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olindabell · 2 years

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The Knight and the Necromancer

chapter 1/?: The Skull in the Wagon -- read on ao3 or below

fandoms: bones x dungeons and dragons

pairings: seeley booth x temperance brennan, jack hodgins x angela montenegro, lance sweets x james aubrey

summary: when a cannibalised skull is thrown from a bridge in waterdeep, necromancer temperance brennan and paladin seelie booth are tasked with assembling their adventuring party and hunting down the prime suspect, the lich gormogon.

warnings: general fantasy violence, angst, slow burn, description of dead bodies.

notes: this is incredibly niche but personally i’m obsessed with it. i hope that if anyone reads it they enjoy it!

No one likes being woken up in the middle of a deep trance, especially after two days of unearthing the skeletonised corpse of a frost giant halfway up the frigid Sword Mountains. This was the first decent trance Temperance had had in days – an empty, dreamless trance – and instead of waking up a few hours later to the comforting grey of predawn light, she opened her eyes to a loud and insistent banging on her front door.

The racket grew louder as she took the stairs two at a time. ‘I’m coming!’ she yelled, but whoever was on the other side of the door was not so easily persuaded. She sighed, realising she knew who it must be.

She pulled open the door just as Booth’s hand came down for another bang. She ducked out of the way, his hand just missing her face.

‘Careful, Booth!’ she said.

‘Gods, you look terrible,’ he laughed.

‘I was trancing.’

‘Well, trance time’s over.’ He shouldered past her and into the tower. He was fully dressed, plate armour reflecting the candlelight, shield on his back and sword on his hip, fingerless white gauntlets clinking.

Temperance rubbed her eyes. ‘What do you want?’

‘There’s a skull, Bones—’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘—thrown from a bridge in the smithing district, into some noble's wagon.’

‘Get one of the crown wizards to have a look. I’m on a dig at the moment.’

‘That little giant in the Sword Mountains?’

‘It’s the best-preserved skeleton in the realm, Booth. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.’

‘Please.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re an elf, you’ll live for another six hundred years.’

Temperance rubbed her eyes. ‘Did you wake me up just to argue with me?’

‘No, I woke you up to come and look at this skull.’

She glared at him. ‘You won’t leave unless I come with you, will you?’

‘Nope.’ He leant against the dining table, then gestured to her black silk robe. ‘I’ll wait while you get dressed.’

Waterdeep was never quiet, not even in the dead of night. Merchants stumbled in bleary-eyed from the docks, followed by sailors in worn leathers and private guards clinking with crude weapons. Servants from noble houses bustled to-and-fro, decked in the coats and colours of the houses they served, worrying aloud about scrolls and groceries and clothes for the laundry. Drunks hollered their way out of taverns, fight pits, gambling houses, brothels; the smells were so distinct – dwarven ale or elven wine – that a passer-by could tell a fellow’s preference halfway down the street. And in the centre of the smithing district, the salty air warmed by the furnaces on all sides, knights of the City Watch were stationed in a circle around a wagon, holding the murmuring onlookers at bay. Seelie Booth didn’t have to say a word to anyone; the guards took one look at him, nodded, and parted to grant him access. But all of them lowered their eyes to their feet at the sight of the high elf striding behind him.

Temperance was used to such treatment. She knew humans found high elves unsettling, for a number of reasons: their agelessness, their aloofness, their seeming emotional disconnect from the outside world. She knew she was disliked because people saw all those things in her. Plus, no one liked how comfortable she was around dead bodies.

A nervous apprentice wizard pointed Temperance towards the skull. She shouldered her way around a noble in purple clothes, who was yelling at some of the City Watch. The skull was partially lodged in the thick wood of the wagon’s front. No flesh remained, only pale grey bone.

‘What’ve you got?’ Booth asked.

Temperance squinted at the skull. ‘Male, half-elf,’ she said. ‘I can have a closer look at the lab. Did anyone see anything?’

‘Driver thinks the skull was thrown from up there.’ Booth pointed to a brick walkway above the road.

‘What’s it for?’ Temperance asked.

‘Connects two of the smithies,’ Booth said. ‘Same owner. But anyone can access it, there’s a ladder in that alley over there.’

‘I’ll meet you back at the lab, then.’

Booth sputtered, ‘You’re leaving?’

‘I need my equipment to have a closer look. And don’t you have witnesses to talk to?’ She gestured to the yelling noble.

‘Hang on–’

‘I’ll see you back at the lab!’ she called over her shoulder, before disappearing into the crowd.

Temperance was fond of a lot of things, but her lab – and she considered it hers – was her favourite place in all of Faerûn. Many mages used the space, but all of them deferred to her, respected her, and most importantly, left her alone. Of course, they deferred to Camille too, and some of the other department heads, but she tried not to let that bother her.

This late in the night, the lab was empty. Temperance waved her hand in front of the rune lock and the doors swung inwards, revealing a pale stone room with a thick glass ceiling. Unlit braziers lined the walls; Temperance made a gesture in the air and spoke the Elvish word for flame, and the braziers burst into life. The centre of the room was raised, and sleek obsidian tables perched above the rest of the room, giving the platform a dark, imposing air.

Wards lined the edges of the platform, but Temperance simply stepped over them. Once she was next to the central table, she let out a breath, the stiffness evaporating from her jaw. The silence, the cool air coming through the glass ceiling, the flickering candle flames, all of it comforted her. Here, she felt at ease.

She placed the case with the skull on the table and pressed open the latches, but before she could lift the lid, something pinged in her ear.

Booth’s voice radiated into her mind. ‘Hey, Bones, borrowed a message spell from one of my guys. I’m on my way to the lab, do you want me to pick up Zack on the way?’

Sighing, Temperance said, ‘That would be helpful, thank you.’

Lifting the skull from the case, she placed it in the middle of the table, then conjured a few floating lights directly above it. The liquid black surface of the obsidian table rippled as the lights swayed gently in the air.

Soon, Temperance was lost in her work. She etched runes into paper, chanted powerful words. Her hand pulled components from the pouch on her belt, ashes and plants and powdered glass. The room grew thick with her magic, a smell like burnt sugar and pollen, a haze like heat. The world outside faded away, until all she was left with was the bobbing lights, the inky black table, and the pale skull in the centre of it all.

