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anystalker707 · 3 years

Text

Spicy horror

Pairing: Frank x [fem] Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Smut / Fluff Summary: It's Halloween, and (y/n) and Frank finally confess their crushes to each other when binge watching horror movies on Frank's place. Kind of content: Praising / Protected / Oral

Requested by @thisisjustforrequestingfanfics (can't tag you, sorry hhh my T*mblr is acting weird)

a/n - I'm sorry that I coudn't proofread, I might do it soon; I was supposed to be asleep rn

"You're just annoying, old man," I tease with a grin. "But don't whine or else you'll ruin the makeup!" I continue spreading the white concealer over his face, careful to get it on the corners around his nose and around his eye, though not to irritate his eyes.

"No, fuck you," Frank groans, his face twitching to suppress any expression. "Why can't we watch it again tonight? They're the best movies! And stop calling me old man, it's just my birthday! I'm not decomposing or anything!" Despite his words, he smiles, opening his eyes once I pull away, leaning back against the chair of the desk – I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I agree." I grab the eyeshadow palette from the desk and move closer to him again. "TCM is a great series and all, but can we not watch it for a single week? It's your birthday and we can watch literally any horror movie! And it can be special, like, not something we've watched a thousand times already to the point we already know most of the lines." I glare before motioning for him to close his eyes.

Frank sighs grumpily, leaning his head back. "What are you planning on, then? Alien? Jaws?" He lets out a weird cry when I slap the side of his head lightly, though he is soon chuckling.

"And then you complain when I say how annoying you are!" I spread the dark eyeshadow over his eyes, humming. "It's been a while since we've watched The Howling, Evil Dead, House of Wax. I mean, 'm not gonna complain if we decide on Alien and Jaws either." He hums, pouting. "Don't worry, you're still my favorite old man." I press a kiss to his head.

"I hate you," he laughs.

After a little bit of fake blood and retouching on my makeup, the two of us are leaving Frank's house to go to school, waving his mother goodbye. We don't look like what most of the kids will go dressed up as – not putting enough effort nor choosing the same themes as the jocks and popular people and not invisible enough just to throw on whatever in a black theme. Frank looks like a chill vampire with Bela Lugosi's Dracula references, though still looking like a punk, while I decided on one of my favorite characters. Nothing too extra, but still in the vibe.

"You look ridiculous with that hair slicked back." I kick one of the pebbles on the sidewalk. "I prefer the hedgehog or whatever it is in the normal state."

"I honestly feel like I could kill someone just from biting their jugular off." He grins, throwing his nose in the air – I can't help but to chuckle; he's adorable. "But not gonna be anyone from school, they're not worth it neither their blood would taste good." He twists his mouth. "I feel like most I'd get would be booze, botox and steroids."

"Damn," I snort, "awfully accurate. You're gonna starve, sorry."

Frank pouts, looking down, but a smirk soon tugs on his lips as he takes a step closer. "But you're not that bad, baby, you know?"

"Oh, fuck off!" I roll my eyes, clicking my tongue. "You just want to get in my jugular!"

Both of us burst out in chuckles and our conversation eventually dies down when we walk past the gates to inside the school, replaced by jokes at other people's costumes, sometimes needing to hold onto each other from laughter.

We walk into the first class, already a bit late, but all it does is to attract everyone's attention the moment we step in.

"Ridiculous, as always," some girl mutters under her breath. Funny.

Frank wraps a hand around the length of the coat to stupidly bring it to cover the lower part of his face, looking around with narrowed eyes then wide ones. "I smell not just a lot of blood here," he says in a low and raspy voice, "but also stupidity!" He points at the girl judgingly, making her twist her mouth disgusted.

"I hope Freddy Krueger visits you tonight," I say when walking past her, patting her shoulder. A scream comes from her when noticing the fake blood stain I leave behind on her white outfit, having Frank and I chuckling on our way to the back.

No one really pays attention to the classes – it's Halloween, we're even in stupid clothes and anxious for whatever is going to happen later in the day, so the teacher doesn't even bother scolding Frank and I for talking nonstop in the back of the classroom. To be honest, I think only the goody two shoes are actually doing something, sometimes turning around to glare at the others.

"Okay, okay, shut up for a minute!" I tell Frank, taking a look at the messy words over my notebook to check if I forgot to write something down. "We've got The Howling, Alien, Evil Dead, House of Wax, Dawn of the Dead, Funhouse, Pumpkinhead..."

"Fright Night," Frank continues, "Opera, Cannibal Holocaust, Texas Chainsaw–"

"I said no TCM! Fuck you," I curse, rushing to write everything down, crossing out TCM when I accidentaly write it down.

"Friday the 13th, Poltergeist, Near Dark and Elm Street," he finishes, glaring at me. He hits my shoulder, not enough to hurt. "I'll make you watch TCM with me until you have memorized every single frame of it!"

"Your TCM phase will have died down by then!" I twist my mouth bitterly. "Sorry to kill the hype, baby!" I throw my nose in the air with a chuckle at his sulky manners. He furrows his eyebrows, sucking in a breath for words he never really gets to say. "And we still got to watch all these goth movies and shows lying around! Do you think it was easy finding the 60s Addams family show on DVD? Or that one Frankenstein version on cassette." Okay, the last one was easy to find in a yard sale, but still, it was just luck.

"Okay, mommy, please just don't punish me," Frank says with a groan and a fake moan. I stare at him as he's not able to contain his laughter before starting to hit him with the notebook.

"Too bad you're not a good boy, hun."

For once, school ends up actually being nice and just because Frank and I were getting in the character sometimes and pissing people off. By lunch, he had pulled on some sunglasses and looked like the stupidest fucker while eating his sandwich and smudging more of the lipstick and fake blood around his lips. At some point, we had pretended to have a fight and pierce the other's chest with a pair of scissors just to squeeze a bag of fake blood at whoever walked by – mostly some of the jocks or plastics. So much fun.

The house is quiet when we arrive back at it, a couple hours after school ended, and we find out, later, a note from Frank's mom apologizing she can't be here during the rest of his birthday, though she's sure he'll have fun with me.

"Imma take a shower," I sigh, pointing upstairs.

"Sure," he hums, looking up from the note for a moment to smile at me.

Thankfully, I always leave some clothes at Frank's place because I'm here far too often and not always have the chance or disposition to go back home and grab some clothes. It doesn't prevent me from stealing his hoodie, however, and walking out of the bathroom without all of that sticky makeup or fake blood is the best thing ever. Later, Frank is the one to go take a shower while I take care of the food he had already started to prepare.

"Much better!" I raise my eyebrows at the sight of Frank with his hair back to normal and only a bit of black makeup smudges the underside of his eyes now.

"Y'know, I never said a single thing about how you looked," he mutters with his brow low, coming to lean against the counter, next to me, "still, you've been attacking me every chance you got!"

"Does it offend you?" I smile.

"No, but it still hurts!" He sniffles, a hand flat against his chest. "I know I'm too badass for you to handle, but you don't need to let it be that clear!"

I look at him from head to foot. "I hate you, y'know that?"

"Love you too, hun!" He grins and moves closer, cupping my face exaggeratedly to peck my cheek before we head upstairs with everything we need.

We turn the lights on to organize everything, soon sitting down against a pile of pillows and with food surrounding us, though most of it is on the bedside tables since Frank, mainly, gets extremely uncomfortable with it falling on the bed. It doesn't matter, though, since the food and half empty cans end up going forgotten halfway through the movie at the same time the chatter dies down and we watch The Evil Dead as if it was the first time.

Some funny part comes on – well, not exactly funny, but enough to make us chuckle quietly – and brings us back to reality, sighing and glancing at each other, adjusting our postures as we'd slid down the pillows.

Frank yawns.

"Already tired?" I tease, poking his shoulder.

"No." He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Getting tired is for losers." He does glance at the clock on his bedside table, however, and the red glowing numbers say it's six something.

"You're my favorite loser, then." I smirk lightly, exhaling.

Frank's eyebrows knit together as he looks at me, but then rolls his eyes. "Well, duh, of course I am! Who else? I'm the best." He scoots closer until his head is leaning on my shoulder and I can't help but to smile.

"No, I am," I groan, arms wrapped around him.

"I am!" He glares and, at some point, we end up in a wrestling match, pushing each other around the mattress among laughter and curses, which comes to a stop when we start getting too tired and I just let Frank lie down on top of me, head on my chest, still watching the movie. "Do you like anyone, (y/n)?" he asks suddenly. "Like, got a crush?"

Random. Why does he want to know? I mean, I do have a crush, but telling him about it is difficult.

"Um, yeah, I guess, why?" I blink, startled when he suddenly brings himself up on his elbows to stare at me.

"I swear to God I'll hunt them down if you forget about me because of them, do you understand?" Frank presses his forehead to mine. "You're the only one I got, sometimes I'm so worried you'll even leave me for whatever reason."

"What?" I breathe a chuckle, though there's not exactly anything funny here. "Never in my right mind would I do that! And you can't hunt my crush down if my crush is actually you," I laugh in a sudden rush of confidence, which wears out awfully quickly, leaving me lying there and rethinking every life choice.

"Me?" Frank widens his eyes. At the lack of answer, he takes a hold of my collar, straddling my hips. "Did I hear it right? Please, (y/n), (n/n), soulmate? I'm your goddamn crush? For how long?"

I shake my head lightly, shrugging. "Months? A long time."

"And you just told me now?" He cries, forehead pressed to my shoulder. "Slow motherfucker."

"I didn't want you to leave me either, c'mon!" I sigh in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I remember that time a girl confessed to you and you'd simply vanish whenever she showed up. What if that was with me? I'd not be able to live like this, y'know that."

"Y'know, yeah, seeing it from that point..." Frank shrugs, bringing himself up to face me again. "Still, I wouldn't avoid you like that! Dunno, but it doesn't matter now because you just relieved me of months of suffering. Looking at these pretty lips without being able to kiss it." He furrows his eyebrows, eyes on my lips. "Can I kiss you, tho? Now that we feel stupid for all these months. Damn. At least I feel."

I breathe a chuckle. "Of course! Do you think I wasn't dying to do it either?"

Next thing I know are Frank's lips pressed against mine softly, soon growing firm with confidence. His fingers run along my neck lightly, in a caring manner, dropping to trace my collarbones.

"Also," Frank breathes, pulling away; his face never moves farther than a couple of inches whilst he adjusts his position, lying down beside me on the mattress. "Maybe it's wrong to say and I've always tried to say it in a subtle manner, but–" his eyes meet mine, "–you've got the body of a goddess! Like, dunno, sometimes you comment about not having an 'ideal', skinny body, but you're just so perfect," he groans, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Frank!" I tap on his back lightly. It's not that I don't like what he said – no, damn, it sends my heart fluttering, this warmth taking over my chest –, but is it really the truth? I didn't think it was possible for anyone to tell me this.

"No, I'm telling the truth!" Frank grins. "Like, your thighs and all. I just want to squeeze and bite you! Not in a bad way, I mean." I must give him a funny look because of how flustered he grows, tongue playing with his lip ring as he looks away. "There's a lot to unpack, fuck, I thought it was obvious how I always sit there gazing at you and shit, but..."

"Likewise." I glare playfully, making him chuckle.

"Y'know–" Frank smiles lazily, "–this is the best birthday I've ever had, by far." He brushes his lips against mine softly, watching me through half lidded eyes. "Never knew you'd actually like me back. Never believed it was possible, to be honest."

"I never cogitated you like me," I breathe.

"Well, okay," he says, "we've already gotten through this. I think we should focus on now."

"I'm not the one who keeps bringing back past thoughts!" I chuckle at how he pouts, scowling funnily.

"Shut up, shut up, I get it!" Frank rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine before I can say anything, having me smiling against the kiss until returning it, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Now that we've finally kissed, keeping our lips off each others' feels almost impossible – letting go of each other feels almost impossible. "God fucking damnit," he groans under his breathe, moving to press kisses down my jaw, soon reaching my neck.

A sigh escapes my lips at the kisses, though it turns into quiet pleased sounds at the feeling of his teeth pulling at my skin and sometimes closing around it, sucking on it whilst all I can bring myself to do is tugging onto his hair. Suddenly, however, feeling his hands traveling down to my hips and squeezing them makes me gasp, probably reacting a bit more than I intended.

"What?" Frank pulls away at the same moment, eyes wide. "Did I do something wrong? Please– Damn, I'm so sorry!"

"N-No, no," I finally bring myself into speaking up, feeling my cheeks burn bright red. "I, um, I actually... liked it. A lot. Sorry if I scared you, I just wasn't expecting it. I don't mind, really," I insist as he continues looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"You sure?"

"Yeah!" I smile, bringing him for a quick kiss before he's trailing down my neck again.

Frank's hands go down my body, experimentally at first and then squeezing my hips again, receiving another reaction this time, including just a soft gasp as I push my hips up – a shiver runs down my spine with it, a nice one. Fuck.

"Damn..." Frank breathes, hands running down to my thighs then up again to slide under my shirt. "It's a bit early, maybe–" he shrugs, looking at me, "–but... is it okay if..."

Holy hell. "Of course," I say without thinking much – he continues to stare, so I nod.

"Fuck yeah," he mutters, lips against mine for a few seconds before he's pulling my shirt over my head and the expression on his face carries such admiration that I can't help but to feel embarrassed for a moment. He never lets me cover myself, nonetheless, hands flying to my waist to hold firmly onto it as he's pressing kisses from my stomach to my hip. "No, seriously–" he sits up again, "–how can someone be so perfect?" He seems to be talking mostly to himself, getting rid of his shirt.

"Dunno." I grin. "How does it feel to be so perfect, baby?"

Frank exhales shakily. "You'll be the death of me and I ain't even joking." He presses a kiss to my collarbone, starting to nibble down at the skin again, trailing down to my chest, lips sometimes lingering over my breasts – sure as hell he leaves a few marks behind, considering how invested he gets.

Something tells me he doesn't know what to focus on. His hands never stay in the same place for too long, going down my thighs then trailing up to my waistband, up my torso, and then he repeats it.

"C'mon," I mutter, placing his hands on my waistband. He's a bit hesitant, but quickly undoes the buttons and starts pulling it down – I help him, kicking the pants away in the end.

A string of curses slip past Frank's lips as he quickly gets rid of his jeans too and, when coming back, he kneels down between my legs this time, spreading them apart. Our lips are yet again locked in a kiss, different from the others, more heated up and urgent this time as we hold onto each other. I play with the hair on the back of his neck and tug onto it instead at the feeling of his hands around my ass, groping.

"Frank, damn," I breathe quietly for a second we pull apart and, opposite to earlier, he gets the hint and does it again, humming against my lips. Once he stops groping, his hands just run along my skin, up and down my body, sometimes lingering. The most lovesick look decorates his face when he pulls away. My heart.

I place my hands on Frank's shoulders as I sit up, changing our positions. He observes me with wide eyes and I smile at him before pressing kisses to his neck, leaving behind a hickey before I can go lower and lower until my fingers are around the waistband of his boxers and I pause, looking up at him, and continue after he nods.

Frank's already half hard, a breath hitching in his throat as, after discarding his boxers, I assume my previous position.

Even if it's not the first time I've done that, this nervousness still lies under my skin as I wrap a hand around him, pumping him lightly before wrapping my lips around the head experimentally. He breathes sharply.

Only halfway through it that I allow myself to look up at Frank, pausing for a moment after finding out he's been watching, propped up on his elbows, eyes focused on me and jaw slack, but I don't look away, hollowing my cheeks instead and watching him break under my gaze, letting go of all the tension for a second.

I repeat the motions a few times and pull away, licking up along the underside, around the tip, and he's suddenly pulling me away – eyes wide and face flushed this time.

Frank mumbles something I can't quite understand, but it doesn't really matter. He moves closer, both of us soon assuming the position we were in minutes ago, pressed against each other. Now, he removes my underwear and his hand slips between us, however.

Pleasure is sent ringing up my spine at the feeling of Frank's fingers slipping past my lips, quickly finding my clit and wasting no time on working his thumb on it while a couple of fingers tease my entrance. Moans just escape my throat easily after he breaks the kiss, mouthing his way until the inside of one of my thighs – he bites and sucks on the skin there. His tongue is suddenly there, then, against my clit, working around it before being replaced by his lips and my vision goes fucking blank when I can feel him sucking on it.

"Fuck," Frank curses once pulling away, moving to frantically rummage through the nightstand's drawer; I groan at the loss of touch, pushing my hips up into nothing.

Hearing the sound of foil being torn makes me understand what's happening, and I watch him rush to slip the condom on, giving us a moment to catch our breath before he's positioning himself, a hand on my hip whilst another holds himself up.

"Tell me if there's something wrong, okay?" he asks slowly, "I'll stop right away. Don't be afraid."

"Same to you," I say softly, cupping his face to pull him for a soft, quick kiss.

Frank smiles with a nod and looks down before I can feel him against my entrance, pushing in slowly. I wrap my arms around his shoulders tightly, feeling his chest vibrate against mine with the low moan coming from him, replaced by a sigh once he sinks in completely. He starts moving right away, hips jerking experimentally before attaining a heavy and slow pace which doesn't last long due to how needy we are already.

I gasp at how he thrusts in harder, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to hold him close and having my legs around his hips, instinctively.

Curses and praises are breathed into my ear among moans, somehow making the pleasure pool down in my lower stomach even more intensely, summed up to feeling his hands groping on my ass again, fingers sinking into the skin.

"You're just so perfect, (y/n)," he babbles, "and even better that now you're all mine."

Suppressing a louder moan turns out to be impossible at the feeling of Frank's hips reaching a certain angle and, soon, the answer I had in my slips away from my grasp and all there's left is just how good he feels. I travel a hand up to his hair, remembering how he reacted to it earlier, and tug on it in a form of response, though also wanting to hear how pathetically he moans at it.

"'M gonna cum," I manage to say before being cut off by a moan, arching my back.

"Me too, babe," he groans, "almost there."

Frank pauses, adjusting himself so a hand is under my thigh and another on the mattress for major support and his thrusts are suddenly harsher. I throw my head back at the same time, holding onto him tightly, and it doesn't take long for all the pleasure that had been building up so far to unravel at once – it apparently triggers the same on him, considering how tight his grasp gets whilst a higher pitched moan comes from him.

Coming down from the high, I feel almost numb, in a good way. Frank pulls away and I'm only aware of him when he's lying down next to me, both of us breathing heavily and unable to do anything aside from staring at the ceiling for a long moment.

"Damn, I love you so much, so much," he mumbles again.

I breathe a chuckle, feeling him cuddling up to me, arms wrapped around me. "And I love you, dumbass." I press a kiss to his head.

"My girlfriend now, right?" he asks. "Nevermind, you don't get to choose." He chuckles, though it quickly dies down. "Just kidding, okay? Tell me to and I'll fuck off."

I laugh, still breathless. "Of course I am. I didn't confess for nothing."

#frank iero x reader #frank iero imagine #frank iero #mcr #mcr fanfic #mcr x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #female reader #n*fw #my post #my chemical romance #fluff #smut #imagine #oneshot #requested

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bitter-sweet-coffee · 3 years

Text

Sonic Twitter Takeover fic prompt? Well, here you go:

Their breath was fogging up the glass. The wind which expelled from their lungs could not pierce that invisible barrier, so it clouded instead. How do pilots steer through clouds? Did it hurt when they flew through them?

Cotton candy is sticky, and it smells like blood.

"I don't think this is going to work Maria, we never heard back from them," the hedgehog mumbled, fidgeting with the girl's robin-coloured sleeve that hung from her stiff arm. Despite his concern, Shadow couldn't suppress the glimmer in his eye as he watched his sister tidy up the control panel that she had been toying with.

Maria simply laughed and shook her head, and faded gold strands of hair unwound from her scalp. The cleaning staff was always puzzled that the creature didn't shed, but the human girl manifested tumbleweeds that plagued the barren ARK like it was the wild west.

"They communicate with the planet all the time Shadow, it's definitely possible! I just had to rig this so it could transmit anywhere, and our shuttle is arriving tonight so we'll know for sure if it worked," she explained, before elaborating in words that her alien companion couldn't follow.

Instead of asking questions, he simply nodded as his mind wandered elsewhere. He would go on to regret this in about 50 years though, when his memories of her become sparse.

Maria continued to cover up their tracks, stifling a laugh at the visibly inattentive Shadow. She would never tease him for his lapses in focus, aware of how overworked the poor hedgehog was. "Let him rest," she had insisted with the project coordinators and grandfather but they seemed unconcerned.

