#babe if I didn’t mention her then it was for a reason innit

[tobesolonely]

never have i ever

summary: y/n and harry go on a camping trip, but things don’t go according to plan

a/n: thank u for reading! please reblog/leave feedback if you enjoy! its very encouraging to me :’)

warnings: smut <33 18+ please! mentions of alcohol/drinking as well

word count: ~4k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Never in your life did you think you'd ever agree to do something as outdoorsy as camping, yet all it took was Harry asking you very sweetly one time, and you immediately agreed. You'd never been one to spend an excessive amount of time with nature. You loved a good sunrise and sunset, just like most people. Sometimes you'd even wake up early and go on a sunrise hike with Harry if he promised to make you breakfast once you were finished. Occasionally, you'd go on walks and runs with him, and spend some time down at the beach. That was the extent of the outdoor activities you'd partake in, though. However, Harry had the grand idea to go camping for the weekend as he had a bit of time off, and this was something he'd been talking about wanting to do for a while.

"Don't you wanna be one with nature? Help me pitch a tent? Get your hands a lil' dirty?" He asked you when you started having second thoughts about going with him, the idea of sleeping on the hard ground inside a small tent a major turn off.

"I mean, I can think of better ways to spend my weekend," you tell him, stirring the pot of soup you were making on the stove. It's the night before you were supposed to leave, and Harry already had the car packed, way too excited to wait any longer. "You know I always get the worst bug bites."

"That's what bug spray is for!" he tells you cheerily, snaking his arms around your waist and placing a wet kiss to your neck. "C'mon, Y/N. I promise it'll be worth it."

You sink into Harry's kisses, feeling wobbly in your knees as it was one of your most sensitive spots— and he knew that. "I suppose it'd be nice to get out of the city for a bit. Jus' me and you, yeah?" You didn't want anyone else to see how out of your element you were in the outdoors as you found it to be a little embarrassing. Harry hums, placing more open mouth kisses on your skin.

"Just me," he pauses to kiss you. "You," another kiss. "And the birds ‘n the bees." You blush, choosing to ignore his sexual innuendo.

"I guess it's too late to back out now, especially since you already took it upon yourself to pack a suitcase for me," you tell him, rolling your eyes and turning off the stove. "I'll give it a try, Harry. Besides, it's only a weekend, yeah? What could possibly go wrong?"

⋆⋆⋆

As it turns out, many, many things could go wrong during a weekend-long camping trip.

Harry told you that you didn't need to pull up directions because he knew where he was going, but you quickly realized that your stubborn boyfriend was hopelessly lost. "I don't think we're heading in the right direction, darling," you informed him from the passenger seat, opening up the Maps app on your phone. "You're positive you don't want me to give you directions? No shame in admitting you're lost."

Harry mutters under his breath, squinting his eyes to look at the freeway signs. He sighs, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Think I missed m'bloody exit," he tells you, clearly growing frustrated. "Can yeh tell me where 'm supposed to be, love? I think once I figure out the exit, we'll be good."

You and Harry were choosing to not venture too far out of Los Angeles, but far enough so you would be able to enjoy your time together without prying paparazzi. For this reason, he settled on a spot known to be a little more remote, about 50 miles north of downtown. Once you pull up the directions on your phone, your suspicions are confirmed. Harry was headed in the complete opposite direction, and he missed the exit nearly ten miles back. "Yeah, you're gonna need to take the next exit you see, and then we have to go back in the opposite direction. Just about ten miles too far."

"Ten miles? Lemme see tha'," he holds his hand out for your phone and pulls the car over on the freeway's side, turning on his hazards. "Huh, you're right. How'd we miss that, babe?"

"We missed it because you insisted you didn't need directions," you remind him, exasperated. "I'm from here, and I don't even know how we're supposed to get there!" Harry laughs, re-emerging onto the freeway.

"I guess I should've just let you read me the directions, huh? Don't worry, we'll be there soon. S'what? Ten miles? We'll be there in twenty minutes."

However, twenty minutes quickly turned into forty when you found yourselves stuck in the morning commute traffic. Harry fiddles with the radio as you go 5 miles per hour (on the freeway!), trying not to let the infamous Los Angeles traffic get him down. Although you were a bit behind the schedule he'd created, it was still only 7:30 am. You had the whole day ahead of you, and he couldn't wait to get you out in the wilderness and teach you how to pitch a tent and make the perfect s'more."

Eventually, you make it to the campgrounds. You had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful— tall, looming pine trees, snow-capped mountains, picnic tables, patches of even ground you figured would be perfect to set up the tent on, and even a couple outhouses. Harry gives you a smug look when he sees your awestruck face, glad that he was the first to show you something from your own city.

"It's beautiful up here, innit? So peaceful. Looks like we're here by ourselves too," he gestures towards the empty campgrounds. "Nice and private."

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt as Harry puts the car in park. "I'm already feelin' more relaxed," you joke, opening the door and stepping out to stretch your stiff limbs. "Should we walk around and take a peek at everything before we get ourselves set up?"

"Yeah, s'good idea," he gets out of the car himself and walks around to you, grabbing your hand. "Maybe we can go hiking later? Hear there's a nice little waterfall somewhere around here. Would love to see that." You hum in agreement, walking along the dry ground, leaves crunching under your feet.

"That sounds nice. I can't believe I've never been here," you tell him incredulously, swinging your hands. "It's so gorgeous. And is it just me, or is the air here like, super crisp?" Harry chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"I don't think it's just you, poppet. We're finally away from all that L.A. smog, can take some nice, deep breaths. This will be great for m'asthma." You laugh, and a comfortable silence falls between you. Occasionally, Harry will say, "Look at tha' bird!" or "That's the biggest tree 've seen in my life!" but you walk in silence, for the most part, enjoying each other's company.

"Do you think we should turn back?" you ask your boyfriend, stopping to look back in the direction you came from. "We've been walkin' for a minute. I don't think we should venture too far from the car." You were starting to grow tired and weren't in the right shoes for walking much longer.

"Yeah, let's get back and get that tent set up. Also gettin' kind of hungry," Harry tells you, turning you back around in the direction you'd come from. "How's tea and eggs sound?"

⋆⋆⋆

"Harry, you've got to be fuckin' kidding me!"

"Y/N, I swear I packed it! It has to be somewhere in here!"

"We've emptied out the entire car, Harry!"

Upon returning to the campsite, your boyfriend was excited to get the tent out of the car, so you could "really get this camping trip started," as he said. Yet, when he went in the trunk of his car to retrieve the tent, it was nowhere to be found. Neither one of you panicked at first, figuring he might've squeezed it in the backseat instead, as the trunk was pretty full. It wasn't there, either. Now, your suitcases and cooler was laid out around the car, but the tent was nowhere to be found. He runs his fingers in frustration through his hair, tapping his foot while he contemplates calling one of his assistants and asking her to bring it to him.

"Harry, don't make her do that. You already told her she could have the weekend off. It's not her fault you forgot it," you scold, digging your shoe's toe into the dirt. "We can just sleep in the car."

"That's so uncomfortable," he mewls, placing your suitcases back into the car. "Maybe we should just go home. We're not off to a very good start, maybe it's a sign?"

"No way, H. I've already called off work to come here with you, we're staying," you insist, reaching back into the car to grab the electric tea kettle you've bought. "Let's get a little breakfast in our stomachs and then go see that waterfall, how's that sound?" Harry gives you a reluctant look but agrees, reaching in the cooler to grab the carton of eggs you've brought along. He grabs the small skillet, albeit your favorite one that you told him not to bring here, and grabs a small charcoal bag to light the grill.

"Have yeh got a lighter on ya?" Harry asks, walking over to the small grill beside the picnic table. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Me? You didn't ask me to bring it! Are you telling me we can't even light the grill now?" You couldn't believe everything that could go wrong on your camping trip was going wrong, but now it seemed like you wouldn't even be able to prepare hot meals for the next two days.

"Yes, I did, Y/N," Harry argues back calmly, not wanting to raise his voice. "Remember? I bought that long one so it would be easier to use. Said, 'Babe, make sure yeh grab the lighter off the counter.'" You think for a moment and then shake your head, sure Harry did, in fact, not tell you to grab the lighter, and he was just trying to push the blame to you.

"Now what? We can't cook the meat or vegetables all because you couldn't remember to bring the lighter," you tell him sharply, feeling yourself growing more annoyed by the second. You were incredibly frustrated because you weren't keen on the idea of camping in the first place, but you came along anyway, not expecting so many things to go wrong.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, a thing he does every time things start getting heated between the two of you because he hates fighting. "Well, it's at home, and there's not much we can do about it, so 'm sorry for pointin' fingers at you. Did we bring anything we can snack on that doesn't require cooking?" You rummage around in the cooler and find a box of cheese, some cold cuts, a loaf of french bread, and a couple bottles of wine.

"Hows some cheese, bread, and meat sound? We can make little sandwiches," you tell him, pulling out the food. "Maybe some wine?"

Harry chuckles, walking over to you. "Y/N, it's not even 10 am."

"We're on vacation, aren't we?"

He shrugs, walking over to you to grab the bottle of wine. You grab plates, napkins, and a sheet you bought to double as a tablecloth, laying it out atop the picnic table. "'M actually starving," he calls to you from beside the car, reaching to grab two wine glasses. "Can't wait to eat this."

You cut into the loaf of french bread and cheese and add slices of salami and ham, quickly assembling mini sandwiches for you and Harry. "These look good, don't they?" you ask him, half teasing, half-serious. You hand him his sandwich, and he grins, grabbing it from you.

"Looks delicious, Y/N, thank you. Cheers," he gently taps his sandwich against yours, and you both take big bites, moaning at your first taste of food all day. "Want some wine now?" He asks, pouring you each full glasses. He slides the glass in front of you and you grab it, taking a long sip.

"S'good. Where'd you get this one from?" you question, taking another bite from your sandwich.

"Italy," he responds sheepishly, tasting it himself. "I know how to pick a bottle of wine, don't I?"

You giggle at your boyfriend's subtle bragging, continuing to eat your breakfast. You realized that there was no way you and Harry could comfortably spend the whole weekend here camping. You'd most likely have to call it quits before it got dark. However, you were still glad you'd get to spend time with your boyfriend outdoors, eating "emergency sandwiches" and sipping on a 500 dollar bottle of wine.

⋆⋆⋆

"Never have I ever had a one night stand," you say loudly, giggling in the process. You and Harry were both absolutely plastered, having already finished one bottle of wine and working on the second. You've decided to play a good old fashioned game of Never Have I Ever, and it was getting more raunchy the drunker the two of you became. Harry narrows his eyes at you and takes a swig out of the bottle of wine, shaking his head.

"You already know 've had one because I've told yeh about it before, yeh lil' cheater," he exclaims, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Here's one. Never have I ever shagged in the backseat of a car." You choke on your wine, widening your eyes at him.

"You actually think I've done that? How kinky do you think I am?" you smack him on his arm, laughing at his ridiculous statement. Harry doesn't say anything, running his finger along the rim of his wine glass.

"Here's a more specific one," he leans closer to you, and you can smell the wine on his warm breath. "Never have I ever shagged in the back of my car, in the middle of the woods, while on a camping trip with my girlfriend." His hand goes to rest on your thigh, and you swallow thickly.

"Thought you wanted to go see that waterfall?" you ask him, your words jumbling together slightly. Harry turns to face you, so his legs are on either side of the bench, and he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"Don't care much for the waterfall when 've got a beautiful woman sat in front of me," he blurts, sucking on the underside of your jaw.

"What d'you want then?" you challenge, tilting your head slightly, so Harry is better positioned to place kisses to your jaw.

"Want you," he responds simply, grabbing your hand and placing it over his growing bulge. "Y'know how wine gets me goin', love." You hum in agreement, palming him through his trousers.

"I know," you respond breathlessly, pulling away from him to down the rest of your wine. "Why don't we go to the car then?" Harry gives you a surprised look, a dopey smile on his face.

"So we're really doin' this then?" He asks, standing up from the picnic table and holding his hand out for you to grab.

"No one's around, why not?" You knew that your sexual boldness came from all the wine you'd consumed, but at that moment, you didn't think there was anything you wanted more in the world than your boyfriend's cock down your throat. "Need to taste you." Harry groans, leading you hastily toward the car. You both stumble to get there in your intoxicated stupor but make it in one piece, giggling and clinging onto one another.

"After you, m' lady," he opens the backseat and curtsies, causing you to both erupt into a fit of giggles. You clamber into the backseat, scooting all the way to the other side so Harry could climb in after you. He shuts the door, and you sit in silence for a minute, catching your breaths. "Tight squeeze back here, yeah?"

"Yeah," you readjust your body, so your back is against the door, and your legs are over Harry's lap. "How are we gonna do this?"

Harry's quirks an eyebrow at you, undoing the button on his pants. "Yeh really wanna just straight into it, don't yeh, minx?" You nod, readjusting your position, so you're now on your knees, having to crane your neck slightly, so you're not hitting the car's roof.

"Let me taste you," you offer, seeing his hard cock straining to get out the confines of his tight clothing. He wordlessly nods and lifts his hips, tugging his pants down to his mid-thigh. He's not as hard as he can get, maybe due to the amount of wine he's consumed, but you know he's nearly there. You reach over to grab him, hands shaking slightly. "Can't believe we're doing this in the middle of the woods. Makes it even hotter, though."

Harry's head falls against the back seat's headrest as you flick your tongue out to capture the drop of pre-cum that was beginning to run down the side of his head. "Take me in y' mouth, Y/N. What are yeh waiting for?"