‘Bones!’

Temperance jumped. Booth was standing at the bottom of the platform, Zack by his side. ‘Were you trancing again?’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘Just focused.’

‘Well, unfocus.’ He paced at the edge of the wards. ‘Will you let me up?’

‘Zack can do it,’ she said without turning around.

Sighing, and the patter of Zack’s small feet up the platform stairs, followed by Booth’s clanking. Zack appeared at her elbow, drawing over a stool and climbing up for a better view, his gnomish stature too small for the table.

‘What do you see?’ Zack asked.

She handed him a magnifying glass and a petal from a daisy. ‘You tell me what you see.’

Temperance waited, and Booth paced, while Zack examined the skull, his spell tome hovering in the air next to him, obeying his murmured commands to turn the page or read a passage aloud. Temperance avoided the book; she knew Zack never wanted to follow her into necromancy, his mind too broad to be focused on a single pursuit, but the animated book that flew around him had always made her uncomfortable.

After some time, Zack looked up from his work and said, ‘Teeth marks.’

Temperance said, ‘Very good, I concur.’

Booth said, ‘What?’

‘Teeth marks,’ Temperance said. ‘The skull has been gnawed on.’

‘You mean…’ He looked around, then whispered, ‘a cannibal?’

‘Yes, exactly,’ Zack said.

Booth turned pale. ‘The Lords of Waterdeep aren’t going to like that.’

‘Most people don’t like cannibals.’ Temperance removed her leather gloves and dismissed the lights. ‘I’m going to trance in my office. Please don’t wake me until morning.’

‘What? No!’ Booth scurried after her. ‘We need to meet with the Lords, start gathering clues.’

‘You go talk to the Lords.’ Temperance lit the candles and incense on her desk and removed her emergency cushion from its shelf. ‘I’ll be here when you’re done.’

‘We’re partners, remember? That means we do these things together.’

‘I’m tired, Booth.’ She shot him a look. ‘I spent the last two days unearthing remains halfway up a mountain.’

He put his hands on his hips, huffed, then said, ‘Four hours, and then I’m back, alright?’

‘Yes, four hours.’

He left the room, muttering under his breath, his armour clanking and banging with each stomp. Temperance sat, cross legged on her cushion, and quickly slipped into trance, into a void of thought as black and liquid as obsidian.

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be-not-afeared · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Fitzjames/Solomon Tozer Characters: James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848), Solomon Tozer, Francis Crozier (Mentioned) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Set before episode one, There is honestly not much of a plot here, Just two men who know they're hot hooking up on a boat, that's it that's the fic, Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, James Fitzjames' praise kink Summary:

Solomon Tozer is having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Luckily, James Fitzjames is here to turn it around!

#I wrote another fic!#riding this wave of creativity and motivation before it disappears!#the terror #the terror fic #james fitzjames #solomon tozer #james fitzjames/solomon tozer #do they have a ship name?#probably not lol as there's only like 20 fics in the ao3 tag #if anyone wants to yell with me about this incredibly niche pairing then PLEASE DO #the terror: a show where characters don't even need to speak to each other to be shipped #me #writing #fic

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-3)

Word count: 3.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, mention of depression

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Monday morning rose brighter than it had a right to be; to the point that the sun was stabbing you in the eyes. You had been over and over the plan in your head throughout the weekend. By now, you were absolutely sure that you had mapped every second of the day and nothing could go out of hand.

The plan went sideways almost as soon as it started.

You dropped your bag at the threshold of the lecture room with a loud crash. All of the last row turned to look at who was that much of a klutz. You did not meet anyone’s eye as you took a seat at the very end of the top row. Maybe that would make you inconspicuous.

It did not.

“Y/N!”

Madison slid next to you on the bench, followed by her brood of friends. Lacey and the other two, whose names you didn’t remember.

“How are you, Sweetie?” Madison asked sympathetically. “You looked awfully ill when you left the other day. We were so worried about you! Weren’t we, Mer?”

Meredith- you remembered her name now- did not look worried in the least.

“What happened?” Madison asked.

“I was just really faint,” you answered automatically, having anticipated this. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you so much.”

Madison looked relieved. “I’m so glad, Y/N. I wanted to check on you over the weekend, but I didn’t have your number or knew where you lived. You have to give me your number right away.”

You did, and she texted you immediately.

“Awesome!” she said. “Now you have my number, too.”

You tried to smile. “Hey, if it’s not too much, could you tell me what I missed in the two days?”

Madison became animated instantly. “Well, lets see. After you left, there was advanced legal writing by professor Mills, then Supreme Court Litigation by Professor Mcleod and Organisation and transactions law after that. Most of Friday was free except for another lecture by Professor Mills. I have the notes. Once you put your email id on the class database, I’ll forward mine to you.”

“That’s seriously more than I can ask from you,” you said, feeling small.

She placed her hand on top of yours. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Thank you!” You said, looking down.

Madison huffed. “You thank me too much, Y/N! Besides, you really didn’t miss any of the fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Professor Winchester didn’t show up either,” Lacey giggled. “Didn’t we turn up fifteen minutes early for his class on Thursday? And the man never came.”

Your stomach lurched, a feeling you hadn’t quite experienced in years had you feeling lightheaded.

“Well, he didn’t completely disappear,” said the blonde. “He did turn up for the last half an hour of his lecture on Friday and outlined the syllabus of the semester.”

“He looked stiff and serious. Nothing like his first day here. And even that day he stormed off, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Madison nodded. “Right after you left, Y/N. It was a bit weird.”

You swallowed nervously, your forehead already clammed up. What was it? Was it fear or worry that you felt for Sam? You had been so wrapped up in your chaos that you hadn’t stopped to consider about Sam, assuming that he must have grown passive and wouldn’t care about the past anymore.

Sam had looked warm and at ease with himself that day, happy even, while you had only survived all these years. You’d be lying to yourself, if you said that the image of Sam on the podium, smiling at the students hadn’t felt like a knife in your gut.

But if he had not turned up for classes either… did that mean….

There was noise at the front and you saw Sam on the podium. He looked every bit as dressed up and neat as he had on your first day, if not a bit more severe.

