look especially wide, sticking his lower lip out just enough to not look deliberate.

The barista’s poised composure falters a little as they sigh, “Fine. One more. But don’t you dare come back until tomorrow, promise?” Their face melts as Ralph holds out his little finger to them and they link it with their own. “You’re a weird one, Ralph. But you might be becoming my favourite regular.”

With an unnaturally wide smile, Ralph nods to them in thanks, pays for his drink and takes it back to the flat with him.

Once he’s back in, the first thing his eyes are drawn to is the stool he was sitting on when you kissed him. Oh, blast, and now that’s all he can think about, with all cylinders firing. You should be home soon, and then you’ll have to talk about it, and Ralph’ll have to while he’s like this, and that’s no condition to be having such a serious conversation in.

He checks the time on his phone and accidentally unlocks it to the page he had been scrolling through furniture on. That’s it! Ralph thinks in an epiphany moment. He’ll just put all of his energy into imagining the perfect way to redecorate.

~~~

Finally, as you wave your regional manager and the Director of Somethings (it’s been far too long a day to remember specifics) out of your store, you close the door and collapse against it. You make eye contact with the day’s floor workers and smile gratuitously at them with an exhausted nod. “Alright, good job, team, think that’ll keep them off our backs for a little while.”

“You were amazing, chief,” one of them grins, and you wave them off, pulling a face of disbelief. “You really had your head in the game today!”

“I swear to fucking god, if any of you start singing High School Musical…” you falter through the first half of your threat, not having any of the brainpower to finish it. Thankfully, the silence is filled with your team’s laughter, instead.

“Nah, seriously, you were on one today. Haven’t seen you like it in yonks,” another pipes up.

“Yeah, well,” you shake your head, “believe it or not, I’d rather do all that all over again than what I’ve got waiting for me at home.”

“Oo-er, trouble in paradise?” One teases, and you throw two fingers up at them as a joking insult.

“Trust me, living with someone like Ralph is far from paradise sometimes,” you shake your head, but you let out a tension-relieving rasp of breath at that sentiment. The way you’re talking about him makes it look as though the ensuing awkwardness of the evening is his fault. You woke up too late. You rushed yourself out of your sleep. You kissed Ralph again. How on earth were you going to explain this to him?! You can’t tell him the truth, that you’d been dreaming so vividly about a situation where kissing him would be so normal that you just forgot that it wasn’t. Maybe you could call it a modern tradition to kiss people on their birthday? But then he’d expect it from the others, and you’d have to explain to them why he’s expecting it. Which would unravel as to why it would be weird for you to kiss Ralph, which would unravel the truth of Ralph’s circumstances. And you’re in far too deep, now.

The walk to your car, the drive home, even opting to walk up all nine flights of stairs still proves fruitless as you try and think of any excuse to give to Ralph.

But thankfully, in true Ralph fashion, he seems to have created his own problem to discuss instead, as you open the door to find your furniture splayed out across the expanse of the flat, all at various angles. “Okay,” you start, alarming an unusually extra-jumpy Ralph, “I’ve had the most insane day at work, so I’m clearly just imagining this. I’m going to close the door, open it again, and everything will be the way it always is.” You step back, swinging the door shut, take a deep breath and open it again to find the flat still in total disarray. You rub your face with your palms. “Dare I ask?”

“Ah! Well, I’ve had quite the brainwave today! I really thought that all of this furniture could do with a little… Revamp, and so I’ve found some pieces that I thought could really brighten the place up, and some wouldn’t quite fit, unless! I had an idea! Since we have the stools now, we can begone with the table in front of the sofa, and then I thought that would open up the space for one of those ones that’s also a bed, but then I thought, well that’s pointless now, isn’t it? But then I had another bright idea, what if we moved things around to create some more open space here near the entryway, and then perhaps we could create an area for playing more of those card games with everybody instead of all being hunched over that tiny little coffee table, and -”

You zone out for most of his rambling, but you check back in in time to interrupt him. “Oh my god, please breathe.” Ralph takes a deep breath in, but he can’t seem to focus his gaze on you. “Even if we could get the furniture up here, getting all new stuff would cost money that neither of us have -”

“Ah, but that’s the remarkable part! There are apps that sell furniture for cheaper! I found one, it’s called Ebbay -” somewhere between your tiredness and the hilarious mispronunciation of eBay means you decide not to correct him - “and they sell secondhand furniture for far cheaper, and a lot of it is still in good condition!”

You groan, “Please tell me you haven’t bought anything yet.”

“Oh, heavens, no, it appears to be some kind of auction, and Mother banned Victoria and I from attending those when we were young for assuming it was a consequenceless game and accidentally spending frivolous amounts of Father’s money on items we certainly had neither the room nor the use for!”

The mental image of a young Ralph simply waving a paddle around for the sake of it at a high-end art auction charms you just enough to take your mind off of that matter, and to finally get around to addressing the elephant in the room. “Look, Ralph…” you start slowly. “I really think we should talk about this morning -”

“Oh, what? That?” Ralph asks, visibly shaking. “No, no! No need to talk about that, there are far more important matters at hand! Now, if I could just bend your ear about -”

“Ralph, we do not need more furniture!” you interject impatiently, and his face falls, still not making eye contact with you. “What is with you?!” You look around the flat for some kind of clue, and finally spot a take-out cup with the same logo as the new cafe that opened up opposite. “Oh, thank fuck it’s just coffee this time,” you sigh with relief as Ralph’s dilated eyes continue to dart in every direction.

“Yes, although I shall miss the plants a great deal, it is rather a splendid alternative, now that I know what I like! And whoever it was that was working there was incredibly charming, I’m already a favourite - oh,” he goes from giddy excitement to a flat deadpan. “Oh, heavens, was I being wooed earlier?”

Most likely, you think to yourself. Who wouldn’t want to flirt with Ralph? “Alright, listen,” you hold his biceps at arm’s length, and he finally looks straight at you. Big, blown-out, warm brown doe eyes bore into you intently. Swallowing hard, you continue, “You’re probably due to crash any minute, so there’s no point in trying to think anything through, you’re not in the right frame of mind. Just go lay down in the bed, sleep it off, and we can get ready for tonight when you wake up.”

“You look rather tired, yourself,” Ralph looks concerned. “Perhaps we would both benefit from a nap?”

“Yeah,” you rub an eye sleepily. “Yeah, I could take an hour’s kip on the sofa once I get it back to normal again.”

“W-well, there’s no harm in us both still sharing the bed, is there?” He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. “Plus, if you sleep through another alarm, at least I would be right there to wake you.”

Blinking slowly, you look disbelievingly at him. “So, you knew I was sleeping through my alarm and you didn’t think to do anything else to wake me?!”

“You always complain that you forget to switch your alarms off on days that you don’t need them! I assumed -” his yawn interrupts him, causing you to yawn as well. “The evil contagious yawns are back,” he muses, and you laugh under your breath.

“Yeah. Let’s just go to bed, shall we?” You ask in resignation, padding your way over to the bedroom and deciding that putting the flat back is not a task for your current self.

You awaken not by your alarm, but far sooner than it from the sound of panicked shouting coming from the other room. You fly out of bed, vaulting over Ralph’s body entirely and waking him up in the process. You swing the door open to find your friends looking terrified and calling your name. “Oh my god, babe, I think you’ve been burgled!” Grace states breathlessly through her squeezed cheeks as she looks around in horror, hands holding her face the whole time.

You can’t help but giggle, “Sorry to panic you all, but crisis averted. Ralph decided to do some sudden renovations on a caffeine high and crashed before we could fix it.” Ralph emerges from behind you, looking in wide-eyed fear at the prospect of an intruder. “He’s the robber you’re worried about!” You jerk your head at Ralph from where he stands, and all four of your friends all exchange strangely knowing glances at each other. “What?”

“Furniture all over the place, you two in the bedroom…” Scott smirks quietly. “Guess we were the intruders, after all!”

You feel yourself get flustered, while Ralph seems to have thankfully not heard. “Oh, piss off, do we look as though anything happened?” You hiss, and everyone merely looks at each other in the same way.

Ralph instead looks at everyone’s hands intensely to make sure they’ve all understood the assignment for tonight. He had requested no gifts for his birthday, as he had insisted that everything everyone has done for him has been more than enough, but he wanted to celebrate by getting as many of his friends together for a night out as possible. His girl gang had suggested a rather high-end club in the city, which everyone is happy enough to meet at to compensate for not buying gifts. The one thing your friends have been looking forward to the most about Ralph’s birthday is getting him on public transport.

Once everyone has helped you get the flat back in order, you and Ralph get ready - as separately as you can show your friends - and you make your way over to the train station - but not before grabbing a McDonald’s to eat on the train. Ralph initially turns his nose up at the thought of eating such a meal out in the open, but after Connor reminds him of the dangers of drinking on an empty stomach, he wolfs his burger and fries down while you’re all still waiting at the platform.

Ralph rushes ahead of you all to press the button that opens the doors, jumping up and down with glee as the doors do, in fact, slide open. He leaps onto the train to make sure he gets a window seat, despite it being too dark outside to see anything. You, Connor and Anna all sit at the four-seat bay with him, while Scott and Grace sit on the other side with their partners. Nobody can take their eyes off of Ralph, though, who seems enamoured at the view through the window as the train moves even though most of it is plunged in the pitch black of night.

You make a plan for the Underground - teach Ralph how to use his new Oyster card to get through the barriers, then Connor was to take the lead in charging ahead, with you quickly following, Ralph in tow by way of you holding his hand, with Anna also holding his other hand behind him to make sure he didn’t get lost. You tell Ralph over and over again of how ruthless the Tube is, and that there is no room for manners, or dithering, or anything other than getting to the next train as quickly as possible. He finds it all rather overwhelming, especially as he learns the hard way that standing up on the Underground means having to hold on at all times, but his eyes light up as his body is thrown around under his grasp on the hand rail. He giggles at the names of certain stations, such as Plimlico, and you curse yourself that nobody knew of a good enough place to go that would be on the same line as Cockfosters station. Oh, to see Ralph’s reaction to that name.

Most of Ralph’s girl friends greet you outside of the bar, as well as one of his work colleagues. “I’ve been told to tell you that Babs appreciates the invite, but she’s already had enough of her body replaced that she’s not in the business of seeing what else science can do for her,” they recite to Ralph, to your amusement.

“You invited your boss?!” You ask him through laughter. “The lady who’s like 107?!”

“84,” he corrects you indignantly, “and I was simply trying to be nice!”

“Yeah, looks like you extended that nicety to the customers, too,” his colleague smirks as someone strides over confidently.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ralph, how many strangers have you invited?!”