You place your hands on his thighs and lower your mouth onto his cock, taking him almost entirely in your warm mouth. Harry lets out a loud groan, not even bothering to quiet his sounds of pleasure since he knew no one was anywhere nearby. You come back up for air and lick your lips, giving him a sultry look. "You mean like that?" Harry grips the back of your head and roughly pushes you back down onto him, not in the mood for your teasing.

"Don't be cheeky now, lovie," he warns, bucking his hips up roughly to fuck your mouth. "Yeh want me to help you cum later, don't yeh?" You moan around his cock, not wanting to answer him, so you don't break the rhythm you were going at. As your sex life with Harry grew more adventurous throughout your relationship, you've only gotten better at deepthroating him, able to get him close to his orgasm in minutes. You always joked between the two of you that giving him head was one of your greatest talents, and of course, he never disagreed with that sentiment. You come up from his cock to take another breath, inhaling deeply through your nostrils. Harry immediately pushes you back down onto him without saying anything. He begins thrusting into you with even more vigor than before, and you know he's almost there. "Y/N, 'm gonna cum—"

You pull off Harry's mouth with a loud plop!, lifting up your dress and shoving your underwear to the side. "Can I ride you?" you ask sweetly, already situating yourself over him. Your boyfriend nods, completely flustered from being pushed so close to his orgasm, and then denied the opportunity to cum.

"S'course," he answers with a shaky breath. "C'mere." He grabs your waist and guides you onto his length, helping you sink down slowly. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him deep within you. Every ridge, every pulse, the warmth— it makes you feel completely feral. "That's a good girl, Y/N. Takin' my cock like it's nothing, aren't yeh? This is easy for you, hmm?"

You nod against his shoulder, starting to bounce around slowly on him. "So easy, H. Fit inside me so well," you moan, squeezing your eyes shut. "Feels fuckin' incredible, stretchin' me out like this." Harry squeezes onto your sides, leaving bruises in the shapes of his fingers. Harry places a kiss against his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"You like tha', Y/N? Such a dirty girl, lettin' me fuck ya in the back of my car like this. Kinky lil' thing, you are, pet," he mutters, thrusting his hips up as you slam yourself down to meet him. You nod, moving your hips in a gyrating motion.

"Love it, H. Fuckin' into me so well, fuck," you let out a particularly loud cry when Harry repositions you slightly, hitting your g-spot int he new position he has you in. "Don't stop please, keep going." You urge your boyfriend, throwing your head back. It's incredibly hot in the car, and you realize that maybe you should've cracked open a few windows before starting, but there was no way you're going to stop now to tell him that, not when you were this close.

"Y/N, I'm gonna cum," he cries out, his breathing becoming labored. "Let me have yeh in another position, please, 'm so fuckin' close."

"There's no room," you choke out, squeezing down on him. Harry moans loudly, muttering a quiet "shit" under his breath. He lifts you off of him and lays you down across the backseat, bending your knees up to your chest while he situates himself in between your legs. It's cramped and uncomfortable and hot, but you're so close, just a few thrusts away from reaching your high.

"Put your legs over my shoulders," he demands, resting on hand on the car's headrest while the other grips your breast. You nod and place your legs on either side of his shoulders, now being able to feel him in a completely different way. He re-enters you, so much deeper than before, and you swear you see stars. "Fuckin' hell, Y/N. Love your tight pussy, babe. All fo' me, yeah?"

"All for you, baby," you cry, gripping onto his broad shoulders. "'M gonna cum now, let me cum." You're a begging, writhing mess beneath him, squeezing down on his cock.

"Do tha' again," he asks, his rhythm becoming sloppy and hurried, just wanting to get the two of you off. "I'm almost there too, babe, squeeze 'round my cock again like you just did."

You clench around Harry and he lets his head hang, squeezing onto your breast even harder. "'M cummin', Y/N," he announces immediately before releasing inside you, his warm load coating your spongy walls. Your bite your lip and squeeze around him again, the coil in your abdomen becoming tighter as you quickly approach your peak shortly after he reaches his. You know Harry is exhausted, but he doesn't stop, never wanting to leave you hanging. He reaches in between your bodies and rubs quick circles on your clit with the hand that's gripping the headrest and flicks your nipples with the other hand. "Come on, love. Can feel how close you are, I know you're nearly there."

Harry spanks your clit while increasing his speed, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your vision going hazy. You feel like you're underwater— his voice sounds muffled and a little far away, and that's how you know the orgasm was good. Your eyes are still shut, and you feel him slowly pull out, trying not to get his seed all over the backseat of his car. After coming down from your high, you open your eyes, a blissed-out smile on your face. "That was incredible." You let out a quiet chuckle, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead. "Can you open the door? I can hardly breathe in here."

Harry laughs and slowly sits up, opening the door and inhaling the cold morning air. The car's windows were completely fogged up, and you're happy no one was walking by because if they did, they'd definitely know what the two of you had gotten into. "Guess you can't say you've never fucked in the backseat of a car before anymore."

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 5

A/N: I loved writing this chapter! Let me know what you think! Remember, this story is being written if there is demand for it, so feel free to message me! I’ve loved hearing some of your theories and wishes for the characters as the story develops. It definitely helps give me some inspiration! Enjoy!

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR]

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CHAPTER FIVE

Because they had such an early dinner, it was only 6 PM by the time everyone had finished eating, cleaning up their dishes, and taken showers. Kate and Elizabeth chatted in Elizabeth’s room for a bit before they decided to go downstairs. When they entered the parlor room most of their friends were already there. Harry, Matt, and Jimmy stood near the fire, talking with beers in hand, while Daisy and Celeste sat on opposite couches, shuffling the ‘Spill It’ cards. Elizabeth and Kate each took the empty armchairs when Lewis and Edward cautiously walked in carrying four large glasses each, all filled with alcohol.

“Eight drinks? But there’s nine of us playing,” Celeste noticed, grabbing the boys’ attention.

They all took a seat except for Jimmy who shook his head and slowly started making his way out of the room, “No, I’m not playing. Every time we play this game either a fight breaks out from that one damn card, or there’s some weird sexual tension. And since my girlfriend isn’t here to help me with either of those scenarios, if you know what I mean,” he wiggled his eyebrows indicatively, “I’m just gonna watch a movie with Heather and Owen.”

A few people called after him, wanting him to stay, but he was gone from sight. He definitely wasn’t wrong. There were over one hundred cards in the deck that had been added in over the years, so it wasn’t often that they played the whole deck. There were a lot of cards in there that got pretty crude. Most of them were just silly, but there was one card in particular that everyone hated to get. It wasn’t even that crazy of a dare card, but it somehow always managed to bring on absolutely insane fights when played. They always talked about just getting rid of that card, but never got around to it. 

Everyone did their best to explain the game to Harry. There was a shuffled deck of cards with five categories throughout. In a clockwise rotation, starting with the youngest person, one player at a time picks up the top card. Depending on the category, either the player will answer the question or the entire group will. The amount of sips of alcohol each player has to take is on the card. The person who drinks the least wins. Harry got the gist and would figure it out as they went along. 

Since Daisy was the youngest, she would start first and would continue to Matt, then Elizabeth, Kate, Lewis, Celeste, Edward, and Harry last before it was Daisy’s turn again. 

“Hold on! Before we start,” Edward interjected, “Just to be clear: The bet we had earlier is not being paused while we play this game. Any hookups during this counts.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement. Elizabeth caught Harry’s eyes, wiggling her eyebrows as if to say ‘let the fun begin’, which made Harry blow air out of his nose in a muffled laugh and smile broadly.

Daisy reached for the first card and said, “Oh we’re starting off with a boring one. The category is WHOEVER,” she informed and said, “Whoever had the longest relationship takes one sip.”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Kate and Lewis, grinning, who both laughed and took a sip from their drinks.

Matt was next. He picked a card and said, “NEVER HAVE I EVER. - So everyone participates in this,” he informed Harry and read aloud, “Never have I ever had sexual desires that I would not discuss with my partner. Take one sip.”

Laughter ensued when they all looked around the room. Everyone except Matt, Lewis, and Daisy had taken a sip. Lewis looked at his bride in disbelief, “What? You have?...We’ll discuss later,” he flirted, making Kate giggle.

Daisy interjected, “If it’s a threesome I’ll join!”

“Of course you will,” Celeste teased.

Elizabeth giggled and read her card, “TRUTH - When did you have your first kiss? Describe it and take one sip. If the person you had your first kiss with is playing, take two sips and SPILL.”

Kate, Matt, Harry, and Celeste burst into tears, crying, “I remember this!”

Elizabeth took one sip and tried to explain to her college friends as the rest of them tried not to lose it, “Okay, well firstly he’s not here, unfortunately. His name was Tom. He was a very sweet boy. I was fourteen and we were at a party that Jimmy threw when his parents weren’t home. It was my first game of spin the bottle and we’ll just say that it was a very….memorable kiss.”

“Yeah because he shoved his tongue halfway down your throat! You choked on it!” Kate roared with laughter, “You almost died!”

Harry flicked a tear that was rolling down his cheek as he managed to get out, “I have never seen so much spit in my entire life! The amount of spit on that red shirt you wore looked like you had poured your drink all down the front!” which just made everyone laugh more. 

Once everyone calmed down they continued playing. Kate’s card was ‘MOST LIKELY TO - Choose chicken nuggets over sex’. They all agreed on Edward to drink. Lewis also pulled a MOST LIKELY TO card, reading ‘have an affair with a married man/woman’, which Daisy drank to. Celeste was dared to venmo her EX $1.00 for “being a fucking loser” which everyone found quite entertaining as she went on a rant about how it was very fitting because he happened to be a fucking loser, and she had to take two sips. Edward’s card was a dare to whisper the naughtiest things he could think of into the player to his right’s ear for thirty seconds, which happened to be Harry. He had to take one sip, but if he managed to make Harry blush, Harry had to take a sip as well.

Harry’s facial expressions changed wildly throughout the thirty seconds as Edward whispered between cackles. Sure enough, a bright shade of red flushed Harry’s cheeks.

“Bloody hell, Edward,” Harry laughed, fanning himself, “Take me on a date first, will ya?” Harry took a sip of his drink and reached for a card while everyone laughed. He cleared his throat, “Alright, let’s see. My card says, TRUTH - Have you ever had a crush on someone in this room? If so, take one sip for every person mentioned. Spill it.” Harry put his card down and looked vaguely around the room at everyone before staring at Lewis and holding eye contact.

“Go on, man,” Lewis smirked, knowingly, as everyone looked between both Lewis and Harry, unsure of what was going on.

“Shit,” Harry smiled nervously, shaking his head and taking one sip of his drink, half the room taken aback.

“Who?” Celeste demanded, eager eyes staring at him and darting around the room.

Elizabeth’s heart started to thump in her chest. Before this moment, she never would have guessed it was coming, but for some reason she knew. Maybe Kate’s years of nagging her about Harry had finally sunk in. It was rare that her best friend was wrong, after all. Elizabeth’s eyes practically bore holes into Harry’s face, trying to see if she could manage to grab his attention before he spoke. But he never looked up at her. He kept his gaze low, avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

“Alright, alright,” he still had his nervous smile, “I might have had a tiny crush on Lizzy back in the day.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly, thinking ‘dammit, Kate was right the whole time’, when Lewis scoffed, “You talked about her every day, bro!”

To which Kate gasped and smacked her husband, “You never told me that! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Bro code, babe,” Lewis whispered back.

“Okay, so….a big crush,” Harry admitted, cheeks getting more red and still holding his uncomfortable smile as everyone started to look in between him and Elizabeth. “It’s fine! We’re all adults now! Let’s carry on with the game.” He finished, sitting back in his chair.

Elizabeth looked over at Kate who shot her a quick ‘I told you so’ face, before turning her attention back to Harry, waiting for him to look up at her. Okay, so he used to like her. No big deal. Harry was right, they’re adults now. A lot of time has passed. There’s no reason to fuss over it now. Although, the realization that Harry had a crush on her in school somehow made her feel more comforted. She always wondered why the relationship they had when they were teenagers was so strong. They had such a wild connection back then. Now it made sense; it was because they both had a crush on each other.

Harry finally caught her eye and he stared at her, waiting for some kind of facial response. Elizabeth’s expression softened, and to lighten the tension between them she shook her head, imitating disbelief, and mouthed ‘unbelievable’. Harry relaxed, smirking at her and shrugging his shoulders.

Daisy’s next card was a dare to kiss everyone in the room and to take two sips of her drink. Matt and Edward started cackling, realizing that this meant she would basically lose the bet. Although she seemed annoyed at first, it didn’t take long for a smile to be plastered on her face as she went around the room and planted kisses on everyone’s lips, lingering on Harry a little longer than she had with anyone else, to the point where Kate had to cough to get her to back off. She sat back down, looking pleased with herself. Elizabeth felt a slight pang of annoyance until she felt Kate’s reassuring hand on hers.

It was Matt’s turn. “MOST LIKELY TO - Accidentally kill someone. Well, that’s me, innit?” He chuckled to himself, taking a sip.

Elizabeth took her turn next and read, “TRUTH - What’s the worst lie you ever told your parents? One sip.” After a minute of thought she took a sip and said, “Probably when I told them I was sleeping over Kate’s house when Kate, Lewis, Harry and I stole Mrs. Hamilton’s car to go to the beach.” The other three sat up, remembering what happened as she continued, starting to giggle at the memory, “We were hours away from home when it broke down on the side of the road and only 30 minutes from the beach, so instead of calling one of our parents or roadside assistance, we used the rest of the money we had to take a bus to the beach and then hitch-hiked home all before any of our parents noticed. We told our parents that we didn’t know what happened to Lewis’ mom’s car and that it must have just been stolen.”