He greeted the class curtly, and instantly jumped to the lesson. You tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away. It was harder still to keep looking. His features seemed more angular now, and he was definitely leaner than when you had first set your eyes on him. Today he was dressed in a dark grey suit and no tie, the button at his throat was undone.

He spoke for an hour about the merger of disputes and cases where it had benefited the original plaintiffs and not once did his eyes stray towards the corner of the class where you sat. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding that very portion of the classroom. He wasn’t genial today. A good teacher, just like he always had been, but absolutely formal. When the class ended, he retrieved the attendance sheet from a kid in the first row and exited the class.

“Well, that was quite intense,” whooshed Meredith. “Hadn’t pegged him for the serious sort.”

Blonde hair giggled at the double entendre, and you almost gagged.

“He’s actually quite good,” Madison murmured, uncharacteristically serious. “He knows what he is talking about.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded. Not that you had paid much attention to the lecture, what with your heart struck in your throat.

The classes that followed weren’t as eventful as the morning and you were more than grateful about it. The other professors all seemed so knowledgeable and expert. You had enough on your mind by the time you left the university, your plate already full of assignments.

When you got home, Meg was sprawled on one of the two sofas that came with the house and were perched in the living room.

“Hey,” you said tentatively.

Meg raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that you were initiating a conversation after a whole week of thoroughly avoiding her.

“Hey,” she said.

You placed your bad and laptop on the side table at the entrance and went to sit on the empty sofa. “I’m sorry about not greeting you earlier… I was going through some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she snorted.

The hurt must have shown in your eyes, because she straightened up into a sitting position.. “I’m not offended,” she said. “Locking myself in my room and avoiding human contact like it’s the fucking plague is my monthly PMS schedule. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed out.

Meg looked amused. “Your face is like an open book,” she said. “If you keep that up, you’re going to be a terrible lawyer.”

You didn’t fight her on it. It was a problem… it always had been. Over the years mostly it had been a blank and your boss had commented on your excellent poker face… but clearly even the dumb expressive face was back with all the feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re studying,” you changed the topic.

“MS, Applied physics.”

“Damn. That sounds hard.”

Meg chuckled. “You really think that, don’t you? You look terrified.”

You rearranged your expression into what was just polite interest. Enough with Meg’s expert face reading class.

“You wanna grab dinner?” Meg asked.

“Sure,” you said. “What’re we doing?”

“I made some stir fry. I didn’t know if you’d be up for dinner, though.”

You felt terrible about skipping the meals and in turn her company over the past week.

“No worries,” she said, getting up. “I’ll just toss some pasta and we’re good to go.”

“Hey, Meg?” You asked, “I see you’ve stocked up the pantry. It’s incredibly kind of you. I might drive to the supermarket tomorrow after classes, why don’t you let me know if there’s anything you want.”

She looked at you with some surprise and a hint of actual liking. “Sure. We can make a list over food.”

“Great,” you smiled.

The rest of the week passed without any more surprises, and you took your time to settle in… getting to know Stanford- both, the University and the town. You attended all lectures regularly and gave your hundred percent effort to every assignment.

In classes, you listened with utmost concentration… all except one. Civil Procedure wasn’t a lecture, it was slow seething torture. Watching Sam talk on the podium, interacting with students simply made it hard to breathe. The walls of the lecture room converged in on you while you gasped for air. On Sam’s part, he ignored you completely. It was as if you didn’t exist at all. Over the course of the week, his stiff, formal stance loosened and you could see more and more of the guy who had introduced himself on the first day. You didn’t know what you had been expecting from him? That one day he would suddenly look at you with hatred and throw you out of the class? That he’d lose his mind and yell at you? Ask you the questions that you didn’t want to answer?

But even for all that, he’d have to acknowledge your presence. Look at you. Somehow the ignoring and pretending that you didn’t exist was so, so much worse. It was killing you. Every second of the class, you fought your tears. However, you did not miss a single class.

Apart from those two hours everyday, you were doing well, all things considered. On Thursday, you packed more food than just your lunch, and after classes, walked to the Green Library. It was just as breathtaking as it had been on the first day. You set out to find that one table that felt right. After a quarter of an hour of testing and teasing, you finally found a desk that looked oh so inviting. It wasn’t the one below the tall, arching windows, but rather a small desk niched between the bookshelves. It was perfect.

You unloaded your bag, and set to work with the assignments that had been set for the class by Professor Mills. You personally thought Jody Mills was a total badass. She took up cases that others were too scared to touch. Her assignments didn’t require you to reference too many books, so you could make yourself comfortable in the chair. Your mind wandered as the time passed. There were a lot of things to be thought through. For starters, if you had to afford living here, you needed a job. Your savings would last a couple of months at most. The expense of moving across the country then having to pay for the lease of the apartment had taken a massive toll on your bank account. By the time holiday season began, you’d be as broke as the china in your grandma’s old cabinet.

Earlier, you had put in an application at the Student’s employment centre for oncampus jobs. You weren’t hopeful, given the number of applications they received, but you sure meant to check in on them next week in hopes that something suitable might have come up.

It was past 8 in the evening when you finally wrapped your stuff up, somewhat satisfied with how your assignment had turned out. You lowkey congratulated yourself on finishing it a week before the deadline as you made your way back home, crashing the minute you found your bed.

********************

18th July 2008

“Y/N! There’s someone here to see you!” Jo hollered from somewhere in the living room.

Thankfully the door to the room you were sharing with Jo was open.

“Coming!” You yelled back, wondering who could it possibly be. Maybe it was the postman with your grandma’s letter. She was a weird old lady who still loved writing handwritten letters. Gramps had been to the war and their love story had blossomed over letters sent across borders. Even though gramps had passed away many years ago, she still got that rosy look on her face whenever she talked of him. You wanted a love story like hers. Was it too much to ask for?

You made your way down the steps two at a time, excited for the letter. Maybe she had sent cookies along with it. Oh, how you loved her.

On the bottom step, you stopped. Sam Winchester was standing in the hallway, one hand balancing a lot of books, the other scratching the back of his neck, looking adorable in old jeans and an open button up over his t-shirt.

“Hey!” He said.

You were wearing a loose shirt without a bra over a pair of boy shorts, with hair falling over your shoulders. Needless to say, you were mortified.