“None!” He frowns. “This is a friend!” He smiles and claps as this friend of his that nobody seems to recognise approaches.

“’Sup, everybody? He-hey, Ralph! Happy birthday, my dude,” he greets, taking Ralph’s hand to shake it.

If the accent hadn’t already been a dead giveaway, Ralph nods excitedly, waggling his eyebrows. “He’s American!” He says to you pointedly, as though showing off.

You suck your lips in, trying desperately not to be too sarcastic in response so as not to embarrass him in front of his new friend, but you do allow yourself a little snarky, “Exotic,” comment, knowing it’d just go over Ralph’s head.

“He calls me dude,” Ralph continues proudly before introducing him to the group by name. “Um, Connor, would you be so kind as to introduce him to the ladies? I just have a small matter to discuss, I shall fill you in later,” he looks to his friend with a greater intent in mind, and Connor happily obliges.

“So, how did you meet Mister Cowabunga over there?” Grace smirks.

Ralph does not look amused. “He likes to come in on his work breaks to see what new ideas we’ve - I’ve - come up with! He has quite the experience level, though, he says that when he was younger, he worked in a whole city that was devoted to partying so he’s seen plenty of costumes in his time, but he says they’re nothing like what our shop does!”

You all allow yourself the moment of silence it takes to process how differently Ralph has perceived something yet again, but Grace’s boyfriend permeates that with a, “Wait, isn’t Party City just a chain store over in the Sta-”

“Yeah,” Anna nods quietly, “yeah, it is. Just let him think what he thinks, though.”

Grace also nods, “Trust me, babe, there is not enough time in this world to convince Ralph of something he’s wrong about. Just smile and nod.”

“So, did you only invite him because he gives you a very generic nickname?” You smirk.

“No! I have a plan,” he claps his hands together again. “I am going to wing him with someone tonight.”

“Right, and just who are you playing wingman with on his behalf?” You ask in a subtle attempt to correct him, but of course, it goes in one ear and out the other.

“Well, I thought he might be a good match for Charlotte, you know? He seems so calm about everything all of the time, and she’s quite… Excitable, albeit in a violent manner. I think he could possibly help her to chill out.” He looks around at all of your dropped jaws and throws his hands up exasperatedly. “Oh, heavens, what more could I have possibly gotten wrong for you all to keep judging me on my birthday, no less!”

“No, Ralph, you said that perfectly. Like, in context and everything,” Anna smiles proudly at him, and he beams back.

“Well, then! Who’s the bee’s knees now?!” He asks confidently, striding over to join the girls with his chest puffed out.

“And he’s back,” you mutter under your breath as you follow him, to Anna’s amusement as you link arms with her.

The girls seem to have arranged for a special VIP listing which they vouch for everyone personally, which you’re grateful for as you suddenly remember that, had that not occurred, Ralph has no ID, and your luck with that is bound to run out any day now. But that day is not today, and so you can relax somewhat. Just before you go in, you debrief all his other friends on his drink tolerance, and his American friend finds it particularly hilarious that Ralph can turn different types of drunk at will depending on what drink he has.

Everyone has already assured that since a) most of you are a fair distance away from home, and b) tonight is all about Ralph, nobody will get too drunk so that everyone can focus on making sure that he has a good night. You get into the bar, with its rhythmically thumping bass and dim lights, and immediately get hit with the tiredness you’d been putting off. Shit. You don’t want to risk drinking to the point that it’s going to make you even more drowsy, nor do you especially want to be the only sober one of the group; especially after the day you’ve had, knowing there was a drink and a good time waiting for you by the evening was the only thing keeping you going.

You head up to the cocktail bar and see that they’ve got something called an espresso martini. Perhaps that’ll keep me going, you think to yourself, though you make sure you personally tell everyone in the party to make sure that Ralph doesn’t get bought it - after the events of earlier, the last thing you need is to try and rein home a caffeinated birthday boy on the night train home.

The bartender lets you know that his specialty is actually a banana espresso martini, and that he only makes it for his favourites. He slides the glass over to you with a wink and a gesture that alludes to him expecting you to drink it in front of him. The bitterness of the espresso is cut short by the sweet taste of what you assume must be banana, even though you hadn’t specified. Bit presumptuous, you think to yourself, what if I was allergic? Still, the tastes complement each other well, and so you hold your glass up to him and nod. He looks you up and down and bites his lip as he turns to serve another customer, and Anna sidles up to you, one of Ralph’s other friends, Emily, closely following. “Well, guess I know where we can find you tonight!”

You look at her in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Her new friend points over at the bartender. “Come off it, we was halfway through coming over to tell you two to get a room when he’d finished with you!"

“Excuse me?” You repeat, now wide-eyed.

“Oh, come on, you can’t say you didn’t realise he was flirting with you!” Anna exclaims. You shrug and shake your head and she scoffs, “Seriously? What is it, hm, you got your eye on someone else?”

Your face deflates as you rasp in disbelief. “Give over,” you shake your head, but as you innocently sip, you chance a look over at Ralph, to see him chatting away with his American friend and a girl who you vaguely remember as going from wanting to fight you to fighting for you within seconds in a bathroom about four months ago. This doesn’t go undetected, but the fact that it hasn’t remains undetected by you.

Considering how exhausted you are, you actually last well through the night. Every time you feel yourself starting to wind down, you simply order yourself another drink, grab at least two of Ralph’s - and now, you suppose, your - friends and get on the dance floor until one of you inevitably needs the bathroom, to which you all go together.

At one point, you’re there with his friends Lauren (or Loz, if Ralph’s around) and Hannah. “You alright, hun?” Hannah asks, making you realise you’ve been stood in a trance-like state for however long.

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, just dead tired. Had a long day at work, and not enough time to nap before getting out here,” you shake your head and wave her off.

“Okay, well, don’t feel like you have to bottle stuff up, alright? Me and Lauren, and all the rest of us, we’re here for you if you need us, okay?”

“Yeah, just ’cause we’re Ralph’s friends, don’t mean we’re not also yours,” Lauren rubs your shoulder comfortingly.

“Thanks,” you offer them both a small smile, “but I promise that’s all this is. If I have anything truly on my mind, I promise I’ll book an appointment for some toilet therapy.”

Lauren cackles loudly, “Good! I’ll have to start charging you lot soon!”

After some bathroom mirror selfies, which warm your heart that Ralph’s friends are opening their arms to you as well, you head back to the bar. Ralph is still very much playing wingman, and it actually seems to be working. Charlotte seems far more fixated on the American than on Ralph, even when the latter is talking. Already warmed by his friends’ affection for you, your chest almost bursts at the sight of Ralph just… Existing happily, amongst people he didn’t even need you to introduce him to. Living his own little life. That all starts to sink when you then remember that he’s going to have to pull himself away from all of this to live a life that doesn’t appreciate him the way people do now.

And then comes the strangest feeling yet. As you watch the three of them take their shots - it’s just too dark to make out what they’re drinking, but it at least looks darker than vodka, thankfully - you just about catch eye contact with Ralph from the corner of his eye, keeping it as he puts the glass to his mouth and tips the shot down his throat. Something about that whole interaction has you feeling light-headed, accompanied by a sort of tingling sensation that moves through your body, but most definitely starts and ends between your legs.

As you process everything, you sigh loudly in resignation, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your new friends. “Alright, come on, what’s up, babes?” Lauren asks. “Tell me exactly what’s in your head, right now.”

In a fleeting moment of sheer lack of autonomy, either caused by lack of sleep, the presence of alcohol, or a bit of both, you simply shake your head and sigh, “I’m gonna have to fuck him before he goes, aren’t I?” When you come to, oblivious to what you’ve just admitted to, you have the urge to check your bag for your phone. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself, “think I left it in the bathroom. Um, would you get this one for me and I’ll buy yours next time?” You ask either of them, confused as to how they’re so dumbfounded, but Lauren nods.

“Sure thing, hun, take your time.” Once you’re out of earshot, the two girls slap at each other’s arms. “Did you hear that?!”

“Yeah, but what did it mean?!” Hannah asks, shaking her head.

“Well, based on who’s around us, if that was triggered by seeing whoever it was about, there’s only two options, in’t there?” Lauren flashes her eyes, gestures with her head and points over to where Ralph is now chatting to just his American friend.

“So… Ralph?” Hannah asks excitedly, but Lauren sucks the air in through her teeth.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I wish it was, I love a good rom-com moment, but why say before he goes? Ralphie would have told us if he were going anywhere, but I’m assuming Mister United States over there isn’t here forever, so…” She shrugs.

“Oh, but that’d break his heart,” Hannah pouts.

“Who’s breaking what’s heart? Lemme at them,” Connor interrupts jokingly, with Anna, Emily and Ralph’s colleague in tow.

Lauren and Hannah fill the others in on what’s just happened, and Anna and Connor look at each other excitedly. “What, were you guys rooting for Team… Whatever the other guy’s name is, not Ralph?” Lauren frowns, making Connor laugh.

“Oh, we are very much Team Ralph,” Anna waggles her eyebrows, informing the other girls of how they’d all interrupted yours and Ralph’s “shared nap”. As Scott and his partner join the conversation, quickly waving over Grace and her boyfriend, too, everyone starts swapping stories about you and Ralph that have convinced them all to start shipping the two of you. As though they could sense the vibe, the other girls also start to gravitate towards the group as the conversation goes on.

“So that’s it, then,” Scott shrugs. “We tell them that they’re madly in love with each other and finally get this painstaking slow burn over and done with!”

Lauren hums in disagreement, her eyes narrowing. “Hmm, I don’t know. Ralph would never believe us in a month of Sundays, remember that whole mess when they matched on Tinder?”

“When they WHAT?!” Your unaware friends chorus.

“Yep, Ralph accidentally,” Lauren holds up air quotations at the word, “hit the super like option or whatever, I don’t use Tinder, and ended up automatically matching with you-know-who.” The others vibrate with excitement. “So, we laid out an entire game plan to have Ralph finally confront everything, and what does he do? Panics as soon as they start talking, calls it an accident and runs away to call us, blathering on.”

“Right before that shitty date of his, too,” Emily scowls. “He could have dodged such a bullet, there.”

“Those two have taken so many easily dodged bullets, I wouldn’t place my money on either of them in a game of Russian Roulette,” Scott pulls a face, making everyone laugh.

“So, yeah, I don’t think we’re much use, there,” Lauren shrugs. “Sadly, I think the only way those two idiots are gonna get together is whenever they finally figure it out for themselves.”

“Right, we better start planning now what care home we’re all going to, so we can at least see it out together,” Connor nods, taking a little extra pride in how Lauren laughs louder than everyone else.

“God,” Ralph’s colleague pipes up with a laugh, “I had no idea about any of this, I can’t wait to tell Babs!”