"It's the Ultimate Lifeform, if it needs rest then the specimen can always withdraw and accept its termination," someone had told her. The cuts on her palm had yet to heal from the wrath of her jagged fingernails, and the insides of her cheeks were raw as always.

They'd leave, they just had to be patient.

Before Shadow could open his mouth to change the topic to something more comprehensible, an alarm began blaring from the intercom, startling the hedgehog into his sister's side. He was never a fan of loud noises, but Maria's hands were already over his ears— they were used to this series of events.

Just another few days weeks months never before they could get the hell away from this.

Maria was about to shut the panel off and deal with the intercom, but a rhythmic beeping was being transmitted that required her attention, head snapping back down to the source.

Unable to write things since her hands were preoccupied with muffling the shuttle alarm, the girl began tapping on Shadow's forehead, which made the hedgehog wrinkle his nose and squirm.

"Focus on this instead, I need you to double check with me, okay?" Maria whispered calmly, pulling Shadow a little closer to her side.

He did as she instructed and let the morse code beeping merge with her fingertips, the sound of the alarm fading away. When the transmission ended, the alarm truly was gone.

"No fucking way... it worked!!!" Maria cheered, scooping Shadow up and swinging him around, gripping him tight so he didn't get flung across the room like last time.

The hedgehog yelped from the sudden movement but it eventually devolved into giggling, his fists ramming into her back as he shook with laughter.

Shadow eventually regulated his amusement and pulled back to look at the girl, expression faltering when he saw the strain in her smile, eyes glazed. He quickly let go and landed on his feet, steadying Maria as best he could.

"You're not supposed to move that much Mar," he reminded, but she was a Robotnik after all— the stubbornness was genetic.

Maria shrugged and began stumbling out to the hallway, headed for the first floor; "Do you want your pizza or not? C'mon, I want to try cheese and the best way to have it is when it's still stringy!" she cheered, doing her best to mask the whistling from her lungs with her heavy footsteps.

When the hedgehog didn't budge, she looked back with a smug grin, "I know you're curious what crust tastes like, you're not subtle... I see you looking up toasters in the catalogue. If you want the crunch, then follow me, okay?"

Rolling his eyes and growling in defeat, Shadow followed the girl as best he could, their bare feet slapping the ground hard enough to warrant echoes.

Arriving at the main deck, the two snuck their way onto the shuttle that just arrived, taking note of the uncanny box that was haphazardly thrown on top of the better preserved food shipments.

The ARK had its own garden, so produce was never difficult to obtain. Meat seldom lasted and dairy was uncommon, so what was sent up would be primarily starches and other low-moisture foods for budget reasons.

Pepperoni pizza however, was not a dry, meatless, dairy free starch. However, this didn't stop the pair from contacting GUN before the food shuttle left to demand a pizza.

Shadow still worries about the poor intern that was spammed with morse code transmissions until they did what was instructed by the mad scientist and her loyal henchhog. They probably got fired, but that means they got away from GUN, so he considers it an improvement.

Maria snatched the box and grabbed Shadow's hand, ducking behind the pallet of saltine crackers; "Can you chaos control us back to my room?" she whispered, as the unloading team approached their hiding spot.

"I um, well I'm still not good at taking other people, are you sure it's safe?" the hedgehog asked warily, pulling away to adjust his inhibitors.

The girl shrugged, grabbing Shadow's hands back with her free one, "Let's go."

He nodded firmly, and with a quiet chaos control, they were safely pulled away from the crime scene and back in Maria's room, flopping directly onto her bed.

Shadow beamed at his success, but his sister was too busy melting into her comforter with glee, sighing.

She wasn't usually allowed in her room since it wasn't sterile enough according to her doctor. While usually kept immaculately, the duo would leave behind a never-ending generator of crumbs on that bed.

Shadow thinks they're still there today, but he won't go check. He hasn't been back in that room since.

After stuffing themselves with the foreign food, the siblings learned an important lesson on introducing new ingredients into their diet, and how having multiple things you're not supposed to eat at all or in large quantities... has unsatisfactory results.

"Do you think we shouldn't have done this?" Maria groaned, sprawled out and hanging halfway off her bed. Shadow was face first on the floor below her, and merely offered a pathetic thumbs up.

The girl giggled weakly, swallowing the fear that this would cause internal bleeding, and worried that if she cracked for just a second, the fun would be over and she'd be put in isolation again.

Fortunately, this wouldn't be the case, though she'd still bleed a week later as bullets were fired into her back.

"I'm sorry I asked for this, now we feel like shit," Shadow groaned, using his limited strength to roll over and stare up at Maria, a pained expression on his face.

The girl shook her head; "We've been so patient this whole time, what's the harm in waiting a little less for something?" She shifted back towards the wall and patted the open space on her bed, prompting Shadow to join her.

Smiling, the hedgehog crawled up and wiggled under the weighted blanket, sighing into Maria's lavender-scented pillow as she placed a hand in his quills, scratching gently behind his ears.

"Even if we feel gross now, we still had fun, and the pizza tasted good! Even if we're a bit sick now, it proves that sometimes waiting pays off," Maria assured, looking down at her hedgehog as he began to drift off.

The Ultimate Lifeform may have been too tired to say anything back, but both of them knew he agreed— they were used to waiting for freedom anyways.

"So... was it worth it?" Sonic asked, holding his slice of pizza between his fingers like a cigarette.

Shadow eyed his untouched plate, almost tempted by the still stringy mozzarella that he remembered throwing at Maria before remembering that it looked like her entrails.

"Should we keep ordering illegal foods until we can go down there for real?" he asked.

Maria laughed but shook her head, "No, I think we're done for now! We'll be experiencing the planet together soon anyways, I don't want to ruin the surprise. Plus, you never know if this stuff tastes better there, so I don't want to ruin everything with a space bias! We'll just have to wait a little longer, it'll be something to look forward to."

"No," Shadow admitted, "it wasn't worth it."

What he failed to communicate was that it wasn't the fact they did it, but the fact they never did it again.

#shadow the hedegehog #maria robotnik #space colony ark #gerald robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sonic adventure 2 #sa2 #sonic twitter takeover #wip fic #not proof read #i literally wrote this in my notes app in like 20 minutes and spent the rest of the time getting distracted or redoing the format #it didnt transfer i was so mad #sonic fic #sonic analysis #see if you can find the references

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Hello sunshine! Idk if u r taking requests but if not feel free to ignore!

This is a bit of an indulgent ask, I’m currently in the hospital with a massive stomach virus and it has not been fun or pretty for the last 3 days🥲

If you had any ideas on how Bucky or Frankie would comfort you in the hospital/ how they would b calm but also secretly freakin out

Have a great day!!🤍

Oh, my love, anything for you. I hope you get better soon! I hope this helps a little! 🥺

Warnings: mentions of surgery and hospital stays

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing your eyes spied when you opened them again were a bouquet of brilliantly colored tulips on your small bedside table. They were nestled among several other vases with various other flowers and balloons. Despite the over the top display, you couldn’t help but smile as you reached over and gently touched one of the delicate petals.

“Hi Bee,” Frankie grinned as he walked in the room with his hands full of ice cream containers. You sat back and looked at him with a soft expression as he came over and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “you’re finally awake!”

“And I feel like I was hit by a truck,” you snorted with laughter as he pulled up a chair and sat down next to you, “more flowers?”

“They’re from me!” his whole face lit up with that smile that you loved so much. You couldn’t help but reach over and gently touch his cheek, watching as he leaned into your touch, “do you like them?”

“I love them - I love you,” you promised softly, “but don’t you think all of these flowers are a little much?”

“Not for you,” he took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “I would do anything for you.”

“Including getting me ice cream I see,” you made grabby hands for the two pints he’d brought in. You easily recognized the label, and immediately knew that he had stopped by your favorite little shop to get the ice cream, “you really do love me, huh?”

“I guess so,” he teased as he opened the one containing your all time favorite and handed it to you, “I risked life and limb to sneak these in!”

“Why thank you, my love,” you took a big spoonful and practically shoved it into your mouth. After several days of nothing but bland, sad hospital food, you were ready for something delicious, “this all seems a little much for a simple hospital stay. I look like I’ve just escaped death and half of the city sent me flowers.”

“You just had surgery-”

“Minor.”

“Still surgery,” he insisted with a gentle tap to the tip of your nose, “now don’t argue with me, eat your ice cream, and enjoy all the flowers.”

“You’ve forgotten the best part of all,” you stopped with the spoon halfway to your mouth and quickly reached to your side and pulled out the small, cute stuffed hedgehog Frankie had gotten you just before you went into surgery. He knew how much you loved the little creatures, and had given it to you with the promise that one day he’d take you to see a real one, but you just had to get through surgery first. It was an easy way to ease your nerves and now you had a cute little plush, “Little Frankie!”

“Little Frankie,” he chucked warmly, “you’re too much.”

“Excuse me, Mr. I bought half of the floral shop,” with a small little huff of victory you finally stuffed a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, letting the delicious cream melt over your tongue, “I hate it here. Everyone’s nice but it’s so depressing. I just want to go home and be with you.”

“That’s where there’s more good news, little bee,” he insisted through his own mouthful of ice cream, “I talked to the nurse before I came in, the one that graciously pretended she didn’t see this ice cream, and she said you’ll be discharged tomorrow. You’ll be back home before you know it. And then it’s another week of rest before you go back to work or doing much of anything - yes?”

“Yes,” you agreed eagerly, “finally! I can survive one more night, especially knowing it’ll be a week of getting to be home with just you. I’m so glad Santi let you have the week off. He really didn’t have to…”

“He wouldn’t have let me come to work even if I wanted to,” Frankie reminded you, “besides, you’re not the worst patient. Get you a little ice cream and you’re set.”

“It doesn’t hurt when I’ve got the world’s best...everything helping me out,” you leaned forward and kissed him gently, tasting the sweet cream from his lips, “I love you, Francisco. I feel like I don’t tell you enough, but you know you mean the world to me, you are my world.”

“I know,” a soft blush crept into his cheek as he licked the sweetness off his lips, “I love you too.”

“Can I ask you for one more huge favor? This one and then I’ll never ask anything of you again!”

“I find that hard to believe…”

“Rude,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “but will you stay here with me? Tonight? I totally understand, but it...I don’t like it without.”

“Bee,” he tucked a strand of hair gently behind your ear, “I’ve been here every night. You must really be a sound sleeper if you haven’t noticed.”

“Really?” you looked at him with the sweetest eyes as he nodded. When you’d woken up in the morning, he’d been showered and changed. He must have gone home just to do and come back to see you before leaving for work, “oh. I...I don’t even know where to begin to describe how much you mean to me.”

You suddenly got a brilliant idea as you scooted over to the side of the small, creaky, hospital bed. Patting the newly vacant spot, you reached for his hand and tugged him towards you. He raised a brow, “what?”

“Scoot in,” you insisted, “it’s not much, but I guarantee it will be better than those hard old chairs.”

He laughed, a glorious warm sound, before complying, delicately getting in next to you. The small bed hardly left either of you with breathing room, but you didn’t mind in the slightest, snuggling up to him immediately, “you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” you said before shaking your head and correcting yourself, “well, as perfect as one can get in this situation.”

“Good,” he kissed the top of your head, “now eat your ice cream so you can get some rest. If you need anything-”

“I have everything,” it was a true statement, “when I’m with you, my love.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #soft hours start now and end never 🥺

87 notes · View notes

solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Sonic Boom - S3E3

Episode title: The Good, The Bad, and the Extremely Confusing

Word count: about 3800 words

Author’s Note: I realized about halfway through writing this that both she/her and they/them suit Sticks- so I’ll be using both from now on!

First | Previous | Next

...

A giant storm- the largest to come near the archipelago in decades- swirled over the ocean, coalescing into the kind of near-supernatural weather that had once convinced people that a god of thunder must exist. Ominous storm clouds built up over the ocean and lightning flashed and crackled as tumultuous winds pushed the tempest directly towards the unsuspecting residents of Seaside Island.

Most weather reporters, meanwhile, were predicting sunshine with light clouds.

[Cut from images of the storm to the village looking bright and cheerful.]

All the villagers were either planning to eat outside at Meh Burger, have a day of shopping in the marketplace, or- in the mayor’s case- spend time soliciting donations from wealthy people with no interest in public policy except when it benefited them. The mood in the village was, though not cheerful (which would have been strange), at least only filled with mild animosity for once. Nobody felt suspicious except for, of course, the one and only Sticks the Badger.

“I’m tellin’ ya!” she shrieked from her place on a street corner. “These weather reporters never know what they’re talking about! Their information’s being scrambled by the government! Or….maybe they’re working for the government.” Her eyes widened at the thought.

“Sticks, calm down already!” Amy insisted, ending her chat with the town librarian- which had mostly consisted of Amy talking while the librarian hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise- to walk over and fold her arms all-knowingly. “Weather reporters are actually right most of the time, you know.”

“But they’re not right all the time, are they? Hm? Hmmmmmm???” the badger insisted, leaning way over into Amy’s personal space.

“Actually, Sticks could be right.” Tails added, flying down on the other side of the corner (having abandoned Sonic and Knuckles at the market nearby in favor of this conversation), “There is a cold front nearby that has a high potential to change course and head for Seaside Island. That could cause some really bad weather.”

“See?!” Sticks cried. “At least someone believes me! I can smell the rain coming!” Then, she turned to the small crowd which had gathered to watch the ongoing argument. “You’ll all realize I’m right eventually…..” the badger added ominously, before turning to Tails with a small smile. “Thanks for the support!”

“No problem!” he said eagerly, before yelping in surprise as he was picked up by Knuckles.

“Hey!” the echidna shouted. “Sticks, stop stealing people! First Amy, now Tails- who’s next? Comedy Chimp??”

Sticks sighed and rolled her eyes before turning to the screen and leaning in close. “Eventually….” she whispered.

[The screen turns black with a resounding timpani hit. The words ‘One Day Later’ appear.]

Amy Rose let out a defeated sigh as she watched the storm clouds building on the horizon. She took several deep, calming breaths, preparing herself to set her ego aside for the difficult conversation ahead.

“Sticks?” she said into the communicator (overdramatizing the situation to the nth degree in the process). “You were right. The weather reporters…were wrong.”

She could practically hear the badger roll their eyes over the call. “Hmph. Maybe you should listen to me more often.” they huffed.

“If I admit that I should…” Amy began, “will you let the villagers borrow your doomsday bunker? Their shacks won’t last five seconds in this storm.”

“What?!” Sticks screeched. “That’s my baby! I’ve been working on it for years!”

The pink hedgehog frowned at the wall. “What if I offered to fix anything they break…and made you a batch of my special chocolate chip cookies?”

The badger gasped. “You mean the ones that have a perfect ratio of chocolate to cookie?” they whispered excitedly.

“Exactly.” Amy grinned.

“You’ve got yourself a deal!”

[cue theme song]

[Team Sonic performs the usual intro sequence, complete with their team shot. Afterwards, an ominous red light appears once again in the shape of the stripes on Shadow’s quills with two glowing red eyes beneath them. Then, however, the lights flick on, revealing Shadow glowering at the camera. Amy is visible in the background, having just flipped a light switch, and waves at the audience cheerfully before dashing off as Shadow yells at her.

The same sequence of lines and camera movement then takes place, followed by the title ‘Sonic Boom: Ancient Secrets.]

[Then the music ends, at which point the episode title- “The Good, The Bad, and The Extremely Confusing”- appears for a few seconds before the show returns.]

Wind pushed the trees in the forests of Seaside Island back and forth until they seemed almost in danger of snapping. Thunder rumbled overhead menacingly as rain pelted the now-empty Hedgehog Village, pouring down the rooftops of the various shacks scattered throughout the area. Eggman’s lair was equally deserted (though for quite different reasons, seeing as its owner was currently alternating between relaxing in a comfortable rustic cabin and laughing evilly in the middle of a far-off forest, with absolutely no knowledge of the storm).

Meanwhile, deep within this forest, Sonic herded the last few panicked villagers into Sticks’s painstakingly well-constructed doomsday bunker just as the first flashes of forked lightning began to make themselves known. He and Knuckles heaved one of the two doors shut, but Sonic hesitated as the echidna made a move to head inside the remaining opening.

“Hey Tails!” he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the howl of the wind. “Is your place storm-proof?”

The fox flew down and landed next to his brother, trying not to wince at the bad weather. “It’s not quite as strong as the bunker, but it should be able to hold up alright! Why?”

“Uh…I thought the bunker seemed too full already, y’know?” Sonic said, but they both knew that was a lie. Tails could see the truth in the hedgehog’s eyes: Please, please don’t make me go in this tight enclosed underground space with all these irritated villagers,Tails…

“Sounds good to me!” the fox said cheerfully. “My house is pretty high above sea level too, so flooding isn’t a problem!”

Sonic smiled, a bit of relief softening his usual super-bright grin. “Thanks, buddy.”

Knuckles walked over then, somehow managing to move at a leisurely pace despite the weather howling around them. “Uh…” he began, rocking forward nervously. “My house is very not above sea level…because it, um, isn’t actually a house. Can I hang with you guys too?”

“Man, we’ve gotta get you a real house sometime.” Sonic sighed, clapping a tired hand on his friend’s arm.

“Ooh! We could have a sleepover!” Amy chirped, her enthusiasm undampened by the rain. (The same could not be said of her quills, however.)

Sticks had appeared sometime back, and now muttered, “I don’t think I can watch those people in my bunker anyway…”

“So we’ll all head up to my house then!” Tails said quickly, trying to move everyone along and get them out of the lightning. He jumped at every strike, trying his best not to lose his cool completely in front of the villagers.

By now, thunder was crashing directly overhead and the rain had plastered the crew’s fur to their skin. They rushed through the howling wind, only once stopping to save a distressed Tails from being blown away after he’d tried to fly to get home faster.

The moment they made it up to his home, Sonic waved them all inside hurriedly, having run ahead to escape the rain. He jumped a little every time an extra bit of water splashed onto his head from the house, clearly uncomfortable and more than eager to get inside.

The moment all the members of the team made it indoors, they collapsed into the couches gratefully, letting out a collective sigh. Sonic laughed, relieved. “Oh man, that was awful!”

Amy shuddered. “All my clothes are drenched!”

“My couches!” Tails yelped, jumping up and running for the closet. “Here! Take these, and don’t sit back down until you’re dry!” he cried, flinging towels at his friends.

General grumbling ensued, but everybody was willing to respect Tails’s wishes, since he was the one putting them up in his house. Knuckles only used it a little, though, before shaking off some of the rain while making a noise that sounded something like “bbbllblblblb!”...and making all his friends shriek and jump out of the way.

“Knuckles!” the pink hedgehog cried. “Don’t ruin Tails’s nice furniture!”

The echidna opened his mouth to reply, but anything he might have said was quickly eclipsed by what sounded like another rumble of thunder.

“Whoops!” he said. “Guess I’m kind of hungry, heheh.”

Sonic’s eyes widened. “Dude, was that you?”

“Oh! I can whip up something nice and warm for you guys to eat, if you want!” Amy offered cheerfully.

Four very excited faces stared back at her, which she took as an enthusiastic yes.

[Several fading scene changes, all showing the living room, depict the crew eagerly playing a board game, Sonic losing the board game and getting bored while everyone else continues to play, Sticks winning the game (much to Tails’s chagrin), and finally everyone sitting down to eat some food.]

The group began to settle down after their game as they ate the excellent stew Amy had made out of what she could find in Tails’s kitchen. It had taken a while for her to find all the ingredients, let alone the pressure cooker to make the stew- she’d had to use the Build-It Box to make that after discovering that Tails basically lived off pasta, Meh Burger meals, and the occasional brownie box mix.

Amy had been fully prepared to tell the fox off for his crimes against healthful eating…until she saw just how jumpy he was. Every flash of light sent him cringing against the back of the couch, practically buried amongst the cushions. He began to inch closer and closer to Sonic, curling his tails around himself as he pressed against his older brother’s side.

Sonic looked down at him, a tinge of worry appearing in his usually cheerful expression. “You good there, buddy?”

“Mmmh.” Tails muttered, pressing his face into the blue hedgehog’s shoulder.

“Hey, c’mere. It’s just like when we were younger, right? I gotcha, pal.” he said easily, sliding an arm around the fox’s shoulders.

“‘anks, S’nic.” Tails mumbled, curling up tightly against Sonic’s side. Amy, meanwhile, squealed internally and tried her best not to take photos of the two.

In the end, the evening seemed set to be a comfortable one despite Tails’s distress, spent eating good food and playing fun games.