“Give me two minutes,” you muttered and rushed back upstairs.

As you were pulling on a pair of leggings, it occurred to you how dumb the interaction had been. He was here to see you and neither had you invited him in nor asked him why he was here.

To add to your embarrassment, when you returned downstairs, he was still standing at the bottom of the stairs five minutes later, exactly where you had left him.

“Why’re you still standing here? Please come in!” You urged, scandalised that you had kept a guest waiting like that. Gran would have tutted so hard had she been here.

Sam followed you into the living room. Jo was lounging on the smaller sofa chain and you glared at her. She could have easily invited him in when she opened the door.

But no! How else would Y/N suffer in life?

Jo gave you the evil grin and waved to Sam.

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll have coffee!” Jo ordered and you threw her the stink eye again.

You gave Sam a chagrined look. “I’ll put the pot on the stove for her anyway. Do you want coffee?”

He looked like he was trying very hard to smile. “Black please. With half a spoon of sugar.”

You tried to calm your nerves as the pot boiled. Being a nervous wreck wasn’t going to help your case.

When you brought the two mugs of coffee outside, Sam was reading one of the books he had bought along and Jo was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jo?” You asked, carefully placing the steaming mug before him on the table.

Sam shrugged. “She said she suddenly felt sleepy. And that you should drink her coffee because you both like it the same way.”

Oh, that sly girl.

“So, what brings you here?” You asked, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

Sam smiled shyly. “You said you could use a second pair of eyes for the application.”

He had come all the way from wherever he stayed just to help you with the applications?

“Really?”

“Sure.” He tilted his head, the bangs on his forehead sliding to one side. He just had such beautiful hazel eyes. You have to avert your gaze so you wouldn’t just blatantly stare at him.

You excused yourself a second time and pulled out all your application stuff. Forms, copies of essays, documents and everything. It would be absolutely stupid to not make the most of this opportunity.

Sam took his time with all of it, going through each paper carefully and you counted your breaths to keep away the anxiety. At least he wasn’t laughing at how ridiculous your applications were. That was something. When he was done, he slowly put the papers down and looked up at you.

“Where else have you applied?” He asked.

You told him.

“You didn’t think of applying to any major universities?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t think I had a chance… and I don’t even think I was cut out for those.”

Sam reached out to place his hand on top of yours. A tingling sensation went up your spine. “Y/N! This looks great. Your essays are top notch. You should apply to Ivy Leagues.”

“I’ve already missed deadlines for them… and there are some good universities on my list as well.”

“But you deserve better!” He insisted.

You shrugged. “I don’t have that sort of money, and before you say scholarships, I don’t have those types of recommendations either. I come from a small town. People who are born there, spend their whole lives in the same house. They are happy with what they have.”

“Are you happy with what you have?” He asked, the light from the setting sun hitting his face, illuminating those eyes so they looked like burning topaz.

“I’m happy,” you said, looking at your lap where his hand rested on yours. He seemed to have forgotten about it. “But I know I can do better… for myself and my Gran.”

You made the mistake of looking up then… into his eyes, and they were closer than you had expected them to be. As if, he had no control over it, his hand reached out to touch your hair, the fingertips caressing your cheek on their way there. Slowly, but surely, he drew your face towards his… and you went, willingly. His lips had barely grazed yours when there was a loud noise in the hallway.

You sprang apart.

“Y/N!” It was Jo.

Ordinarily, you’d have flicked your tongue at her or something for interrupting like that. Afterall, she was the one who kept egging on you to get lucky, and the one time you had… that too with Sam frigging Winchester, she had to come barging into the room. Uhgg… Jo was going to get it.

But her face was completely white, and her hand, which was holding the phone, was shaking.

“Y/N,” she whispered again. Your neighbour called. It's your grandma… she passed away last night.

********************

You woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of the blaring alarm.

Gran!

The worry felt so fresh, you had to remind yourself that it had been seven years since she had passed away. Grief was peculiar like that… even after years and years of feeling it, some days it just felt fresh and new. Sad memories opened up the box of more memories, not all of them sad. The thought of gran was always accompanied by a warm feeling and memory of sunlit kitchen, and freshly baked bread.

This… dream or whatever it was had triggered more than just that… you could almost feel the whisper of Sam’s lips on yours. You had suppressed it so long that the feeling was almost forgotten now and how it ached knowing that you would never feel it again. The raw, desperate part of you tried to cling on to that feeling, the memory of his touch. It was three in the night, no one could blame you for wanting this comfort of your own memories. As painful as they were when you were completely in your senses, in this darkness, they were all yours to do what you pleased with them. However, like a dream, the memories kept evading your grasp. The more you tried to hold on it, the further away it slipped. Sleep eluded you completely after that.

Needless to say, you were tired and sleepy and irritated by the time the last lecture for the week commenced. You hadn’t memorised the lecture schedule yet…. you only knew when the Civil Procedure class was. First lecture on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the last lecture of Thursday and Friday. Lacey had mentioned something about Sam having to travel to the City for work on the first three days.

Sam was dressed more informally today. He was without a coat and glasses, hair just a little out of order… less sleek.

“Oooohhh looks like the professor had a rough night!” Lacey giggled.

“You don’t know that,” Madison shushed. “Maybe he’s single.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lacey rolled her eyes. “He lives in the faculty residence on Alverado row. And his house is definitely a family house, not a bachelors pad… So that means he at least has a woman.”

You caught your breath. Alverado row was right behind your Santa Ynes street, where you lived. Literally right behind, less than a block away. You knew a majority senior faculty staff resided there, but it had never crossed your mind...

“I don’t see no ring,” snarked Rebecca, Madison's blonde friend, who was sitting a row ahead of you to the left.

You quickly looked. She was right… there was no ring. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Doesn’t have to be a wife,” Lacey made a face. “Could be just a girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t try our luck.”

It stung, listening to them talk about it stung more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

“Before we start today's lesson, I have a question for you,” Sam said, calling everyone’s attention and the gossip promptly stopped.

“Basic Property damage,” he said. “The plaintiff has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that the defendant is liable. The only issue of debate which remains is the amount of damages to be recovered. Before the last hearing, new evidence comes to light about a completely unrelated matter where the plaintiff has unintentionally harmed the defendant. If you were playing the part of the DA, what would be your obvious course of action.”