~~~

Once you’ve grabbed your phone and gotten back to the main room, Lauren and Hannah are lost in a crowd of your other friends. You look over at the only other place you know definitely has at least one other person you know. You watch as Charlotte and the American - you wish you had the brainpower to remember his name right now - go off on their own and, not wanting to leave Ralph unattended for too long for fear of literally any consequence, you make a beeline for him. “Hey there, birthday boy!” You grin.

He flashes his phone up, and you get a glimpse of his lock screen - a photo of the six of you at New Year’s. “Not anymore, unfortunately! It has passed midnight now, so it is the day after,” he frowns.

You nudge his arm, “Yeah, well, it’s still your birthday in some countries, and we haven’t slept yet, so tomorrow isn’t today yet, either!” You raise your eyebrows at him, and he looks perplexed back at you. You giggle, “Never mind, ignore me. Been a hell of a day.”

“Yes, I can imagine. You, um, must have been under an awful lot of stress all day,” he mutters, barely audible over the thumping music.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to properly give you your card and your present, although hey! Extra birthday tomorrow! Who cares what time it is?!”

He frowns, “I specified no gifts, I just wanted a night surrounded by the people I care about the most, and I certainly have had that!”

You smirk, “Yeah, except we’ve barely seen you, Casanova!”

He laughs bashfully, “Yes, well, I thought I’d give a little something back, in return.”

“By giving Charlotte someone to distract her with?” You laugh.

“Not only that,” Ralph muses. “You talk a lot about teaching me how to assert myself more, and proving that what I have to say matters. I wanted to - well, firstly, to show myself that if I could do it for others, I could do it for myself, too, but - I wanted to show you, as well. What you’ve done for me. And why I must insist that I cannot receive any more of a gift from you.”

Just toeing the edge of alertness enough to know it’s a bad idea to kiss him again, you instead opt for throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly. He reciprocates for a while, until your supposed love interest for the night, the bartender interrupts to ask if you want anything. You insist on buying Ralph a martini, but not yourself, partly to start allowing for a steady and time-appropriate decline into exhaustion, and partly to ensure Ralph has no idea that the espresso martini exists, though you doubt he’d be privy to the bartender’s “special”.

You get lost in your own thoughts for a second. If the bartender had really been flirting with you, so obviously that it was spotted from the other side of the room, why didn’t you tell? Even through the tiredness, it’s been long enough that surely even your “take what you can get” instinct would have latched onto that and run with it. But something just felt so wrong about the way he approached you. Immediately calling you a favourite without knowing you. The wink and the way he looked at you like you were some kind of object to be claimed.

The word you’re looking for hits you with another realisation. It feels vulgar, and you only know one person who would use that phrasing. Ralph’s purity mindset has permeated your brain now, to the point where you can’t even allow yourself to be flirted with. If your dating life wasn’t already dead in the water, it certainly is now. Who, in all of London, would be willing to have the patience to “court” you and “woo” you the way Ralph insists you “deserve”?

“Are you alright?” His concern pierces through your train of thought, and you shake yourself back to reality to nod at him. “The man behind the bar said you should take this. I took a little sip to be safe, and it certainly seems to just be water.”

You thank Ralph with a grateful nod as you take a sip, before turning to catch the bartender’s eye and smile warmly at him, too. You hadn’t meant to buffer his advances, you just… Don’t care about seeking anyone else out at the moment. And yet, the only person you do care about doing that with, you’re doomed to never get to. What a tragic life.

Trying not to focus on the doom and gloom of it all, you try and distract yourself. “So, about Charlotte and Whatshisface,” you state as you start to approach the rest of your friends, who seem to hurriedly hush each other. “That seems to have gone well.”

“Certainly! And I have my eye on my next two subjects already,” he replies coyly before slinking himself away to rejoin the group, specifically standing next to both Connor and Lauren - Loz, now that Ralph’s here.

You all gradually drink, dance and sing the rest of the night away until the time to get ready to catch the night bus home looms. You slide into a seat on it, opting for the side closest to the window, and allowing yourself to switch off, merely enjoying the feeling of the bus beneath your forehead, vibrating away. You only know that Ralph has decided to sit next to you because, of all the slowly fading voices, Ralph’s is still the loudest.

You’re prodded awake by Ralph, who leans awkwardly to do so as you’re draped across him, head slipped just off of his shoulder to rest above his chest but still very much on his torso. You jolt up, hurriedly apologising, but Ralph waves you off. “Oh, pish-posh, Connor woke me up with such a forceful slap to my other shoulder I fear I’ll be bruised in the morning!”

“You fell asleep, too?” You ask, amused, before groaning. “Oh, god, there’s gonna be pictures of us sleeping on each other circulating the group chats for weeks now.”

“Well, that’s not a problem, is it? Not if we don’t make it so.” You’re not sure where Ralph’s managed to find such profoundness, but it impresses you. “Connor woke me up to say that he was getting off, but that the next one is ours.”

You nod, “Wanna push the button to tell the driver we’re next?” And watch affectionately how giddy Ralph gets at the action of pressing the button, hearing the bell and seeing the “Bus Stopping” sign light up.

You both thank the driver and walk back to the flats, thankful that the bus stop is barely a two-minute walk. Once you’re back at the flat, Ralph clears his throat. “Um… I suppose… Since it is still my birthday… And I’m certainly not tired for the moment…”

“You wanna open your present now?” You beam, and he mirrors you back in response. “Gimme a minute.” You rush to the bedroom and fish it out from your hiding spot. “Okay, you can come in!” You call for Ralph to follow you, and invite him to sit on the bed, which he does. As you brandish it to him, you explain, “At first, I got it because I saw it and I thought it’d look great as one of your window displays, but then I looked inside it and I thought… Well, you’ll see, “ you prompt, and he tears open the packaging.