Until something slammed into the window from outside.

Everyone jumped about a foot out of their seats (except for Sonic and Tails, who each did three). “Who’s there?” Sonic barked, holding the fox protectively behind him. Evidently, his brotherly instincts tended to win out over his cool-guy persona when it came to strangers in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Amy and Sticks each raised their weapons, forming a small circle around the doubly frightened Tails- and then nearly dropped them in shock upon seeing Knuckles striding obliviously toward the door. “Don’t worry, guys, I’ll get ‘em inside!” he said cheerfully, unaware of everyone’s dread.

“No, wait—!” all four screamed, frozen in various states of horror as their friend opened the door, reached out, and hauled whatever it was inside.

The creature shook itself wildly, spraying water all over the doormat and Knuckles. Ominous music played as it raised its head...

...and then a muttered “Oh, no…” came from the six-spiked, oddly familiar being, and Shadow looked up, a mixture of the usual rage and some very unusual dread in his eyes.

He took a step backward in the direction of the door, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “Of all the places I could possibly have ended up…” he growled to himself, fumbling for the doorknob.

“Wait,” Amy said quickly, ignoring the shocked faces of her friends (and a rather loud internal alarm screaming “bad idea bad idea bad idea”).

Shadow jolted as she addressed him, looking up for the first time as his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Are you just…going back out there? Into the worst of the storm?” she asked. “What about your teleportation powers? Can’t you use them instead?”

“Obviously,” Shadow grumbled sarcastically, “because I’m so very clearly teleporting away right now. As it is, I’m leaving anyway and getting as far away from you lot as possible.”

“Well, you can do that if you like,” she began, her voice light and sweet…and laced with a slightly calculating tone. All her friends noticed as much, backing down for now in favor of watching her talk. Shadow seemed to hear it too, shifting his weight slightly into a fighting stance.

“Or...you could always consider staying here, so long as you didn’t fight anyone. It’s just a thought!” Amy added cheerfully, holding her palms up in an ‘it’s not my decision’ position.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “As if.”

“It’s all up to you!” the pink hedgehog said. “You can definitely go back out into that cold, wet, unforgiving storm, with branches falling left and right and lightning strikes and no teleportation powers to protect you…

“...but that’d mean you choosing to leave this warm, dry, cozy house, where you’d be safe from the weather, with good food and a fresh blanket from the cupboard…”

She watched him carefully, and let out an internal victory cry upon seeing his shoulders slump and his eyes dart away. “Fine.” he spat. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.” Shadow stalked over to the hanging couch and sat down on it angrily, making it sway with the force of his movement.

Soon after, Amy was pulled aside by Sonic, who looked at her worriedly. “You alright, Ames? Why’d you ask him to stay when all he’s gonna do is be a downer now?”

She smiled at him faintly. “Well, I actually wouldn’t wish being outside right now on anyone- not even him, honestly. I just think…everyone needs a hero sometimes, don’t they?”

Sonic’s expression softened marginally. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget that means you too, ‘kay?”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” she replied.

“You’d better not!” he called, heading back into the living room.

Amy hesitated for a minute before following him. I kind of feel bad for him, too, with nowhere to go except his cave and nobody to turn to, she thought. Everybody does need a hero sometimes…but more than that, everyone needs a friend.

Shadow, meanwhile, was simply choosing to stare out the window and sulk quietly, ignoring everyone else as they awkwardly pulled out a card game. Why did he have to be caught out in the middle of that storm?!

He’d been low on power, having used much of his energy to skate around the island and attack several long-abandoned structures. He could use the target practice, after all- and he needed to keep his skills sharp for the next fight.

Before he’d even noticed, the sky had clouded over. Shadow had only realized what was going on when it was far too late, as the rain began to pour in deluges from the sky. Weakened and far from home, he’d staggered through the storm, feeling distressed by and furious at his helplessness.

Then, though, he’d seen a soft, steady light in the distance. It had made something rise in him that for once in ages hadn’t been anger...it hadn’t even been negative.

He’d felt a spark of relief.

And now he was here. Stuck with the most pathetic people on the pathetic surface of this accursed pathetic planet-

Shadow nearly hit the ceiling when he felt something drape around his shoulders, only to realize that said ‘something’ was in fact the promised blanket from earlier, delivered by Amy. “Do you want to join the card game?” she asked cheerfully, gesturing towards the table filled with now-startled heroes. “They’re starting a new round and everything!”

Everyone in the room except for the three hedgehogs winced.

“Uh…Amy…” Tails began, only to be abruptly silenced by a huff from Shadow.

“Stop trying to include me.” he snapped. “I know when I’m not wanted, and I refuse to take pity from anyone. Give your dumb offers to someone insecure enough to actually want them.”

Sonic smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “Aw, so you don’t think you could cream us at poker? That sucks, man- these games could use a little extra competitiveness.”

Shadow jumped up and stalked over to the table, whisking his blanket off his shoulders. He sat down, laid it over his legs like Admiral Beaverton at a five-star restaurant, and proceeded to take a share of the various gears and bolts they were using as chips. “I’m absolutely certain I can defeat you, Sonic, anytime and at anything.”

[Smash cut to Shadow growling and nearly crushing his cards, before throwing them down in defeat.]

“That was a fluke!” he barked, his fingers tightening on the table. “I could have beat you easily enough if you hadn’t played that one card!”

Everyone flinched at the sound of scraping as Shadow’s fingers somehow left deep grooves in the table through his gloves. Amy’s eyes widened, and she jumped up, crying, “Oh! Shadow! I just realized I forgot to give you any food, why don’t you come and get some?”

She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the kitchen, the striped hedgehog for once too startled to protest. “Hey.” she said softly, once they were in a more private space. “It’s okay to lose sometimes at things like cards, alright?”

“It is not!” Shadow barked, his voice strained with anger. Whirling around, he began to glower at the cabinets with almost uncontrollable rage. “I refuse to be consigned to inferiority.” he snarled.

“Losing at a game doesn’t make you inferior. Who told you that?” Amy asked.

The striped hedgehog scoffed. “Everybody knows that loss means failure, and failure proves that I am not good enough at what I have set out to do. Therefore, a superior competitor will then be found to replace me.”

“Uh…first off, no? What makes you think we’d do that at all?” she exclaimed.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “We are enemies. When we are at odds, at the first sign of weakness you’ll take the chance to destroy me.”

Amy took a deep breath. “No, we won’t.”

“But…then what kind of ‘heroes’ are you if you won’t actually defeat your enemies?” Shadow asked, bewildered.

“We’re the kind of people who want to build bridges, not burn them. If we can give our ‘enemies’ a little kindness, then that could actually let us convince them not to fight anymore.”

“That sounds weak...” he muttered.

Amy folded her arms. “Not at all! It helps build alliances and improves people instead of crushing them.”

“And so you are saying you have no plots against me at all right now?” Shadow asked, hardly able to understand what she was saying.

“No way!” she replied.

“This...makes no sense.” Shadow said, clearly still confused. “And it is stupid.” he added quickly.

“You might say so now- but I hope you’ll get it eventually.” Amy sighed. Then, she sent him back to the main room clutching a bowl of stew, deep in thought (but at least not in a towering rage), before quickly texting her friends with a note not to brag about winning anymore while he was around.

The striped hedgehog refused to play another game, sitting back on the couch and sulking some more. (At some point, however, he suddenly appeared to have a book in his hands from Tails’s bookshelf. Nobody commented on this, instead opting to let him…enjoy (?) his book in relative peace.)

But soon enough, everyone began to seem like they were desperate to get to bed. Sonic and Tails agreed to turn in for the night and headed off to the fox’s room together, since the latter still struggled with the lightning. Amy and Sticks took the guest room, while Knuckles claimed the non-hanging couch for himself.

Shadow, meanwhile, curled up on the suspended couch with the blanket he’d received earlier laid gingerly on top of himself. He made sure to keep his spine pressed to the back of the couch, his eyes scanning the room warily for any movement.

Just as he had determined the area to be safe and begun to permit his eyes to close, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Before his target even had a chance to react, he rushed directly in front of them and slammed them against the wall, his hand closing around their…bandana?

Sonic wheezed as the air was shoved out of his lungs, gasping for air while Shadow sneered at him. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Just getting some hot chocolate for me and Tails! C’mon, let go already!” he gasped.

Shadow dropped his rival(?) to the ground, folding his arms. “You startled me first.” he muttered sulkily.

“Chill out, man, it’s not like any of us are gonna attack you or something.” Sonic insisted.

“Hmph. Rose said as much earlier…you really are the worst adversaries ever.”

The hero sighed. “It’s just called being decent! You needed our help, so we’re giving it.”

“I don’t need help!” Shadow barked. “I am only here at your insistence!”

“Shh, quiet, dude! Tails is tryin’ to sleep!” Sonic said. “And whatever you say, Shads.”

“Don’t call me that-”

“Oh, yeah, by the way- you want some hot chocolate too?” the hero interrupted.

“Absolutely not!” Shadow huffed. “We are enemies.”

“Hey, stop worrying about that for tonight! C’mon, just give it a try—ya don’t have to drink it if you hate it.” Sonic said, making his proclaimed rival look up again in mingled surprise and irritation at his offer.

“No way.”

“Sure thing, dude.”

Within a few moments, Sonic had whipped up three mugs of hot chocolate (which was met with many protests from Shadow)—digging into Tails’s stash of proper chocolate bars to do so, too. He pushed one across the counter to Shadow with a ‘Just in case’ and a wink before darting out of the room.

The striped hedgehog, utterly at a loss, vaguely felt his hands close around the drink and his legs walk him back to the couch, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Once he was lying down again, he glowered briefly at the mug, before pushing it to the opposite side of the table and turning away from it, shutting his eyes and pulling his blanket up in an obvious attempt to ignore its very existence. Soon enough, though, he began to fidget around, before glaring at the back of the couch hard enough to nearly burn holes in it.

He growled furiously. It was just a simple beverage, for chaos’ sake, not something worthy of so much attention! He didn’t need it, so he wouldn't drink it. That was all. Then he could make a point about what terrible enemies Sonic and his friends were!

Yes, he would most certainly not have it, even though it was cold and rainy outside, and it smelled incredibly warm and somehow comforting, which was something he hadn’t felt in a storm in ages….

[The camera then shows the empty mug on the table in the foreground, with Shadow in the background obviously relaxed and asleep.]

[roll credits]

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sticks the badger #shadow the hedgehog #sonic boom: ancient secrets #hopefully shadow's characterization is alright here!#it's difficult to tell if i'm characterizing him well when the source material struggled in that exact area haha #however! we now start to get the first glimpses into why he is the way he is...exciting #:D #also #is my music nerd self showing yet with that timpani comment? ^^;;#and there should be more jokes in the next one #i tried to add a few in here though!#speaking of the next one i'll make a proper post about this later but it might not be out for a while #life stuff is coming back with a vengeance!#all it means is that this will be updating sporadically at best #especially since i have some other ideas with more concrete deadlines too #by the way if i can do anything to improve my representation of sticks's pronouns please let me know!#thanks for reading!

38 notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 3 years

Text

passing ships

Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

Warnings: nothing, just being being idiots really

Category: Angst

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Buck’s return after the lawsuit

AO3 Link

----

Silence.

No bickering, no fighting and no stupid jokes.

Pure deafening silence.

The two were no longer speaking, although they had the clear to- he couldn't bring himself to forgive him, not yet and truthfully he didn’t know if he would ever be able to forgive him.

After what he put the team through, what he caused them and what he did to them- to their relationship.

Buck and Eddie sat on opposite ends of the station, the blond on the couch and the brunette in the kitchen. Both glancing at the other when the other isn’t looking, hoping they’d think of something to say to each other.

Everyone can feel the tension, it hits whoever enters their vicinity like a brick wall.

Eddie blew up at Buck the day in the grocery store and since then, neither of them had spoken to the other unless they were in the field. They worked seamlessly there. Wordless communication, in-sync as always yet the moment they step off the truck, all of that goes out the window and they go separate ways.

Buck came close to talking to him one day while unpacking the halloween decoration. Eddie had walked past him, the urge to call for him and tell him that he was sorry but he didn’t.

A part of him knew that Eddie would forgive him but another part of him felt that Eddie would still hold it against him somehow.

Buck didn’t know Eddie as well as he thought he did.

Eddie’s pace was much slower than normal as he passed by, his heart pounding in his chest just waiting for Buck to call out to him and to fix what had broken but he didn’t.

----

“Dad?” the boy called from the kitchen table, his father’s back to him.

Eddie was washing dishes, the sponge in his hand and the tap running but his eyes were fixated on something outside the window. Christopher gets up and walks over to his father, turning off the tap then Eddie looks down. “Oh sorry bud, did you ask me something?” he puts the sponge down and turns to his son.

The look on Christopher’s face was enough for Eddie to internally groan, not because of Chris but because of what he was about to ask.

“Where’s Buck?”

And there it was.

“Buck’s been busy bud” Eddie tells his son. This wasn't a complete lie, from the overheard conversations in the station, it seemed like Buck had been busy.

“When is he coming over? We were supposed to have movie night” Chris sounded sad. Eddie knows how much Chris loves and looks up to Buck and for him not to be around was killing him.. because of Christopher of course.

“I’ll ask him tomorrow,” Eddie leans and kisses the top of the boy’s head.

“Bed now, I’ll come tuck you in, in a minute” Eddie smiles until he can no longer see Chris then a heavy sigh is let out. Chris isn’t the only one that misses Buck.

He did too.

Regardless of what had happened, Buck had been his best friend for the last year and a half. The person he confided in, the one who had his back and most importantly, the guy who was basically raising Christopher with him. It had been so hard not being able to talk to him those few weeks that the lawsuit was happening and now that they can talk, he doesn’t know what to say.

Where do you begin after that ?

What you did was fucked up and I hate you but I don’t because I actually love you and I need you in my life.

Yeah, there was no way he was going to say that to Buck. The thought of Buck was pushed back when Chris shouted that he was waiting. He shook the worry from his face, mustering up a smile as he stepped into Chris’s room.

“Alright kiddo, bedtime” Eddie pulls the blanket over his son, sitting on the bed beside him now. Chris looks up at his dad, “are you okay?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s brows furrow, unsure as to what brought up the question.

“Are you okay?” he asks his father again.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” he chuckles, his hand patting Christopher’s leg.

“Okay” Chris smiles at his father, deep down he knew something was wrong and Eddie knew that his son knew that he wasn't okay but there wasn't time for that now. Eddie held himself together, he only had him and he had to be strong.

Eddie kisses Chris’s cheek, tucking the sides of the blanket in and turning on his night light. “Goodnight bud” he smiles from the doorway, about to shut the door. Chris calls out for his father once more and Eddie sticks his head back into the room, looking at Chris.

“I love you” he says from bed.

Eddie smiles, “I love you too.” the door shuts and his smile falls from his face.

How much longer would he have to keep up this facade?

When and how would they fix things?

Because no part of Eddie wants to explain to Christopher why Buck isn't around anymore and honestly, Eddie doesn't want to lose him but he lacked the words to tell him exactly how he felt.

His room feels cold and empty, it usually is but this time feels like the house is running out of happiness and warmth and there’s nothing he could do to fix it.

As he lays on his bed, his phone lights up. A notification from Chim, asking if he could help him move some furniture around. He answers and then he stares at the phone in his hand.

“l’ll ask him tomorrow” his words rang in his head. He hits Buck’s contact- what to say and how to say it.

To Buck: Are you free Saturday ? Chris wants to see you.

Less than a minute goes by before his phone chimes.

From Buck: I am. What time is okay for me to come over?

From Buck: Should I bring anything ?

To Buck: I’ll drop him off at your place. I have something to do.

From Buck: Okay. Is 6 okay ?

To Buck: Fine.

It was utter bullshit and they both knew that. Eddie had absolute nothing to do, in fact he was probably gonna go back home and hang out. It’ll be weird for him to be there when they aren’t speaking, hence why he's taking Chris to Buck and not letting him come to them because if they were at home, there would be nowhere for Eddie to avoid him.

----

“Buck!” The little boy’s face lights up when he opens the door.

“Chris!” Buck smiles with the same happy energy. The two of them hugging for a moment before Chris turns to say bye to Eddie.

“Be good mijo, I'll be back later” Eddie kisses the top of his head before he walks off into the apartment.

Buck looked at Eddie, his brows furrowed and he was chewing on his lip without even noticing. “You- You’re not coming in?” Buck asks quietly, his words barely coming out.

Eddie shakes his head, “got stuff to do, text me when he’s ready to come home.” he hands Chris’s backpack over to him and turns the other way and down the hall. Buck steps out of the apartment, in the hallway in front of his door and he just watches Eddie leave. He wanted to run after him and tell him that he’s sorry but he doesn’t.

The afternoon went by rather quickly, Buck and Chris catching up on what Chris had been doing at school, they began playing the new game Buck had gotten and they had pizza for dinner and ate on the couch while watching the sonic the hedgehog movie because Buck promised him that they would watch together.

Chris sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv screen until the end credits began rolling, then he yawns and sinks back into the pillows on Buck’s couch.

“Tired?” Buck looks over at Chris who gives him a sleepy smile and nods.

To Eddie: Chris is falling asleep, I think it’s time for him to get to bed

From Eddie: Ask him if he wants to spend the night. There are clothes in his bag

Buck was taken back by the message, not by Eddie suggesting that Chris spend the night because the 3 of them had sleepovers on a regular basis when he and Eddie were speaking but that Eddie was allowing him to stay. He assumed that because they weren't speaking that Eddie would want Chris to come home.

“Bud, do you want to stay over? Dad said it’s cool”

“Mhm, yeah” Chris’s eyes were shut, he was already halfway to dreamland by now. Buck smiled at the boy.

To Eddie: He just fell asleep, you can pick him up around noon ?

From Eddie: Okay

----

Saturday at 11:58am and Buck is dancing around his kitchen with a glass of orange juice in his hand. Chris had slept in and he made him breakfast. Buck was on his way to handing Chris the juice but he got caught up in the song that was playing.

Christopher sat at the counter, laughing as Buck danced. Buck was slowly but surely making his way over when there was a knock at the door. He sat the juice beside the plate, pressed a kiss to Chris’s head and shouted that he was coming when the person knocked a second time.

He pulled the door open, Eddie stood at the door with his arms folded.

Buck gave him a small smile, “at ease soldier” he said jokingly, the joke had delivered and failed all in one, the smile on his face dropped too.

“Is he ready?” Eddie looked at him, Buck stepped back so Eddie could see in. Chris was still sitting at the counter eating his breakfast, he smiled and waved when he noticed his dad at the door.

“Do you want to come in?” Buck’s eyes silently pleading for him to accept the offer.

“Sure” the one word was all he got from Eddie for the next 20 minutes.

He spoke to Christopher and waited for his son to finish eating so they could leave. The tension in the apartment was heavy and uncomfortable, Eddie egging Chris to finish up every 5 minutes so they could get out of there.

Buck had opened his mouth to speak multiple times, at this point there was nothing more that he wanted more than for Eddie to forgive him.

The way his heart clenched in his chest whenever he saw Eddie or had to work with him wasn't normal.

The way he smiled lovingly and stared adoringly at him wasn't normal either because friends don’t look at friends that way.

Buck loved Eddie more than the average friend. He didn’t know if Eddie reciprocated those feelings but now he’d never know.

“Bye Buck!” Chris’s arms wrapped around Buck snapping him out of his thoughts, his hand reaching down to rub his back softly. “Bye bud, thanks for hanging out with me” he smiles sweetly at the boy before looking at his father who was already waiting by the door with his bag.

Buck walks Chris over to the door, they share one more hug before he steps out. Once again, Buck finds himself in the hallway wanting to go after them- after Eddie- but it’s like he’s frozen in time, he can’t bring himself to move towards them. Christopher smiles and waves before he steps on the elevator and Eddie, he just looks at him. Opening his mouth like he was going to say something but instead a sigh comes out, his gaze lowers and he joins Chris.

It was a while before Buck heard from Eddie again. Usually, he would have texted to let him know that they got home and were okay but instead radio silence for the next 6 and a half hours.

His phone chimes, rolling over and grabbing it off the table, there’s a notification from Eddie.

To Buck: Thanks for last night, he had a good time

From Buck: Thanks for bringing him over, I didn’t realize how much I missed him

To Buck: He missed you too

Buck was about to type a response when the little grey dots appeared, disappeared and reappeared. He waited, looking down at the phone in his hands watching as the dots appeared and disappeared. At some point, Buck put the phone down, he got tired of waiting.