‘Settlement’ you muttered to yourself, just loud enough for the few people around you to hear.

“Anyone?” Sam asked, and on cue, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Settlement!” She called out.

“That’s correct,” Sam said, “It should occur to you faster than lightning to draw out a settlement. Good job there. That was quick.”

Next to her, Madison was looking at her friend incredulously. Then she turned around and gave you a sorry look. The boy sitting on her opposite side, the blond one, who had snickered at you on the first day also raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t care one way or another if Rebecca got the praise for your answer. You were simply relieved that you got that answer right… and that you were able to concentrate in the class better than you had been able to uptil now.

Perhaps that was the reason that it caught your attention, the quickest flick of Sam’s chin in your direction, before he stiffly averted his gaze. When the class ended, few students rushed to Sam’s desk, while you made to leave the room.

“Hey!”

You turned to see the blond dude standing right next to you.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Brad,” he offered his hand. “Brad Rowan.”

“Nice to meet you.” you murmured, shaking his hand whilst glancing at the door.

“So, we have a party tomorrow evening,” he said, grinning with too much confidence. “Down at the western dorms. Everyone cool is coming. You should, too.”

“Thank you,” you said politely. “But I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Better than spending time with me?” He winked, stepping ever so slightly in front of you.

You were firm this time. “Yes.”

“Oh, let her be, Brad.” It was Madison, who had come sauntering down the aisle. “If she says she’s busy, she probably is. We’ll miss you, Y/N!”

You threw her a grateful look… Madison didn’t seem to catch it.

You said your goodbyes to her and Brad and left the room quickly.

Maybe it was your imagination, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam’s gaze flicker towards you… if only for one moment.

********************

A/N 2: The next chapter is Sam’s POV ;) So we’ll finally know what’s up with him, huh ;)

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astronomyparkers · 6 years

Text

The Princes and The Pauper {II}

Warnings: None

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader x Harrison Osterfield

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I feel like I’m always saying this, but I’m so sorry this update took so long!! I really do have a hectic schedule and I don’t get much time to write, and when I do have time, I’m never motivated?? I’m the worst tbh. Also, before we move on to the story, I just wanted to do a bit of housekeeping. I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!!!!!!!! Please stop sending me messages asking to be added, as I will not respond!! The reason why is in my FAQ (which I ask people to check before sending an ask but...no one ever does?) and I hate that I’m probably coming off rude right now, but I try to respond to everyone, and I have to sort through so many messages asking about things I’ve already taken the time to address. I appreciate you all like my story so much, but I am Very Tired. Please. I beg you. Don’t do it. Now that that’s out of the way...I hope you enjoy! also side note: I can’t find any good gifs of Tom and Harrison looking fancy together. I have a couple pics??? But I like to use gifs for the beginning of my posts :(

{masterlist}

“His pen was monogrammed? Seriously?” Jade snorted before she took a bite of her croissant. “Where do you even buy a monogrammed pen?”

“A pen store?” Penelope suggested, licking some icing from her donut off her finger. “They have those, right?”

“But why would you need a monogrammed pen? Seems like it’s kind of niche market, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know…it gets the message across.”

“What message?”

“The ‘I’m a pretentious douche who could buy out your entire life in an instant’ message.”

“Guys.” You rolled your eyes. “Can we drop it with the monogrammed pen thing? Was that really all you took away from my story?”

“It’s distracting!” Jade insisted. “Like, under what circumstance would you need your pen to be monogrammed? Where in the world is—is pen thievery so bad that you need a pen that is embossed with your name?”

“I told you,” Penelope cut in as you opened your mouth. “It’s for him to sign his important rich guy name on important rich guy documents for his important rich guy company, in the most pretentious way possible.”

“You know what?” You finished your danish and crumpled up the wrapper before throwing it in the trash. “That’s it. This conversation is over. We’re done discussing this.”

“Okay, okay, we’re sorry.” Jade laughed, laying her head on your shoulder affectionately. “Please continue to tell us about Rich and Richer.”

“Their names are Tom and Harrison, and you know that.” You shook your head. “And that’s pretty much the end of the story, anyways. I haven’t seen them or heard from them since the gala.”

“But that was three days ago!” Penelope frowned. “They haven’t called? Don’t they know we only have three more weeks in New York?”

“I didn’t exactly have time to give them the full itinerary of our trip when I was running from security, Penelope.” You turned the corner and glanced up at the different skyscrapers around you, wondering if one of them was the office they had mentioned they had.

“I know, but still…” Penelope shrugged. “It sounds like they were pretty into you. I thought they would’ve called by now, to find out why you ran at the very least.”

And the truth was, so had you. By the time the three of you had made it back to your AirBnB rental, you were a little saddened to see that there was no text from a new number. And when you woke up the next day, with no new messages to display, you were surprised. Even if Tom and Harrison weren’t as interested in you as you thought they were, didn’t they at least want to know why three security guards chased you through the MET? Even with the circles they ran in, you didn’t think that a girl running away from guards in heels would be a common occurrence. Didn’t they want to know the full story?

“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head and sighed. “They’re not calling, and I refuse to spend my time in New York waiting for that call to not come. So let’s just…drop it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jade and Penelope both nodded.

You pushed Tom and Harrison to the back of your mind as you continued walking down the New York street. Despite wondering why they never called, you really did want to put the whole thing behind you. You only had so much time in New York, and you were determined to make the most of it. So what if two incredibly attractive socialites spent a whole evening flirting with you and then never called? That had never been in the New York plan anyways, and it didn’t belong there now. You didn’t need a phone call or text from Tom or Harrison. You didn’t.

You did such a good job convincing yourself of that, that when your phone rang that night and displayed an unknown number with a New York area code on the screen, you didn’t even think that it could be them.

Penelope, Jade, and you were bustling around the kitchen, trying to decide what to do for the night as you made dinner. Jade wanted to go out to a club, while Penelope wanted to visit Times Square again, and you were the deciding vote. While the three of you cooking in a confined space together usually resulted in a mess, the kitchen was practically a war zone as your friends both argued their sides.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Jade pleaded as she grabbed cheese from the fridge. “We’ve already gone to Times Square, but we haven’t gone to this club yet!”