“Holy shit!” Lewis snickered, “My mom was pissed. I’m pretty sure she knew we stole it when they found it the next day on the side of the road filled with crisps and candy. That whole experience was easily the most terrified I have been in my entire life.”

“Yeah, do you remember the man that gave us a lift home? He was scary,” Harry shuttered at the thought.

Kate read her card. “It’s a Never Have I Ever, so we’ll go around the room,” she informed, “NEVER HAVE I EVER - Had sexual fantasies about anyone in the room. Spill and take one sip for every person you mention.”

Eager muttering ensued and just as Kate was about to speak, Daisy voiced, “Ok, can us ladies just agree that we’ve all had at least one sexual fantasy about Harry at one point or another? I mean, come on!” she gestured towards him, making him blush behind a smile again.

Kate rolled her eyes and shrugged, admitting, “Okay, yeah. Harry, I guess. And obviously Lewis,” and she took two sips.

Lewis feigned surprise and shook a joking finger at Harry, “Listen, man. She’s a married woman now!” Which made Harry throw his hands up, jokingly defeated. Lewis laughed in response and said, “Honestly the only person I’ve ever fantasized about in this room is my wife,” he took one sip of his drink, earning a kiss from Kate.

Celeste took two sips and rolled her eyes, “Harry and Edward.”

Edward winked at her before thinking and taking three sips, “Celeste, Daisy, and Elizabeth.” 

Harry took one sip and said, “Lizzy.” When he saw Elizabeth’s slightly stunned expression he shot back, teasingly, “Don’t act so surprised! I just admitted that I used to like you! I was a horny teenager!” 

Everyone laughed as Elizabeth pursed her lips and nodded, “True.”

“I’ve fantasized about everyone here,” Daisy confessed, taking seven sips from her drink.

“Let me think…” Matt said, tapping his chin, “Daisy and, well, obviously Elizabeth. Especially after that kiss,” he added and winked tauntingly at her, taking two sips.

Elizabeth snorted, “That’s funny, because I fantasized about you until we had that kiss.”

“What? What was wrong with my kiss?” Edward snapped in her direction.

Elizabeth laughed and continued, “Yeah, Matt and Harry,” she said matter-of-factly before taking two sips of her drinks. When she saw the look of shock on Harry’s face she mocked him and said, “Don’t act surprised! I was a horny teenager.”

While Lewis, Celeste, and Edward took their turn, Harry and Elizabeth kept stealing glances at each other. Harry mimicked her, mouthing ‘unbelievable’  while shaking his head and winking at her.

It was finally Harry’s turn again. He picked up the card and read in his deep voice, “DARE - Let the player to your left pick one person to quarantine with for the remainder of the night with no other human contact. During this time you must each divulge a secret that you’ve been hiding from the other person. You must start now. If you make it, you win the game! Spend your time wisely. Three sips each.”

Everyone gasped as he read the card. Groans among the group sounded, “I can’t believe he picked that card on his first time playing this game!” and “I thought that card was gone for good. I haven’t seen it picked in forever!”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion while everyone turned their attention to Edward, who was in charge of picking someone to go with him, shouting out suggestions on who to choose. 

“Dude, pick Lizzy!” Lewis shouted.

“He can’t pick Lizzy, that’s a cursed card! What if they have a huge fight or something?” cried Kate

Matt scoffed, “It’s a card! The only reason it always ended badly was because the person who drew the card was always a piece of shit. Besides, so what if the card is cursed and they fight? They’ve gone nearly ten years without speaking already, what difference does it make now? I think it’d be more entertaining if it were Daisy to go with him.” 

Kate shot him dagger eyes as Daisy piped up, “I’ll take one for the team!” winking at Harry.

Elizabeth was stunned by what Matt said and she immediately turned her head towards Harry to see the look of disappointment on his face before being replaced with a forced smile at Daisy. Elizabeth definitely didn’t want Harry to be trapped in a room with Daisy all night; she knew what would go down if they did. She was suddenly aware that she was feeling jealous at the idea of Harry with someone else, and that scared her. Elizabeth did not want to crush on Harry Styles again; it turned out poorly the last time she did. Still, she thought that what Matt had said was quite harsh. She and Harry had just started getting close again, and Matt knew how Elizabeth felt the last time that ended. Why would he want Elizabeth to lose her friend again?

“Can’t he just pick another card?” Elizabeth asked before being shot down by Edward.

Celeste spoke, “Okay, but I think I should also mention that if you do pick Lizzy, her and Harry are forced to stay in a room together for hours, meaning there’s a good chance that they both would lose the bet.”

“Mhmm...Good point,” Edward nodded, sitting up straight.

“Um, excuse me? Nowhere on that card does it say we have to kiss!” Elizabeth pointed out.

“Sorry, Elizabeth,” Edward said, “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. I choose you!”

Lewis reminded them of what the card meant, “To be clear, your time ends at midnight. You have to stay together at all times; that means the bathroom, too. You must have no contact with another person. No phones, either. One good secret needs to be shared by the two of you. If you fail to finish your isolation, or we find out that you don’t share a secret, then you both lose the game and owe the group a months-worth of drinks, which I will remind you that we drink a lot! May the odds be ever in your favor,” He finished, giving them a joking salute while everyone else held up their drinks.

“Is it really still until midnight?” Elizabeth asked, “We usually play this game so much later in the evening. The card is only meant to be for two hours tops. Harry and I will be more than double that.” Elizabeth was waved off with shouts of, ‘it’s the rule!’ 

Harry grinned over at Elizabeth, raising his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders, and standing up with a hand outstretched for her, “Alright, shall we?”

Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh, amused by everyone’s reactions, and slightly relieved that she was picked over Daisy. Taking Harry’s hand, she stood up. “Alright. It’s you and me for the rest of the night, but let’s go outside for now, so no one can listen in.”

“Kinky,” Celeste snickered, “But just remember when you come back inside you have to go straight to a room. We can’t see you.”

Harry placed a guiding hand on the small of Elizabeth’s back, leading her out of the room and towards the patio.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Edward called after them.

Harry looked down at her and laughed as she yelled back, “Shut the fuck up!”

Four hours alone with Harry? And they each had to share a secret with each other? Elizabeth didn’t even know if she had a secret that she’d been keeping from Harry. At first Elizabeth was excited at the idea of spending four hours alone with Harry. But, honestly, the further down the lawn they went the more nervous Elizabeth got. That card did have a dark history. She couldn’t think of a single friendship that went unscathed by the end of it. Half of the people that pulled that card broke before the time was up and gave each other the silent treatment for days or weeks at a time. The other half stopped talking for good. Even if what Matt said was true, there’s a lot of bad things associated with this card now. Is it possible that the card really was cursed?

KEEP READING

[harrysdimplles]

consequences

Warnings: bad written smut, unresolved feelings and abandonment issues acting out.

the one where best friend! Harry walks in on something he wasn't ever supposed to see, and it makes it impossible for him to ignore what he's always wanted.

That was a bad idea. A really fucking terrible one, she knew that for a fact, but as long as bad decisions went, that one would at least mean she got some release.

As long as the girl found it in herself to actually do more than roll around in this huge bed, preferably sometime before her best friend came home.

She would die before she explained any of this to Harry, simple as that. 

I mean, there was no good way to tell your best friend you've decided to try and touch yourself for the first time in his bed. Best case scenario, he would get a good laugh out of her slightly inebriated, jealousy fueled  train of thought and she would never be able to look him in the eye ever again.

He could also start seeing her as a stalker, which wouldn't be half as bad as the worst outcome to this mess: that little stunt might be the thing that convinces Harry all those articles online were right and his silly, young best friend is in love with him. 

She had always been, but that didn't mean he could ever find out about it 

He was the Harry Styles, while Y/N...Y/N was just a silly virgin who got so mad and frustrated over the way he had been all over another one of those perfect girls at the party she smuggled out a bottle of white wine to end up here, about to do this.

Still, it beat crying herself to sleep, right?

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Wrong. 

Turned out getting off when she had no clue what she was doing was hard, even with her head spinning from the way her face was smudged into his pillow, her hips rolling at their own accord, humping the thick comforter as if her life depended on it.

"Babe?" for a moment or two, the girl told herself she was hearing things, that her mind had resorted to memories of his voice to try and get her to cum already, but then she heard his steps getting closer "what've  yeh got there?" he asked, warm hands touching her back until her whimper made him freeze, finally realizing what was going on.

"Harry.." his name was a plead and an apology rolled into one, tears picking at the back of her eyes, frustration making her dizzy. "It hurts" that was true, she was winded so tight not even the fact that he was right there made her stop mulling his matress like a mad woman, her face burning from embarrassment and just sheer need. "make it stop, please. Need yeh to tell me how"

××××××××××

He was trapped in a dream.  With fingers pulling at his brown locks with more and more force as each second tackled down, Harry convinced himself that scene, whatever it was, couldn't be real.

There was no way in hell Y/N was begging him for what he thought she was, even if he could see her small hand dipped into her panties, perky bum practically on display now that the one warn out t-shirt of his she always slept in had huddled up on her fussing around.

"Harry? I'm sorry...I...please don't be mad" her words were muffled by the pillows and the tears, her hair sticking out when Y/N crained her neck to get a look at him, and the singer sent out a prayer to whoever was listening that his face wasn't showing where his mind wanted to go.

That was Y/N. His best friend. He felt like a creep for being turned on by how desperate she seemed to be at that moment.

Then again, he had felt like a jerk all night, so what was new? He knew she would be pissed when that girl approached them at the bar, could read it in her eyes even in a dark room, but he let the blond beauty have a go at wooing him anyway.

Maybe this, right here, was his punishment. Because he couldn't. He wanted to, gosh, he was dying to drop to his knees right then and there, pull her body to the end of the mattress and show her how good it could be, but he wouldn't

"Babe, no" swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry started over "Not mad. Just... surprised" going against all and any reason, he sat down at the tip of the bed, tangling his hands on her hair when the whimpering began, knowing the girl needed comforting. "It's ok, lovey... just keep going huh. You're almost there" fuck it, he could smell it this close, that heady mix of her perfume and sex, and it was making him harder than anything Blake tried on the dance floor.

"Can't...H, I can't"

"Yeh..want me to leave?" he should have done it the moment he realized what she was doing, but that girl was like a damn siren for him...and that could as well be as close as having her he would ever get.

"No!" the word grew on the silence of the room, her wincing when she stopped probing at her folds to sit up, grabbing his arm "That's not...Harry, please" his attention was in her glistening fingers, coated in her taste, so Harry didn't notice Y/N moving, not until she was close, too close "Please"

"Lovey, we can't." denying her was the worst feeling ever, but she was young, horny to the point where she was a bit out of it, and way too important to him to the musician to risk it.

"I want to. I need it, Harry." leaning over she started pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, up to his jaw and Harry grabbed her hips, needing to ground himself as his dick hardened further on his pants "Need you to give it to me" she whispered, so close they were breathing the same air by now

"Fuck baby..." what should he do? He couldn't have sex with her, but leaving her hanging would be almost cruel right? She was ready and close, he could tell...and she trusted him enough to ask for it when she was so vulnerable. If he did it right, he wouldn't have to do much of anything at all, so Y/N wouldn't feel like she had to distance herself after this.

He was pretty sure he couldn't cope with having her leave him.  Hell, his fear of losing this girl was the sole reason he tried his best to hide how utterly in love with her he was...

"Kitten, look at me" the assertive tone meant she stopped russling for a second, big eyes staring back at him "Can I kiss you first?" this had to be gentle. He had to.  A nod, and then she surged forward, plump lips on his, and Harry stopped fighting himself: winding his hand on her hair, he took control of the kiss, licking at her bottom lip until she opened up to him, her tongue brushing his...

Then it was all her: the way she smelled, the faint taste of wine in her tongue, the way his hands fit around her body. In that moment, the world simply didn't exist: Harry was drowning on Y/N, with no intention of ever coming up for air.

They made out for a bit, her tiny hands pulling at his hair every time she thought he was about to pull back, a grin on his lips as he let his mouth dive down to nip at her neck, shoulders and the spam of her collarbones, trying to get them both some room to breath.

By the time the musician felt her relax on top of him, his dick was so neglected it could burst at any second, but he was too busy laying her down and finally getting rid of the shirt covering her body to think of himself: his eyes were drinking in the expanse of smooth skin from her clavicle, down to the mounts of her breasts, nipples perky and hardening as soon as air hit them, the soft pudge of tummy and finally, the blue knickers with an inviting damp patch on them

"Yer so pretty, love" the words were slurred together as Harry let his fingers roam around her belly, toying with the hem of her panties while Y/N bit on her lips, her hands rolling into fists in the sheets. So responsive, she was. "I could make yeh tell me what got you so worked up, but I don't think you can wait that long"  her body jerked off the bed when his fingers slid down, pressing against the cloth, sliding on her folds with ease "proper soaked too" a moan ripped through her when he pulled the fabric to the side, coating his digit on her wetness, thumbing at her hard nub...this wouldn't take much longer. "It's good, innit?" talking to her was a good distraction as he rubbed the pads of his fingers all over her soaking walls, coming down to put his lips on her skin as he slid a digit inside, being trapped in there instantly "I've got yeh, baby" he murmured, his other hand holding her legs apart when she cried out once he pulled back the first time.

Harry was enchanted. There was no other way to describe the feeling washing over him as the man pumped his fingers, eyes trained on her for his every move, watching as she chased down the pleasure she wanted so badly.

Y/N screamed when she came, closing in around him as the musician curled his hand just right to hit that sweet spot within her, her juices dripping down on him, his mouth sucking a bruise on the side of her hips as he rutted against the bed, marking her in the only way he could.