On the other side of the screen, Eddie sat on his couch with the phone in his hand. His last message to Buck telling him that Christopher missed him and he quickly typed out I missed you too but his finger hovered over the send button. Now reaching for the delete key, erasing the message. Eddie tried a few versions of that message.

To Buck: I missed you so much you don’t even understand

That one didn’t sound like him and made him seem desperate.

To Buck: Chris wasn’t the only one that missed you

What was he trying to do? Flirt with him? well.. maybe but this is not the time.

To Buck: Come over, let’s talk

Yeah if let’s talk is code for we’re probably gonna end up in bed.

To Buck: I don't know what I want to say but I need you here, things aren't the same without you.

This one felt right because it was the truth. Eddie had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say to Buck or if he would even say anything to him but he needed him. Things aren’t the same without Buck around, home didn’t feel like home without him.

Finger hovering over the button but he deletes the message, the phone getting tossed to the other side of the couch before getting up to check on Chris.

----

The men find themselves in this situation rather often. Eddie texts Buck asking when Chris can see him, Eddie drops off Chris or sometimes Buck picks him up and then when Chris comes home, Eddie texts Buck to say thanks.

Sometimes Buck is the one watching the little grey dots appear and disappear but sometimes Eddie is the one who finds himself in that spot.

It was as if they were two parents sharing joint custody of their son and having that awkwardness of what to say when the kid isn't around and honestly, that was exactly their situation. They played nice and spoke the bare minimum when Chris was around or if Chris had a school event and asked for them both to be there, they would both be there with their best smiles on and they'd make small talk with the other parents but the moment they stepped back out of that building, all of that went out the window.

Without Chris around, their conversations were nonexistent.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and they turned into passing ships in the night.

---

taglist: @mrs-dr-reid @yelenabelous @ickletheficklepickle @dralexreid @imaginebuck (cause you wanted some buddie angst)

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #christopher diaz #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #911 #911 fic #911 fanfic

55 notes · View notes

shadowsfascination · 3 years

Text

Dreams

Hot. Moist. Sweat. It gushed off him while he twisted and turned under the sheets, barely awake and still under the spell of a teasing dream. A soft sound, in between a growl and a moan, managed to escape Shadow’s lips, even with his mouth as dry as a desert.

His eyes were half-lidded, continuously blinking at a rapid speed. He gasped, clasping his hands into the ball of fumbled sheets atop him as if longing to hold on to something. His sub-conscious mind started registering the stimulus of the cold on one of his legs that peeked out under the blanket. He tugged it back under the warm, somewhat clammy sheets and a inhaled with a series of grated breaths.

“Shit… This again?”

Shadow laid his head to rest on the pillow below him and stared at the ceiling in the dark. His spiky quills pressed into the cushion, the cool cotton fabric nicely fluffing against his skin. It wasn’t until recently that he noticed how everything seemed to be the same saturated colour in the dark.

Not until these dreams decided to wake me up at the same darn point every night.

He grunted. Not only did he want to fall asleep again, he yearned to dream on that one particular dream. Shadow wriggled once more, huddling in attempt to find a comfortable position to drift off again- fast. He shut his eyes and snuggled up to the pillow beside him in the bed. A muffled groan carried away from underneath it. He was already too awake, too aroused to glide back in his dream again.

Fuck!

The black hedgehog sat up straight in a bed that wasn’t his. Ever since Amy left town two days ago for her internship, he decided he’d sleep in hers, which he convinced himself was fine… She asked me to check in on her house sometimes and I know where her spare key is hidden. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong…

In the pockets of his black jacket was an unfinished joint and a lighter- almost empty, judging by its’ weight. He opened the window in her bedroom, lit the joint and inhaled the smoke. Shadow rested his elbows on the windowsill, picturing Amy’s reaction to him smoking this stuff inside her home. Undoubtedly she’d show that cute, irresistible, agitated blush spread across her cheeks.

It had been that particular look on her face that lit a romantic spark in him. He remembered scoffing himself for the very first time after tracing the slightest affection for her. She was his friend and it should’ve stayed like that. But it didn’t and he had a love-hate relationship with his feelings for her.

Part of him despised the lack of self-discipline that eventually allowed him to fall for her, but then again: who could not fall for Amy Rose?

The young woman was simply amazing; kind, brave, strong, gorgeous, honest and pure. Hanging out with her was never an obligation to him. Even if he acted indifferent in the past, it was a mere cover. He enjoyed being with her so much that the innocent one-sided crush he made himself believe it’d become, faded over time to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of… lovesickness? Lust?

Shadow had yet to come to terms with whatever stirred inside him- if he’d ever decide to stop lying to himself. He craved being with her, even if it was just as her friend. But friends didn’t look the way he looked at her, the way he saw her, the way his mind was toyed with by her.

And lately it had gotten much worse. A feeling of possessiveness grew inside him when she told him her plans for a yearlong internship overseas. Surely she’d meet new people, make new friends, go out and meet guys. Guys who’d eventually find an interest in her. Shadow feared he might lose his chance with her forever. And yet… he’d just let her go like it was no big deal, casually waving her off like Sonic had. Along with his sigh marihuana scented smoke escaped his lips.

He looked at his phone. Nothing. His inbox was unusually quiet after Amy briefly informed him she’d arrived at her destination. It made him restless and impatient.

“I can’t believe I’m just as stupid as that faker…”

That last part was what made it so ugly. Sonic had taken Amy for granted for over a decade. Shadow had gladly been her shoulder to cry on and often told her he couldn’t understand how poorly the blue blur treated her. And now he had sunk as low as his rival when what he really longed for was to make Amy his girl and walk beside her, showing her off, proud as a peacock.

He imagined pulling her into a passionate kiss, one that would weaken her knees, send shivers down her spine. One that made it loud and clear to everyone that she was his woman. Now that was a decent goodbye! He sighed once again. She should be his!

Shadow’s mind drifted off to the night before she left. Amy went home early from the farewell-party her friends had thrown her. She had excused herself by stating she wanted a good night of sleep before her journey the next day, but asked Shadow to hang out with her in the end. Just the two of them. He knew far too well she’d do that.

Something in the way she acted that night puzzled his mind. It had lit sparks of hope that she felt the same way about him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been this tense atmosphere between them.

____________________________________

“My turn! Shadow, can you hand me that?”

…

“Shadow?!”

Amy frantically gestured with her hands to make contact with a Shadow whose mind seemed to have drifted off. The introverted hedgehog got sucked into his own mind, quietly moping and pouting to himself in his thoughts about her departure.

Blinking when he finally noticed her, she was already so close to him that it startled him a little. Sucking off the tip of the joint he held between his fingers, he instantly stiffened up. Shaking a little as he watched her, he became helpless to the arousal from the image and the prickling heat that flushed through his body.

The girl looked up to him, colouring his cheeks in a deep red, her lips still enclosing the tip. He was quickly to shift his gaze away from her, feeling she’d see right through him if he stared at her any longer.

“Sorry. I was out of it for a bit.”

She didn’t take it from him. Instead Amy let out a muffled ‘U-huh’ and guided his hand to her lips again to have another pull of the joint. Without warning she tucked her arms behind him, pulling him into a hug and chuckled a delightful laughter.

“Cheer up! I’m gonna miss you too, you know?”

“Tsk, darn right, you will!”

Amy snorted at his silly reply and gave him a playful push.

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

Shadow raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, faking an arrogance that actually fit his personality quite well at times. Amy however saw straight through his act, aware that he found it difficult that she left. Despite everything they ended up being the best of friends and she was sure he’d feel lonely and bored without her.

“We can still catch up on the phone and stuff. It’s only for a year. It’ll be over before we know it. Besides, you’re gonna be busy too in the meantime. I’m so excited for you about the project you were tasked with. You always wanted to do this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s something I’m looking forward to. I’ve always wanted to work with plants. I’ll get to investigate, plant and look after all these rare species the Central City’s botanical garden’s been given after the archaeologist department found this hidden, preserving millions of seeds.”

“A nice change of pace for you, after your last missions. Promise to show me around sometime when I’m back, okay?”

“Gladly.”

“Yay! Now… I need something sweet!” Amy said when a munchie kicked in. “But already I emptied my cabinets… Argh!”

“Wait here.”

Shadow jumped off the roof they sat on and walked up to his motorcycle. Amy watched him lift up the seat and grab something out the space hidden underneath it. He jumped up and pulled himself up on the gutter with two brown paper bags clenched between his teeth. A gleeful smile instantly spread across Amy’s face when she recognized the logo on them. He handed her one.

“I put another in your backpack for your trip tomorrow as well.”

“Aaah, you’re the best!”

Amy opened the bag and couldn’t fight the giddy, happy squeak that escaped her lips. All of her favourite candy from her #1 candy store in Spring Yard was in it, which wasn’t close to their hometown. Shadow must’ve gone out of his way to get this for her and he clearly put in some thought into picking out the confectionary in the paper bag. She happily stuffed her mouth with it and heard Shadow snicker beside her.

“You’re precious.” He chuckled at her.

“What? Oh! I probably look ridiculous.”

“I think it’s endearing.”

She quickly gulped it down and fake-shyly fidgeted, trying to compensate for what she thought was unladylike behaviour. In sudden confusion Amy scratched her quills. Since when did she care about that when she was with Shadow?

She then spotted Shadow unroll a liquorish-fruity roll, her absolute favourite. Tearing the paper bag as she searched for it in hers, her face soured, eye-lids dropping halfway down. She regretted she impulsively ate all the candy in three big bites.

“That’s what you get for eating them all at once.” Shadow said.

He shrugged and put the end of the now unrolled, spaghetti-like candy in his mouth with an amused expression. Amy turned around, bent over him and took a bite from the candy string, her grin turning as smug as his was before. Surprised by the pleasurable tension she experienced from being so close to him, she giggled her unease away.

There wasn’t much left of the candy string. To bite off that last piece, she practically had to kiss him. The thought spread a burning sensation through her chest. With Shadow’s heart jolting rapidly and the blood whizzing in his ears, he slowly sucked up the candy string into his mouth to see how she would react.

Don’t think too much of it. She’s just teasing me! Isn’t she? Shadow thought to himself.

Locking her jade eyes with his ruby ones, Amy leaned in a little closer. Shadow didn’t protest. Amy bit her lip for a second, but then enclosed her rosy lips around the other end of what was left of the short candy string.

He took in her flowery scent and felt her breath gently brush against his lips, their noses almost touching. His palms turned sweaty inside his gloves. Amy’s face was blazing, its’ heat radiating against his own.

He cupped his hands around her back ever so carefully, putting the smallest amount of pressure on them. Aghast and undecided Amy sat down on his lap, one hand on his chest, the other tracing the outlines of his lips.

Shadow decided to take the leap and leaned in a little closer to bite off the string when his phone loudly buzzed in his jacket, startling the hedgehogs. Amy squeaked and quickly slid off his lap, her face and ears coloured in a deep pink blush. Shadow awkwardly hid his face from her, grabbing his phone while he inaudibly cursed whoever ruined this moment for him.

Rouge: ‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’

What the-? How’d she even-? If she’s been spying on us, she will not hear the end of it!

_______________________________

After Rouge interrupted them, things became weird. They said their awkward goodbyes like they’d see each other again the next day. But they didn’t because she left for her internship and he went to pick a fight with Rouge. The bat was genuinely concerned about him and what it’d do to him if he and Amy kissed and she’d leave the next day for a whole year.

Even when Rouge meant well, Shadow had yet to comprehend how she’d caught onto his secret feelings for Amy and felt violated in his privacy. On top of that she should have minded her own business.

He put his joint and lighter on the windowsill and snuggled up in Amy’s bed again. With his crimson eyes slowly closing, he concentrated in good hopes the fantasy would sprang from his mind and reignite his dream.

Come on, come on… I’m at the station, where are you? You should be here!

He whispered aloud while Dream-Shadow skated towards the pedestrian-bridge that crossed over the train tracks at high speed. He jumped up the stairs, his heart wildly pounding in his chest, hurrying him forward, pushing everyone aside who blocked his way. The strangers always delayed him in so many, annoying, different ways and every time he was left no choice but to jump off the bridge as a shortcut to get to the platform in time. Although a part of him feared, a part of him knew, he’d be too late -again. A sea of unknown, irrelevant others were standing in his way. Why is it always this crowded?

‘Move! Out of my way!’

The pod had done its’ job and Shadow drifted off into a deep sleep. His gaze locked on to something in the distance, the familiar shape of the one he was after.

‘Wait!’

He clenched his teeth and sped up, screaming to the strangers to make room for him, but his cries fell on deaf ears once more. The empty voices of everyone out here muted his screams before they could reach her.

‘No! Not again! Please! I must…!’

Shadow never seemed to get closer to the train he tried to reach before it’d fare away, even when he was skating towards it at full speed. It drained him, sending stinging pains to his sides, but he never got to it. Like his feet were glued to the ground. Soundless, hoarse, growling cries leaving his throat as the train departed and the crowd suddenly vanished, like it had never been there to begin with.

‘WAAAAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAAAAIT!’

He never mastered control over the rotten feeling, even when he knew it always ended the same way. The fact that he didn’t make it, didn’t reach her, never was fast enough… It was mortifying for him. He was the fucking ultimate lifeform and he didn’t deliver.

He pounded his fists into a brick wall and growled like a beast. His muscles trembled from the impact as he watched the train disappear into the distance. The thought of chasing it tempted him for a second. He let the thought pass on and slid down against the wall, scouring his back to the raw structure and sharp chunks of stone in it. He bled, but didn’t bother. Shadow’s chaos energy always healed him so fast that hardly anything was an actual threat to the ebony hedgehog.

He let his dream counterpart stroll over the platform of the train empty station. It somehow was always empty at this point in the dream. The sun stood low, casting soft beams of light in magnificent deep oranges, reds and yellows, painting long, dark shadows behind objects blocking its’ reach. Shadow sank down on a black, metal bench on platform 3-b, its’ many thin metal lines pressing into his skin. He rested his head on his hand, curling up to a ball.

‘I’m so stupid! So DARN stupid! I should never have let you leave like that!’ He cried. ‘And now you’re gone! ARGH!’

The powerlessness and anger inside the black male came crashing out of him when a chaos sphere ignited from his hands. It destroyed the tracks with a shrieking bang, curling up its’ irons.

‘I thought you were different, Shadow.’ crawled up a voice from behind him.

Dream-Amy’s voice scared him wide awake. His muscles soured, adrenaline rushing through his veins, his breathing irregular and his phone buzzing under the pillow. The disappointed tone in her voice hurt him badly. He seized the phone with trembling hands.

Amy!

Suddenly only seeing her name on the screen made him scared as never before, but also strangely excited at the same time. Nausea sprung in his middle.

Amy: ‘U awake?’

Shadow: ‘Yes.’

An incoming call from Amy popped up on his screen. He swiped it to the right to pick up.

“Why are you still up? Tomorrow’s your first day, right?”

“I went out with some people from the dorm.”

“O-kay... Did you- did you have a good time?”

“Sure did. In fact a really cute guy asked me out. We’re going out Friday night.”

All right. He knew what this was really about. She was trying to make him jealous, trying to make him feel bad about the way they parted. And it was a totally justified thing to do, but her act revealed to him that she wanted him to care. Shadow’s muscles relaxed again and a confident smile curved his lips.

“Is that so? Did you tell him you secretly have feelings for someone else?”

“I’m not in love with Sonic anymore!”

“Who said I was talking about Sonic?”

…

Shadow was unable to fight the amusing feeling inside him from how baffled she was all of the sudden.

“Well- I-! I can’t believe you just let me go like that!”

“I’m sorry.”

Amy shrieked with a high pitched voice when she heard the acoustics of his apology twice. She turned around, the phone still held against her ear to see him standing in her dorm room. In one hand he held a chaos emerald and his phone in the other.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Confessing how much of an idiot I am.” He pouted.

“Go on.”

“It was highly indecent of me to let you go like that and I’m sorry.”

Part of him wanted to confess everything to her, take the leap and come clean, but he didn’t. The repeating dream that haunted him since she left had awakened a new fear in him: that she was only fooling around with him that night. It was yet to be proven irrational. He felt it was her turn to say something for this wasn’t a one way street.

“Thank you. It’s just… That night- I thought you cared about me.”

He sat down next to her.

“I do.” Way too much actually.

Shadow leaned in on her, resting his arms on her legs, his lips close to her ear. He closed her in between the wall behind her and himself in front of her only to whisper: “In fact, I don’t like that you’re going out with someone if that someone isn’t me.”

Amy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She tilted her head and unintentionally tightened her grip on Shadow’s chest fur. Her lashes softly tickled on his muzzle when she blinked. His musky scent and flirting intoxicated her senses. He levelled with her to catch her gaze, internally screaming from how hot she looked in what he realized was in fact one of his sweaters.

“Heh, here I only thought I had the hots for you, but it seems I was wrong.”

He pulled her closer by the cords of the sweater. Slowly he closed the remaining distance between them, softly pressing his lips against hers.

“So wrong!”

Amy smiled against his lips and straddled him, clamping his legs between her own, before passionately pouring into the kiss.

Chaos! I wanted this for so long!

_______________

AN: This one’s long! I decided to care less and just write and draw whatever I want, trying out new styles. Here goes...

Shadow and Amy are both adults here. Where I live smoking marihuana is tolerated.

Like always: send me a note for annoying typos, grammar mishaps etc.

#shadamy #shadamy fanfiction #dreams #Shadowsfascination #my story #my art #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #substance use #Amy Rose the Hedgehog #Shadow and Amy #Shadamy friendship #eventual romance #amadow #shadamy adults #rated teen

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lamesiscanon · 3 years

Text

Pine Tree

Day 8 coming in 6. DAYS. LATE. because someone's computer decided to just not work anymore :( Anyways, thats my excuse so please enjoy. (prompt list by @remus-john-lupin )

The morning chill was almost enough for Remus to tuck his feet back under the blankets and succumb once again to the comfortable lull of sleep and a warm body tucked against him. Key word: almost. Remus hadn’t set his wand alarm this early for nothing, and he was going to stick to his plan. With great effort, he swung his legs out from under the blankets and over the edge of the bed to quietly get ready for a cold morning spent in the snow.

Lemon raised her head from her spot on the sofa when he came downstairs. If she was curious why Remus was awake so early, she didn’t show. Instead, she licked her paws a few times and laid back down again to go to sleep. Reese’s was another story. Her wagging tail hit Remus on the shins a couple of times as he leaned down and tried to pet her. He was able to calm Reese’s down by pouring her an early helping of food in her bowl, and Lemon’s too, just to be fair. The dog and kneazle best friend duo ate side by side as Remus prepared his morning tea as quietly as possible, and then he’d be out of the house.

Reese’s came to the door with him after she was done eating, tugging on her leash hanging from a hook near the back door. They rarely used it, but it was her way of showing that she wanted to be outside. Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to have her with him, Remus opened the door for the both of them to venture into the expanse of trees they were lucky to call their back yard.

The morning was light, but there was not yet any rays of sun to warm him through the three layers of coats. Remus took Sirius’ sweatshirt as his first layer, and then wore his own jacket as a second, and finally, Lyall’s old flannel coat was bundled tightly over the whole of it. Still, Remus was looking forward to either the sun rising, or getting back to the cabin. Which ever came first.

Reese’s walked ahead of him, diving under the fresh powder of the forest and barking at random tree branches. She disappeared under a pile of snow for a couple of seconds before coming back out with her tongue out and tail wagging happily.

The search for the perfect pine tree was tougher than Remus was expecting. It was easy to completely disregard the few aspen trees scattered here and there and focus on the green pines, which were tall and plentiful. But that was exactly the problem. Remus was trying to surprise Sirius with the perfect real tree to put in their living room, and everything he’s spotted so far was either too tall or too bare.

Reese’s started barking again, though this time she was out of Remus’ sight. He gave up on the tree he was looking at now, which wouldn’t have been too tall if he just cut from the middle but it wasn’t full enough. Instead, he followed the sounds of Reese’s’ barking and found her facing the most beautiful pine tree in the world. It was the perfect height with the ideal amount of branches. It wasn’t bare in the slightest, but it wasn’t too full that Sirius could decorate it if he chose to. It was exactly what Remus was looking for when he came out into the forest at the crack of dawn.

In hindsight, he should’ve realized that there would’ve been a completely different reason for a dog to be barking at a regular pine tree, but Remus had it cut with his wand and levitating behind him as he made his way back to their cabin home. Reese’s was still barking at the tree when they arrived on the back porch, so Remus left her outside to get some of her energy out while he set the tree up in it’s stand in the corner next to the fireplace. When all was said and done, Remus went back to the kitchen for another cup of tea and to get started on a proper breakfast for him and Sirius.