He looks astonished at the sight in his lap. A suit jacket, golden in colour, adorned with sunburst and jacquard patterns. He lifts it out and turns it over to see an almost glistening black fabric. “Well, good heavens, this looks just like -”

Excitedly, you interrupt, “Look at the inner pocket! Left side!”

He pulls the jacket open to reveal a label: Tailored by Dower & Smyth for the personal wardrobe of Lord R. Penbury. His jaw drops. “Y- This couldn’t possibly - This is… Mine?” You nod vigorously, and he looks up at you, his doe eyes wide with shock.

“How weird, right? It’s like it was fate or something! It was just in some charity shop!”

“Yes, well, I’d rather not dwell on that,” he mutters under his breath as he carefully folds the jacket back onto his lap. “You know… This was tailored for mine and my sister’s 25th birthday party. The day we met Lauren and the rest of them.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said her name without hesitating or blubbering,” you point out light-heartedly, and he lets out a small chuckle, though it’s heavy with sadness. Not the usual woe-is-me, romantic-tragedy sadness, though. A different kind.

“It’s also the first time I’ve really thought of my sister today. My own twin, my... supposed other half. On her birthday, too. What a terrible brother I am,” he wrings his hands together, but you interrupt by forcing yours between his to hold one.

“Oi, none of that,” you start. “Considering how shit of a sister she was to you, and that she’s probably long gone by now, I think it’s allowed.”

“Do you think she mourned me?” Ralph asks quietly. “I mean, surely at some point they would have presumed me dead eventually. Do you think they held me a service? No, don’t answer that, what a morbid end to such a wonderful day.”

“Hey, I’d started this mess of a day, it’s only fair that you end it that way, too,” you tease, which makes him laugh a little. “I think… It shouldn’t matter either way. When you go back, I’m sure H.P can get you back to a time when they’ll still think you’re off with the Army or whoever you went to join. And before then… Who gives a shit? They’re not here, now. And they never did anything to deserve you in life, so why should they get to in death?” You shrug, squeezing his hand. “You’ve really found a way to find your people here, Ralph. I could see that tonight. And trust me, if you can win people over in this day and age, you can do it anywhere.”

Ralph blinks back tears and pats your linked hands with his free one. “I suppose I should get ready for an actual night’s sleep.”

“Sure thing,” you smile as you let go of him. Once he carefully hangs his present up, and grabs some pyjamas, he heads into the bathroom. You, too, quickly change into something far more comfortable, but your attention is interrupted as you notice that Ralph hasn’t quite shut the door between the bedroom and the bathroom. And that he is apparently the kind of person to strip all the way down to his underwear and then put his next outfit on. Watching him feels wrong, perverted, scandalous. But you can’t tear your eyes from him. His slender structure, with just the perfect amount of chub to form a perfect little tummy. One that also has a smattering of hair that leads down from his navel and beyond, burying itself beneath the elastic of his -

That’s when you pull yourself away from your sickest train of thought yet. Whatever prompted you to start objectifying Ralph like this, you hope it ends soon. Quickly throwing your own night clothes on, you silently await his return so that you can quickly head into the bathroom to wash your face, making sure you have the water as cold as possible.

Once you get back into the bedroom, though, Ralph looks at you apologetically. “What’s up?” you ask.

“You got me the most thoughtful present anyone could have done and I didn’t even have the decency to thank you for it.”

“Ahh, don’t be so silly,” you smirk, sitting on the bed that he’s already tucked himself into. “Your reaction was more than enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly jumping off the walls,” Ralph frowns, but you shake your head.

“Doesn’t matter. I could tell how much it meant to you anyway, plus it got you to open up, which speaks volumes.” You reach over and take his hand again. “You know what you said earlier? About proving yourself to me, and to you, too?” He nods, and you grin. “Everything you just said about Victoria, and again, not being scared to say Lauren’s name anymore? That’s everything I need to know I aced that gift.”

“It truly is a wonderful find,” Ralph nods, once again misty-eyed. “Though I must again insist for the billionth time that everything you all have done for me to get me to that point is more than enough of a gift to last me many lifetimes.”

“And I must insist for the billion-and-one-th time, phooey to that! You deserve to be spoilt!” You grin. “And not in your usual little-rich-boy way,” you quickly add as Ralph’s brow knits together.

“I was about to say that you often refer to my past as being rather spoiled,” he comments, and you laugh.

“Yeah, but that’s more in a rich-people way. You deserve to be spoilt in other ways, for other reasons. But I better not talk too much about that, you need to fit your head through the door to go to work tomorrow afternoon!”

“Yes, I suppose we should both go to sleep soon, should we not?” Ralph asks, looking at the free side of the bed expectantly.

“Yeah, I guess,” you give in, throwing back the cover and basically dropping yourself onto your mattress.

Ralph sidles up to make his way slightly closer to the middle of the bed, “So, we should probably make sure we’re comfortable, shouldn’t we?”

You sigh with realisation. “That shot you had earlier was whiskey, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve had several, yes,” he admits quietly. “Though they were all bought for me before I could request my own drinks!”

“It’s fine,” you comfort him with a laugh. “So, big spoon or little?” You look over to see him mouthing your words back at you in confusion, so you hold your hands up in the air to demonstrate. “Two spoons, yeah?” You cup your hands and place one in the other. “Big spoon holds little spoon.”

Ralph nods. “So, I should be the bigger spoon, correct? Since I am… Bigger."

You shrug, "Not necessarily. Sometimes the little spoon is more figurative than literal. Though that's more, I guess… Backpacking than spooning," you laugh to yourself.

Ralph ponders for a moment. "Well, I suppose under any normal circumstances I would opt to be the big spoon, but… I think after everything, I should rather prefer to… To be held, I think."

"Alright, then, over you go," you gesture for him to roll over on his side, and you line yourself up to tuck his shoulder just under your chin as you wrap am arm around him, moving the rest of your body to fit the shape of his comfortably. "This alright for you?" You ask, unable to see his smiling, contented face.

"Just perfect," he replies wistfully, and you squeeze back in affirmation.

"Good. Night, Ralphie. Hope it ended up being a good birthday for you."

"Just perfect," he repeats in the same tone, "all of it." And before he can say anything else, and before you can think too much about that addition, you both fall asleep in synchronisation.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Word count: 8.5k

A/N: I've spent so much time on this because I wanted the events of this chapter to go perfectly after all this build-up lmao. I hope it's good enough for you guys. You all deserve the best, after all. <3

Only one more chapter to go after this! Almost the end of an era.

Hearing the shower stop thrumming, you smile at the closed bathroom door and start making yours and Ralph’s breakfast. A song plays from your shuffled playlist with a rhythm you can feel through every bone in your body. You start bobbing your head to it, which turns into a shimmy of the shoulders, quickly followed by shuffling feet and swinging hips. Before you know it, you're dancing and humming along all around the tiny expanse of your kitchen.

You had no idea Ralph was in the room now until you caught sight of something person-shaped leaning against your fridge. You stop with a bashful look, watching Ralph's gaze. He looks all the way down your body before looking up briefly to look back down again. If anybody else had ever looked at you in that way, you'd feel exposed, objectified, disgusted. But there's something about the way he looks at you, that causes your insides to swoop and your face to feel suddenly hotter. It's not even like it's the first time you've seen him do it, it's been his one go-to flirtatious move since you made it official with him, and it works every time.

"You know you don't have to stare like that, right?" You grin as you step over to him. "You can just come over and have me as I am."

"Even now that that is the case, darling, why would I ever waste an opportunity to savour how beautiful you are?" he smiles softly as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close for a kiss. Every time your lips connect, you feel a genuine spark that starts from there and jolts all the way through your body.

You feel the presence of his arms swinging by your sides, still unsure of where to put them. Reaching back down, you take his hands in your own and move them to rest low on your back. You feel his fingers nervously press into you as his breath hitches, and smile up at him sweetly in reassurance. Biting your lip, you push down on his wrists so that his hands sit on your ass cheeks and he yelps in surprise, his ears turning a fierce red. He looks at you with wide eyes, and you return it with a suggestive look. He licks his lips, nodding in understanding as he starts to relax. You guide his jaw to capture his lips into another kiss and you feel the tension keeping him stiff start to dissipate.

As you both relax into it, enjoying each others’ embrace, you rock yourself back into his touch, humming out a soft moan at the pressure of his palms pressing against you. You feel him tense up again as he breathes in audibly, but you shush him, leaning to look him in the eye and smile gently with a soft, “That feels so good.”

Ralph nods nervously, but it melts away as he sees how happy you look for him to be holding you in such a way. “Yes, it… It does for me, too.”

“Yeah?” You ask, moving in such a way that both you and Ralph start rocking from side to side, still cradling each other. “Good enough to call in sick, d’you reckon?”