Fuck it, she was gorgeous like that. Absolutely perfect, with her hair sprawled out on his pillows, lips red and bruised from their kisses and her mewling on them, his hand in between her thighs...

"You're...hard" her voice was horse, eyes glistening from the high of it, and Harry pulled back slowly when she winced from being sensitive.

"That's right, kitten" he really needed to get out of those jeans, but he couldn't force himself to look away from the mess sitting at the inside of her thighs. Once he remembered how to move, maybe Harry would let himself pull one out to the memory of that.

"Don't you have to....do something?" there she was, then. The girl who blushed at the smallest mention of sex.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna deal with it in a second" brushing his lips on hers one last time, Harry told himself it was time to give her some privacy.

"Can I see it?" the question came at the same time Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, legs brushing his where he kneeled on the bed. "Show me, Har"

She didn't need to ask twice: before he could talk himself out of it, Harry was pushing his clothes out of the way like his skin was caught on fire, ringed fingers wrapping around his shaft with earnest, quickly traveling up and down, the hunger in her eyes driving him mad. All it took was a few strokes, and then he was cumming with a choked version of her name on his lips, painting her belly with himself.

He had to admit reality beat all of his dirty fantasies about her.

Which meant now he had more than one mess to clean up, because there was no way in hell anyone else would have her like that.

He wouldn't allow it.

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute oneshot in which two nerds fall for each other. Also, as usual, part of it devolves into utter chaos :) (Rating T, fluff fluff fluff + humour, ~9k words) - written for my kindness war with @nutbrain 💖💖 Take that! I do hope you enjoy it and I hope you also know how much I adore you. Please never change 💗

.

Mute raises an unimpressed brow. When Sledge told him he was about to meet their ‘chemistry whiz’ who apparently matched Mute’s own penchant for anything science, he’d pictured something…

Well, not something like this. Not an aged goon too short for the t-shirt he’s wearing (yet filling out the sleeves nicely nonetheless), not someone folded onto his chair like an ape, and certainly not someone with a haircut better suited for the military than a lab. He’s an odd mix of latent energy, smug grin and laziness, and Mute immediately decides not to like this show-off.

He’s always been picky and so far it’s served him well – while other friend groups publicly fought out private issues, complained about betrayal, miscommunication, ignorance, Mute sat in his corner with his one or maybe two friends and simply watched. Focusing on his own success, he’s always fared better than if he tried to get along with those around him, and the results don’t lie: mid-20s, and he’s just been recruited into one of the world’s best special forces. He works well enough in a team and is aware his superiors can’t demand more than that, even if Aurelia expressed the wish for him to socialise more than he’s used to. Her right-hand man briefly tried to bond with Mute over their shared heritage but backed off as soon as he earned a carefully blank stare. He knows more than he lets on, Six does as well, but for now they’re leaving Mute be.

Going by his gut feeling, trusting his first impression has rarely failed him, and so he fells his judgement while the hoodie-clad thug in front of him greets him cheerfully. “How ya, nice to meet you, I’m told you can backseat engineer a tad and help me with my project. Been a right bastard recently, innit?”

Mute blinks. Self-centred, he writes on his mental list, outgoing – the horror! –, big mouth, carefree. None of the bullet points make him want to spend more time in this guy’s presence than necessary. It doesn’t help that it’s entirely unclear who or what has been a right bastard, whether it’s the project, the dude, maybe Mute himself, who knows? He sounds like one of Mute’s former classmates who dropped out to sell weed and graffiti abandoned stations at night. “Yes”, he replies hesitantly to buy time. “So… what is it you’re working on?”

In an entirely misguided attempt at getting Mute settled in at the base, Sledge has spent most of the day sending him back and forth between operators with increasingly mundane tasks which Mute identified much too late as intended conversation starters which usually resulted in two lines of awkward small talk and a task done mostly in silence. He nearly refused to step anywhere near this last SAS member but when Sledge mentioned the magical word science, Mute’s interest was piqued. Seems like this will be just another disappointment, however, because this schoolyard bully surely isn’t -

“A Lewisite derivative less prone to hydrolysis and ideally as long-lasting as Adamsite while being less identifiable. I don’t want those bloody terrorists shooting up on dimercaprol immediately to counter the effects.”

Well. Mute briefly considers whether he’s merely saying this to be funny, maybe learnt it by heart to impress a few birds in the pub, but when he spots the emblem of arsole on this guy’s jacket like the crest of a prestigious school, he realises that he’s dead serious. “You realise that’s illegal as fuck?”

This earns him a bright smile. “Yep!”

“So you want to poison a whole group of people”, Mute clarifies, just to be sure.

“Lethally poison them to death until they die”, the man confirms with an amused nod and again, it takes Mute a moment to register he’s not being facetious.

He throws a glance at the chicken scratch notes spread out on the table separating them. They look chaotic yet detailed, and most of all they look like a challenge. “What did you say your name was?”, he wants to know distractedly and almost misses the lazy grin spreading on the guy’s face.

~*~

Mute still doesn’t like him. Contrary to how often they hang out, Smoke certainly ranks nowhere near his favourite people to spend time with which might seem unfair but he’s just – annoying, really, won’t stop bragging or talking too loudly, keeps taking and using Mute’s stuff without asking and is much too handsy for his tastes. He never properly learnt personal boundaries and is forthcoming to the point of rudeness, at least in Mute’s opinion, but for some reason gets along well enough with most of the other operators. It baffles Mute how easily he navigates social situations, does so without a care in the world and, while Smoke gets yelled at often enough, he also gets what he wants a surprising amount. Mute was brought up to be reasonably polite, withdrawn, not a bother, and Smoke is… the opposite. He goes out and declares for everyone to hear, so someone is bound to listen. It’s enviable, in a way.

But no, Mute’s personal ideals resonate much more closely with Glaz’, and Twitch’s, and Rook’s, and together they form an alliance of loyalty and trust and meet up just to be themselves. It’s a relief not to worry about what comes out of his mouth and even more of a relief to realise he’s actually found friends in Rainbow. He doesn’t consider Smoke a friend, not really, more of a necessary evil which just won’t go away and so he’s developed coping mechanisms.

This, too, sounds harsh in his head. He has to admit there are moments when he genuinely enjoys Smoke’s company.

“Why are you so quiet, lad? Cat got your tongue?”

Compared to Thatcher, Smoke is an angel. As awe-inspiring and competent as the SAS legend is, he seems to take personal offence to Mute mostly keeping to himself and has set out to coax the social chameleon, the starry-eyed, hopeful young man out of Mute who’s been dreaming of being a part of the whole his entire life yet was too awkward to figure out how. Little does he know that under Mute’s taciturnity hides an even more misanthropic nerd who’d be happy surrounded by nothing but technology for the rest of his life. Not all who talk little have little to say, but not all who talk little secretly want to star in High School Musical.

“Mike, you must’ve spent the first twenty years of your life in silence”, Smoke pipes up from where he’s lounging on one of the other tables in the workshop, letting one of his legs dangle and playing a freemium game on his phone, “because with how you dither on, you sound like you’ve something to catch up on, now that you’ve one foot in the grave.”

Mute has to admit: he’s excellent nuisance repellent. He hides a grin as Thatcher’s attention shifts. “I certainly would spend twenty years in silence if it meant you’d have to shut up yourself.”

“Gladly, if it’d make you stop molesting the youngins. I saw you chase Manu around yesterday, she should really get a restriction order.”

“All I wanted was to help her calibrate her gun -”

“She’s bloody GIGN, granda, she was born with a Magnum in her tiny baby hands. And whatever you do, she’ll never calibrate your gun.”

Despite knowing Thatcher genuinely only wants to help, Mute leaves the two to their usual banter, content in not being a part of it: they both seem to enjoy their bickering and it’s best not to make himself a target. Besides, Smoke thoroughly relishes being insulted, if his and Mute’s early interactions are anything to go by. Smoke called him young, Mute replied with ‘as young as you wish you were’ and since then, he’s been a puppy following him around with a delighted expression, fawning over every harsh comment directed at him.

“Oi, babe”, Smoke addresses him and Mute wishes he’d mind the nickname, yet whenever he remembers the other ones which were in the running, he can’t. “You think Mike here hates molecules whose atoms are all in covalent bonds?”

The question comes so out of thin air that Mute needs a second to process it. “I – what? Why?”

“Because they’re unionised.”

Mute stares at him for a bit longer before it clicks – it’s Thatcher and he means the other pronunciation of unionised and dear Lord, the joke is fucking atrocious, it’s impressive how awful it is, and before he knows it, his sides start hurting. Air eludes him as he does a silent laugh which hurts and Smoke has never looked this stupidly proud before. Not even after he made Glaz throw up by shovelling vanilla pudding out of a mayonnaise glass into his own mouth.

“What”, says Thatcher, looking completely unamused. “Are you laughing at me?”

Gasping, Mute shakes his head and waves him off, and Smoke is still grinning triumphantly. “Copper carbon potassium”, he mutters and sets Mute off once more because only he would call someone who massively outranks him a cuck and hey, that gives Mute an idea. While the two continue barking at each other, he pulls up the periodic table on his phone and starts putting things together.

Seconds before the two actually come to blows – and Smoke would have the advantage, Mute has seen him in the ring and he does not mess around –, he announces: “Fluorine argon thallium iodine carbon potassium erbium.”

Watching Smoke repeat it in his head and translate it feels like waiting for a firecracker to go off, and he’s not disappointed when it does and the other man dissolves into full-bellied laughter which nearly throws him off the table.

“What does that mean?!” Thatcher is getting more and more agitated.

“He called you a fartlicker”, Smoke chortles and Mute doesn’t even get to defend himself, explain that it wasn’t at all aimed at Thatcher, before the very same rolls his eyes and simply storms off.

“I didn’t mean him”, Mute complains and crosses his arms when Smoke saunters over to plant his arse on his table instead.

“Oh, I know, but now he’ll be pissed for a week and leave you alone.”

“I’ll apologise.”

“Are you nuts? Don’t feed into his ego. Vain bastard.”

Mute scoffs. “Says you.”

And oh, the surprised face he earns is entirely warranted. He doesn’t suppose anyone looks at Smoke closely enough to notice him glancing in the mirror a lot, or that his mismatched and ill-fitting clothes are carefully chosen and that he takes pride in his appearance. He certainly makes sure his muscles show at least. “Yes, well”, Smoke murmurs, having lost the thread of their conversation and idly running his hand through his short hair. “Oh, speaking of – I should have this cut.”

“Don’t. I like your hair.”

Smoke shoots him another astonished glance and pets his semblance of a hairstyle. Mute does like it more now that it’s grown out a bit, and he bets Smoke could look cute with it even longer. “You really should stop catering to people’s egos, they might get used to it.”

“Trust me, I’ll be the first one to mercilessly argue you into the ground, should the situation call for it.” It wouldn’t be the first time either, not after Smoke claimed drinking through a straw not only made you more drunk but also faster, that alcohol is a good way to stave off the cold and that people eat five spiders in their sleep each year. At this point, he’s half suspecting Smoke of digging up misconceptions purely so he can witness Mute tearing them apart.

“Now let me check whether you can spell ‘turdsniffer’ with the periodic table.” He takes a seat next to Mute and together, they try to come up with the best insult they can. Mute is extremely happy with CoCKBaSiN, Smoke proudly presents BUMnOsEr, and by the time they land on AmErICaN SnOBScAm, both of them are having trouble breathing.

“If everything else fails, we can always call people C4H4AsH”, Smoke concludes and points at his jacket. “A good old-fashioned arsole.”

Of course. Mute is beginning to wonder whether he ever washes this particular piece of clothing. “And no one will be the wiser.”

“Except for us. Because we have such good chemistry.”

“Alright. You can stop now.”

“If we were a laser, we’d be set on stunning.”

“James.”

“Is it getting hot in here or is this just our bond forming?”

Mute corrects himself mentally: there is no way in hell this idiot could ever be cute. “Why do I even talk to you.”

“No idea”, Smoke retorts cheerily. “But I’m glad you do.”

~*~

Unsurprisingly, he needs a little help from those who know him better than he does. They’re having lunch together, Rook in his everlasting hunger went out voluntarily to buy them fancy sandwiches and is still complaining about the place being out of baguettes whereas Twitch happily wolfs down her ciabatta without a peep, and then Glaz says mid-munch: “We’re having a spa day on Sunday. Has Julien asked you already?”

“Can’t, I’m setting skips on fire”, Mute shrugs and grins at Twitch’s horrified expression. “Not literally. But we have some hypotheses to check and usually, it ends up with us burning our notes because everything went arseways.”

“Arseways”, Rook repeats quietly to himself and Mute is relieved none of them know enough about English and Irish dialects to notice just how much slang he’s picked up from Smoke along the way. He’s made the mistake of greeting Montagne with an automatic ‘how are you’ before and ended up with intimate knowledge of the man’s health-related problems.

“You can always ask Jordan for help, just mention the setting on fire part and he’s in”, Twitch suggests reasonably and for a second, Mute actually considers it. He doesn’t mind Thermite, the man is sociable enough to fill silences before they turn awkward and perceptive enough to leave Mute alone when he needs it. Still, he was looking forward to a weekend of loud music, a few drinks and greasy takeout which he allows himself so rarely, with no space for anyone else. And while his friends’ plan of just chilling probably would drain the tension out of him just as effectively, he’s not going to ditch Smoke after he already agreed.

“You’re seeing James a lot recently”, Glaz comments in between bites.