Halfway through cooking the hash browns, a pair of arms made their way around his waist and a chin was resting over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Remus greeted, leaning his head against the one resting on him for just a moment before focusing back on the food.

“Hey yourself. Would you mind telling me why there’s a pine tree in our living room?” Sirius’ voice was still groggy with sleep and his tone was accusing, though his arms didn’t go anywhere from Remus’ waist.

“Hmmm, well if I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure I went out and cut it down this morning.” Remus took the pan of hash browns off the heat and turned around in Sirius’ arms to face him. “Since you wanted one, and all.”

Sirius squinted his eyes up at Remus for a moment before his face broke out into the widest of grins and he leaned up to kiss him. “I only mentioned it in passing, you know. You didn’t actually have to wake up this early just to get me a tree.”

“No shit?” Remus asked, trailing his hands up and down Sirius’ arms and relishing in the warmth that was brought back to him after his frigid morning. “I wonder why I did it anyway... hm, could be that I’m in love with you.”

Sirius kissed him, a quick peck to the lips before he was dragging Remus away from breakfast and into the other room to look at the tree.

In the living room, they found Lemon in her same spot still snoozing on the couch. One look told them Reese’s was outside the window on the back porch, no longer barking but staring intently at the tree. Remus paid no mind.

Sirius walked around the tree, trying to look contemplative but was betrayed by his own wide grin that took over. Remus watched him, content with the peaceful moment of the beautiful morning and with himself for finding such a beautiful tree, and nothing had even gone wrong.

“Remus?” Sirius spoke up now, standing behind a branch where Remus couldn’t see him. “Why is there a hedgehog in our pine tree?”

Remus hurried over, putting Sirius behind him as an act of protection and getting him out of the way so Remus could get a look at whatever Sirius had spotted. Indeed, there was a little creature nestled on the branches of their pine tree.

“Oh.” Remus reached out to the animal, looking at the branch it resided on and was careful to keep his voice low. “It’s not a hedgehog, it’s a Knarl. Similar to a hedgehog in looks and behavior, but their quills have magical properties that can be useful in potions. They are cautious creatures, but will take to you almost immediately just by avoiding eye contact and not making so much noise. They don’t like loud things, but they don’t like quiet, either. You can talk to them quietly, but usually humming a song will do the trick.”

Remus was busy trying to convince the Knarl into his open palm and did not notice Sirius staring at him until he was turned around with a tiny creature in his palm. He was smiling to himself and softly petting the animal with two fingers, completely immersed in Professor mode.

“The females are larger in size and have a darker color in quills. Males are smaller, but the unique thing about them is their quills often have a gradient change in color. More often than not, a male Knarl’s quills will start at a darker color closer to the skin and get lighter at the top. Based on the size and color of this one, she’s a fully grown female.” Remus looked up then, and Sirius reveled in the moment Remus remembered that he was at home with his husband, not in his classroom at Hogwarts.

“How do you even know all of that? You’re the DADA professor, not Care of Magical Creatures.” Sirius asked as he came up to pet the Knarl with his own fingers. Remus smiled.

“I’m just smarter than you, that’s how.” Remus admitted, watching the Knarl curl up in his palm and sniff his fingers. “Any questions?” He joked.

“Hmmm. How did I get so incredibly lucky?” Sirius asked, but Remus’ only answer was a roll of his eyes. Sirius hummed to himself now, a Led Zeppelin song that had played on the radio yesterday. The Knarl looked up at Sirius, who was careful to avoid eye contact just like Remus said. The creature deemed Sirius a worthy candidate and made to move from Remus’ palm and into Sirius’.

“So, what are we naming her?” Remus asked, beaming at his husband and the way he was marveling at having the Knarl in his hand.

Sirius’ head snapped up, though he was careful to not jostle the girl. “We can’t keep her, what if she doesn’t want to stay here?”

Remus looked out the window for a brief moment to see Reese’s tail wagging and no longer staring at the pine tree in trepidation. It made sense now, that she had barked at the tree the entire way home and took up guard duty at the window before Remus or Sirius knew that they had another pet on their hands. Reese’s probably deserved a few extra Christmas presents this year.

“We’ll let her leave if she wants to,” Remus shrugged, “But I did sort of cut down her home on accident, so maybe she’ll want to stay. I’ll name her, you can charm the tree to stay alive, and if she still wants to leave then we’ll allow her to.”

“Wait, why do you get to name her? You named a Kneazle Lemon!” Sirius asked, careful to still keep his voice down as the Knarl crawled over his arm and explored his jacket.

“Because she’s yellow and white, it made sense! You named a black dog after a candy that is brown and red so therefore, I get to name our new friend.” Remus stuck out his arm when the Knarl crawled to the ends of Sirius’ fingertips. The Knarl hopped onto Remus’ arm to scurry the whole way up his arm and settle into the flop of greying curls.

“Oh Merlin, that’s just too precious. Look, Moons, even the animals know your hair is a nest!” Sirius hurried away to find their camera, and Remus was too amused in the situation to be mad. Sirius came back, snapping a picture of Remus looking up towards his hair with a dopey grin on his face while the Knarl snuggled into the curls.

“So? What’d you decide for the name?” Sirius asked as he put the camera away and sat down on their couch. Lemon woke up and moved herself onto his lap to receive affection.

“I thought we’d keep the food theme going. She looks like a Cocoa, don’t you think?” Remus took a seat next to Sirius, grabbing his book with his right hand and holding Sirius’ own with his other. The whole time he was careful not to move his head too much.

“Cocoa? You had an opportunity to call her Carl the Knarl and you went with Cocoa?”

“Well she doesn’t look like a Carl to me! She looks like a cocoa.” Remus defended. “And you don’t get to say anything about my naming choices since you named our dog after a peanut butter cup.” Remus settled back into the couch, indignant about not being able to settle into his book.

Sirius let him be for a moment, still holding his hand and petting Lemon. Reese’s had been let in before they had sat down, and she took to running circles around their new pine tree. From the soft breaths coming from on top of Remus’ head, Sirius could tell that Cocoa had fallen asleep. Sirius was struck with the sudden clarity that this was his family, and he felt like he belonged.

“Hey, Remus?”

Remus didn’t look up from his book, but he hummed in acknowledgement to show that he was listening. Sirius wanted to tell him how he had never before felt so happy, that his best moments were these ones spent with Remus doing almost nothing together. He wanted to tell Remus that he would do anything for him, just like Remus had got up early to go out and get a tree just because Sirius had wanted one even though they didn’t have any ornaments. Most of all Sirius wanted to tell Remus that he was truly, madly, deeply in love with him. Remus knew all of this, though. As much as they said it aloud to each other, they said it through actions, like getting a pine tree for their living room. And so Remus already knew.

“Thanks for the tree.” Sirius told him instead, but he knew Remus heard what he had meant anyway, and beamed.

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niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian · 4 years

Text

“I absolutely need to see / read something where Tom and Maddie try and teach Sonic to swim. If anyone does this I’ll love you forever.”

@sakuraconsoles ~Ask and you shall receive~

@rockmilkshake ~ I was halfway through writing this when you posted your artwork, so some of this will based off the art you just posted~

I was literally up until midnight writing this. I am very tired but it was worth it.

Sonic kicked his legs back and forth excitedly as he sat in the back seat of Tom’s new Tacoma, staring out the window watching the power lines rush by.

Tom was in the drivers seat, his elbow out the window as he kept his eyes on the road while Maddie was going through her phone, her hair in 2 long french braids, humming along to the song playing on the radio.

Since it was getting near the end of the spring season, Tom and Maddie have been booked with working more hours while he’s been plagued with to what he considers, an illegal amount of homework so close to spring break.

Maddie had told him the day before that they were all going to a new place for the day, a place he hasn’t been to yet.

Ever since then, he was just going to town with questioning the couple on their new destination.

‘This is the first time in awhile we’ve gone anywhere together on a Saturday, must be a real awesome place if i never seen it.’ He thought as he started thinking of where they were going.

"Are we going to the park?"

"No"

"Oh, hooow about the skating ring?"

"Nope”

“Umm...Oh! Are you taking us to the baseball field?” He sat up in his seat, trying to see Tom’s face as he drove.

Tom made a buzzing noise as he kept his eyes on the road.

Sonic huffed as he plopped back against the seat. He looked up and titled his head to the side.“.....are you taking us to Olive Garden again?” He said in a deadpan voice.

Maddie stifled a laugh while Tom gasps, adjusting his rear view mirror to look at the pouting hedgehog. “Hey what’s with that tone? I thought you liked Olive Garden?”

“I mean I do! But like you always get that never ending pasta bowl. They have other foods to eat you know.” He shrugged his shoulders as looked down at his sneakers.

“But that’s the thing about the never ending pasta bowl.” He glanced back at Sonic, taking his eyes off the road for a second.

“It never ends.” He turned back around, laughing to himself.

Sonic rolled his eyes at the poor joke. “Pfft well for you yeah, only because you can never finish the whole thing in one sitting.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault they made the food Im-pasta-ble to eat.”

Maddie tightened her mouth in a straight line, shaking her head and glancing out the window while Sonic gave a unintended snicker behind his glove.

Tom’s head snapped up. “Was that a laugh I just heard?”

“No, it wasn’t.” He replied, muffled due to his hand covering his mouth.

“Then why are you smiling behind your glove?”

Dropping his hand quickly, he crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “I wasn’t smiling, i was making sure you didn’t hear that pity laugh.”

Tom held up a finger up. “Ah! so you admit it was a laugh then?”

“I....uggh ok fine it was.” He groaned, hitting his head against the seat.

Tom gave a small “yes” as he winked at Maddie.

Maddie smiled back at him and gave a small laugh. “You guys are so adorable.”

=======

Getting antsy, Sonic’s leg began bouncing out of impatience as they were getting near their destination.

“We’ve been in this car for so long! Are we there yet?”

Tom let out a chuckle. “It’s only been 15 minutes bud.”

“It feels like it’s been 15 hours! We’ve been driving for so loooonnng.” He laid down dramatically on his side, closing his eyes.

Maddie turned around, clutching his hand and shaking it to get his attention. “Well have you guessed where we’re going yet?”

He sat back up. “No, i absolutely have no idea where we’re going.”

“Well, you can stop guessing now cause we are now here.” Tom pulled into a parking space.

Due to his small stature, Sonic unbuckled and stood up on the seat to look outside.

What he saw was people, mostly kids walking towards a small brown building.

Only they were carrying fairly large bags, some were carrying long, colorful tubes, beach towels and chairs.

‘Wait, are we at the-?’

“Welcome to the Green Hills community pool!” Tom addressed with flair as he got out of the car, earning odd looks from some passing teens.

Sonic jumped down from his seat to the ground, shutting the door behind him. Tom went to the trunk to get their things while Maddie answered a call on her cellphone, walking away so he couldn’t overhear her conversation.

He glanced around at the groups heading inside, most were paying him no mind while only a few, mostly toddlers, would stare at him in fascination while they walked with their parents.

‘Quite a lot of people are here today, it’s not even that hot out today.’

Zipping over to the wire fence, he’s eyes widened at the sight before him.

“Oh sweet chimichanga.”

The area of place was a pretty big, whether that was due to his size or not was up to him,

The pool had about 2 slides around the length of the pool, a short, open blue slide and a tall, teal slide that formed a spiral to the water and a long diving board, which he saw a few people jumping and doing flips off it.

He looked over to where the lawn chairs were set up, there were more people sitting in the grass on towels rather than the chairs leaving a lot of open spaces, either reading, sunbathing, a few couples even making out underneath the trees.

“Ew, how do they even breath when they do that?”

He zipped back to truck where Tom was shutting the trunk, unloading the last of the bags.

“Ok that’s everything, here you can carry this one, it’s light enough for you.” He passes Sonic a small bag, which was filled with mostly towels and bagged lunches.

Maddie walked back over to them, face beaming as she put her phone in her purse.

“We all set?”

Tom nodded as he passed a bag to Maddie. “Yep, all ready to swim in cold, dirty water with random strangers.”

“Tom...”

“What? We basically are.”

“I know but I don’t want to think about that while I’m swimming in said water.”

“Just think of it like your taking a cold bath.....but using chlorine and with random people who are almost naked.”

“Oh my god Tom, please just stop.”

The hedgehog stifled his laughs as he walked behind them, before pausing with a look of confusion and slight disgust morphed on his face.

‘Wait, is it really like that?’

=======

“Ok close your eyes.”

Sonic obeyed as Maddie smeared some sunscreen on his face and muzzle, scrunching his face at the cold feeling and odd smell.

Sitting cross legged on the lawn chair, he started to rub at his face. “Ick, why do I have to wear sunscreen? I have fur all over my body.”

Maddie grabbed his hand. “Yeah but parts of your face doesn’t, so it could be more eligible to be sunburnt than the rest of your body.” She helped him spread the lotion around his eyes and face.

“Ugh does it have to smell so bad?”

“Better safe than sorry sweetie.” She shrugged as she got up, rubbing his head as she sat behind him.

He sighed as he laid back against her shoulder, watching his head quills from poking her.

“Who are you texting on your phone?”

“My boyfriend, Arnold.”

He shot up, shocked. “Your what?!?”

Laughing, she shook her head and put her hand on his shoulder. “No I was just joking, I’m just texting a friend.”

He grabbed his chest, sighing in relief. “Oh man, at first I thought you were actually taking Rachel’s advice on leaving Tom.”

“Hmmm I wouldn’t call it advice, it’s more like a order.”

“Heh pretty much yeah.”

The two sat in silence for a moment before the sound of Tom grunting and the scraping of a chair caught their attention.

He continued to pull the heavy lawn chair over, before simply picking it up and setting it down next to them.

He sat down, wiping his “Whew! It’s starting to get more busy in here, I had to almost fight someone to get this chair.”

Maddie made a face as she put her arm around Sonic, who was still leaning against her. “Who was fighting you for the chair?”

“Mrs. Tailor.”

Sonic let out a gasp. “You tried to fight Flower Power lady?”

“Yeah and she did not take well.” He sheepishly said as he motioned his eyes over to where she was.

She was glaring straight at him at the pool entrance, scowling and making a very rude hand gesture at him.

“I have a feeling we’re not going to get those petunias half priced anymore Maddie.”

She sighed. “Oh great.”

Sonic squinted at Mrs. Tailor. “What’s that thing she’s doing with her hand mean?”

“It’s a bad thing and don’t let me ever catch and hear you doing that.” Tom replied sternly, pointing a finger at him.

Sonic held up his hands. “Ok, ok I won’t.”

“Good.”

Maddie’s phone chimed, she got up as she checked it.

“I got to take this, don’t upset anyone else’s while I’m gone!” She jogged towards the entrance, speaking to whoever was on the other line.

Tom leaned over towards Sonic, who was looking through the lunch bag. “You noticed that she’s been in the phone a lot today?”

“Yeah, I think she’s talking to Rachel or something.” He said nonchalantly as he put the bag down and stretched his arms.

“Yeah?”

“Either that or it’s her boyfriend Arnold.”

“Uh hu- wait Arnold?”

“Yeah Arnold Schwarzenegger, she really has her eyes on him.”

“.....Sonic that’s not funny.”

“I know, I thought she would be into to Tom Cruise.”

“Why on earth would she be into Tom Cruise?”

“Have you SEEN the way that guy runs? Now that’s a man.”

Tom scoffed, getting annoyed. “Wha- compared to who?”

Sonic looked Tom up and down. “Compared to you I guess.”

“You little-.”

“I thought I told you guys not to upset anyone?” Maddie came over to them, hands on her hips.

Sonic pointed a finger at Tom. “He thinks that you don’t love him anymore.”

Tom swatted Sonic's finger away. “No, no that’s not what I meant.”

Maddie raised her eyebrow, amused.

“Maddie, who would you prefer, me or Tom Cruise?.”

“Tom Cruise.” She replied with no hesitation.

Sonic brust into laughter, nearly falling off the chair. Tom’s mouth gaped open, putting his hand on his chest dramatically. “Maddie...why?”

“That chizzled look he has on his face everytime he smiles at people, it’s amazing.”

“What about when I would smile?”

“That’s your saving grace, it’s actually better than his.”

“Oh what a relief.”

“Ew, if you two are down flirting, can we please go in th-.”

“Hey Sonic!”

Sonic stopped as he heard his name being called, the voice sounding very familiar.

He looked up at Maddie, who was glancing at him smiling. “Maddie am I losing it or did that sound like-.”

“Sonic! Over here!”

He turned to where the voice came from and saw someone waving to them, a young girl who has wearing her hair in small, beaded braids running towards them through the grass.

“Jojo!?”

He got off the chair and zoomed over to her, stopping right in front of her and sliding right into a hug.

Jojo giggles as she put down her bag and hugs him back tightly, lifting him slightly off the ground.

She released him as she grabbed her bag off the ground and walked next to him.

“Oh man I didn’t know you were coming to visit!”

“Yeah, mom and aunt Maddie made sure I couldn’t tell you anything.”

“What? Geez everyone’s just keeping stuff from me, so your mom is here too?”

“Yeah, she’s in the car making sure that her makeup looks good.”

“....Why is she wearing makeup when she’s going swimming?”

“She tells me that the ‘most worthy’ guys always come to the pool to check out the women.”

He stopped and looked up at her with disgust. “What?”

“I don’t know either.” She glanced back, shrugging her shoulders. Sonic looked back and saw her through the car window, applying said lipstick.

“I don’t understand our family.”

“Neither do I, but I’m glad that you’re here though, it’s nice to have a kid around my age in this family, who’s also not a crazy adult.” She smiled as she grabbed his hand.

He grinned, giving her hand a squeeze. “Heh Yeah, me too Jo.”

=======

“Ok I’m pretty sure this jacket is trying to suffocate me.” Sonic tried to adjust his mini life jacket, only to end up nearly choking himself.

“Ok, here let me help.” Tom adjusts his jacket, putting pressure off his back quills. “And here are your floaties.”

“Is this really necessary?” He winced as Tom shoves the floaties on his arms. “They’re really tight.”

“Well yeah dude, since you never swam before you need to train yourself to swim with it so you can eventually swim without them.”

“Why can’t I just that donut tube thingy like Jojo's?” He motions over to her, who was using said tube spin fast and around in a circle.

“Because of your extravagant spikey hairstyle, it would poke holes all over it beyond return.”

“Right I see your point there."

Maddie was over near the chairs, putting away her clothes while talking to Rachel, who once in a while would shoot a nasty look at Tom.

Clapping his hands together, Tom took a running stance. "Alright people stand back, I'm about to make a major tidal wave!"

Tom jumped and made a cannonball into the water, Jojo letting out a scream as she covered her head from the incoming splash. Tom broke the surface, wiping his hair and water from his face.

"Whoo! Yeah! How about that Maddie? Can Tom Cruise do that?"

Maddie looked over at Tom as she led Sonic towards the edge of the pool. "Yes Tom, he can do a cannonball just like that."

"Dang it, can you believe this Jojo?"

"Uncle Tommy, even I can do a cannonball like that."

"Jojo! You're supposed to be on my side!" He responded with splashing water at her, who retaliated by grabbing a nearby pool noodle and started whacking him in the head with it.

"Get him Jojo! Let him have it! Show him no mercy!" Rachel applauded her daughter from her seat, pulling out her phone to record it.

"Oh come Rach, I know we have a rivalry but using your own daughter to- Ow! Wha- where'd you get two of them!?"

Meanwhile, Maddie was into the water until it went up to her waist, turning around she held out her hand to Sonic, who was now barefoot and placed his shoes near the lawn chair. "Ok it's going to be pretty cold at first so it's best if you just come in quickly."

"Maddie, You know that's my specialty." He said smugly as he got into a running stance.

Maddie's face drops. "Wait Sonic that's not what i-." Her voice fell to deaf ears as he jumped over her and dove into the cold water.

He burst through the water, coughing and screaming from the shock of the cold. "OH MY GOD! IT'S FREEZING! MAD- MADDIE HELP!"

Quickly rushing over to him, she lifts him up and smacks her hand against his back, helping him get rid of the water he inhaled.

Panting and coughing, he wipes the water from his stinging eyes. "Oh man."

"I tried to warn you but.."

"Yeah...that wa-, that was my bad."

Hearing Sonic's screams, Tom and Jojo swam over towards them.

Tom looks at Sonic, still rubbing his eyes. "What happened?"