He laughs softly, “Unfortunately, I fear Babs may have me skinned if I'm not in on time, we've got a special order coming in."

You pull a face, "Damn. S'pose I'd better work, too."

He moves his hands away from their place, to your disgruntlement, but it's to gently guide your hair into place with a, "I do so wish I could provide my old wealth to you. I'd spoil you something terrible."

You give him a resigned smile, "Tempting, but I'm not sure I'd survive in a world without WiFi."

"Of course," Ralph muses with a small smile, "and how could you possibly go on without knowing which of the female strangers was given a flower by the male stranger?"

"Oh, shut up, you'd miss our trash TV marathons more than I would, and you know it," you tease, poking him in the stomach.

He chuckles, “Maybe so."

Your shifts never used to drag quite like this. Even major rush periods feel as though they're in slow motion, they have done ever since you and Ralph made it official. You'd always felt it weird and a little co-dependent when others would talk about just wanting to go home and be with their significant other all the time, but now you get it.

At first, you reminisce back to this past weekend, when you'd gone out with the rest of your colleagues for one of their birthdays. Though Ralph was visibly sadder about you going out without him for the night, he certainly never made you feel guilty about it. Hyping up how beautiful you look, telling you to have an absolute blast and how he can't wait to hear all about it as soon as you get home, which you knew was going to be literal since you knew he'd stay up for you. And the memory of his lovesick little face as you'd kissed your freshly-applied lipstick all over it, smiling dazedly and sighing happily with glassy eyes while covered in your lipstick stains, is enough to lift you out of any funk. Especially when you also remember coming back to see him drifting in and out of sleep on the sofa, faded lip marks still adorning him.

You think back further than that, to the time when he'd run all the way to your shop from his after he'd realised halfway through the morning that neither of you had remembered your goodbye kiss. And then back to your very heated session this morning. Imagining Ralph bursting through that front door the way he had that day. Looking at you with all the adoration from the weekend. You know for a fact you'd be practically tugging him into your office, throwing everything off of your desk so the two of you can make out on it.

You think about his hands, how they felt pressed against such a sensitive area. How easily he took to it. You start to wonder what else he'd take to that well. Whether he even knows what he's doing. Would you have to take charge? Do you want to take charge? Everything over the last half a year has consisted of you having to lead Ralph around, so you assume the same would be said for… Elsewhere, too. As much fun as it is to imagine Ralph pressing you against the wall and having his way with you, that’s not really your Ralph. Still nice to think about, though.

A grab of your shoulders has you jumping out of your skin with a yelp. The sales assistants working with you laugh loudly and you pull a face. “Couldn’t you have just gotten my attention in a nicer way?”

“We tried!” One raises their hands. “You were really out of it, almost called an ambulance on you.”

“Yeah, what’s got you that distracted?” The other asks, before adding with a smirk, “Or is that more hot and bothered?”

“What do you mean?!” You ask, but you can feel your face betraying you. Your cheeks could be actual furnaces right now.

They simply exchange knowing kooks and waggle their eyebrows at each other before gesturing to the front desk. “Total Karen. Says we have something on hold for her when I’ve checked ten literal actual times and seen we don’t. She’s all yours.”

After a twenty minute conversation that finally ends with the revelation that the woman had the wrong store entirely, you decide it’s best to keep busying yourself with work. Keep the not-safe-for-work thoughts… Outside of work.

By the time you’re home, you wonder whether you should bring up the elephant in the room. You wonder how, as well - whenever you’ve been intimate in the past it’s been Tinder matches or other dates where you can trust the other person to make the first move if they’re truly interested. But this is your Ralph, who you’d had to guide just to let his hands wander, and even then he’d needed encouragement to keep them there. He always talked about how infrequently he’d had any kind of positive interaction with anyone he’s been interested in - you can’t help but wonder, has he even?

You open the door and hear the shower running behind the bathroom door. Of course, you and Ralph have showered while the other is somewhere in the flat plenty of times over the last half a year, but with all that’s been on your mind today, there’s just something about the fact that his naked form is a door away from you.

You head into your bedroom to get out of your work clothes and into something comfier before you can even think about making dinner, and notice that Ralph has left that bathroom door ajar. You contemplate poking your head around it when a sound catches you completely off guard. Beneath the running water, it can’t be denied, Ralph is moaning. As you stay close to the doorway and listen intently, you start to hear more. Little gasps and hitches of his breath. Sounds that could only mean one thing - Ralph is touching himself right now.

Every one of them makes you feel the need to relieve yourself, too, which you consider briefly before deciding in the moment to just go for it. There’s been enough pussyfooting around over the last 6 months, and look at where that’d gotten you.

Taking a deep breath in, you tap your knuckle against the door, using all your willpower to remain a respectful distance away from the open part of the door so as not to scare him too much. “Ralph?” His classic half-yelp, half-squawk of surprise greets you as the water suddenly shuts off.

You hear commotion as he quickly wraps a towel around his hips and pokes his head out from the doorway. “W-welcome, back, my…” He clears his throat. “My love. Erm, I don’t su- how long hav- I didn’t hear you coming in.”

You push the door wide open, leaving him standing in the doorway looking incredibly bashfully, not quite looking at you. You place a finger on his jaw and move it so he’s looking at you. Raising your eyebrows suggestively, you ask, “Do you want me to level the playing field?” as you reach down to grab the bottom of your shirt.

Ralph takes a deep breath in that hitches twice before he swallows hard and nods, taking a step closer to you. “Though, I should like to be the one to make that happen, if that would be alright with you.”

You reach out to take Ralph’s hands, walking backwards until you’re both further into your bedroom, and place them on your hips, grinning up at him. “Heads up, unless I tell you that it’s not, pretty much everything you could do would be okay, alright? Don’t need to check in all the time.” He nods, and you play with the wet curls that hang down the back of his neck. “And, um…” You start slowly, spinning your fingers around in his hair, “you… Obviously don’t have to push yourself, if you’re not ready, or if you’re not sure how, or -”

“I know what to do, if that’s what you’re trying to insinuate,” he tells you with a small smile. “For our 21st, Victoria decided to, ah, gift me a week’s worth of evenings with… Well, I’m sure you can imagine, given the context.”

You frown up at him. “Your sister gave you an escort for your birthday?!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t think so, at first. She had simply told me there was a young woman waiting downstairs for me to wine and dine her, and… Well, again, you can imagine how the night ended. And then, no less, Victoria told me she wanted to see me again the very next night, and so it happened again, and again, until one week later, she was never to be seen again.”

Your eyes widen, “Like, she di-”

“Oh, gracious, no! No, I saw Maggie in the town days after.” Ah, so this is the Maggie he mentioned the other week. “I approached her to ask her for another evening out, and that’s when she told me that she was… merely being paid to accompany me.”

You stroke his hair gently, pouting your lower lip out. “Your old life was such bullshit.”

“Yes, well. If only any of them could see me, now. Bully for me, eh?” Ralph smiles at you before leaning in to kiss you sweetly.

You smile against his lips as you slowly drag your hands down around his shoulders, following the last few drops of shower water that remain on him down to rest on his chest. “Wouldn’t want them to. Want to keep all this just for me.”

“As you wish, darling,” he simpers back, and you feel his fingers bunching your shirt up. “As long as I get to say the same.”

“Of course,” you grin, lifting your arms up over your head. He pulls your shirt off of you, his hands carefully folding the garment as his eyes fixate on your body in total awe. He reaches over to place it down on your dresser, his gaze still never leaving your body, leaving you feeling totally enamoured at how respectful he’s still being towards even your clothes. He reaches around to remove your bra - doing so more efficiently than even you can - and drinks the sight of you in as it falls down your arms.

A shaky hand reaches out to hold your breast, his finger and thumb just resting inches away from your nipple either side. You moan out an oh and Ralph almost melts on the spot. He uses the other hand to cradle your neck as his kisses become far more open, far more passionate, and far more needy. He needs more than to just hear those sounds, he needs to taste them, breathe them, claim them.

He switches his hands to massage the other breast with the same amount of intention and love. Your hands blindly feel for where he’s tucked the towel around him and tug gently, in questioning. He hums affirmatively into your mouth and you unfurl the offending object, letting it fall to the floor and breaking your kiss to look down. It’s fully pressed against his stomach, smooth with a singular vein protruding down the side. Slender, but long. You can’t help but smile adoringly as it twitches under your gaze.

You look up at him with the same look in your eye as you reach down to run your fingertips along it. He starts to frown, and you immediately pull back. “Too much?”

“Oh, no, not at all! I’m just… A little puzzled, since you’re the one touching me.”

You start to feel your blood boil again. “When this Maggie,” you spit her name out venomously, “was ‘teaching’ you… What did she do, exactly?”

“Well, I suppose I know what to do with my hands, and with my mouth, and with… Well, the obvious,” he chuckles under his breath. “But… Once it was all over, for her, she would tell me we were done, and so I would have to… Relieve myself once she had gone.”