Is he? More than he used to, Mute supposes, but it’s gotten better. The bragging has diminished or stopped bothering him so much seeing as Smoke usually includes him in it these days, and they’ve found more common ground – music was a big one, ultimately there’s not much of a leap from hardcore punk to avant-garde metal seeing as they can meet somewhere in the middle, and gaming is another. Even the fact that Smoke only ever wanted to play the games in which he’s better than Mute has subsided. They compromise more, Mute realises: Smoke tests his limits less often and Mute doesn’t judge as much anymore, the verbal pushing and shoving has turned into good-natured playfighting. It’s not about who’s right, it’s about having a good time, and on the rare occasions on which they bring up serious topics, Mute doesn’t get as worked up anymore and Smoke knows when to take a break to sort his thoughts.

“I like him”, he summarises his musings with a nod.

“And I remember the time you called him a copper nitrogen terbium argon”, Rook chimes in.

“Silver. Ag is silver, not argon.”

“I will literally never be able to remember this.”

Another reason why Mute is glad to have Smoke – there are some inside jokes they share which just don’t translate to his real friend group. “He’s much more bearable these days.”

“He’s worn you down”, Twitch corrects him with a smile and he doesn’t object. “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to join? He’s nice enough and he can’t be worse than Jules.”

“Hey!”

“Sure.” Mute shoves the rest of his brie with cranberry into his mouth and gets up to track Smoke down. The words echo in his head: he’s nice enough. There’s a few descriptions he’d deem fitting for the Brit but nice isn’t one of them – above all, he’s opportunistic. If there’s nothing in it for him, he won’t do it, but fortunately ‘entertainment’ has proven to be reliable bait for him, rendering him predictable. Mute likes this. He knows what to expect, knows when Smoke will play along, and also knows he does so willingly. Smoke doesn’t mind being tricked or manipulated into something provided it’s done overtly.

When he finally stumbles over him, he’s not alone: Fuze is talking rapidly at an irritated-looking Thatcher with Smoke at his elbow, and judging by everyone’s body language, it’s a topic which should’ve been cleared a while ago. Meaning it’s about being team captains. Since Fuze can express his displeasure best in his mother tongue, he tends to seek out colleagues who know it well enough, Thatcher unfortunately being one of them – Smoke seems to be his moral support, though he appears less supportive and rather more bored to tears.

Fuze has been a thorn in Glaz’ side for a while, ever since he dropped a comment about Rook which left his younger teammate secretly shaken and uncertain, and Mute has to fight down the urge to provoke the Uzbek whenever he sees him since. He can’t stand anyone messing with his friends, especially not on a topic like this. And with Smoke standing there, hip cocked and expression unguarded, he gets an idea.

“Hi, sweetie”, he mutters quietly enough to be convincing yet loud enough for Fuze to hear and puts an arm around Smoke’s shoulders.

He might be slow on the uptake sometimes, but right now Smoke’s spontaneity triumphs. Making it look natural, his face lights up and he wraps an arm around Mute’s waist, pulling him closer and greeting him with a soft: “Hey, babe.”

Before them, the Uzbek momentarily loses his train of thought before continuing his rant.

And oh yes, if there ever was anyone perfect for this kind of stunt, it’s Smoke. He spends half his time touching Mute already anyway, fixing his clothes, fiddling with his phone (including taking it out of his pocket), feeding him usually questionable things, leaning into him out of laziness, peering over his shoulder while steadying himself on him – the list is endless and has long stopped bothering Mute though he rarely initiates contact himself. Right now, he’s very glad for this familiarity between them.

Seemingly uninterested in the proceedings, Mute pushes a hand into Smoke’s half-long hair and starts petting it. It’s as soft as its glossiness promises but if he’s honest, he wouldn’t have minded one bit if it was coarse or greasy because the face Smoke makes all of a sudden is priceless. He didn’t expect his features to go slack like this, for him to melt into this touch completely, and he has to suppress a chuckle. It seems he’s finally found an off switch. The longer he massages his scalp, runs his fingers through black hair, the more the grip around his torso loosens and the more Smoke sways in place. He looks like he’s got trouble keeping his eyes open and it’s, well, it’s endearing in an unexpected way. And Mute already knows he’ll shamelessly exploit this knowledge in the future.

Still, he hasn’t achieved his goal of pissing off Fuze enough for him to stop hissing at Thatcher, and so he pauses his ministrations to watch in amusement as Smoke returns to this plane of existence very, very slowly. He blinks, shifts his weight and presses his compact body more against Mute’s in the process, and he’s so dazed and adorable that the one thing which most likely will achieve the intended effect doesn’t even seem like such a bad idea anymore.

So Mute leans down and kisses him.

Fuze trails off mid sentence.

It was just a brief touch of lips on lips, but despite his stupefaction, Smoke possessed the presence of mind to tilt his head into it, slide his eyes shut and capture Mute’s lower lip between his own for a second and hey, that’s much better than him shoving his tongue down Mute’s throat as a joke or maybe him slobbering all over Mute because that’s kind of what he was expecting. When it’s just nice instead, he makes no move to hide his smile and straightens back up to catch Fuze’s eye innocently.

And while Smoke’s hand drops lower and starts groping Mute’s butt, the Uzbek’s expression darkens. He spits one last sentence at Thatcher and turns around on his heel to stride away with purpose.

Wordlessly, Thatcher just looks at them.

“What just happened?”, Smoke wants to know meekly, visibly overwhelmed with the situation and Mute could really get used to this.

“Fuze was being a scandium astatine tungsten holmium rhenium”, Mute explains matter-of-factly.

Thatcher shakes his head with a grin. “Little shits”, he murmurs, but to Mute’s ears it sounds grateful. He leaves them to it, still holding on to each other for some reason.

“You wanna take a spa day with us instead of vegetating in the lab this weekend?” He’s gently massaging the base of Smoke’s skull now and notices his eyelashes flutter. Cute. It’s cuter than it has any right to be.

“What, give up gaming till morning for sitting around and talking about feelings?”

Mute snorts. Is that what he thinks they do in their spare time? “I’ll pet your hair if you say yes.”

“… when are you guys meeting up?”

And he can’t help but give Smoke a quick hug while laughing before relaying the details.

~*~

“Mark.” A hand on his shoulder, him curled around a warm body, and a pleasant dream lingering – he’s not at all ready to wake up. “Mark, get up. It’s late.”

He huffs a sigh, hears it echoed from the small creature next to him and stretches before cracking open an eye. Sledge is regarding him with a fond smile, whereas Diana, pressed against him on her side, pretends to be still asleep. The living room is empty save for a myriad of bottles and glasses and oh, that means everyone’s gone already. Sledge has already changed into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, pads around barefoot and tidies a little while Mute sits up on the couch, strokes the corgi lady’s soft fur with one hand and checks his phone with the other. u home yet?, Smoke asks and it’s just like him to remember Mute’s schedule despite being on the other side of the world.

was sharing body heat at Seamus, gonna head back now, he replies and pictures Smoke’s slightly irritated expression. While he’s never had an issue with Glaz, Twitch and Rook, Mute’s newly-developed friendship with Sledge caused frankly amusing uncertainty which surfaces either in territorial aggression or thinly-veiled jealousy. He ignores Mute’s assurances that the Scotsman has a long distance boyfriend somewhere seeing as no one has ever heard him mention him (but Mute knows the signs), and instead tries his best to keep Mute’s attention, unaware that he’s competing with Sledge’s dog more than anything, and that no one could ever surpass the small fluffball.

“How’s James?”, Sledge asks in a tone so natural that Mute wonders when it became so self-evident that he’d know about every detail in Smoke’s life.

“Bored a lot. Now that they’ve cleared out the base they’re just staying in the hopes of catching some stragglers who didn’t get the memo. Unlikely, but Six is right in saying if there’s a chance, they should take it. He’ll probably be back some time next week, or so he hopes.” It’s past three now, so no wonder everyone’s gone already. Since he lives in walking distance, Sledge probably figured he’d let him sleep off all the alcohol he consumed much too fast earlier – without Smoke around, it’s only half as fun, thus Mute drank like he was getting paid for it and must’ve passed out while cuddling with Diana.

His phone buzzes. It’s a singular question mark and Mute can’t help but grin at its passive aggressiveness. found the perfect snuggling partner, he replies and figures there’s no need to be cruel, so he attaches a photo of the corgi now rolled up into a ball.

“Want to take some of Moni’s salad with you?”

Mute perks up at that and trails after the Scotsman into the kitchen. Normally he’d have left straightaway, but he’s got nowhere to be tomorrow since Rook and Twitch want to go clothes shopping and Glaz was prescribed some quality time with the rest of his team, and Smoke is unavailable. They’ve both wrecked their sleep schedules over the past weeks due to time zones, and still there’ll be a period tomorrow when Mute won’t be able to contact him. He’s not looking forward to it. If he asked, Sledge would let him sleep over and probably entertain him the entire day, but it’d be inevitably coupled with a few stern words Mute imagines normal dads to direct at their children, and he’d rather avoid parental guidance. He’s old enough to make his own decisions now. Like taking photos of himself naked and deleting all of them a second later, because no. Just no.

“I can’t believe there’s some left over”, he states to distract himself from what he’d even do with nudes.

“There wasn’t. She set some aside for me earlier because she knew all of you would devour it.” And though Mute knows Sledge is kind and caring, he can’t help but wonder whether he’s feeding him specifically because Twitch snitched about him accidentally skipping meals. He should ask her tomorrow.

what about me?, Smoke wants to know and Mute almost hears his pout in his head. If he’s honest, it’s not even close. Diana is affectionate to a ridiculous degree and has never accidentally elbowed him in the crotch so she’s the clear winner – but he has to admit there was an evening they spent pressed against each other on Glaz’ couch which was uncomfortable until Mute stopped fighting against Smoke and simply put an arm around him to save space, and he barely caught anything happening on screen for the rest of the film because there was also a casual hand resting on his thigh -

“Do you miss him?”

Mute realises he’s been staring at his phone for entirely too long and Sledge is already done putting some of the delicious potato salad into a container for him. His cheeks start heating up but he can’t deny it, so he nods. It’s been a few excruciatingly long weeks and though Smoke’s expressive enough in texts, it’s just not the same.

“Have you told him that?”

And here we go. He rolls his eyes, snatches the salad with a muttered thanks and goes to put on his shoes. she smells better, he types out just to be a brat.

He pauses in the door when Sledge calls his name and expects him to meddle some more, already prepares his defence: Yes he knows, yes he should tell him, but what if he doesn’t reciprocate, and it’s such a commitment, and it’s been a while, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and what if they don’t want the same thing -

But Sledge just says: “Get home safely. Good night.” He probably figures Mute knows all of which he’d like to say instead.

On the way back, his eyes are glued to the screen once more. They exchange good-natured banter, gossip a little over some of their colleagues’ work ethics, and then go back to complaining about the whole mission which currently separates them so inhumanely.

I sware tho when im back ill spend one day eating one day sleeping and one day gaming

Those are three different, consecutive days I assume?, Mute clarifies. If so, that sounds like a party I’d like to attend.

babe ill invite u to any party esp if its just us two

Mute is beaming. Smoke is probably expecting him to pick his message apart, make a crude joke about parties in his knickers, plan ahead for when he does come back or maybe even switch topics entirely, and on any other night Mute would indeed go for one of these options. But he’s still giddy with a slight buzz, remembering the dog’s warmth and wishing it was Smoke’s instead, that he instead makes an offer. Provides bait, in a way. Gives Smoke a chance.

Do you enjoy spending time with me that much?, he asks.

And though he firmly expects Smoke to laugh it off maybe or just take a while to reply, it’s nearly instant and so open it tugs at his heartstrings. yes, Smoke writes. Nothing else. Mute’s cheeks are starting to hurt. There’s no sarcasm, no dismissal, just a yes and he couldn’t have hoped for a lovelier answer.

That is, until he receives the next message and realises he was wrong, oh so wrong.

iodine lithium potassium uranium, it reads.

And while it’s not perfect and a little awkward, he couldn’t care less because today is the best day of his entire life. He actually tears up a little, scans the words over and over again and ignores their turning blurry, tries to come up with an appropriate reply – it needs to be just as honest, that much is clear, Smoke is taking a leap and Mute needs to make sure he catches him, and that’s when he runs into a lamp post.

It’s a miracle it hasn’t happened sooner, going by how little attention he paid to where he was going, but that doesn’t make it any better. He hits his head on metal, hard, clutches the valuable potato salad with one hand but drops his phone with a loud clatter and a curse. A quick glance establishes that yes, it’s actually broken, pieces having flown off, screen cracked, and still he doesn’t care.

Because Smoke likes him. Likes likes him. And looking back, it was glaringly obvious, wasn’t it? But somewhere among the countless hours they spent together, Mute had convinced himself that a friendship is all it was and that he should feel guilty for the surreptitious glances every time Smoke took off his shirt in his presence, that he shouldn’t mess with their dynamic and maybe Smoke only allowed him to touch his hair and no one else because… well, there was no good reason, now that he thinks about it. It’s remarkably long by now, Smoke hasn’t had it cut once and Mute vaguely remembers complimenting him on it. It suits him. Mute wants to bury both hands in it and hold him still while snogging him silly.

The phone is a goner. Doesn’t even turn on, so he puts it in his pocket, rubs the pounding spot on his forehead reminding him of his obliviousness, and only then realises the problem with this whole situation: he’s got confirmation from Smoke now.

But Smoke doesn’t know about his feelings. He doesn’t know Mute likes him back. And like this, he can’t tell him.

.

“The fuck?”, Rook slurs drowsily upon opening his door. He’s wearing pastel pyjamas with polar bears.

“I need your phone”, Mute replies, breathing hard from having run all the way. The conversation with Smoke made him go the wrong way yet once he’d oriented himself, it turned out the Frenchman’s flat was closer than anyone else’s, so he’d come here. “It’s an emergency.”