“The last time you dragged us to an event, we almost got arrested.” Penelope rolled her eyes before resuming whisking the sauce beginning to bubble on the stove. “And besides, we went to Times Square during the day! Night time is completely different!”

“What do you mean, ‘completely different’?” Jade made air quotes with a kitchen knife still in her hand. “Lots of people, giant billboards, knock off superheroes to take pictures with…you’ve gone to Times Square once, you’ve gone a million times!”

“That’s not true! Y/N, tell her!”

“Y/N is on my side! Right?”

“Oh my God, can you guys be quiet for one minute?” You asked, rubbing your temples gently, ignoring the flour you got on your face as you did so. “I swear, you’re driving me insane.”

“Just tell us which one you pick so we can go!”

“God. Fine.” You sighed deeply as you continued to mix ingredients together. “I choose—”

Your phone interrupted your sentence, ringing loudly from the kitchen counter.

“Jade, can you grab that? I’m a little busy.”

“It’s not a number from your contacts…917…?” Jade frowned in confusion. “Whose number is this?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, blowing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Answer it and find out.”

Jade did as you asked, turning on the speaker phone option and setting it back down on the counter before beginning to grate cheese.

“Hello?” You said loudly, as Jade and Penelope had resumed bickering quietly in the background.

“Hello,” A British voice played through your phone’s speaker. “Sorry, is this Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Speaking.” You responded absentmindedly, dusting flour off your hands.

“Hey, Y/N. This is Harrison Osterfield. From the MET.”

For a split second, you, Jade, and Penelope all froze, just staring at each other in shock. Then you all dove for the phone simultaneously, trying desperately to grab it before anyone else could. Elbows were thrown, arms were scratched, and you were pretty sure Penelope pulled your hair, but you emerged with the phone in hand. Before your friends could stop you, you took the phone off speaker mode and raised it to your ear.

You pushed back your friends, raising a finger to your lips to silence them. “Sorry, um, what was that?”

“I said, is everything okay? I heard yelling…”

“Y-yeah! Yeah, it’s fine.” You cleared your throat and tried to sound calm (and not like the small fight with your friends had winded you). “So…what’s up?”

“You gave us your number. Didn’t you want us to call?” Harrison’s voice was a little muffled, and you began to realize that you were on speaker and Tom was most likely listening.

“Technically, I gave Tom my number.” You cleared some plates from the counter and pulled yourself up onto it, crossing your ankles as you spoke. “And three days is a little late to call, don’t you think?”

You heard Tom’s laughter quietly in the background, confirming your suspicions that he was there.

“We’ve been busy, love.” Harrison replied, amusement apparent in his tone. “We do work, believe it or not.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you just partied.”

“And we were under the impression that you belonged at that gala, but you ended up being chased out by security.” You could practically see Harrison’s smirk. “Care to explain?”

“Would you believe I was lost?”

“Not for a second.” Harrison laughed.

“Yeah, well…” You smiled sheepishly, even though Harrison couldn’t see you. “That’s wise of you.”

“But Tom and I would still like to know.” Harrison said. “Would you like to come over tonight? Tom and I were going to have a little movie night at our penthouse, and we could use a third.”

Your eyes widened. “You—tonight?”

Penelope poked your arm. “What is he saying?”

Jade mimicked her movement. “What about tonight?”

“The car will be there in a half hour.” Harrison continued, ignoring your interjection. “You’re in that apartment off 42nd and 12th, right?”

“Yeah, I—how did you know that?” You questioned in confusion.

“I have my ways.”

“That sounds vaguely serial killer-like.”

“I’m much too attractive to be a serial killer.”

“Yeah…I really don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Nevertheless, the car will be there in a half hour. We’re sending our best driver, Johnson. He’ll buzz your apartment when he arrives.”

You cleared your throat. “Look, Harrison, it’s a nice offer but…my friends and I have plans tonight and—”

“I’m sure they won’t mind if we steal you for one evening.”

“Actually—”

Penelope hit your stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Say yes, you idiot!” Jade hissed.

“But we—”

Penelope grabbed your phone from your hand. “She’d be delighted, Harrison! She’ll be ready to go in half an hour!”

Your eyes widened and you reached for the phone, but Jade grabbed your arms and held them tight.

“Hey! I didn’t say yes to—”

“Uh huh. Nice talking to you, too. Bye now!” Penelope hung up your phone with a smile.

“Penelope, what the fuck was that?” You asked, eyes wide as you snatched your phone from her hands.

“That was me getting you a personal invite to two hot, rich, English guys’ penthouse.” Penelope grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“No! I’m not welcome! I didn’t say thank you!” You exclaimed hotly. “I don’t want to—what the fuck am I supposed to do tonight?”

Jade said “Watch a movie,” as Penelope answered “Suck their dicks!”

“Penelope!”

“What?”

“That’s not happening.” You shook your head adamantly. “I’m not being hired out like some prostitute!”

“Who said anything about prostitution? That implies money changing hands.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

Yet, somehow, twenty-seven minutes later, you were being led to a town car by a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, who was dressed in a stereotypical chauffeur outfit and had introduced himself as Johnson. Penelope and Jade had watched you drive off from the steps of the apartment building, amusement written all over their faces. The emotion you felt, however, was in direct contrast to theirs, as your stomach tossed and turned with nerves for the entirety of the drive.

Johnson took you into the heart of Manhattan, pulling up outside a giant skyscraper that had gold lettering reading OH TOWER on the front of it.

“OH. Is that for—?”

“Osterfield-Holland.” Johnson confirmed before getting out and opening your door for you. “The Tower is owned by Holland Enterprises and Osterfield Incorporated, as part of their shared business ventures. They have towers all over the world, but their New York location is the most grand.”

“That’s…nice.” You answered, your voice faint as you stared up at the Tower.

Johnson extended a hand and helped you out of the car. “Just introduce yourself to the doorman. He’ll take you up to Mr. Holland and Mr. Osterfield’s penthouse suite.”

“The penthouse…right.” You got out of the car. “Um, thanks.”

“My pleasure. Goodnight, Miss Y/L/N.”

You bid Johnson goodnight and walked to the door. The doorman seemed to be waiting for you, and greeted you with a smile.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N…I think I—”

“Ah, yes.” The doorman smiled again before opening the door for you. “Mr. Holland and Mr. Osterfield are expecting you.”