You feel your face start to contort with anger, but you manage to will yourself out of that. Instead, you keep your gaze fixed on Ralph as you sink to your knees. You watch his eyes widen as you take his length in your hand and slowly lick from base to tip. His fingers flex out and then into a fist again, so you guide them towards your hair. His grip seems intentionally gentle, and a part of you starts to wonder whether you can corrupt him into pulling tighter.

Again looking up at him through your eyelashes, you point the tip of your tongue and play it around the tip of his shaft, licking all around it with the occasional lap right at the top. He moans for you for the first time, far louder than in the shower. His grip tightens for the briefest of moments before he returns to his gentle ways.

Spurned on, you finally wrap your lips around him and sink down, taking his cock in your mouth. His gasp stutters as a low moan rolls out beneath, and you have fun with moving at different speeds, turning your head, hollowing your cheeks, trying to move deeper until the tip of your nose nestles in amongst the mass of reddish-brown curls that adorn his length like a halo.

His knees buckle slightly when you reach out to gently caress his balls as well, and you pull away to check on him, wiping the drool off of the lower lip of your grin as you look up at him. “Everything good?”

He nods hurriedly. “Exceptional, truly, but I fear I may finish my part and neglect you in this.”

Your smile softens. “Baby, you don’t have to feel like you owe me. Besides, sounds like you deserve at least one night of selfishness!”

“Maybe so, but not tonight.” He offers his hand to help you stand up before placing a hand just under your ear to cradle your neck and head. “Tonight I wish to show you just how much I adore you. May I?”

You nod, “What did I tell you about asking, eh?” before shimmying yourself out of the rest of your clothes. You step back slowly, letting Ralph admire you. Any confidence issues you’ve ever had with your body melt with the way Ralph looks at you, as though you were a masterpiece at the Louvre.

You sit yourself on the bed, shuffling back so that your head can rest with the pillows, and Ralph lays next to you, pressed against your side as his hand slides around your thigh. “Quite possibly the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he mutters into your ear as his fingers rub up and down until he notices you hiss with pleasure, going back to the spot he brushed past to cause that and starting to rub it in gentle circles.

“Oh, god, please, Ralph, right there,” you pant.

“Does that feel good, my love?” He asks in the same volume, and you nod.

“So good, fuck,” you moan, your hips squirming from side to side under his touch. You look over at him, glassy eyes and parted lips as he studies your face. You could count his eyelashes, he’s that close. Breathing in the air he breathes out, you could just move your jaw a fraction and kiss him, but this moment feels so intimate, so personal. Nobody else exists in the world right now except for you two.

“I’m so glad,” he whispers to you. “Because I wish to devote the rest of my days to making sure you know just how much you deserve to feel this way, always.”

You feel yourself start to well up with emotion, but that soon dissipates into pure pleasure as Ralph takes that exact moment to reach down and sink a finger between your folds, pressing it deep inside of you. You whine, gripping the sheets with the one hand that can hold them, bucking yourself against his touch, desperate to feel nothing else but him inside of you. “God, please, Ralph, more,” you cry out, and he obeys, adding another finger easily.

“You make my name sound heavenly, darling,” he simpers, pressing a kiss to the top of the shell of your ear. “Thank you.”

“- Make me feel heavenly, oh my god,” you whine, finally moving your head around but pressing your forehead into his face instead. “Want to make you feel this good, too.”

He tilts his head to press gentle kisses to your forehead before resting his own against yours and cooing, “You already have, my love, and I’m sure you will again. But, for now…” He pulls his hand away and moves to crouch down between your legs. Your breath hitches, echoing his from earlier, as he holds your folds apart with one hand and buries his tongue inside of you. Your thighs squeeze the sides of his head as you moan loudly, and he surfaces to ask, “Is this what you want, darling? Or do you prefer more of this?” As he moves up to press kisses to your clit, occasionally lingering to suckle on it.

“B-both! Both are… Fuck, just don’t stop, please,” you stammer out, and you can feel his lips turn up in a smile against your core.

“Anything you say, darling,” he purrs as he alternates between the two. You feel yourself clench around his tongue, coaxing it in as much as you can, but the way your body moves as he massages your clit, your mind empties of every thought other than needing nothing but Ralph.

You start to feel something rushing, moving to settle down at your core where your climax starts to build. You cry out, “God, Ralph, ’m so close, need - need you inside, now, please.”

“You need relief now?” He asks softly, and you nod, keening against him. “Then let go, my love,” he soothes as he sinks his two fingers inside of you again, sucking on your clit with much more fervour. You cry out in ecstasy as you feel yourself clench and gush around his fingers, your hands burying in his hair as he totally devours you all the way through your orgasm.

He resurfaces, looking up at you with his big, brown doe eyes. You try and smooth out how dishevelled you've left his curls, to no avail as his glistening gaze watches you with adoration. Panting, you smile down at him, “Holy shit, you’re perfect.”

He dips his head bashfully before taking his previous place of laying next to you. “Oh, please, as if I could ever accept such a title when lying next to the embodiment of it.”

You frown, your eyebrows knitting together as you look him up and down. “And just what do you think you’re doing there?”

The awe in his eyes is drained immediately, quickly replaced with sorrow. “Whatever’s the matter?”

“Well, surely you still need attending to,” you shuffle around to lay on your side, gently running your fingertips up and down his length again.

His breath once again hitches as he gasps sharply. “Oh, you don’t need to go to all that trouble, darling, I can just as easily do it myself and I won’t even make a mess of it, I’m very good at cleaning up after myself, an-”

You cut him off by pushing him onto his back, rolling over to take his member in your hand and start stroking it. “Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking about in the shower?” you ask seductively, resting your head in the crook of his neck and watching him twitch beneath your touch.

He swallows thickly before stammering, "Th- That delicious sound you w-were making, this morning, I was… Playing it o-ver and over, in my head… I thought about, p-perhaps, what might happen if I were to... To have kept on k-issing you. To have caressed you m-more, whatever it took to make that happen aga-again."

You hum out a low moan into his ear. "Mmm, do you like it when I moan, Ralphie?" He nods desperately, and a wide smile creeps along your face. "Good," you whisper with a kiss to the shell of his ear. "Because I like having you make me moan."

"Well, if you wish, I'd be more than happy to oblige again," Ralph smiles as he tries to roll over you, but you again push him back, this time moving yourself around too until you're sat on top of him, straddling him with a knee either side of his waist.

"I want us both to feel good," you smile down at him, rubbing your palms up and down his chest. You trail your fingers down his torso to play in the trail of hair that adorns his stomach, shuffling further and further back until your lower lips start to mould around his cock. He breathes in through his nose, long and hard, and you lean forwards, sliding your hands back up his abdomen. "Do you want that, too?"

He nods, then his eyes widen in fearful realisation. "I, um... I didn't quite anticipate this happening so soon, and so I haven't... I don't have any..."

The concern that had filled your face quickly melts away. "It's okay, Ralphie, that's what that pill I take every evening is for. Though normally, I'd rather play it safe and have you protect yourself, too..." You grind yourself against him, biting your lip. "Tonight, I wanna feel you, Ralph. All of you."

He nods, "Ple- Please. Take all you desire of me."

You kneel up just enough to reach below you and aim his member until you feel his tip brush against where you ache for it most. You line yourself up before finally sinking down, burying him inside you. You let yourself sit atop his hips, savouring the moment. He runs his fingers up and down your sides as he admires your body, and you lean forward until you can reach over and hold the headboard for support. As you do, your breasts hang lower, putting Ralph in a total trance. His hands move to cup them again, this time taking your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

You let out a blissful moan as you grind yourself on him, revelling at how good it feels to be so full. You rock back and forth, letting that bliss consume you. You move one hand to envelope his, pressing his grip over you even tighter and whining at the added pressure.

He bites his lip and you feel his hand relax beneath yours. You frown slightly at him, slowing your pace, but his expression of pure elation puts you at ease immediately. “Feeling good?” you ask with a smirk, regaining your momentum.

He nods, smiling mindlessly, though this time he holds your hips as though keeping them still. “I wan- want you - want to… Be the one on…” As he talks, you can almost hear his thoughts struggling to form coherently.

You smile softly at him, bending down one more time to press a long kiss to his lips as you lift yourself off of him, rolling over to lay back on the bed. “Like this?” you ask as you reach for his shoulder, tugging gently; no expectation of actually moving him, merely prompting him.

A warm, beaming smile spreads across his face as he moves over you. “Precisely, my love. Thank you.” He aims himself hurriedly, desperate to be inside you again, for you to complete him again. Whatever fates may lie out there, Ralph certainly doesn’t know, but after all those years of them turning their backs on him, he’s never felt so sure of where he’s meant to be.

As he pushes himself inside of you, he takes your hands in his, this time holding them against your pillow, either side of your face. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively as you look into his eyes that bore back into you. Eyes full of love and of lust, of exhilaration and of tenderness, of willingness and of comfort. You wish you could give him any of that back, but all your face can do is contort with pleasure. You lift your head up, whining gently and pushing your lips out at him, to which he takes the hint and bends down to kiss you, his fingers flexing between yours as he holds you as tightly as he can. You feel the very edge of his neck chains drag against your skin as they swing, dangling between you. Every tiny little sensation feels magnified a hundredfold.