“Is anyone hurt?” He wobbles back into the apartment and emerges again carrying a potentially life-saving device.

“Only James’ pride”, Mute mutters and snatches it out of his hand. Then realises yet another problem. “This is his old number. You don’t have the new one?”

Rook looks ready to fall asleep against the door frame. “Wha? He has a new one?”

“Yeah, he dropped his phone in the sea two weeks ago. Fuck. Do you know who might have it?”

“The hell’s going on, Mark? Is he okay?”

If he wants Rook’s cooperation, he should probably tell the truth. “Yes, but he told me he liked me and I accidentally smashed my phone, so I can’t answer him. He’ll probably go to sleep soon and I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him. I’d really like to text him. And I know it’s dumb and I probably shouldn’t have woken you up -”

“Call Timur.” Mute hesitates. “I’m serious, call him, he might have it. He won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mark, you’ve never asked us for help in anything personal. When your jammer went arseways and you were bummed for a week, we had to forcibly drag you out of your flat. Yes, I’m sure. And I’m glad you’re here.” He still can’t bring himself to wake up more of his friends, forcing Rook to take his phone back and call Glaz himself. “Besides, you two are made for each other. Manu is gonna scream my ear off when I tell her.”

He smiles at that. “Do you want some of Moni’s potato salad as thanks?”

“No answer.” Rook hangs up, distractedly glancing at the object Mute is offering him. “Wait, did you say Moni and salad?”

.

A few minutes later, they’re in Rook’s car, listening to horrifically repetitive pop music and eating salad. “What about Seamus?”, the Frenchman suggests with his mouth full while Mute is busy calling next to everyone on Rook’s friends list.

“You know he’s gonna be the smuggest git. I’d rather avoid all the I-told-you-so.”

“Fair enough. Here we are.” Rook parks the car in the middle of the street and together, they knock on Glaz’ door until it swings inwards to reveal an extremely unhappy Kapkan.

“Oh shit”, says Mute. Apparently quality time implied a sleepover. He hopes they’ve only woken up one of the pack.

“There better be a huge fire somewhere”, the Russian growls.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that”, Rook begins to explain when one by one, the other Spetsnaz flock to the door to stare them down. Glaz, at the back, seems more worried than angry, but everyone else is visibly resentful.

“You know what, forget it, we’ll find someone else”, Mute tries to interject and avoids Fuze’s furious stare, but it’s too late.

“Mark needs to confess to James, but he destroyed his phone and I don’t have the new number. Do any of you have it?” There’s a certain impressive quality to watching Rook, still clad in baby blue bears and physically less imposing than literally every single one of the discontented men before him, calmly ask them for help with such a mundane issue.

As expected, Fuze basically explodes. “What!”, he yells and only narrowly gets stopped by Kapkan and Tachanka before he can lunge at Mute. “You two weren’t even -”

“Have you asked Manu?”, Glaz pipes up from the back, over the raging Uzbek’s shoulder.

“I will skin you! Fucking brats -”

“She’s not answering either, probably set her phone to silent. You think we should stop by?”

“Do you think this is funny? Ridiculing -”

“Worth a try. I’ll tag along.”

Mute ends up with Glaz on his lap in the front, while the three angry Russians occupy the back bench: Fuze is pissed over the Brits taking him for a fool just because they acted flirty whenever he was around, Kapkan is pissed that Fuze is pissed, and Tachanka is pissed over having to sit next to the other two. None of them are wearing any shoes – or shirts, for that matter –, except for Glaz, fortunately. It’s a complete mystery to Mute why they came along, but now he has to deal with aggravated Russian being thrown back and forth behind him.

“What about Seamus?”, Glaz inquires curiously and nearly falls into Rook’s lap at a particularly sharp turn.

“He’d be a smug shite and I don’t wanna deal with that.”

“Fair enough.”

.

Twitch is clad in pastel pyjamas with a cupcake print. She also seems understandably intimidated over being faced with six guys upon opening her door, three of which disgruntled and rearing for an actual fist fight.

“Mark needs to declare his undying love to James but blew up his phone and now none of us have his new number. Do you?”, Glaz explains the issue so badly that Mute wants to smack him.

“Why are you on their side? They were constantly provoking me!”, Fuze hisses in the background.

“Then it’s your own fucking fault for getting upset about love”, Kapkan snarls back.

Once Twitch is done literally hopping up and down with unbridled joy after having confirmed it three times, she admits: “I don’t have it, no. Didn’t he only give it to you, Mark? Have you asked Seamus?”

“We don’t wanna deal with his smartarse attitude”, Rook explains.

Twitch blinks, uncomprehending. “You can’t be serious.”

.

She sits perched on Mute’s lap for the drive whereas Fuze is forced to sit on Tachanka's, a fact over which he seems utterly infuriated. A small brawl happens halfway through, with Glaz trying to stay out of it as much as possible, and Tachanka threatening to open the door and dump Fuze’s crusty arse outside, and if Mute is honest, he hasn’t had this much fun in ages. It’s like free entertainment, and though worry nags at him, he knows they’ll eventually be successful.

Sledge is remarkably awake and even a little flustered, even more so when he eyes the crowd on his front lawn. “Is the world ending?”, he asks politely.

“Do you have James’ new number?”, Mute replies with another question and ignores Fuze kicking at his heels before getting dragged away and shoved around a bit by Kapkan.

“What, did you lose your phone after he confessed to you and now you can’t answer him?”

“How does he know everything?”, Rook whispers in Twitch’s direction, awestruck.

“That was a lucky guess”, Mute accuses him, because how.

Sledge pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mark, he told me a month ago that having you would make him both the happiest and the luckiest man on earth.”

Mute gapes at him. In the background, Kapkan snaps: “You hear that shit? That’s fucking cute, you numbskull, and you’re not going to rain on their parade!”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Sledge’s deadpan tone implies that he’s thoroughly done with both of them – probably hinted heavily, with either of them dismissing him. “Come on in. I don’t have his number, but I know someone who would.”

They file into the house which doesn’t look much different to how Mute left it more than an hour ago, which is odd: the same lights are still on, meaning Sledge didn’t go to sleep, yet the mess is still there. He must’ve been doing something important if it kept him up till now.

“Mike’s known him for a while, so he’s likely to have James’ number”, Sledge announces and starts rifling through drawers. “But he turns off his phone at night and I don’t know where his stupid caravan is parked right now. I wrote it down somewhere.”

Mute spots a closed but running laptop on the coffee table. “Maybe you’ve got it saved on here”, he wonders and just as Sledge chokes out a panicked Mark no, flips it open.

And is faced with a very handsome, very hairy, and most importantly very naked guy on a webcam who seems surprised to see him.

He closes the laptop again. They could’ve heard a pin drop in the following silence.

“Well”, Sledge murmurs, “that, uh, was Adriani- Adriano.”

That answers that question. Mute’s face is burning.

“Tell him we’d like to meet him properly once he’s put some clothes on”, Tachanka speaks up cheerfully.

“Guys, I found more of Moni’s salad in the fridge”, Rook announces with his mouth full just as he enters the room, though he stops dead when all faces turn to him. “What? Did I miss something?”

.

For some reason, Thatcher looks the least surprised out of all of them to receive a gathering in his abode – or rather in front of it, because his moving temporary home hardly offers enough space to house eight people. It was a relief to take two cars to get here, even if Sledge seems ready to murder someone after chauffeuring three arguing Spetsnaz around.

“This puppy here wants to propose to James but since he melted his phone in the microwave, we need you to tell us exactly where he is so we can fly over”, Tachanka explains even worse than Glaz did previously and Mute just puts his head in his hands.

Thatcher scowls at them. He’s wearing pastel pyjamas with rocket ships on it. “Is this a joke?”

“Do you know James’ new number?”, Sledge takes over with a deep sigh and yanks Fuze aside the moment he tries to elbow Kapkan. Mute is no longer surprised over the fact that the Scotsman feels more like a dad to him than a friend. “I believe it’s time sensitive.”

“I don’t have it”, the old man grumbles, much to everyone’s exasperation, “but I know someone who does. Just a phone call away, come in.”

Easier said than done – one by one, they squeeze into the limited space, with Rook and Twitch climbing up to the bed and letting their feet dangle into Glaz’ field of view, while Fuze and Sledge sit down by the tiny table. The rest stands awkwardly as Thatcher rummages around aimlessly until he finally finds what he’s looking for. Namely his phone.

“That’s where you keep it?!”, Sledge wants to know, aghast. “What if there’s an emergency?”

“Well you’re all here, aren’t you.” Thatcher takes another two minutes to turn it on and by then, Mute has lost all patience.

“Let me do it”, he offers politely and adds silently: for the love of Christ. “Who am I calling?”

“Tze Long. He’s an old friend from Hong Kong, James and I know him from years ago. He’ll know.”

He vaguely remembers hearing the name before, so he navigates to contacts, tries not to look too hard at the notes Thatcher has added to a few of them, like Brunsmeier (public nuisance) and Cowden (good lad) until he lands on Nizan (hide all food). It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure but then he’s finally spotted the name Thatcher mentioned and presses the green button. He doesn’t have to wait long, seeing as it’s currently morning in Asia, but he was not at all prepared for the booming greeting nearly shattering his eardrum.

“Morning, honey, having trouble sleeping again? Want me to read you another bedtime story, hm?”

And though Mute has never met this man in his life, the sultry tone makes it painfully clear there’s absolutely nothing innocent about his offer. Even worse: since Thatcher set his phone’s volume to eleven, literally everyone in the cramped room heard.

Mute has to correct himself: today is one of the worse days of his life.

“Give me that”, Thatcher hisses and snatches the phone out of Mute’s hand. “Listen, I have visitors.”

Since he failed to lower the volume, all present continue to hear both sides of the conversation, whether they want to or not. “Wonderful! I’ve been telling you to get out more, dearie, have more social contact or you’ll end up a bitter old fart.”

“That means you need to behave.”

“I always behave. You know me. I’m extremely obedient.”

The two Frenchies on the bed are shaking with silent laughter whereas Thatcher is getting redder by the second. “All we need is James’ number. Do you have it? We have a youngin here who wants to marry him.”

“Just confess, actually”, Mute chimes in but gets ignored.

“Oh my. Yes, I have it. Do you have something to write?” Sledge holds up his phone with the notes app open as confirmation, and what follows are the longest five minutes of Mute’s life because Thatcher insists on being dictated one digit at a time, repeats it even though everyone can hear the man on the other end of the line clear as day, and then asks Sledge to confirm it. They go through the process twice to be sure and by the end Mute is ready to strangle somebody.

Thatcher thanks his ‘friend’ and hangs up on him mid-sentence, to everyone’s relief, seeing as any sentence that begins with ‘and remember to replace the trousers that we’ can’t end well. And then it’s done. They hold a collective breath as Sledge pulls up the number he just saved and presents his phone to Mute.

He’s almost forgotten why they’re all here, but the serenity of this moment hits him out of the blue – he’s about to make a life-changing decision, yet he’s convinced it’s the right one. He really, really likes Smoke. Absence did make his heart grow fonder, he spent a few sleepless nights reminiscing over all the genuine, heartfelt, entertaining, meaningful moments they shared and realised he feels incomplete knowing he can’t just meet up with him, can’t just take a spontaneous day trip by his side or just laze around at his place. This is one of the things Smoke has learnt: leaving him alone. Not always, but sometimes Mute just needs time for himself, and of all people he didn’t expect pretentious, flashy, loud Smoke to acknowledge it.

He can’t wait to tell him that he feels the same way he does.

“Can you let me through?”, he asks, expecting the others to move out of his way for some privacy, and reads the room much too late. He’s almost furthest from the door, a door three Russians are blocking. Kapkan crosses his arms.

Okay. He gets it. He interrupted their sleep, wasted their time, irritated them to hell and back, and yet they stuck it through. They… kinda deserve to hear this.

Wordlessly, he dials the number and tries not to let his racing heartbeat affect him – anxiousness is crawling up his throat, clogging it, and the fact that he’s doing this in front of eight other people doesn’t fill him with confidence. What if Smoke’s sleeping already, went to bed confused and dejected? What if he’s changed his mind in the meantime? Every beep increases his dread and leaves him more restless than before and he’s not even aware of fidgeting until Sledge reaches out and squeezes his hand reassuringly. He could’ve smooched him for the gesture, just like he could’ve thrown something at Rook for pulling a dumb grimace simultaneously.

And then Smoke answers the call. “Yeah?”, he says, sounding tired yet curious. He hasn’t gotten any sleep all night and it must be morning for him too.

“James? It’s me.” Twitch gestures emphatically and so he switches to loudspeaker, as much as he doesn’t want to. Even Fuze looks invested at this point.

“Oh, how ya babe. What’s the craic?” Now that he knows it’s Mute, he’s much more lively and Mute wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

“My phone died, I’m really sorry. Or rather – I walked against a street light and smashed it on the floor.”

“Shit. Are you alright? I could tell my messages weren’t coming through, so I figured something happened.”

His concern feels like a warm blanket. Mute is grinning like a lunatic but is long past caring at this point. “Yeah. Well. I’m just calling – I need to tell you something.” Tachanka stands up a little straighter, the smile on Glaz’ face grows and even Thatcher looks almost proud.

“Do you?”

Just like his question earlier, it’s a prompt. And just like Smoke earlier, he won’t leave him hanging. Mute gathers all his courage, looks around the room… and no.

He has a reputation to uphold. He can’t just blurt it out, can’t lay himself bare like they’re expecting him to.

And so he asks: “Are you a carbon sample, James?”

Visible and, on Smoke’s part, audible confusion. “Huh?”