"He dove in too soon and got the penalty for it." She rubbed his back as he shook his head to get the water out of his ears.

Jojo swims closer to him. "I did the same thing too when I was learning how to swim."

"Really?" His voice shaking slightly due to his shivering.

"Yeah, but the one thing I always do when I swim is try to keep my shoulders under the water."

Maddie lowered him back into the water, still having a hold on him. "I don't think I can keep them under the water due to this jacket."

"Oh you just splash some water on it if you can't." She demonstrates by pouring water on her shoulders.

Sonic copies her, shivering slightly.

Tom takes Sonic's hand and brings him further out, he feels the hedgehog grip his hand tighter.

"You're good buddy, I've got you."

"Hmm-mmm."

Getting to a empty space, Tom picked him up in his arms bridal style, earning a surprised yelp from him.

"Ok, so we're just gonna try floating first so we don't have to keep carrying you the whole time."

"Ok..."

"Ok here we go." He slowly lowered him into the water, his hands underneath his back and legs.

"Oooh god it's still freezing." He shivered with a face of discomfort.

"Yeah I know, this is why we're practicing this first."

He let him float for a few seconds before removing his hands entirely, the teen didn't notice as he kept looking up at the sky.

"How you feeling?"

"Um good, I can barely hear your voice due to the water in my ears." He says a little louder than he realizes.

"Good, that's good." He helped Sonic float upright, motioning Jojo over to them.

"So for this next part, I'm gonna use Jojo as an example. Jojo, could you show Sonic how you swim without the tube?"

"Sure!" She placed the tube on the cement and started to swim around the two.

"Now see how she's using her arms with her legs to make her move while also staying afloat?"

"Yeah."

"You have to find a balance with that flow so you can swim better, you might swim like Jo or completely different, it takes practice."

"Whatever you say donut lord." He faked saluted him.

Tom placed him forward in the water, both hands underneath his stomach as he practiced moving his arms and legs slowly.

"You don't have to move them that slowly, you can move them faster."

"Ok then." He replies with a sly grin. He then moves his limbs like a motorboat, splashing Tom's face in the process.

"Sonic! I didn't mean that fast!"

He slowed them down, looking back at him. "Oh you weren't being specific."

"I'm pretty sure that was very specific." He shook the water from his face.

Tom saw Maddie get back in the pool, giving him an idea.

"Let's try something with motivation, see if you can get to Maddie over by the steps."

Sonic looks to where Maddie was standing, who was letting her shoulders soak in the water.

"She's pretty far from us, I can barely move from this spot as it is."

"You gotta remember to cup your hands when you wade through the water and keep kicking your legs so you can keep up the momentum."

The teen looked up at him, uncertainty coming onto his face.

"Hey compared to what you've fought through before you came to us, this is going to be a synch for you."

"I know but..." His voice gets quiet as he avoids Tom's glance.

"Sonic?" He looks at Jojo.

She grabs his shoulder firmly. "I believe in you."

"Really?"

"Definitely." She grinned holding her fist out.

Smiling, Sonic bumped her fist with his and took a deep breath, looking ahead towards Maddie. "Alright, let's do this."

Cupping his hands, he paddled and kicked his legs towards Maddie.

Maddie, noticing him swimming at her went to move closer to him.

"No! Don't move! I want to see if I can swim to you!" He panted as he kept up his pace.

Nodding, she waded in place as Sonic paddled.

'Geez this would be easier if i paddled even faster.'

Giving the idea a try he moved his arms and legs faster, gaining some momentum but not for long.

" *pant* Why *pant* isn't this *pant* working?"

Maddie yelled from across the pool. "You gotta move slowly since you weigh less in the water, the slower you go, the farther you get!"

"What? That makes no sense!"

"That's how science is sometimes."

"Well science needs to chill out." He murmured to himself.

He was more than halfway there when he was starting to feel his arms tire out. Tom and Jojo cheered him on from other end.

"Come on Sonic! you're almost there!" "Go Sonic go!"

Now being a foot away from him, Maddie held out her arms towards him. "C'mon sweetie you're almost there!"

With determination, he kicked his legs and moved his arms with one final push right into her arms.

Maddie snatched him up and spun him around in a hug. "Alright! Look at you! You swam so far!"

Still panting, he glanced back to where Tom and Jojo were, currently cheering at his successful attempt.

"Oh...yeah.....that's....great." he panted as his head unconsciously fell on Maddie's shoulder.

Tom made his way over to them. "Oh man, that took alot out of him huh?"

"Hmm yeah, but he made it though didn't you?" She praised him, bouncing him in her arms.

"Yeah...but that was alot....even for me." He weakly raised his arm, only let it fall to his side. "It feels like I ran for a year straight."

"Yeah swimming will do that to you, especially if you're not used to it." He ruffled Sonic's head before calling to Jojo.

"Time for a break Jo! It's lunchtime!"

"Ok!" Jojo got out and went over to get her towel, which was right near her mother who was trying to flirt with an uninterested lifeguard.

"I better save that guy from Rachel." Tom grunted as he got out and walked over towards the girls.

Maddie made her way towards the steps leading out the pool, still carrying Sonic in her arms.

She shook him slightly. "Hey try to stay awake for a little longer, I packed your favorite for lunch." She spoke softly.

Sonic lifted his head slowly. "Hot dogs?"

"With some homemade jalapeno sauce, probably can't get that from Mrs. Tailor anymore either."

"Maddie...you are an angel sent from above." He stretched his arms.

"Aw thank you, make sure you tell Tom that you think that, I could get so much compliments from him for at least a month."

"Haha, alright you got a deal."

#sonic fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #prompts #sonic prompts #Niyana writes #sonic movie #maddie wachowski #tom wachowski #sonic wachowski #jojo wachowski #jojo (sonic 2020)#wachowski family week 2020 #wachowski family #wachowski family week #drabbles #long post

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ferryboatpeak · 4 years

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chapter 6.2

time for some more tom/harry/ben/meri! turns out this took so long to write because it is a very long chapter. infinite thanks to @lunarrua for the beta and @wanderlustwaning for the encouragement. only one or maybe two more chapters to go!

previous installments all linked here

As Tom’s getting Ruby up from her nap the next morning, gravel crunches under tires in the driveway. Ben’s been out late on night shoots this week; maybe he’s home midday to make up for it. Tom lifts a corner of the blackout shades to see if it’s the Range Rover.

The driveway’s empty. Completely empty. At the end of the lane, the sleek tail of Harry’s black car disappears around the corner. Tom’s stomach lurches.

He turns back to Ruby, who’s halfway dressed and busily emptying a bin of toys. “Let’s go have a snack.” Grabbing the first sundress he sees in the drawer, he kneels behind her and snaps her into it while she plays. He sweeps a load of blocks and musical instruments back into the toy bin before tipping it back onto its base, and offers Ruby one of the blocks that remain scattered on the floor. “Can you help?”

Ruby grabs a second block from the floor and wanders off toward the window. Tom hooks an arm around her waist and hauls her back to the mess on the floor. “Time to clean up, see?” He tosses another block into the bin. Ruby squirms and giggles. Tom gives up. Keeping Ruby contained with one arm, he gathers up the rest of the blocks with his other hand, and finally guides Ruby toward the bin to drop in the last two.

Tom glances through the open door of Harry’s room as they pass, just quickly enough to see a pair of trainers and a used set of workout clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, and a black hoodie sliding halfway off the duvet above them. The panicky feeling under Tom’s ribcage subsides. Harry’s not gone for good. He’s not entitled to any information about Harry’s plans; soon enough, Harry’s going to go and be gone forever. Still, Harry seems like the kind of person who says goodbye.

Meredith’s standing by the sink in the kitchen, eating yogurt and granola from a teacup. She makes it look casually elegant, not at all like Tom eating cereal from a coffee mug because Carl didn’t do the dishes again. She smiles and sets her cup on the countertop when she sees Tom and Ruby. “Hello, sweetheart.” As Tom deposits Ruby into her seat at the island, Meredith leans over to kiss the top of her head. With a quizzical look on her face, she plucks at the strap of Ruby’s sundress. “That one’s getting a bit snug, isn’t it.”

“Maybe,” Tom says noncommittally. He supposes it was harder than usual to get her snapped in.

Meredith goes back to her yogurt. “When you’re packing up, can you separate out the things she’s outgrowing? No need to carry those back to London.” She scrapes the inside of the cup and licks the last bits of granola off the edge of the spoon.

“Sure.” Tom hands Ruby her sippy cup. “What do you want me to do with them?”

Meredith rinses her mug and leaves it by the side of the sink. “Just leave them here. The maids can take them.”

“Oh, do they have kids?” Tom hasn’t talked to the cleaners. He’s usually been outside with Ruby when they come around every other day or so, bringing with them a different kind of awareness of hierarchy. They’re on the payroll just like Tom is, but after they bustle through the main house leaving the beds plumped and tucked and the scent of lemon and bleach in the scrubbed farmhouse sink, they clean Tom’s room too. The first time he came upstairs and discovered the fresh tracks hoovered evenly into the carpet, he’d walked carefully along the lines in his stocking feet, one foot in front of the other.

Meredith shrugs. “They may be able to use them.”

Tom’s no expert, but Ruby’s clothes seem nice. Soft fabric, prints that aren’t garish or babyish, some labels he recognizes from adult clothes. “Don’t you want to save them?”

“Can’t count on the next one being a girl.” Meredith pauses on her way out of the kitchen. “Wait. If the romper with the orange stripes is too small, save that one. And the hedgehog pyjamas.”

Tom nods. “Those are cute.”

“They’re my favorite.” Meredith presses a hand to her heart. “The rest of it isn’t worth the hassle. There’s enough to pack up as it is. I’ve got to start breaking down the office...” The words trail back to the kitchen behind her as she heads off to work, closing up the summer, box by box.

***

Harry lopes in from the kitchen as Tom’s coming downstairs at the start of Ruby’s afternoon nap. He’s fresh out of the pool, hair trailing in the same damp tail that Tom wrapped his fingers in yesterday. Harry ought to stay away from the pool, Tom thinks. He’s like one of those gremlins that gets dangerous if you let him get wet. Or more dangerous, at least.

“Hey.” Harry leans one hand on the end of the stair rail. He tucks his other thumb into the fold of the towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hey.” Tom stops halfway down the stairs, keeping a height advantage. The most defensible position. He’s tried to hold himself carefully away from Harry since the pool yesterday, and it’s only made him more conscious of how Harry takes up space, filling every room he’s in. Legs sprawling over the couch, index finger jabbing the air with every point he makes, always a hand on someone’s shoulder. Harry’s hard to avoid, but Tom did his best, tucking his knees up under him at the far corner of the sofa while they watched Queer Eye with Meredith last night.

By the end of the first episode, Harry was stretching out those legs of his over the cushions, poking his toes into the side of Tom’s thigh. Tom cautiously side-eyed him. Harry smirked and toed him again. The least awkward option was what Tom would have done all along: good-naturedly shove at his feet, elbow back when Harry kicked at him, let Harry’s legs wind up in his lap anyway. So that’s what Tom had done. He still doesn’t understand what happened yesterday, but apparently Tom’s forgiven. Or he’s forgiven Harry.

At the bottom of the stairway, Harry shifts from one foot to the other. “Do you want to go into town for dinner tonight?”

The nerve-jangling possibilities explode in front of Tom: dinner with Harry, just the two of then, a chance to get out of the house, a chance to figure out where they stand after yesterday. And then he realizes that Harry’s question wasn’t specific to Tom. It probably includes everyone.

“What’s Meredith think?” There are logistics, things that probably haven’t occurred to Harry. Will they have to bring a baby seat, will it be all right to eat early enough for Ruby to be home by bedtime, can all of the rest of them manage to eat while Ruby’s squirming and screeching and needing attention the way she does whenever they eat dinner with her at home.

Harry gives him a strange look. “You get off once Ruby goes to bed, right? We’ll go after that.”

“Yeah, but…” Tom should check, even if it’s not all five of them. Just to make sure. He dodges around Harry, heading for the office.

“Meredith!” Harry tips his head back, bellowing. Tom’s hand jerks up reflexively, trying to shush him before he wakes Ruby, but Harry ignores him. “Can Tom come out and play tonight?”

Tom cringes. He would never yell at Meredith from the next room. He darts toward the office, wanting to catch her before she has to get up from her work.

“What?” Meredith calls back, just as Tom reaches the office door. She’s at her desk, sorting through an array of file folders spread in front of her.

“Tom and I are going out tonight and he wants your blessing!” Harry hollers it from the staircase almost gleefully. Ruby’s going to wake up, and Tom’s going to have to try to put her down again, and she’s going to refuse to sleep and she’ll be cranky all afternoon, and Tom really needs her to nap for an uninterrupted 90 minutes so he can clean up the kitchen and have a small meltdown about tonight.

Meredith looks up from the files with an expression of mild surprise. Tom’s face burns. “Sorry, I…”

“Of course you should,” Meredith interrupts him. “You ought to get out of here for a night.” She waves him away. “Go on, have fun. Do you want me to put Ruby down?”

“No,” Tom says quickly. “I’ve got it.” So Meredith’s staying with Ruby. He’s going to dinner with Harry. “We can go after,” he adds.

“All right, then.” Meredith reorients herself back to her work.

Tom blinks and turns to leave. His pulse is still racing.

Harry looks at him from halfway up the stairs. His towel has come untucked, probably from all the yelling. He’s holding it up around his waist with the fabric bunched in one hand. The hemmed ends fall open to frame the narrow triangle of paler skin at the top of his thigh. “All right?” Harry asks.

Tom nods. “See you tonight.” Somehow the words come out normally, casually, despite the swarm of bees that’s forming in his stomach. He’s going out with Harry, just the two of them. To dinner. Harry asked him. Almost like a date. Not that he should be thinking in those terms. But still.

***

When he comes downstairs after putting Ruby to bed, the sight of Harry doesn’t do anything to quell Tom’s nervous anticipation. Harry’s wearing a pair of white trousers Tom hasn’t seen before, just as baggy as his usual gray ones, and a short-sleeved black shirt with one too many buttons undone. Something glints around his fingers, and for a single irrational second Tom thinks Harry’s got a set of brass knuckles on. But it’s just a fistful of rings, all different shapes and sizes, blurring into each other to make his hand look armored. Harry was wearing them the day he arrived, Tom remembers, and he hasn’t seen them since.

It reminds him of how the sight of Harry naked used to set him on edge. How he lived for a week determinedly directing his gaze away from the pool, away from Harry’s narrow hips and broad thighs and the rivulets of water tracing down the defined lines of his back. How it made him feel under attack, jealous and jittery and wanting. But now Harry’s naked body is familiar, by sight and touch and taste. And it’s the sight of Harry clothed -- clothed like this, cleaned up and trying -- that scares him more than anything.

Harry smiles up at him. “Ready?”

“I’m just going to change.” He hadn’t planned on it, but with the way Harry looks, Tom feels underdressed in his usual shorts and sandals. He’s got to make some kind of effort, even though this isn’t a date. It’s just dinner. Dinner with someone he’s fucking. He’s had a lot of those dinners this summer. They’re not dates.

Up in his room, he ransacks his haphazard pile of clean clothes and the dregs of his duffle for something presentable. Trousers. A clean t-shirt. A plaid buttondown over it. He does up the buttons as an experiment, and then undoes them to leave the shirt open like he usually would. His boots are waiting in the closet, where they’ve sat untouched since the day he arrived. It feels like pulling a secret weapon from under a floorboard. Thick soles to buoy him through the evening, artificial confidence laced tight around his ankles. Armored, like Harry with his rings.

That makes him think of his pendants, which he stopped wearing as soon as Ruby decided they were fun to grab. It takes a moment to remember that they’re zipped in the side pocket of his duffle. He looks in the mirror as he loops them back around his neck. He hasn’t had a haircut all summer; the tails of it are sticking out behind his ears. He rakes his fingers through it instead of reaching for his brush, trying to scrape it into some sort of order that doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard.

Harry’s waiting by his car in the blue-gold evening light when Tom comes back down. The sunglasses that were pinning his hair back are on his face now. Tom cuts diagonally across the terrace toward him. As he gets closer, he can hear the car key clicking against Harry’s rings as Harry works it through his left hand, fidgeting.

Harry grins at him. “You look nice.” The sunglasses steal the rest of his expression; there’s no way for Tom to tell if he’s serious. He should have said it to Harry first. Or nobody should have said it at all; Harry’s had his mouth on Tom’s dick too many times this summer for an all-purpose “you look nice.” That’s not what you say to a sure thing. That’s what you say on a first date.

“Something without baby mess on it.” Tom twitches one of his shirttails to demonstrate, hoping his response works whether or not Harry’s serious. It’s too late to say you too, and anyway you too implies an equivalence that’s not reality. Harry, in his white trousers and loafers, looks nice like he ought to be strolling along the Riviera and Tom looks nice like Ruby hasn’t smeared applesauce on this particular t-shirt.

“Shall we?” Without waiting for an answer, Harry opens his door and slides into the driver’s seat.

The passenger door resists Tom. He tries the handle a second time. Harry’s disappeared, invisible through the dark glass, and for a moment it feels like he’s being tricked. Tom raps his knuckles on the blind window. A second later the door unlocks soundlessly, recognizable only by the smooth release of the latch he can feel through his fingertips on the handle.

“Sorry,” Harry says when Tom opens the door. “Not used to this car.”

“Thought you were going to drive away.” The passenger seat is tilted backward at an indolent angle, so that he’s looking at Harry from behind and below. He leans over his knees to feel for the lever to bring it upright, but the underside of the seat doesn’t have any mechanism.

Harry cackles and zooms his hand forward to pantomime peeling out. “Go back inside, have some salad with Meredith.”

Tom laughs, as if that hadn’t been his exact fear ten seconds ago. He slips his hand down by his door and finds three different switches. He presses cautiously at the top of an oblong one. With a faint whir, the seat back rises to meet him.

The inside of the car is all black leather, punctuated with swoops of wood grain along the dash. There’s no trash on the floor, no coffee cups in the console, nothing that’s been tossed into the back to clear out the passenger seat for Tom. It doesn’t even smell like Harry.

Tom buckles his seat belt. “Is this your car?”

“It’s a rental.” The engine comes to life with a restrained purr.

The gravel underneath them is barely noticeable as Harry pulls down the drive, even though Tom feels like he’s riding just off the ground. He tries to remember the last time he was in a car. Maybe some errand in town with Meredith and Ruby. Compared to the high and mighty Range Rover, any other vehicle would probably feel low.

“How does that work, renting something like this?” This car, sleek and soundless like a predatory sea creature, doesn’t seem like something they’d just hand over the keys to at the airport counter.

“I don’t know,” Harry says reflectively, as if it’s only just occurred to him that this sort of information would be possible to know. “I didn’t book it myself. They just met me at the train station.” Harry brakes suddenly at the end of the lane, just before the turn onto the country road, and looks over to Tom. “Do you want to drive?”

“Are you serious?” He hasn’t driven anything since the last time he was home, in the spring, borrowing his mum’s car, Molly singing in the passenger seat. He hasn’t ever driven a car like this. What’s Harry trying to prove?

“Come on.” Harry throws the gearshift into park with a flourish, and opens his door with the engine still running.

As Harry lopes across in front of the windshield, Tom scrambles to unbuckle his seat belt. The car pings with an unnecessary reminder about the door Harry left open behind him. Tom stands up with his hand still on the latch of his own door, blocking Harry’s path as he rounds the front of the car. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” Harry rests his hands on the top of the open passenger door between them and leans toward Tom. “Do it.”

His eyes are still hidden behind his sunglasses. There’s no way for Tom to tell whether this is a gift or a challenge. “What if I put it in a ditch?” The possibility seems simultaneously remote and imminent. Nothing could disrupt the perfect lines of this glossy black machine, but also Tom is the very thing that might.

Harry leans forward, pressing the door back toward Tom. Tom’s body flashes to yesterday: cool water and hot sun, Harry’s weight pressing him against the wall, Harry’s mouth on his. He swallows.

“I trust you,” Harry says. His face is inches away, inscrutable. Tom can see himself reflected in Harry’s sunglasses. The frame of the car digs into his shoulders and his calves as the door presses him back. He wants to punch forward, break the window between them, get his hands on Harry. The intensity of his want ought to shatter the glass all on its own.

He gently lets the latch go and slides out from behind the door. Without Tom’s resistance, the door lurches forward under Harry’s weight. Tom jams his forearm back into the opening just in time to stop it from closing on Harry’s fingers. “Easy,” he warns, elbowing the door toward Harry to extricate himself.