His breath becomes even more shallow as he breaks from the kiss, barely able to focus himself. You can tell he’s getting close, so you manage to wriggle your hand loose from his grip to reach down and start massaging your clit.

Ralph snaps back into consciousness to look at you with a furrowed brow. “Am I not doing enough for you? Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, I -”

You cut him off by shushing him, “Shhh, shh, it’s not your fault, baby. Okay?” you soothe, and he licks his lips as he nods. His face softens at your term of endearment. “There we go. I just really want us to finish at the same time, that’s all. Do you want to do it for me?” you offer gently, and he quickly adjusts himself, holding himself up against the headboard while reaching down to rub just where you need him to. Your body grinds with his touch, still managing to move in perfect rhythm with him. His forehead rests on yours as you both look down, watching his every move as he ultimately pleases you, but Ralph’s quick to get back to kissing you.

What starts as sweet pecks quickly melts into sloppy, needy, desperate, open kisses. You mutter to him to kiss your neck, and the combination of the feeling of his lips, the tingling of his breath and the vibrations of his hummed moans that only get more intense as his hips move more erratically, all against the already sensitive skin of your throat drive you crazy.

He moves back up to look at you, cheeks pink, ears red and chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “I think I’m… What should - Where should -”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the soft, freckled flesh of his back. “Just don’t stop,” you breathe back, feeling the build-up of your second orgasm fly through every single nerve. Breaths become whines, whines become moans, and the pair of you harmonise as you reach your peak together, as one. You bask in the warmth he fills you with, desperate to commit as much of it to memory as you can, knowing how rarely you’ll feel this exact sensation.

It takes Ralph a moment to recuperate as he simply flops down onto you, still inside you. You giggle, burying your face in his hair and kissing his head. “Enjoy that?” You ask in a soft, amused voice.

“Understatement of the century, my love. And I should know!” He exclaims, making you both laugh. He finally moves, pulling himself out of you - though still taking a moment to revel in the sight of his cum just peeking out from inside you - and laying himself next to you. You roll yourself on your side to face him, and he does the same. “It was everything I could have ever asked of you, and an infinite amount more. Thank you,” he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Thank you,” he repeats, kissing the tip of your nose. You giggle as he continues to thank you profusely, over and over, as he kisses you all over your face and down your neck.

“Alright, down, boy!” You laugh, lightly batting at the top of his head. “I’m not as sprightly as I used to be, I’m gonna need a minute before any round 2 happens!”

He returns to lay his head on the pillow next to you, pouting his lower lip out in an adorable manner. “I would never expect anything more of what you’ve already done for me!”

You reach over to stroke back some of his curls, grinning, “I know, you big softie, I was only teasing.” You huff out a long, exhausted breath. “Well! I think I need a shower after that.”

Ralph frowns, “Yes, I’m not certain now whether the moisture on my skin is from the shower I just took or from sweating, but I don’t want to waste any more of the hot water.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure we’d both squeeze in there pretty easily,” you offer with a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows. Ralph looks semi-shocked at the thought, and you deadpan, “Ralph.” You gesture down your bodies and continue, “You cannot think anything’s still scandalous, surely.”

He dips his head bashfully, “I’m just not used to all of this! You’re the one corrupting me!” You gasp in mock offence, keeping your wide-eyed, wide-mouthed expression as he kisses all over your face again through his own giggles.

“Well, I’m gonna go get in the shower, anyway. If you feel like being corrupted any more, you know where to find me,” you tease, practically throwing yourself out of the bed.

As soon as you start running the water, you feel Ralph’s body pressing behind yours again, his arms wrapping around you and his face burying in your neck. Showering together feels like the most intimate thing you’ve done all day, the way you carefully explore each others’ bodies with the tender lathering of soaps, shampoos and conditioners. Once you’re out of the shower, and Ralph’s stood behind you to help you massage your favourite products into your skin, you consider teaching him all the fun of bending someone over a bathroom counter, but you decide to pace yourself. Everything you and Ralph have done so far today has been a big step for him to take, and the last thing you want to do is overwhelm him.

It’s only when you’re both stood naked in your bedroom, trying to remember what’s stopping you from the default action of changing into pyjamas, when your stomachs growl in unison. You laugh loudly, “That’s it! It’s because we still need to eat!” You frown, “I don’t think we have enough stuff, I was gonna ask you what you wanted and then go and buy whatever we’d need, ’til I got distracted.”

“Whatever could you mean,” Ralph replies with a small, bashful smile. “Although… I was given a rather hefty tip from that large party that I helped today, and so I was planning on asking you to accompany me to a meal out, my treat.”

You smile with amusement, “A little bit backwards from my former dating life, to have dinner afterwards, but absolutely.” The comment seems to go over Ralph’s head as he looks through his dress shirts, though he keeps pausing to watch you decide on your own outfit. Once you do, he picks one that matches yours as closely as possible,

Ralph seems excitedly determined to show you where he wants to take you, which you eventually learn that he learned of this place from his friend Lauren, the one now dating Connor. It must have come very highly recommended, since as you queue up to join the waiting list, you see your friends already sat at the bar.

They jump up and rush over, Lauren immediately greeting the pair of you while Connor talks to the host, who seems quite agreeable. When he joins you all, he tells you that he’s changed his and Lauren’s party from 2 to 4 so you can join them.

You all go back to the bar and order some drinks. As Lauren and Ralph excitedly catch up, Connor nudges you with a, “Look at us. Hey, look at us.”

Laughing, you continue the reference with a, “Look at us! Who’d have thought?”

“Not me!” Connor exclaims, causing you both to fall into a fit of giggles.

Lauren turns away from their conversation to look at you both in disbelief. “Did you just quote Paul Rudd, out loud?!” You both nod proudly, and she rolls her eyes in affectionate sarcasm. “Can’t believe I’m dating such a massive nerd.”

“Well, believe it, ’cause it’s truuue,” he singsongs teasingly, leaning over to plant an obviously very wet kiss on her cheek based on her reaction, making all four of you laugh.

“Nah, seriously, I never would’ve thought Connor would be that sappy, even if he was being a prick about it,” you smirk. “You kids are cute together.”

“High praise coming from the most anticipated couple of the 20s!” Lauren laughs.

“Oh, Loz, that’s quite the exaggeration,” Ralph comments with expressive eyes, but both Connor and Lauren rasp out in disbelief in the same tone simultaneously, to your amusement.

“It really isn’t, we’d all been waiting for you both to come to your senses for months!” Connor exclaims.

“Seriously, some of the girls were considering trying to hunt your lot down to add them to a group chat dedicated to playing Cupid!” Lauren laughs, gesturing between you and Connor as the four of you are called to go to your table. “Thankfully, as ever, I was the voice of reason that knew you and Ralphie’d figure it all out eventually.”

“And if things didn’t happen the way they did, you’d never have met me the way you did,” Connor grins as he sits in his chair, resting his elbow on the table and jaw on his fist as he watches Lauren take her seat, to which she beams back at him for.

Ralph pulls out the seat next to Lauren, and you go to sit next to Connor when you hear him make a slight sound of offence. You look over and see him holding the seat out, gesturing to it. Pressing a hand to your chest, you stick out your lower lip in a look of affectionate appreciation as you take the seat, looking up at Ralph gratefully as he tucks your chair in before taking his place next to his best male friend.

“You’re such a gentleman, Ralphie,” Lauren comments sweetly, and Connor sighs, shaking his head with a sarcastic aura about him.

“S’pose I better get better at being more of a gentleman too, then,” he raises his eyebrows at Lauren, who mirrors his snort-laugh.

“Please, if I wanted a gentleman, I would have never gone for you.” The way they smile at each other fills your heart with a warm happiness. This moment right now, it’s one you’ve always convinced yourself isn’t real. You read about it, you watch it in movies and TV shows, but for years, your jaded mind had convinced yourself that every piece of media just recycled the same trope time and again. That this feeling of being with your person, who just gets you and who you just get, and seeing other people be with their people too, it’s all too good to be true. That’s why it only exists in fiction. And yet, here you are. Living it, and watching one of your best friends live it, too. You’re sure that your other friends have found theirs, too, but you just couldn’t see it for yourself until you’d experienced it.

By the end of the meal, you’d agreed with the pair of them to have another dinner party, this time all coupled up with everyone’s partners invited, too. Ralph rocks back and forth in his seat excitedly. “You got something you wanna say, Ralphie, or d’you need to use the little boys’ room?” Connor comments with a smirk.

“Well! I was rather hoping an opportunity to show off to you all would appear soon!” Ralph beams, practically vibrating on the spot. “You see, between Babs and Alex - you know, who I work with, you met Alex the night of my birthday,” he hurriedly explains to your confused expressions, and the three of you chorus an Oh! of realisation.