“Because I’d really like to date you.”

Rook puts a hand over his eyes, Fuze continues to frown in ignorance and Kapkan rolls his eyes so hard it must’ve hurt. But somehow, Mute knows that he did exactly the right thing when he hears Smoke’s relieved laughter, undignified chortling conveying just how grateful he must be to hear this. “Babe”, he chuckles in disbelief, “you’re unbelievable.”

And despite the presence of so many other people, this is still only their moment, because it’s only the two of them giggling like idiots. “So”, he begins once their amusement has died down a little, “does that mean we’re -”

“Yes”, Smoke cuts him off. “Hell yes. There’s no way I’m gonna sleep now, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Fucking finally!!”, Kapkan yells and the entire caravan erupts into chaos – there’s cheering, clapping, a few complaints over their behaviour in the past, and Rook and Glaz actually exchange money. Thatcher pats him on the back, Kapkan nearly breaks one of his ribs with a meaningful nudge and Tachanka loudly proclaims his blessing. Mute just laughs, caught in the middle of it all, picturing Smoke’s flabbergasted expression over the sudden commotion and wondering how in the world he’s going to explain the whole situation to him later.

“The hell’s going on”, the phone in Mute’s hand asks and even he doesn’t know.

“I’ll talk to you later, James, love you, bye!” Smiling, he hangs up and switches to text messages, starts outlining the events of the evening while the storm continues to rage on around him.

“Admit it, you coward!”, Kapkan barks, and Twitch calls for a celebration, Sledge mentions he’s tired and would rather go home, Tachanka predictably exposes him with a crude comment about his boyfriend waiting for him, Glaz remarks favourably on Thatcher’s pyjamas, and Thatcher mentions he’s got a few pieces of cake in the fridge for an impromptu party, to which Rook replies with his mouth full that there’s only one piece left, and eventually even Fuze murmurs: “Alright, it was a little cute.”

But Mute only hears half of it because he sent Smoke a heart and received a heart back as well as the follow-up of with how much electricity there is flowing between us we must be a galvanic cell and good Lord, he wasn’t even aware of how fucking doomed he was.

~*~

Smoke is radiant.

He looks good on a bad day, but right now he’s bloody gorgeous – sleeves pulled up to reveal tanned skin, long hair combed back instead of parted according to no logic at all, and eyes gleaming. With every moment that passes, he becomes more and more ethereal, incorporeal, unapproachable, like a piece of art which can’t be touched or else it’d be ruined, like a mirage. They haven’t seen each other for a month so he might as well not be real at all, or maybe all their conversations over the past few days didn’t happen and Mute dreamt of his interest being reciprocated, and if nothing happens in the next second -

Smoke drops his duffel bag, reaches up and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s sweet and impossibly tangible, convinces him that this is really happening and so he prolongs it, relishes the contact of lips on lips. When they part, he’s left light-headed. “I’m back”, Smoke informs him unnecessarily.

“You’re early.” He nods. Both of them are beaming. “You didn’t even go home?”

“I came straight here.”

It’s a little awkward, Mute doesn’t really know how to react other than grinning like a dumbass, but it seems neither of them mind. “You wanna take a shower after the long flight?”

“Wanna join me?” He hesitates and Smoke picks up on it, carries his bag inside and closes the door behind them. “Babe, don’t worry. We’ll go slow. We can just laze around all day, do nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”

Mute is not fully convinced that it’s what he himself actually wants, but he agrees with the sentiment of finding their own pace. “Me too”, he admits quietly and runs his fingers through dark hair. It’s as soft as always, the feeling addicting, just like Smoke’s mouth, and so he kisses him again. They’re both oddly shy, conscious of themselves, and Mute recognises it as uneasy vulnerability. This is uncharted territory for both of them and in order not to overstep any boundaries, they tread carefully. “You look so fucking good”, Mute murmurs in between kisses and smiles when Smoke hums contentedly.

“See, when you say things like that, it’s really hard not to just spread my legs and tell you to go ham”, Smoke mutters, making him snort and interrupt their making out. “But I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.”

He senses there’s more to it than that. “If?”, he prompts expectantly, brows raised.

And Smoke’s smirk is unbearably smug. “If we do it on the table periodically”, he finishes.

They look at each other. He’s so fucking perfect Mute just wants to hold him and never let go.

“We’re going to be insufferable, aren’t we.”

It’s not a question, more of a fatalistic statement, and yet Smoke agrees with a joyous: “God I hope so.”

[tigerlo]

vanity mini-fic (six)

A cure for a crappy day, @thegirl20 here’s Vanessa having a wee accident and Charity tending to her. Or my interpretation, anyway ;) 

This was a bit of an impromptu mini-fic that’s probably more a medium-mini-fic, but it was a lot of fun to write. Oh, and this is set after Vanessa is allowed back on full vet duty by the way. Apologies in advance for the long post...

-

“Charity, it’s nothing alright, I just forgot to have lunch,” Vanessa says in an attempt to soothe the deep frown lines on Charity’s forehead.

She’s sitting in the back of the ambulance with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, legs dangling off the edge as a paramedic finishes taking her vitals. Charity’s standing close beside her with a scowl that Vanessa is worried might set forever if she’s not careful.

“You fainted, babe,” Charity states, narrowing her gaze at Vanessa, throwing the odd side-eye at the woman now attending to the cut on Vanessa’s forehead as Vanessa holds the gauze pad stained with slightly disconcerting amount of red discreetly between her hands in her lap, so that Charity doesn’t worry any more than she already is. “That’s not nothing. You’ve got a bloody flesh wound and all, haven’t you?”

She continues her pacing, taking two quick steps and spinning on her heel before repeating the motion in the opposite direction while the paramedic fixes a few butterfly stitches to the cut. Vanessa can see Charity fair itching to say something snappy and rude to the woman, but she bites her tongue, and Vanessa realises how worried Charity must be to hold herself back like that.

The medic finishes up, giving the both of them a few instructions, Charity nodding with an almost uncharacteristic seriousness as she listens to her own before giving the two of them some space. Vanessa thinks for a moment about patting the space next to her but she knows it’s better for Charity to keep moving, to try and release some of the nervous tension that way instead.

“How’d you get out here so fast, anyway?” Vanessa asks, wincing when she accidentally frowns. “You almost beat the ambulance.”

“Farmer bloody Joe called me, didn’t he?” Charity answers, as though as much should be obvious. “Good thing too, I’d have thumped him if I’d have found out you were hurt through anyone else. If Rhona or Paddy had been out here when I arrived, I swear I would have-“

“Charity,” Vanessa interrupts gently, tossing the gauze to the side and reaching for her, pulling her to stand between her thighs. She can feel Charity’s hand shaking in her own before she laces their fingers together but doesn’t mention it, just squeezes tighter, instead. “I’m fine. I promise. Just a little bump, alright?”

Charity glares at her again, she looks so ridiculously out of place here, all done up for work, knee-high boots on, standing in the middle of a farm paddock, but Vanessa doesn’t think she’s ever looked softer, in spite of the hard look on her face.

“Are you sure it weren’t that flamin’ cow again?” Charity asks crossly, allowing herself to be lead forward so Vanessa can catch a hint of her perfume. “Because I don’t care whether that farmer has a gun or a good right cross or what, we’re having Destiny steak tonight for tea if it was.”

“It wasn’t Destiny,” Vanessa assures her, laughing softly in the fact of Charity’s indignation. “Just a poorly placed rock, ok? And I don’t think even your iron constitution would stomach eating that.”

“It’s not funny, Ness,” Charity says in a huff, stamping her foot in the mud in a move that Vanessa has to hide a smile at. “You could have been-”

“I know,” Vanessa replies more seriously, sliding her arms around Charity’s waist before she can pull away, her voice soothing. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it, I’m just… you don’t need to worry, ok? I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are, can’t bloody look after yourself for five minutes left alone,” Charity says, leaning into the comfort Vanessa offers in spite of the scowl lingering on her face. “Look, babe, I know you’re all well excited about being able to do this gross stuff again, but I’d quite like you home in one piece, yeah? Not nearly as good looking with a head wound, you know.”

“Oh, so it’s all about aesthetics, is it?” Vanessa asks with a smile, as Charity scoffs above her. “Should have known.”

Charity looks like she wants to give her a good smack on the arm but she refrains, choosing to hold firm her sour expression instead. Her eyes move to the tidy wound on Vanessa’s forehead for a second and she places her hands on Vanessa’s face with an exquisite gentleness, one of them moving higher to trace Vanessa’s eyebrow with a careful thumb, just below the start of the now-tender skin.

“If anything had of happened I’d have brought you back to life just so I could kill you myself, you know,” Charity grumbles before she drops a quick kiss to the top of Vanessa’s head, and Vanessa’s eyes close as she sighs in contentment.

“I am sorry to make you worry,” Vanessa offers, leaning her forehead into Charity’s stomach as her hands move to knead the muscles at the top of Vanessa’s spine. “I promise I’ll be more careful, I just got carried away. It’s just so…I’ve missed being out here so much.”

“I know, kid,” Charity says quietly, her breath warming Vanessa’s scalp, bringing goosebumps up on her forearms. “Just…just don’t leave me here alone, alright? Not when I’ve just gotten used to you stealing all the bleedin’ blankets at night.”

She means more than that, Vanessa knows she does, the barely audible sniffle tells her as much too, and it takes her back, the show of vulnerability, of how much Charity needs this, of how much Vanessa means to her now.

“I think that’s the only place I’ll be for the weekend - bed - if we’re to follow the doctor’s orders,” Vanessa says, a hint of disappointment in her voice, trying to temper it with an internal reminder that her fall could have been significantly worse, that it could have put her out of commission for a lot longer than just a weekend.

“Worse places to be though, aren’t there?” Charity replies, her hands on Vanessa’s shoulders now, pushing her back slightly so she can look Vanessa in the eye. “I mean, especially with me there with you. Full-time babysitter, that’s what the quack said?”

“Paramedic,” Vanessa corrects her, smiling when Charity rolls her eyes. “And I think she said you just need to mind me, but I’m not going to stop you keeping an extra close eye on me if it means you’re in bed too.”

“Vanessa Woodfield, I hope you’re not proposing any funny business,” Charity says with an excellent impersonation of seriousness and mock-horror. “Because that is well off the table, lady. For a week, at least.”

“You think you can last a week?” Vanessa laughs, and it’s almost enough to push her growing headache to one side. “That’s not what I was implying at all, thank you very much, but if it was, you wouldn’t last four days without.”

“Four days? What do you take me for?” Charity says, dropping her hands onto her hips, and Vanessa grins before pulling Charity closer again.

“The horny old mare that you are,” Vanessa replies smoothly, watching Charity’s look of indignation grow.  “Don’t worry though, it’s part of the reason I love you, innit? Because you’re as hard up as a teenage boy and you can’t keep your hands to yourself for five seconds.”

Charity gives her an extremely pleased smirk that says very clearly she’s picked up on the joke Vanessa has dumped herself in quite neatly, and she growls not a bloody word, pinching Charity lightly in the side before she can squirm out of Vanessa’s grip.

“Four days,” Charity says under her breath as she helps Vanessa to her feet gently. “I’ll give you four days, babe. Four days of cold-bloody-shoulder, that’s what.”

Vanessa sways the second she stands, and she panics for a second, can already feel herself falling, before a strong arm slides around her waist, holding her upright, a pillar at her side. Charity’s breath is warm at her ear, her body, her closeness, more reassuring than anything Vanessa has a living memory of.

“Come on, Ness,” Charity says and her voice is soft, soothing, the tone that only Vanessa gets to hear. “Let’s get you to the car before I have to carry you, alright. Because I love you, yeah, but not enough to get whatever’s painted up your back from arse to ear, on this coat.”

“Charity Dingle, eternal romantic,” Vanessa snorts, leaning her full weight against Charity, because she has no doubt whatsoever that Charity will be there if she stumbles, mud and muck, or not.

“Just wait till we’re four days down the track, babe,” Charity replies with a laugh, as they make their way towards the road. “Sommat like that’ll have you eatin’ out of the palm of my hand, I bet.”

xx.

[isolavirtuosa]

Starting Over (For Real?) 15-16

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Read the previous parts here.

- 15 -

  It wasn’t far to Iwa.  We could make it within the day if Naruto did the running, and that’s how I found myself awkwardly holding onto his back.

Naruto was probably starting to remember about how he didn’t want to rush into things.  And I was starting to remember how much I hated being in a relationship with Naruto.

We stopped to eat the rice balls that Sai had made for us during his long wait.

We didn’t say anything.

We continued on until we reached Iwa.

There had been a battle here.

“Can you use Susanoo if you need it?” Naruto asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, you’re probably going to hate this, but I need you to stay close,” he said, acting like he was going to carry me on his back into town.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m defenseless without you.”

“That’s your own stupid fault.”

He sighed loudly.  “Just think about it like I’m your horse that you’re riding into battle or something.”

I didn’t want to tell him that that actually did make me feel better.

Everything was silent as we entered the outskirts.

“We’re surrounded,” Naruto informed me.

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

The second the first line made a move towards us we were riding Susanoo.

“Identify yourselves,” one of the ninjas ordered.

I scoffed.

Naruto scratched the back of his neck.  “It’s kinda obvious, innit?”

The man seemed confused.

“Hey, Naruto, is that you?!”

Naruto squinted until his eyes fell on the speaker.  “Oh, hey!  Kurotsuchi!  And Akatsuchi, too!”

“Long time no see!” Akatsuchi said, waving cheerfully.

“What are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Kurotsuchi asked, coming closer.

“You can release Susanoo,” Naruto said to me.  “We’re just travelling around, looking for food sources and checking up on everyone,” he called.