Harry takes the door from him and steps back to open it, hip-checking Tom as he passes so that Tom stumbles a step down the verge at the edge of the lane. Tom shoulders up into him, jostling Harry towards the car. His cheek connects with the sun-warmed back of Harry’s black shirt. Tom’s body sings at the contact, propelling him around the nose of the car to open the driver’s door with an assurance he doesn’t really feel.

The view’s different from the driver’s seat, disconcertingly on the wrong side of the car. He reaches for the seat controls as if he has any idea what he’s doing, moving himself forward until his foot connects securely with the gas pedal. Every inch is a reminder of Harry’s long legs. He checks the mirrors.

“Ready yet?” Harry asks, reclining back in the passenger seat.

Tom flips him off, and shifts into gear. At the tentative press of his foot, the car surges forward, faster than he expected but faultlessly smooth. He turns onto the country road and reaches automatically to flip the visor down when the evening sun hits him full in the face. The view is still searingly bright even with the worst of the sun shielded behind the visor. Tom squints and focuses on the road, second-guessing himself about which side he’s supposed to be driving on.

“Here.” A pair of sunglasses hovers in front of his face. Harry tries to push them up his nose one-handed. One of the arms pokes Tom in the cheekbone.

Tom swats his hand out, first at Harry and then at the sunglasses that Harry’s shoving into his face. “Trying to drive here.”

“Hold still,” Harry says, unperturbed. “The sun’s in your eyes, you can’t see.” The sunglasses disappear for a moment and return. This time Harry’s using both hands. The arms of the sunglasses trace past Tom’s temples and hook onto his ears.

“Because your hand’s in my face.” Tom tips his chin down to look over the tops of the sunglasses. Harry pushes them up his nose with a thumb at the bridge. The view darkens as the glasses slide into place. Harry pats him twice on the forehead.

Tom glances sideways. “Thanks.” Harry’s looking at him still, the corners of his mouth tucked up in a small pleased smile. His hair creeps toward his face without the sunglasses to pin it back.

Tom snaps his attention back to the road. He’s the one who’s inscrutable now, his expression safe behind Harry’s lenses. The shift in gears as he picks up speed is imperceptible. Every slight movement of his foot on the accelerator tells him the car’s got more power than he expects. More power than he wants. He’s not sure what it’s good for, on this narrow country road. But oh, it’s fun to drive.

Tom takes a curve a little faster than he should, just to feel the car respond. It pushes against the turn like a cat arching its spine to be petted. The sun soaks a late-summer vineyard golden on one side of the road. On the other, the valley falls gently away toward the hills in the distance.

Harry sees that he’s got his bearings. “What do you think?”

“Drives nice.” Secure behind the sunglasses, Tom tries to sound mildly, appropriately impressed. “What do you drive at home?”

“Um.” It doesn’t seem like a complicated question. “In London,” Harry starts, as if he’s collecting his thoughts. “Usually an Audi.”

“Usually?”

“I have a few?” Harry’s voice tips up at the end, like he’s uncertain. Or embarrassed. “Mostly in LA, though.”

There’s a vastness to that answer that Tom’s not sure how to probe. “What’s your favorite?”

“Jaguar,” Harry says immediately. “An E-type. I wanted one forever.”

Harry tells a rambling story about the model year, buying the car from an aging hippie in the Hollywood Hills, but Tom loses track as they reach the clustered cottages at the edge of the village. The country roads that lasted an eternity with a fussy toddler yesterday pass in a matter of minutes.

Easing off the accelerator feels like returning to solid ground, relief and disappointment at the same time. The signs of a summer town melting from day into evening are all around: dogs being walked, shops being shuttered for the night. Tom slows as they turn into the lane at the center of the village. “Where are we going?”

“Turn left.” Harry directs him around one corner and then another. The streets are narrow and cobblestoned, predating cars and not quite friendly to them. Fiats and Citroens are neatly packed into any available parking spot. Tom glances in the mirror, anticipating the dimensions. He’s not sure what would be worse, trying and failing to parallel Harry’s posh car into a tiny slot on what may or may not be the wrong side of the street, or giving up and turning the driver’s seat over to Harry.

Harry points ahead. “There, on the right.” It’s barely a car park, three spots with tufts of grass poking up between the paving stones, tucked between two brick shop fronts. Tom pulls haltingly into the only open space. Tendrils of ivy from the side of the building practically brush the car door. Gratefully, he shifts into park and cuts the engine. The blocky key fob is unbalanced in his hand when he pulls it out of the ignition.

“Nice.” Harry slaps Tom’s palm and scoops up the key. He folds the business end down with his thumb, and it disappears back into the fob with a click.

Tom opens his door cautiously, trying not to scrape the edge against the wall under the vines. Leaves brush the backs of his legs as he eases himself along the side of the car. Harry’s waiting at the front of the ivied building, at an entrance marked by a tented chalkboard on the cobblestones. The specials chalked onto it are all in French. The only word Tom recognizes is beurre.

The door to the restaurant is painted a cheery yellow. There’s a rush of sound as Harry opens it, and when Tom follows him inside, he has to remind himself that this is exactly what a restaurant is supposed to be. There aren’t even that many customers – maybe thirty, forty? -- and they’re not being unusually loud. Parents with summer-blonde children. Four women about Meredith’s age, erupting into laughter. Older couples finishing their meals. A child bent over a tablet at the end of a table full of adults. Tables pushed together in the back corner for a group of families on holiday together: dads with sunburned scalps, teenagers surreptitiously glancing at their phones under the table. Two older daughters, maybe university age, bare-shouldered in strappy sundresses and holding their wineglasses with a casual assuredness that suggests they’re French. It’s the most people Tom’s seen in two months, and the clamor of dozens of conversations trapped underneath the low beamed ceiling makes it hard to think.

“Harry!” A man in a chef’s jacket hails them from across the dining room, his voice cutting through the cacophony. He has thick-framed glasses and unruly gray hair and a general air of being in charge. He weaves through the tables toward them.

Harry shakes hands like he means it, sticking his elbow out to swing his hand into the grip with enthusiasm. Like he’s deeply excited about this particular handshake. Tom wonders if Harry’s that way about every hand he shakes. He can’t remember if he shook his hand when they met. Probably not. Tom’s hands were probably busy with Ruby.

The proprietor greets Harry in some combination of French and accented English that Tom can’t parse. And then Tom’s being presented, Harry’s hand warm and heavy on his shoulder. “This is Tom,” Harry says.

“Welcome, Harry’s friend!” The man shakes his hand enthusiastically. Tom mumbles a greeting, wondering how his own handshake compares to Harry’s. He misses the proprietor’s name when Harry introduces him.

The man points toward the back of the restaurant, past the countertop that separates the kitchen from the dining room. A pair of glass-paned doors stands ajar. “I have your table out back.” Tom can see the glint of fairy lights outside.

“Perfect.” Harry claps him on the shoulder, and they’re led through the dining room. From behind, the slight stoop of Harry’s shoulders is more noticeable. He walks like he’s keeping a secret, like standing up straight would require a burst of energy he’s conserving for something more important.

A woman in a striped apron catches sight of them as she slides a steaming plate over the kitchen counter to a server. She looks like the kitchenside counterpart to their host: same age, same enthusiasm. She waves energetically at Harry, and he presses his fingers to his mouth and flings his arm open wide to throw a kiss across the room to her. Her laugh as she turns back to the kitchen is lovingly dismissive.

The garden out back is surrounded by a stone wall thick with the same vines Tom parked the car next to. A strand of lights twines through them. The host leads them to the furthest of the three tables, tucked into the right angle of the wall. He produces menus, a wine list banded to a wooden backing, a lighted candle in a scarred red jar.

And then he leaves. The din of conversations filters out from the restaurant, and the other two tables in the garden have their own occupants. But it still feels like the most alone they’ve ever been. The farthest from anyone else’s oversight. Tom’s back is to the restaurant, and he can’t see anyone but Harry.

“Have you been here before?” The narrow folded menu sits untouched in front of Tom, laying in wait to confound him with French. He can’t think of when Harry would have eaten here. Nearly a month and Tom can’t remember him leaving the house before today.

Harry looks up from the wine list. “Scoped it out this afternoon.”

It’s a rush like Tom’s already emptied his first glass. Harry planning this. Wanting a table out back. Somewhere private. “You just met them today?”

“Came by, had a drink.” Harry shrugs. “It’s nice to eat where you know the people.”

“How did you…” Tom can’t think of the right question. Make friends? In French? Minutes after strolling into town for the first time? “They look ready to adopt you.”

“They’re really nice.” Harry seems brighter with it, lit up by this small connection. “They’ve had this place for forty years.”

“Remind me of his name?” It’s embarrassing to ask, but he wants to be part of it, to reinforce Harry’s delight in being known by the proprietors.

“Luc!” Harry turns it into a greeting as their host returns to the table.

Luc slides a small plate between them. Two small toasts, topped with a triangle of something, a swoop of sauce, and a tiny cornichon. “From Anne-Marie.”

“The chef in there,” Harry gestures back at the kitchen. “His wife.”

Harry thanks Luc - in French - and Tom smiles and mumbles some echo of Harry’s thanks. Luc asks something and gestures toward the wine list in Harry’s hand, and oh no, it begins. Harry holds the list out to Tom. “Do you want wine?”

Tom doesn’t take the board from Harry, or even bother to look at it. It’s not like he can make sense of a French wine list any more than an English one. “Sure.”

Harry pulls the wine list back to his side of the table. “Red or white?”

“Either’s all right.” Harry looks ready to ask him another question and Tom cuts in before it turns into an embarrassing display of how little he knows about wine. “I’ve got no idea, I’ll drink whatever’s being poured.”

“All right, that’s easy,” Harry says, as if Tom’s position is convenient rather than ignorant. He identifies something in French, pointing to the menu. Luc approves. Tom’s able to get the gist of the response: he’ll be back with the wine, and to take their order.

Tom opens the menu gingerly, like it’s a mousetrap that might take off his fingers. At first, he’s relieved: French menu words are apparently portable enough that it’s not so hard to get a general idea of what each entrée might be. Poisson. Cassoulet. Haricots verts. The bigger problem is finding something he can pronounce without sounding like a complete idiot when it’s time to order.

Luc returns with a bottle of wine in one hand and two small wine glasses in the other. He adds a glass to each of their place settings, produces a wine key from his apron pocket, and deftly uncorks the bottle. Tom resolves yet again to master the skill someday. He’s watched Ben open scores of bottles of wine this summer with a casual competence that’s devastatingly hot. He’ll have to practice, once he can afford the kind of wine that comes with a cork.

Luc pours a splash into Harry’s wineglass - not a full pour, just a mouthful - and lifts the bottle expectantly. Harry picks up the glass and takes a sip. His lips purse to one side, then the other. “It’s good,” he says, with a thumbs-up to Luc, and Luc tops off Harry’s class and pours for Tom. It’s like watching Harry arrange and light the candles in Ben and Meri’s bedroom - an unfamiliar ritual, one that has meaning to someone else but not to Tom.

Tom relaxes once it’s clear that the ritual doesn’t require his participation. In fact, everything’s easier once the wine’s poured and the hurdle of ordering is past. (“The pasta?” Tom says, fairly certain that there was a recognizable pasta on the menu, and Luc enthusiastically confirms.)

Luc ties a napkin around the wine bottle and leaves it at the table, and Harry lifts his glass. “To... getting out of the house?” he says, his voice lifting in a question, as if he’s looking for Tom’s assent.

“To getting out of the house,” Tom echoes, fugitive and free. The clink of their small sturdy glasses seals the deal, audibly different from the throaty chime of the big red wine glasses at the summer house.

He really, truly has Harry to himself, without Ruby’s needs to interrupt them, without Ben and Meri to please. It’s just talking to Harry now, and it’s easy, like it used to be when it was the two of them on the lawn with Ruby, fitting in scraps of conversation while they let her pour them pretend tea. Harry’s funny, and thoughtful, and his answers are meandering, as if he starts talking without entirely knowing where he’s going to end up. His deliberate pace gives Tom enough space to think, so he never feels like he’s struggling to keep up.

“Did you take French in school?” Tom asks, after Luc delivers a basket with a baguette wrapped in a blue and white tea towel, prompting another exchange with Harry that’s part English, part French, part gestures.

“A little.” Harry separates a slice from the baguette. “But… a while ago. Too long to remember.” I stopped going when I was sixteen.”

“Really? Why?”

Harry brushes the spray of breadcrumbs to the edge of the table. “That’s when the band started. I finished up with tutors after that, so I never had to do a language.” He tears the slice of baguette over his bread plate and pops half of it in his mouth.

“So how do you…” Tom gestures back at the restaurant, toward Harry’s pals.

“Eh.” Harry chews and swallows the bite of bread. “Interviews and shows here, and we’d go out in the evenings when I was here for the film.” Harry’s mouth could carry on a whole conversation without any sound, twisting from one side to the other, corners turning up or exaggeratedly down. The tiny wine glass is dwarfed by his hand. Tom imagines a different world, one where he’d be noticing all of this for the first time, here, on a perfectly normal first date. He knows far too much about Harry’s mouth and hands for this to be a normal date. Or a date at all, really, no matter what it feels like. “You pick up phrases here and there,” Harry finishes. His rings clank against the glass when he sets it down.

“From your French ex?” It’s impossible to think about Harry picking up French phrases without wondering about a French girl murmuring them in his ear.

Harry’s mouth quirks to one side, and he wrinkles his nose. “A little bit, I guess.”

Tom can’t stop himself from the questions he’d be asking if this was a date. A normal date where you get to know someone and try to figure out what their baggage is, whether there are any buried landmines you could blow yourself up on. “How long ago did you break up?”

Harry has to think about it. “Couple of months,” he says slowly, slow enough that Tom knows there’s more coming. “But it feels like longer. I was on tour all spring, so we were mostly long-distance.” Harry grimaces. “It didn’t work very well.”

Tom’s trying to formulate a follow-up question that will keep Harry talking, but Harry beats him to the punch. “When was your last relationship?” he asks, looking a little smug at turning the topic back around at Tom.

It’s startling to have Harry looking at him expectantly, waiting for the answer to a question like that. But he asked. He wants to know. Or he would, if this was a date. It’s getting harder to tell himself it’s not. “A year or so, I guess?” It’s hard to account for the passage of time in the outside world. “We graduated, he moved abroad for work.”

“Didn’t even try distance?”

“Nah. It was never going to be…” Tom trails off. Nicholas’s chief attributes – a smooth confidence right at the edge of dickishness, and being a head taller than Tom – were not the stuff of long-term relationships. It was a fun three months. He can’t remember if he’s texted him since Nicholas moved to New York.

Harry’s tilting his head just a bit to the side and watching Tom in a way that feels like he’s listening hard enough to hear everything Tom’s saying and some things he’s not. It’s unnerving. Tom deflects back to Harry instead of finishing his answer. If the door’s open, he’s going to ask about all the things they’d never talk about while hanging out with Ruby. “Have you ever been in a relationship with anyone who’s not a girl?”

“Eh.” Harry wavers his hand back and forth. His fingers are spread awkwardly wide around his rings. “Sort of.”

Tom’s pulse pounds in his ears. He rolls the hem of his napkin between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it into a tight point. “Sort of a relationship, or sort of not a girl?”

“Sort of a relationship.” Harry laughs like it’s not funny. “Definitely not a girl.” The way he draws out definitely creates a broad-shouldered strong-jawed kind of a picture.

“Why sort of a relationship?”

“I thought it was one, turns out he didn’t.” Harry reaches for the breadbasket and tears off the heel of the baguette with a sharp twist.

“We’ve all been there.” Tom inclines his wineglass toward Harry in a toast of sorts. “Straight guy?”

“Not too straight for me to suck his dick.” Harry smirks, but he sounds more bitter about this asshole than he does about the French girl.

“Too straight for breakfast in the morning?”

“Strangely, no.” The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up at some remembered breakfast, and Tom wants to punch this guy. He’s not sure if it’s on Harry’s behalf or his own. “But definitely too straight to date me.”

“That put you off guys forever?” Tom tries to ask it offhandedly, leaning back in his seat, as if the answer doesn’t matter. As if it’s a casual thing to ask the guy he’s possibly on a date with if he dates guys.

“No,” Harry says, looking at Tom with an intensity Tom can’t escape, like he knows exactly how casual the question wasn’t. His voice is slow and low. “No, it didn’t.”

“Well,” Tom says, “good.” He takes a sip of wine, which turns into a gulp, because he can’t just keep looking at Harry, not when Harry’s looking at him like that. It’s like staring too long at the track of the setting sun on the sea - dazzling, disorienting.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, a note in his voice that’s pleased, maybe even hopeful.

Tom has to look at him then, beautiful and blinding, making sunspots dance in front of his eyes. “Yeah, good.” It could plausibly be an endorsement of the general concept of dating guys, a concept that Tom is broadly in favor of. But it feels a lot more specific.

Luc picks that moment to deliver their dinner. The freighted moment is buried under steaming plates and shuffling silverware and inquiries about whether there’s anything else they need. Tom asks what Harry’s having, and Harry shares a forkful of his fish and steals a bite of Tom’s pasta, and the dinner conversation settles back into places less dangerous and thrilling.

Harry asks him about his thesis, and Tom tries to explain his graduate program to someone who has no concept of university. “When’s term start?” Harry asks.

“A week after we get back. I was supposed to go out to Croyde with my sister for a few days first, to surf.” He needs to talk to Molly about that. With an uncomfortable twinge of guilt, he remembers that he hasn’t talked to her all summer.

“Yeah?” Harry’s using his fork to separate his fish from its skin, a little bit at a time. “I’ve only ever surfed in California.”

Somehow it’s no surprise that Harry surfs. “Are you any good at it?”

“Terrible. Absolutely terrible.” Harry’s talking differently tonight, Tom realizes. He’s missing his usual loose-limbed big gestures, punctuating jokes with jerky swoops of his arms. But his hands are still constantly in motion, hovering in front of him, index finger jabbing to make a point, gestures weighted with his rings. “It’s hard there, though. Rough. You get pretty beat up.”

“Do you have a house there?”

“Eh,” Harry pauses. “Sort of.”

Tom snorts. “Sort of a house? Is that like sort of dating?”

Harry’s eyes widen a bit, like the joke hit too close to home. “I have the house… I have some stuff there… it just never really felt like I moved in. I usually stay with friends. Sometimes Ben and Meredith. I was staying with my girlfriend a lot, but…” Harry shrugs and takes a sip of wine.

Tom watches his lips against the wineglass and casts about for a change in subject. The reference to the Winstons reminds him. “What’s your and Ben’s show about?”

“It’s only sort of mine,” Harry says, and Tom can’t help laughing. Harry waves him off as soon as he realizes. “All right, all right, I get it,” and Tom laughs again. “But Ben and James put it together, mostly,” Harry says. “James Corden.”

Tom nods. It’s strange to think of Harry working with famous people. Ben must, with the kind of work that he does. Harry must, too.

“It’s kind of based on when I lived with Ben and Meredith.” Harry rubs his thumb and forefinger over the thick stem of his wineglass. “But, like, not really. Just, sort of, loosely inspired. Popstar moves in with regular married couple…” Harry waves his hand in an etcetera kind of way.

Tom snorts. “So it’s X-rated, then?”

That shocks a laugh out of Harry. “God, no.” He presses his face into the palm of his hand and then looks back up at Tom, offended. “I was, like, a kid.”

A stray branch from the top of the wall is arched above Harry’s head. The Winstons feel far away from their birds nest here in the corner of the garden, snug between stone walls. “When, then?”

The candlelight catches on Harry’s rings as he reaches for his wineglass. “A while ago,” he says. “Like three years, maybe four? But, like, all before Ruby.” He doesn’t take a sip, just draws the glass closer on the tabletop and traces the tip of his finger in a half-circle around the base of the stem. “I was jealous of you, when I got here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tom says easily. There’s no reason for Harry, rich and good-looking and favored, to be jealous of Tom. But when he thinks back to the week Harry arrived, it was a different Harry. Strutting around the pool, smug and mocking him from the dais of the master bed. Tom had all but forgotten the Harry who found Tom’s sore spot and poked at it, throwing his insecurities about the murky line between his job and his sex life in his face. He wonders whether it was unintentional, or whether Harry saw him that clearly from the start. But the question seems academic. He trusts the Harry he knows now - Harry insisting he drive, Harry towing Ruby around the pool, Harry sprawling on the couch for a romcom - not to do it again.