“You know, for someone who works in retail, you might wanna remind them the importance of actually introducing themselves to people by name,” you explain to Ralph, who nods in understanding and continues.

“So, as I was saying, Babs had been talking about how she always loved to cook, but she hasn’t any children to pass recipes and such onto, and I may have… Confessed my lack of cooking prowess, and know-how of all these appliances and whatnot. But Babs has been teaching me how to use things with as few… Gadgets and doodads as possible! And Alex has been teaching me things that do use them, since they feared that if I remained clueless about them, I may do more harm than good.”

“Sounds smart. Remind me at some point to bring Alex whatever their favourite thing is into the shop one day,” you nod, to Connor and Lauren’s amusement - though Lauren’s is largely still recovering from Ralph’s use of the word doodads.

“So, if it would please you all, I… Would like to be the one to cook for everybody.” Ralph looks at you all hopefully.

“It’s a sweet offer, but our pokey little flat’s got barely enough room to swing a cat around, I dunno if we’d be able to fit everyone and their partners to ours -” You start, and Ralph’s expression visibly saddens, which breaks your heart to see, but Connor salvages it.

“You can cook at mine, mate,” he offers with a smile. “Not really fair to offer up anyone else’s places since they’re not here. Just don’t go starting any fires and we’re golden.”

“Oh, drat, there goes my master plan!” Ralph jokes, making you all laugh.

On the day of the dinner party, just before you leave for Connor’s, you happen to notice one tweet amongst many others in Ralph’s mentions. Most of them speculate whether you and him are an item or not, now; you’d agreed with Ralph to try and remain as inconspicuous as possible, to avoid your fear of strangers’ judgement, especially when so many of them are so willing to openly confess their traction to Ralph on public social media.

But that remains a difficult task when you both get heart eyes every time you so much as think about one another.

The tweet in question comes from someone who had bumped into the pair of you a few days prior. They had recognised a few of Ralph’s instagram backdrops as being local to them, and so had made some bracelets in the hope of gifting them to him someday. Ralph had been completely bowled over at the notion of somebody handmaking a gift for him, and had been wearing them ever since, proudly showing them off to anyone he talked to. The tweet read: “pretty sure i saw @RalphOnTwitter wearing my bracelets in someone else’s selfie they got with him. it’s fine. i’m fine.” followed by a gif of someone totally freaking out.

Just as you’re about to leave the house, you call Ralph over and tell him to hand you his phone to pose for a quick photo in the mirror, as long as he hugs you for it. He happily obliges, and you’re thrilled to see his sleeve working in the exact way you’d hoped it would. After double checking that the icons of the instagram profile with the same handle match with the twitter account you were hoping to reply to, you add a hover tag over his bracelets as you post to Ralph’s instagram, letting him caption it:

With that, you mute his instagram and twitter notifications, wanting to salvage as much of his phone battery as possible, and hand him his phone back.

Once at Connor’s, Ralph insists on having total jurisdiction over the kitchen. You keep all the drinks out in the living room so as not to disturb him. It’s tough not to keep checking in on him all the while, not because you don’t trust him in the kitchen (well, maybe a little) but mostly you just don’t want him to feel as though he can’t ask for help if he really needs it.

Things seem to be going well for long enough that you allow yourself to relax and enjoy your friends’ company. Your former, single self always thought that people changed when they got into relationships, including your best friends. Not that it stopped you from being their friend, by any means, but you’d certainly noticed a difference in them. Something about all of that makes so much more sense now that you’re in the same boat as them, though.

In the middle of a conversation about everyone’s early stages of dating, Scott and his partner’s attempts to recollect their first dates are interrupted by a clattering crash sound, followed by the last word you’d ever expect to come out from behind the kitchen door at this exact moment: “Oh, fuck!”

All heads snap to look towards the kitchen at once. All voices call out the word, “Ralph?!” at once. Naturally, you’re the first on your feet, sprinting to find him standing with his head hung, looking at the pan that’s now laying face down on the floor, bits of food strewn all around it.

“Oh, babe,” you frown, stepping over to him while trying to wave everyone else away from the doorway for a moment. “It’s okay! Are you hurt? Was it hot?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t even get a chance to put it on the stove before I ruined it.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, my lovely, I promise,” you encourage him quietly, picking his head up in your hands to stroke his face with your thumbs. Quietly in part to keep Ralph focused on just the two of you for now, and maybe also in part so your friends don’t have to hear you use terms of endearment you’d have made fun of them for just months ago. “Is it just this to prepare, or is there more stuff?”

He shakes his head, “Everything else is on time to cook, but I won’t have time to prepare and cook these starters again -” He stops himself to look at you, startled and embarrassed. “Oh, heavens, I swore, didn’t I?! Did everybody hear?”

“Do you really think any of us give a shit?” You laugh, and Ralph finally allows a chuckle to escape his lips, too. “Guess I still had a little corruption left in me, eh?” You tease, and Ralph’s ears turn violently pink.

“There are other people just outside that door!” He hisses bashfully, and you laugh loudly.

“Exactly. So, why don’t you call them in here, go get yourself a drink and sit down for a bit, and we’ll get these starters remade in no time.” You look over to the counter and gesture to it with your head. “That the recipe for it?” Ralph nods. “There we go, then. Off you pop,” you grin, pulling him in for a kiss before guiding him out, allowing yourself a cheeky tap of his ass as he walks past you. He looks at you with faux indignation and you stick your tongue out at him in response.

Your friends all help you clean up and re-prepare the starter course while Ralph joins the other partners in the living room. Once everything is made and in the oven, you all leave, letting him go back and finish. He thanks everyone profusely, but you all wave him off.

“C’mon, babes, you’re officially one of the in-laws now!” Grace grins at him.

“Yeah, you’re family,” Anna adds, reaching up to pat his head as always, which he responds to by scooping your friends into a big hug.

As he steps back, misty-eyed, he takes a deep, shaky breath in. “Right, well, then. None of this is getting dinner back on track, now, is it!”

The rest of Ralph’s cooking goes off without a hitch, and it all tastes amazing. At first, Ralph remains bashful, erring on the side of self-deprecation as he insists that he’d rather people were honest with him, and not trying to save his feelings, especially since you and your friends deserve all the credit for the starter. Even he can’t deny everybody’s praise once it comes to the second course, though, to your delight.

The other partners all insist on doing their part by washing up while the rest of you veg out on the sofa, feeling bloated from finishing every bit of a three-course meal. You’re all talking about work, trying to figure out when you’re all next on the same day off when the others join you. Lauren, perching on the arm of the chair Connor’s sitting on, asks him, “Ooh, what are we all talking about? Have you told them what we were talking about?”

“Shit, yeah! Thanks for reminding me, babe,” he beams at her before turning to you all. “Well, we were thinking, ’cause we were talking about going on holiday together and stuff - oh, piss off,” he sneers jokingly at everyone else’s ‘aww’s. “But, like, obviously everything’s mad expensive these days, so we thought, maybe it’d be cheaper if we all went away somewhere together, since it’s getting warmer?”

“Like. Brighton, again?” Ralph asks.

“Well, we were thinking of maybe aiming for somewhere abroad,” Lauren explains.

Horrified, you and Ralph instinctively chorus a “No!”, causing everyone else to frown at you.

“Uhh, Ralph can’t go abroad, he doesn’t have a passport!” You explain hurriedly, and Ralph nods profusely, his eyes wide.

“Oh, well, it wouldn’t be any time soon, we can wait for him to apply for one!” Connor smiles at Ralph, though he remains uneasy.

“Yes, well… I, um… Flying is… Not something I would want to do, frankly, it’s, um… Quite terrifying! Yes, I’ve a paralysing fear of aeroplanes, I don’t trust them in the slightest,” he rambles, but Lauren’s not buying it.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at him. “You’re lying.”

Resting your elbows on your knees, you rub your face, keeping your hands over it as you think. Trying desperately to think of any other way around it, you just can’t think of a decent-sounding lie that’ll definitely waive everyone’s suspicions. You tilt your head over towards Ralph, not moving your hands, and mutter to him, “I think this is it, Ralphie.” He looks over at you in fearful questioning, and you nod in resignation, pressing your lips together. “Think we’ve finally gotta tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Connor asks.

“Oh, come on, you’ve got me on the edge of my seat now, what’s happening?” Grace asks, eyes wide.

“Is it a cult thing? Was I right all along?!” Scott asks, but Anna shushes everyone with a wave of her arm.

“How are they gonna explain if none of you let them talk?” She asks, raising her eyebrows at the others before looking to you, silently willing you to continue.

“Okay, well. This is going to sound insane, but I swear, you have to hear me out, and you have to believe me no matter how batshit it all sounds,” you start.

“About 80% of what Ralph says is batshit insane, but we still hear him out,” Scott points out with amusement, but he soon clears his throat. “Sorry. Carry on.”

You lean as far back as you can in your seat before sitting up straight. “Okay. So, you all know Homeless Pete, right?”

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