“No way in hell,” I informed him, ignoring his yelling conversation.

“They’re my friends, it’s fine,” he protested.

“They’re not my friends.”

“Sasuke.”

I trusted Naruto’s judgement implicitly, I just didn’t want him to know that.  I picked him up with Susanoo instead and set him on the ground in front of his ‘friends’.

Of course, I was just looming over everyone in full battle gear while they were laughing and having a lighthearted conversation.  Not to mention the fact that I was wasting chakra keeping Susanoo active.  As long as I wasn’t facing high-ranking Iwa officials attached to Naruto’s back, though.

As everyone moved to head back into the village, Naruto stayed back, looking up at me expectantly.

I stared back.

He held his hand out to me.

I sighed, letting Susanoo dissipate and sinking to the ground.

He slid his arm around me, catching my weight when my legs finally gave out.  “Do you want your chair?”

“Yes,” I said, not looking at him.

He unsealed it and helped me sit.  “Looks like a lot of ninjas are trying to take advantage of the chaos,” he said.  “Kurotsuchi said they had to reclaim the village from some group that swooped in when everyone was still recovering in Lightning.”

“I could hear, dobe.”

“Oh, well I dunno what you were doing up there, all skulking and menacing.”

“I’m your bodyguard.”

“You’re the one who’s got assassins after him.”

“You’re the idiot who can’t use jutsu.”

“Babe, enough.”

I stopped rolling my chair forward and gawked at him.

“What?” he asked, turning back to face me.  Then his face went red.  “I didn’t… crap, uh…  It’s a term of endearment!”

“Since when are we on terms of endearment?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.  It didn’t make me feel warm inside.

“Since we mutually climaxed this morning,” he said, turning around abruptly and stalking forward.

“Sex and endearment are mutually exclusive,” I informed his retreating back, trying not to cringe at his word choice.

He whirled around again.  “What?!  You’re such a sociopath sometimes!  We are soulmates and we are in love and you should just deal with it already!”

“Oh, so you’re okay with all of this now?” I said, tilting my head to the side and staring into his eyes.  “You’ve just moved on from your wife and kids and your whole stupid fake hokage life?”

He looked down at his feet then back at me.  “Okay, no, I haven’t.”

“So don’t try and act like things are simple between us, or that you can just call me whatever ridiculous name you want.”

“Yeah, I get it.  But you’re blushing, you know.”

“I am fucking not,” I snarled, pushing my chair forward and ignoring him the rest of the way to the Tsuchikage’s.

I was surprised when I was allowed into the inner sanctum.  Did they not take me seriously because of my legs?  I suddenly wanted to make them take me seriously.

“You need a leash for your guard dog?” Oonoki asked, eyeing me warily as we approached.

I flashed my teeth at him in the semblance of a smile.

“Sasuke is my partner,” Naruto said.  “He helped me beat Kaguya.”

“Didn’t help you stop that tree though,” Oonoki commented.

“Uh, Sasuke is literally the person who stopped the tree,” Naruto said.

“A year and a half later…” Oonoki trailed off.  “Now if I had the rinnegan, I would have-”

Naruto stopped him with a look.

This was definitely Hokage Naruto.

“Anyway, we dispatched a team back to Koishi to deal with those criminals and bring back your friend,” the tsuchikage continued.  “You’re welcome in Iwa as long as you like, even your troublesome little missing nin friend.”

It quickly became apparent that things were as dire in Iwa as they were in Konoha.  The hospital was full to capacity despite the fact that most of the able-bodied ninjas had been in Lightning during the final battle, the town had been ravaged by the God Tree roots and by raiders, and there simply wasn’t enough sustainable food.

There was still a large supply of alcohol, though, that Kurotsuchi and Naruto were working hard on dwindling down in our room that night.

“So you want me to gather all of our ninjas together to do a coordinated mass pooping in our fields to make the crops grow better?” Kurotsuchi asked, swirling the sake around in her glass.

“Yes, exactly.”

“It might be the alcohol talking, but that seems like a reasonable idea,” she hummed.

“It’s like, ya gotta take a dump?  Dump it in the fields,” Naruto said with a sage nod.

“You could just have people collect their stools and bring them to a designated area for dispersal in the fields,” I cut in agitatedly.  “Why would everyone just be out pooping in a field?  Who would do that?”

They both shot me looks, like I was somehow interfering with their great ideas.

I took a long drink and went back to ignoring them in my corner.

“Stools,” Naruto said, suddenly snickering.  “You’re such a priss, Sas’.”

“Just say shit like a normal person,” Kurotsuchi agreed.

“How about you both take a shit on your shitty selves and shut up about this?” I suggested.

Naruto burst out laughing.  “Oh my god, babe, are you drunk?”

“No,” I said sourly.  I’d only had two drinks, which was like having a glass of water for me��� in my fake dream world…  “Shit.”

Naruto kept laughing.

“You’re drunk, too,” Kurotsuchi kindly pointed out.

“What?!” Naruto cried, aghast.  He then paused to think about it.  “Shit.”

“It’s weird, getting used to this new world,” she said with a sigh.  “Being bad at drinking, being demoted…”

“I don’t think I mind that last part,” Naruto said, shaking his head.  “You still wanna be the tsuchikage?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said.  “Who wants that old fart in charge?”

“You were a good tsuchikage in my world,” Naruto said with a smile.

“I was a good one in my world, too,” she agreed.  “So the geezer can hurry up and retire already, I’ve been the tsuchikage for the last three years.”

“Your private fantasies and reality are two separate things, and one shouldn’t inform the other,” I helpfully pointed out.

“Uchiha, you are savage,” Kurotsuchi said, rolling her eyes.  She then stage-whispered to Naruto, “Does he ever stop being a bitch?”

“Never.”

I threw a kunai at his head.

“See!” he hissed, holding up the piece of his hair that I’d managed to slice off.

“You need a haircut anyway,” I said.

“Aw, I like your matching man-buns,” Kurotsuchi protested.

“I just haven’t gotten around to cutting it,” Naruto said, touching his hair nervously.

“We could do it right now,” I suggested.

“Um, we could do it when everyone is sober,” Naruto countered.

“Lame.”

Naruto looked at me, and I could see the alcohol slowly overpowering his new-found maturity.  “I know you are, but what am I?”

I held up my kunai.  “Scared?”

His eyes glinted.

I wasn’t a very good barber when I was drunk.  I wasn’t bad, just not very good.

Kurotsuchi laughed until she was crying.

“Why would you let me cut your hair?” I complained after she had left and we were finally alone.  My hand was buried in his hair, already missing those long, awful tresses.

“Because you made me!”

“Like I could make you do anything.”

“Babe, I gave up my life for three years to dedicate myself to finding you.”

“I already told you to stop with that.”

He looked at me blankly for a moment before it clicked.  “What, ‘babe’?”

“Yes, Uzumaki, ‘babe’.”

“But I don’t want to call you ‘bastard’ anymore.”

“Then call me by my name!”

“But everyone can call you by your name,” he complained, looping his arm around my waist.  “It feels too… impersonal.”

“You are so damn weird.”

“You do the same thing with all your ‘dobe’s and ‘usuratonkachi’s.”

I sniffed my disdain at that.

“Sasuke,” he said, kissing me softly and carefully.

“Idiot,” I whispered, pushing him away.

“You’re really red…”

I kicked him further away.  “Go to sleep.”

He pulled up his futon next to mine, and promptly started snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow.

I watched him until my own eyes drifted shut.

 - 16 -

  “Why am I so bad at drinking?” Naruto complained, rolling over to lay his cheek on my chest the next morning.

“Why are you invading my personal space?” I complained back, running my fingers through his newly shortened hair.

“Do you want me to move?” he asked, and it was a genuine question.

I didn’t answer, continuing to stroke his hair.

“Talk to me?” he requested.

“Why do you always have to talk about everything?” I asked.  “Haven’t we lived our entire lives not talking about anything?”

“And that went so well for us, babe.”

I pushed him away.

“What?” he whined.

“Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“Yes, Sasuke, god.  You’re the one always telling me what an idiot I am.  Spell.  It.  Out.”

I let out an exasperated sigh.  “Okay, did you used to have a special pet name for your wife?” I asked.

“...yes…?”

“And what was that pet name, Naruto?”

“...babe…?”

I sighed loudly.

“It’s how I feel about you,” he said.

“That I’m a helpless infant that needs your protection?”

“It just means that I love you,” he mumbled.

“It just means that you’re trying to fill a hole from having your wife of twenty years suddenly gone from your life,” I growled.  “I’m not your hole to fill.”

The look he gave me at that shut my mouth immediately and made it run dry.  “That’s too bad,” he said, his voice low and sexual.

I couldn’t look away from that look in his eyes, and I finally mustered up a very quiet, “Stop.”

Naruto turned away, embarrassed.  “I…”

“Please just don’t,” I said, moving myself farther away from him.

“I don’t get you!” he cried in frustration.  “Well… I do.  But I don’t!”

“What is there to get?”

Naruto stood up and started pacing.

I was tired of the conversation.  Not all of our problems needed to be dissected and discussed to death.  I lay on my back.  “Do my exercises,” I said, pointing my toe at him.

He turned to me, his mouth shaping a series of words, but he gave up on each one of them before they sounded from his lips.

I frowned at him.

He huffed angrily and stomped out of the room.

I didn’t care.  I lay there and stared at the ceiling for a long while until Naruto came crawling back with his tail between his legs.

He started moving my leg carefully.  “Don’t be mad,” he said quietly.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re something,” he said, adding more resistance.  “I’m mad.”

“Why are you mad?” I growled, trying to keep my breathing steady despite how hard Naruto was pushing my therapy.

“I’m mad because you throw grenades at me and then just move on like it was nothing,” he said, switching to the other leg.

“You just run away anyway, so what do you care?”

He had my leg almost to my chest now and I was shaking from the effort to try and push back.  “I know I shouldn’t run away, okay?  I just had to cool off, and obviously I haven’t cooled off enough,” he said, suddenly easing off of my leg.

I let it drop to the ground and panted.  “I can take it.”

He rubbed my leg absently.  “Can we just go back to yesterday morning?”

“I thought you wanted to talk things out, not fuck them out.”

“How do you say shit like that with a straight face?” he asked, blushing.

I didn’t answer, feeling the heat creep along my own cheeks.  “Say what you need to say already.”

“I… forgot…” he trailed off, his hand sliding up my thigh.

“That was fast,” I said, kicking at his chest with my other leg.

He stumbled back a little, his eyes lighting up in a smile.  “Hey, that was pretty strong.”

“You don’t have to patronize me,” I said with a scowl.

“I wasn’t,” he said, pushing my leg aside and sliding in between my suddenly very open legs.  “You’re getting stronger.”

I looked at him.

His hand landed on the futon over my shoulder as he came in closer.  “I was going to tell you that you were right.”

“I usually am,” I said, not minding his proximity so much as long as he understood that I was always right and he was always wrong.

“That’s what you like to hear, anyway,” he hummed into my neck, settling in there and letting his body relax into mine.

I bit my lip and Naruto gasped softly as we just fit together.

“I am trying to claim back my old life,” he said, kissing my neck very softly.  “It’s not like I’m confusing you with Hinata, but… yeah, you’re right, calling you ‘babe’ and stuff is just habit.”

“So you’re going to stop doing that like you stopped running away from all of our fights?”

“Yeah, sure, if you’re going to stop evading everything and constantly insulting me.”

“Hn.”

“Hn yourself.”

I slid my arm around him.  “I’m not… ready…”

“Not ready for what?” he asked gently.

I shook my head.

He kept his lips pressed to my skin, soothing and warm.  “I’m sorry I told you that I love you,” he said.  “But I do.  I know you’re not…  I’m rushing things.  I’m trying to get that feeling of intimacy back.  The thing is, you and I… we’ve always…  You’re the person I was supposed to be intimate with in the first place.”

I sighed.

“Don’t sigh at me, jerk.”

I sighed more loudly.

“What?  What now?”

“You spent an awful long time yesterday trying to make it clear that you’re not the Naruto from my Tsukuyomi world.”

“Uh, well, yeah.”

“So…”

“So…?”

“Why are you only clever when you want to be?” I complained.  “So you’re doing exactly what you didn’t want me to do, right?  The man you have all this… intimacy with,” I said as disdainfully as possible, “is not me.”

Naruto snorted.  “Now you’re the dumb one.”

“Excuse you?”

“The man I love used to be the boy picking fights with me and giving me longing looks when we were six.”

“Longing looks?” I asked incredulously.

“He’s the boy who found missing cats with me and learned how to walk on trees with me and who, who almost gave up his damn life to save me in the Land of Waves…” he paused, pressing his forehead into my neck.  “He… he’s the boy who decided to take a different path from me, but somehow we still ended up on the same side, saving the world together…  He’s… he’s the man who took my arm, but it’s okay, because I took his, too, and if that’s what it took for us to finally understand each other, then I would give up all of my arms, because that’s the man I love.”

“Good god, are you crying?” I complained.

“Yes!”

I ran my fingers through his hair.  “I did a really shitty job of cutting this.”

“Sasuke!  Focus, dammit!”

I fell quiet, stroking his hair.

“Stupid,” he grumbled.

“...who the hell is stupid?” I growled.

“I just poured out my heart to you and you’re over here being your usual cold bastard self.”

I pulled his hair.

“Yeow!”

“Can you please just give me some time?” I asked softly.

He tilted his face to look at me.  “I… yeah, of course.”

“You know how I feel about you,” I said, touching his cheek before pushing him away.  “Just… give me time.”

He sat up, studying my face thoughtfully.

“Let’s finish,” I said.

He nodded and resumed exercising my leg.