“No, I was.” Harry drags his finger slowly back and forth in a crescent along the base of the wineglass. “It had been... a while, and I thought they were just like, past it. Because of the baby or whatever. But then, it was kind of like, oh, obviously, they weren’t.”

How… Tom wants to ask, but he can’t quite get the question past his lips. How Harry knew. Whether Tom was painfully, embarrassingly obvious. Or whether Harry had to be told. The thought of the three of them discussing it, talking about him, makes him want to sink through his chair into the garden pavers. Welcome, Harry, glad you could visit. By the way, we’re sleeping with the au pair.

“But it all worked out, right?” Harry's voice brightens, exaggerated, and he waggles his hands out to both sides, like he’s just pulled off a magic trick. Ta-dah.

His smile’s big enough, bright enough, that Tom stops looking for the hidden trapdoor, the trick mirror, the scarf hidden up his sleeve. “Maybe it did.” Harry’s smiling back at him over the wine bottle and the empty breadbasket and the bud vase with its sprig of yellow flowers, and maybe it’s as easy as Harry makes it out to be. Maybe it all worked out.

Harry slides one foot forward under the table. “How did it happen?” Tom can feel the moment of connection when Harry rests his foot against the side of his boot, but he can’t tell through the sturdy leather whether Harry keeps it there. “With you, I mean. How did it, like, start?”

“I don’t know,” Tom says automatically. “How does anything happen?” It’s a lie. He remembers every single moment, every small smile of Meredith’s, every touch of Ben’s hand on his shoulder, each incremental stretch of the rubber band pulled tighter and tighter until the satisfying snap.

Lingering in the kitchen after dinner, leaning just a bit too hard against Ben’s side. Bracing his hands against the countertop and tipping his head back against Ben’s shoulder as Ben brought him off. Closing his eyes against the intensity of Meredith’s oversight, chin propped on her palm across the island.

Ben had kissed him after, firm and confident, sliding his tongue into Tom’s mouth, prolonging the shivery reverberations still thrumming through Tom’s body. Meredith brushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed his temple and told him they’d see him in the morning. Then she and Ben disappeared upstairs, leaving Tom confused and desperate and elated. He’d wanted to do something, to be of use. He hadn’t actually understood until the other night, when he and Harry were kicked out of the bedroom, what they were using him for.

Harry’s looking at him expectantly. Tom gives him an honest answer, but probably not the spicy answer Harry really wants. “We were dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“I did ballroom and Latin back in school. Like, competitions.” He was a national champion, not that Harry needs to know.

Harry cocks his head to the side and looks at him consideringly. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why?” It’s Tom’s most surprising thing, really, the ace that always makes everyone else drink when they’re playing two truths and a lie. I’m afraid of balloons, I’ve never broken a bone, I’m a champion ballroom dancer. Everyone always assumes that’s the lie. He can mix it up after this summer, though. He’s got some more unlikely truths now.

“You walk like a dancer, like… how you move.” Harry circles his wrist aimlessly, his fingers spread open, as if the explanation is a bird that will light in his upturned palm if he’s patient. “It’s like… you’ve always got everything under control.”

Tom laughs, startled. “I can’t believe you think that. I don’t have anything under control.”

“Yes you do.” Harry leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out, hooking his foot around Tom’s ankle. “You always know what to do with Ruby. Ben and Meredith love you.” Harry tilts his head forward in a way that makes Tom feel more intensely examined, like Harry’s turned up the focus. “I can’t ever tell what you’re thinking. That’s control.” His voice gets lower, slower on the last syllables. Tom watches his lips move around the words.

He flushes at the thought of Harry observing him, forming opinions, liking the way he moves, wondering what he’s thinking. “I don’t have anything about you under control,” he says, and realizes too late it sounds more like a confession than a statement of fact.

He watches Harry carefully for a reaction. His mouth is so big that Tom can see the smile spreading over it, like watching a sunrise. The corners turning up, dimples blooming. “Yeah?”

There’s probably a joke that could water it down. An explanation that he meant Harry’s a force of nature completely outside the realm of Tom’s influence, not that Tom can’t control the dizzying intensity of the way he feels about Harry. Tom doesn’t take the out. “Yeah,” he acknowledges, face burning and Harry’s smile seeping through his veins like a serum.

The moment’s broken by Luc’s arrival, clearing their plates and asking how the meal was. “Wonderful,” Harry says, very seriously. “Thank you.” He looks as if he’d shake hands again, if their plates weren’t in the way.

Their host returns a moment later and holds out a small square menu to each of them. Harry pauses before taking it, looking at Tom. “Do you want dessert?”

Tom hasn’t had dessert all summer. The entire genre doesn’t exist in the Winstons’ diet. He hadn’t thought to miss it. He could take it or leave it tonight. No, he’s about to say, and maybe even take me home, because he’s far more greedy for that than he is for tarte tatin. But going home with Harry still means going home, where the sound of Harry’s tires in the driveway will mean something to someone else. Where Tom will follow Harry into the main house, or Harry will follow him up the carriage house stairs, and either way someone else will know. As long as they’re here, tucked in their quiet corner of the garden as the evening fades to twilight, Harry only belongs to him.

“Sure,” Tom says, and orders creme brulee. Harry asks about the sorbet on the menu, and after a spirited discussion with Luc that doesn’t seem to result in much additional information about the two flavors, orders them both.

Of course Harry wants it all, wants everything at once, flings himself at it without a second thought. His perpetual too-muchness is the thing that’s most compelling to Tom, who can’t imagine being too much because he’s always trying to be just right. It’s all backwards that Tom saw it first in bed - Harry unselfconsciously sensation-seeking, wanting everything, pulling everyone with him, needing to be overwhelmed - and only now is he seeing it applied to something as prosaic as ice cream. But that doesn’t mean he can’t give Harry a hard time. “Is it that hard to choose?”

“Fuck off,” Harry says, cheerfully. “I love ice cream, I’ve barely had it this summer. Meredith doesn’t eat it.”

“What’s your favorite flavor?” Tom asks, and they’re still on the subject when dessert arrives, Tom defending simplicity and Harry enthusing about flavors of ice cream that Tom’s never even conceived of.

Harry’s trying to explain something called chocolate honeycomb when it happens. His eyes flick away from Tom, midsentence, catching on something over Tom’s right shoulder.

Tom waits silently, willing Harry’s attention back to him. He refuses to look. He’s not going to dignify this distraction by looking at it. He’s only going to project waves of hatred directly from his shoulder blades.

“Sorry.” Harry focuses back on him.

“Um…” Tom can’t remember what Harry was saying. As he tries to reorient himself, Harry looks away again, toward the back of the restaurant. “What’s…”

“Don’t turn around.” Harry says it casually, but Tom freezes all the same, as if Harry’s only going to give him back his attention if he’s good enough. Harry’s expression hardens into a stare, the intensity like a bullet directed straight over Tom’s shoulder. He shakes his head slowly from side to side, just once. Telling somebody no.

“What’s going on?” Tom’s neck is tense with the effort of not looking at whatever is drawing Harry’s displeasure.

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry says, but his shoulders are pulled up and in. “Somebody recognized me.”

“Someone you know?” Tom wonders who Harry could possibly know here, but apparently this afternoon was enough time for him to become the adopted son of a French restaurant. He could have made any number of other friends. Or not friends, based on his reaction.

“No.” Harry’s fishing in his pocket. “Did you see those girls, inside? Two of them.”

“I think so?” Tom vaguely remembers the big table, the holiday families, the girls in sundresses and glossy ponytails.

“They were trying to take a picture just now.”

“Of what?” The garden’s not that picturesque. He and Harry aren’t that interesting; to anyone not inside Tom’s head, they probably just look like two guys having dinner. Tom’s stomach tightens, his ever-present instinct for hostility kicking in. The heightened awareness that picks up on the bellow of “you cocksucker!” from across the pub and leaves him wondering whether the thick-necked guys in the booth are insulting each other, or whether it means Tom’s sitting too close to his boyfriend on their barstools. Whether the shoulder check in the crowd transferring trains was accidental or whether it had something to do with the rainbow flag pin on his bag.

“Me.” Harry says it matter-of-factly, like this is just the course of things.

Tom gapes. He wonders why Luc and Anne-Marie aren’t stopping this, but that seems rude to ask.

Harry shrugs. “It happens.” He takes his hand out of his pocket with thumb tucked under his fingers, concealing something. “Although I would have preferred not tonight.” He cups his palm on the tablecloth and slides it across to Tom, stopping at the tip of Tom’s unused salad fork. When it’s safely in Tom’s space, blocked by his body from view of anyone inside the restaurant, Harry lifts his fingers to reveal the black block of the car key. “I’m going to go take care of it. If you don’t want to… you know...” Harry makes a gesture that Tom can’t quite make sense of. Maybe it means you don’t want to deal with this. “You can meet me at the car.”

Harry cocks his head a bit to the left, and flicks his eyes in the same direction. Tom follows and sees a narrow wooden gate leading out to the alleyway behind the restaurant. Harry nudges the car key further toward Tom with a fingertip, clinking it against the tines of his fork. “I’ll get them inside.”

Harry’s chair screeches against the paving stones, and then there’s nothing left of him but the last melty bits of sorbet in their dish. Tom stares at the empty space and the garden wall behind it.

He can hear when Harry reaches the girls. “Hello,” he says, gravelly and plain, like that’s a reasonable way to greet someone taking photos of you at a restaurant. “I’m Harry.” There’s a noise in response - wordless, high-pitched - and Tom shoves his chair back and grabs the car key.

The garden gate has a funny latch. Tom fumbles and slaps at it and a moment later he’s alone with the bins in the narrow space between the buildings. It’s fully nighttime back here, unmitigated by the fairy lights and candles of the garden. He slumps back against the wall to get his bearings. He was almost on a date. No, not almost, not by the end of it, not with Harry hooking his ankle around Tom’s as his smile bloomed in the candlelight. It felt like a good date, like a date that could go somewhere. And now he’s hiding in an alley, banished to sit in the car like a child.

Tom picks his way to the end of the alley and circles back around to the car, passing closed storefronts. There are planting baskets hanging from the lamp posts along the street. Droplets from under the pink and red flowers spatter on the cobblestones, as if someone’s recently been through for an evening watering, but the street is empty.

The car blinks its tail lights at him as Tom approaches, before he even looks at the buttons on the key fob, but the door handle on the passenger side won’t yield to him. He’s not going to take the driver’s seat. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and the last thing he needs is to be in charge of the car. He stabs mindlessly at the unlock button and wrenches at the handle, letting his efforts cancel each other out until he takes a breath and lets the door go long enough for the lock to work.

The passenger seat’s still dropped back the way that Harry set it, a languor that’s entirely inconsistent with Tom’s mood. He sits up and jams his thumb against the lever beside the seat until it rises up to meet his rigid spine. The car key’s still smooth in his palm, like a river stone begging to be skipped. He presses the button at the corner and flicks the key out, snaps it back into place, again and again until Harry rustles through the ivy and opens the driver’s door.

“Sorry about that.” Harry sits and then swings his long legs into the seat through the narrow opening.

Tom holds the car key out to him.

“I had to…” Harry backs out of the parking space, smooth and quick, offering an explanation Tom hadn’t yet asked for. “Usually if you ask people… they’re pretty cool about it, if you ask them not to post anything, or at least they’ll wait a few days.”

Tom remembers Meredith’s warning about social media and understands now that it wasn’t just about privacy. In a few days Harry will be gone, off to Italy, or wherever. It won’t matter if anyone posts a picture of him in a French bistro, because he’ll be in Italy, or LA, or something. Somewhere far from Tom.

He pictures Harry talking to the girls, to their parents maybe, trying to convince them to keep his secret. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“Sometimes.” Harry accelerates as they leave the village behind. The engine responds like it’s eager for the challenge, humming through the gears, smooth and powerful. Soon there’s nothing but their headlights and the road dipping in front of them.

There’s something Harry’s not saying. He’s distant, and Tom’s resentful and confused, and the evening’s ruined. Tom’s used to Harry’s silences. Usually they’re expectant, like he’s waiting for Tom to say something. That’s not how this one feels. Harry’s focused somewhere else entirely, or inside his own head.

Tom presses his cheek against the window. There’s a half moon making its way up over the hills. It’s golden, promising autumn. The same color as the creme brulee. The spray of stars around it seems chilly.

“Hey,’ Harry says, as they turn into the lane toward the house. “I don’t know if you’re on Instagram or whatever.” The hedge looms in front of them, lit up by the headlights. Gravel crunches as Harry pulls into the circle drive. “But you might want to go on private for a little while. Instagram, Twitter, whatever.”

“Okay,” Tom says cautiously. “Um. Why?”

Harry kills the engine. “If they post pictures, and anybody knows who you are…” The car’s lights go dark in front of them and the house winks out of view, shrunk to the small circle of the front porch light. “It can get a little weird, is all.”

“Weird like how?” Harry’s profile is shadowed next to him, lit from the front porch so Tom can’t see his face.

“Just… a lot of comments. People messaging you.” Tom doesn’t have to see Harry’s face to know there’s still something he’s not saying.

He undoes his seat belt and opens the car door. “Thanks for…” Suddenly Tom realizes he completely missed the tab when Harry shuffled him off down the alley. “Shit, did you pay for dinner? Let me give you some cash.” He fumbles for his wallet, even as he realizes it’s futile, he has no cash, has had no reason to carry any cash at all this summer.

“No, I got it.” Harry touches his arm.

Tom flinches without meaning to. Harry’s fingertips raise goosebumps up and down his arm, but Tom can’t get past the contrast between the warmth of their dinner and the reserve of the drive home. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” Harry drops his hand to his lap. “I had a nice time.” It’s polite, formal, a world away from Harry’s smile across the table and the pressure of his foot against Tom’s ankle. Harry’s not going to kiss him, and the obviousness of that fact fills the car, forcing all the air out of the small space.

“I did too.” Tom heaves himself out of the door. “Thank you.”

He looks back before he lets himself into the sanctuary of the carriage house. Harry’s still sitting in the car. Tom can’t imagine what he’s thinking about.

He slumps back against the door after it closes behind him and lets the wild swing of emotions catch up with him. How, how did this evening get so fucked up. He trudges up the stairs. It’s not late, but he’s exhausted.

At the desk, he shoves aside a stack of photocopied sources and peels the sticky note with his most recent thesis to-do list off the screen of his laptop. Once the aging operating system comes to life, he opens his Instagram for the first time all summer. The photo at the top corner of his grid is from May, the day he and Carl cobbled together some packed lunches from the odds and ends in their fridge and drove out to Brighton. The selfie shows the wind off the sea blowing their hair to one side, chilly spring sunshine pale on their faces. There’s a new comment from Carl underneath it, a couple of weeks old. last known picture of tommy before his disappearance, rip.

Tom clicks quickly into his settings to get away from the post. He can’t deal with the guilt on top of everything else tonight. He ticks the box to set his account to private, and then hovers the cursor over the search box. Fuck it. harry, he types, and before he can get to the s the drop-down’s already offering him two different blue checks in Harry's name. For fuck’s sake. How is he the first Harry to come up? There’s a fucking prince.

Tom whistles at the follower count before scrolling down the page in Harry’s name. It’s impersonal, all professional-looking photos of Harry onstage and backstage. But aside from his bright costume-y suits, Tom recognizes all of it: the expansive way Harry flings his arms around, the unselfconscious lines of his body. His smiles, small and smug or wide and beaming. Harry shoving clothes into the same luggage Tom’s seen on the floor of his room.

All of it feels like the Harry he knows, until further down the page the camera pulls back to show Harry onstage, spotlit, the focal point of an entire arena filled with lights. Tom zooms in and blinks at it a few times, unsure if he’s seeing it right. It’s disorienting, like the time he opened the door to what he thought was the closet in Ruby’s nursery in London and it turned out to be an entire bathroom practically the size of his flat.

He backs out and keeps scrolling down. More arenas, more crowds, more of the dizzying telescoping of Tom’s sense of scale, until he screeches to a halt at Harry on the cover of Rolling fucking Stone? After opening the post to make sure it’s not a joke, Tom abandons Instagram and types harry styles rolling stone into the search bar.

Instead of a fancy bathroom, it’s like he’s opened the closet door and found Narnia. One Direction, for fuck’s sake. Tom’s pretty sure Molly had their posters on her bedroom wall years ago. Somebody should have told him. Meredith should have warned him. Harry should have warned him. Tom’s mad, all of a sudden, about every story Harry’s told him about traveling. He’ll talk about the pasta he ate in Milan, the art museum he went to in Spain, the funny name of the soda backstage in Japan, and none of it’s given Tom any sense that the reason Harry’s been all over the place is that he has millions and millions of fans. Who will, apparently, sell his puke on eBay. Tom’s been wasting a revenue stream. Bet he could have gotten top dollar for the bodily fluid he’s had access to this summer.

Tom stands up and flexes his palms against the edge of the desk. Bent over the laptop, braced as if it might punch him, he keeps reading. Harry’s first album, Harry’s new band, Harry driving around Los Angeles in a Range Rover. He remembers Harry deflecting his question about what he drives at home. I have more than one. He should have asked. Maybe he would have learned enough to keep his guard up, not to get deluded by a candlelit dinner and a smile that felt like it was just for him.

The punch comes from an unexpected quarter. “Family,” answers Ben Winston. Tom jerks upright as if he’s been caught. He hadn’t thought googling Harry would lead him to Ben, but how naive that was. Of course they have a whole relationship in the outside world. One that Rolling Stone interviews them about, for fuck’s sake. Tom reads on, stomach quivering, as Ben brags about Harry moving into his attic, talks about Meredith, how they’d be in bed waiting for Harry to come home. All the girls Harry would bring with him.

Oh.

He’d thought he was pressing his luck tonight, asking Harry about his past relationships, ferreting out hopeful crumbs about his sexuality. What poverty of imagination. They’d even talked about his past with Ben and Meredith, and Tom never thought to put two and two together. Quite literally. What an idiot, to think he’s been the only one.

Tom abandons Rolling Stone, which doesn’t know shit, and searches harry styles girlfriend. The top result is the most recent, a tabloid headline. Model Camille Rowe and Harry Styles split after just over a year together. Ah. The French ex-girlfriend. Tom opens a new tab, leaving behind search results that promised a longer history of supermodels. The results of his camille rowe image search are all blonde hair and tanned skin and many more pictures of tits than Tom might have expected without intentionally searching for porn. He can acknowledge, objectively and painfully, that they are very nice tits. He wonders what Meredith thought. He wonders how it worked. Whether she went down on Meredith, what Meredith allowed Ben to do to her.

Fuck it. He switches to harry styles boyfriend. There’s more in the image search than Tom would have expected. He rejects Nick Grimshaw, who’s definitely gay enough to have a boyfriend. He spends a while on Louis Tomlinson, but the sources are too weird, the images too blurry and doctored, the rhetoric too strident. Something about it feels off.

But there it is, well down the page. Harry and a guy hunched over their menus at a restaurant. Casual, like it’s brunch. Harry’s got long hair, but his sunglasses are pinning it back same as ever. Tom makes a mental note to follow up on the long hair after the extensive google search he’s about to conduct on Xander “definitely not a girl” Ritz.

Half an hour later Tom’s got a better idea of why Harry banished him to the car and told him to private his insta. He snaps the lid of his laptop shut, burying tumblr timelines and paparazzi pics and Harry flirting with his straight guy crush in front of entire goddamned stadiums of fans. None of it matters.

He unlaces his boots and throws them halfheartedly toward the corner of the room. One of them leaves a scuff mark against the creamy walls but Tom can’t bring himself to care. The security deposit isn’t his.

He brushes his teeth without looking in the mirror and turns out the lights without slitting the blinds to see if Harry’s still in his car. In bed, he curls on his side with the duvet up to his ear and tries to calm down, to talk some sense into himself.

He’s sealed himself in the idyllic bubble of the summer so effectively, resolutely refusing to think about what his life will be like once the summer’s over. The summer house has been his world, small and complete and perfect. Harry disrupted it, until he was absorbed into it, and Tom’s forgotten that Harry exists outside the bubble too. He’s understood only generally that Harry’s rich like the Winstons are rich, and that Harry’s a musician. Here, where there’s nothing to spend money on, he’s had no reason to connect the dots, to realize that if Harry’s money comes from music, Harry must be a big deal. The kind of big deal who gets stalked at restaurants. The kind of big deal that dates supermodels. There’s an entire world of Harry out there, an entire world that Harry and Ben fit into together, and Tom was crazy to ever think he had a place in it.

#french countryside tomrry

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