“I—yes. Yes, they are.”

“Excellent. Let’s head up, shall we?” The doorman motioned for you to head inside and followed you after you did so

You walked unsteadily into the lobby, unsure of what you may find, but the sight in front of you didn’t disappoint.

The lobby of the Tower was just as grand as Johnson had promised. High archways, marvelous stone columns, and accents of golf against the white marble…every inch of the entrance way dripped with stature. The people you saw milling about moved with purpose and status, the same way Tom and Harrison had at the gala. Straightening your posture in an attempt to feel less out of place, you headed for the elevator.

The doorman pressed the button and allowed you to enter the elevator before he did. Even the elevator was grand, with mirrors and gold trim everywhere you looked. The button panel confused you, however, as there were only fifty buttons, despite it being clear that the Tower was much larger than that. The only other thing on the panel was a small blank screen

“Are Tom and Harrison on floor fifty?” You asked.

“Oh, no, miss. They’re on floor ninety-eight, the top floor.” The doorman answered as he pulled a key card from his pocket. “The higher floors have more restricted access, and require a key card to gain entrance.”

He held the card to the small screen, and a beep sounded from the panel. The elevator began moving without warning, and ascended smoothly to the top floor.

Once there, the elevator doors opened with a ding, revealing a short hallway and a door.

You followed the doorman off the elevator and to the door, where he knocked on the door.

The door opened and revealed Tom. He had the same easy going smile he had at the gala a few nights before, but instead of the tux he had been wearing, he was dressed in some sort of royal blue, silk pajama…thing.

“Hello, darling.” Tom greeted you. “It’s so nice to see you again. Lester, thank you for bringing her up.”

Tom passed the doorman—Lester—a small stack of bills. You could see that the outside bill was a fifty.

“My pleasure, Mr. Holland. Please let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“I will. Tell your daughters I say hi. They’re in the fifth grade now, if my memory serves correct?” Tom leaned against the door frame with a grin.

Lester smiled in response. “They are. I’ll send them your best.”

“I appreciate it.” Tom turned his attention to you. “Come on in, Y/N. Let me show you around.”

You nodded wordlessly and allowed Tom to take your hand and pull you inside. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the front hall of the penthouse.

You had been imagining what the home of the likes of Tom and Harrison would look like, but you could have never imagined the grandeur in front of you. And yet, now that you had seen it, you couldn’t imagine anything else. Of course every outside wall was a window, giving a spectacular view of the New York skyline. Of course there was gold banisters, crystal chandeliers, and expensive artwork adorning the walls. It looked like every mansion you had ever seen on reality TV shows about the 1%, all rolled into one.

“Do you like it, love?” Tom asked, squeezing your hand as you looked around.

“It’s…yeah. It’s unbelievable.”

“It is, isn’t it? Everything here was handpicked and designed for Harrison and I.” Tom said as he ran a hand over a marble side table. “We just put the finishing touches on it last year.”

You nodded again as you mimicked Tom and gently touched the marble side table.

“Come on.” Tom tugged on your hand and gave you a soft smile. “Haz is waiting for us in the theatre.”

“Theatre?”

“Well, it’s not quite the size of a standard movie theatre.” Tom shrugged as he led you to a double door. “This is a New York City penthouse, after all.”

Tom pressed a button outside the doors and they opened, revealing a mirrored and gold elevator. Your eyes widened as he led you inside before pushing a button with a 2 on it.

“Would you care to explain why your penthouse has five floors?” You asked, eyeing the button panel as the doors slid shut.

“Our entrance, kitchen, and living room is on the first floor, all of our entertainment spaces are on the second, extra space, guest rooms, and other miscellaneous things are on the third, Haz and I’s bedroom suites are on the fourth,” Tom counted off on his fingers before frowning. “What am I—oh! Yes. The fifth floor is the roof, where we have an outdoor patio, pool, and hot tub. It’s very well organized.”

You tried not to let your jaw fall open. “Wow. So you really are the 1%, huh?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Tom smirked as the elevator came to a stop. “Come, darling. It’s not nice of us to keep Harrison waiting.”

You did your best to keep your expression neutral as you passed through what Tom had called the entertainment space. If you had a dime for everything that you passed that cost more than your university tuition, you probably could have afforded the rent on an apartment like this. You had no idea why anyone would need a small, private aquarium wall in their apartment, but you passed three before reaching a set of large double doors.

Tom opened the door for you, motioning you inside.

“Ladies first.” He said with a grin.

You walked inside, only to be greeted with the scent of freshly popped popcorn, sticky sweet caramel, and the faint air of expensive cologne. You looked around at the movie theatre style seats and large projection screen before turning to look at the back of the room, where the scents were coming from.

There was a concession stand, featuring a popcorn machine and a tray of various candies and chocolates. Next to that was a small bar, which Harrison was behind. He had his back turned to you as he grabbed bottles of alcohol, before turning back around and greeting you with a grin.

“Y/N, love!” He said as he began mixing a drink. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. Are you thirsty?”

“I—sure?” You answered nervously as you and Tom approached the bar.

Harrison poured out a pink concoction into a martini glass and handed it to you. “Try that. It’s my own recipe.”

“Harrison and I picked up a bit of mixology in Milan a couple years ago.” Tom explained as he watched you take a sip.

“It’s really good.” You said, licking your lips as you looked at Harrison. “You made this? Really?”

“I picked up mixology much quicker than Tom did.” Harrison said, a smirk playing on his lips as he busied himself making another drink.

“Yes, but I was the one who closed the deal with Orwell that trip.” Tom rolled his eyes as Harrison handed him a glass of something red and orange. “So don’t get cocky.”

“Why? It’s what I do best.” Harrison made a drink for himself before stepping out from behind the bar. “Did Tom give you the grand tour yet, love?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Tom answered for you.

“An explanation, but not a tour. I wanted to ease her into it.”

“Such a gentleman.” Harrison rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “Is it overwhelming for you, Y/N?”

“A little, yeah.” You shrugged as the boys led you to a seat. “It’s just…I can’t even fathom having this much money to just…spend?”

“Well, that’s what money is made for.” Tom sat own next to you, a small smile on his lips. “Letting it sit around in a bank is no fun.”

“But can’t you think of more useful things to spend it on than…an in-home theatre with its own bar and concession stand?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as Harrison went to fiddle with the projector towards the back of the room. “I think having your own cotton candy machine is a bit much.”

“We do spend it on useful things. Business, traveling, education…” Harrison took a seat on the other side of you and reclined back, moving your chair so yours would fall back also. “And every month Osterfield Inc. gives 1.5% of its income to charity.”

“As does Holland Enterprises.” Tom absentmindedly stroked your hand.

“1.5%?” You took a sip of your drink as you looked between the two boys.

“It equals roughly £499, 500.” Harrison answered nonchalantly. “Give or take £50, 000, depending on the month.”

You choked on your drink and coughed loudly, leaning forward in your chair. Instantly, both boys were concerned, rubbing your back as they furrowed their brows.

“Love? Are you okay?”

“£500, 000 is only 1.5% of your company’s income? Per month?” You said incredulously. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“What? Why is that—oh, right.” Tom shook his head. “You’re probably not used to that.”

“No. I’m not.” You sighed as the movie started. “It’s just…seeing all your wealth casually like this? It’s strange. It’s weird.”

“As weird as you crashing that gala at the MET?” Harrison asked.

“Weirder. And for the record, that was Jade’s idea. We’re only in New York for a month. May as well make the most of it.”

“You’re only here for a month?” Tom asked, frowning. “Why a month?”

“Because that’s when our apartment rental ends? And our flight is booked for then? And we have our actual lives to get back to?”

“So we only have a month with you.”

“Technically, it’s three weeks now.” You smiled a bit, turning your attention back to the movie.

“Three weeks. That’s it?” Harrison’s voice was tinged with disbelief. “That’s no good at all.”

“Why not?”

“Three weeks is barely anything!”

Tom pulled out his phone and started flipping through it. “We’ll have to postpone the overnight trip to LA, then. And maybe push dinner at—”

“What trip to LA?” You asked in confusion.

Harrison made an annoyed sound. “Tom, you div, that was supposed to be a surprise—”

“What trip to LA?” You interrupted again, looking between both boys.

“It was just going to be a quick dinner, love.” Tom replied, not looking up from his phone. “We’d leave in the afternoon, be back by the next. There’s a small restaurant downtown that we—”

“We can’t—I’m not going to LA!”

“Well, not now, obviously.” Tom laughed a little bit. “If we only have three weeks in New York, why would we fly somewhere else? No, we can save that for a different time. Maybe make it a full weekend.”

“Oh, that would be fun!” Harrison agreed. “You start university again, what, at the beginning of September? It could be a nice weekend retreat before you get caught up with classes.”

“I don’t think the two of you are getting this.” You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I am not going to LA with you, at any time.”

“And why not?”

“Why—? Because we barely know each other!” You exclaimed incredulously. You struggled to form a clear, coherent sentence as your thoughts raced. “I can’t accept a trip from two strangers I—you’re probably not used to hearing no, but—look, I’m just not comfortable with—” You took another deep breath. “Coming here tonight was a mistake. I should go.”

You stood up, only to be pulled back down by two sets of hands.

“No, love, don’t go.” Harrison pleaded. “We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“We’re truly sorry, Y/N.” Tom added, giving you puppy dog eyes. “I know we can be a bit…presumptuous—”

“The word I would use is arrogant, actually.”

“That too.” Tom smiled slightly. “We’re just not quite used to making plans with someone who isn’t in the same life as we are. Like I said earlier…we forget that this is all new to you.”

“You’ve both been really nice, seriously, but…” You bit your lip. “I don’t want to be your charity project, you know? Talking with you is fun, sure, but you can’t just throw around plans about trips across the country and dinners at famous restaurants like it’s nothing. That’s not nothing to me.”

“We know. We’re sorry.” Harrison rubbed your back soothingly. “No trip to LA. At least, not yet. We’ll talk it over with you first, so you’re comfortable.”

Tom nodded. “We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“This whole thing makes me a little uncomfortable.” You admitted as Harrison handed you your drink again. You took a sip before continuing. “I feel a bit…bought?”

“What do you mean?” Harrison asked, his brow furrowed.

You shrugged as Tom turned down the volume of the movie that none of you were paying attention to. “I don’t know…I feel like the two of you are trying to…impress me?”

“Of course we are.” Tom replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is that bad?”

“With the way you’re doing it? Yes.”

Tom and Harrison both looked a little shocked. You could tell that no girl had ever objected to their affections like you had before.

“Why? I’m a little lost.” Harrison admitted as he sipped his drink.

“I liked spending time with you at the gala. It was fun, and I had a good time. And I think you’re both good people that I want to be friends with. But I can’t get to know you two if you’re constantly trying to buy my attention. All of this may be pocket change to you, but it means something to me, okay?” You tucked some hair behind your ear. “To me, a movie night is ordering in cheap pizza, mixing together vodka and Coke, and watching a cheesy, so-bad-it’s-almost-good-movie on my friend’s bed. Not sitting in a private, in-home theatre, drinking fancy cocktails, and watching…what even are we watching? Is that Jeff Goldblum?”

“It’s his new movie. Technically, it’s not out until the end of the summer, but we have connections.”

“See! That’s weird! You have a Jeff Goldblum guy?”

Tom and Harrison both laughed at your facial expression before pausing the movie.

“Okay. We’ll be normal. Or try to be, at least.” Tom said, finishing off his cocktail. “You mentioned…cheap pizza? And bad movies?”

You nodded as Tom pulled out his phone again.

“We’ll have it delivered. Why don’t you and Harrison head to his bedroom and—”

“Nope. No way. I don’t trust either of you in your bedrooms.” You shook your head and crossed your arms.

Harrison laughed. “Fine. What about a guest room? Is that better? I’m sure we can find a cheesy movie that’s to your liking in there.”

You shrugged. “Okay. I guess that works.”

Tom smiled. “Good. I’ll meet the two of you there.”

Harrison stood up and offered you a hand, helping you out of your seat and towards the door.

As you walked down the hallway and to the elevator, Harrison began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” He said, shaking his head. “I just think these next few weeks are going to be…very interesting.”

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