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karajaynetoday · 4 years

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ours, for the rest of forever | ashton irwin

Hello friends! Here is a godparent!Ash one shot, based on this blurb about being godparents with Ashton and also inspired in part by that scene in Season 5 of One Tree Hill when Brooke is randomly looking after a baby but has to also finish fashion sketches so Lucas comes to her rescue with babysitting and it is overall very soft and cute. You know the one! Lol.

A very big thank you to Jex @sadistmichael , Anna @cheekysos , Jae @jae-writes-fanfiction and Hailey @talkfastromance4 for proof-reading and providing feedback on this when it was in its draft stages. You’re all absolute gems!

Anyway, enjoy the softness and as always, please let me know what you think! I’ve got some thoughts for a potential part 2, so we’ll wait and see how part 1 goes :)

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 3.3k words

Warnings: none

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

When your best friend Alice told you she was having a baby, you were over the moon. She was honestly one of the most kind-hearted people you knew, and the amount of love in her heart for others would only bloom more for a little baby to hold and cherish. Her partner James had been by Alice’s side since your university days, and their relationship was one that was literally #goals. They’d moved over to Los Angeles because James had an opportunity to work at an indie creative agency working with music artists, and when you followed a year or so later to pursue a consulting job, they’d welcomed you with open arms into the little community they’d formed of Australian ex-pats, LA creatives and generally good quality, salt of the earth people.

In the early days, there were lots of late nights (that became early mornings) running amok in West Hollywood, going from one house party to the next, but as you grew older, it became more likely to be a quiet Sunday sesh in someone’s backyard, with a barbeque cooking and someone playing their favourite tunes on a portable speaker while you floated in the swimming pool or lounged about on the grass with everyone’s various pets in attendance. When you met Ashton, he was drumming shirtless at his own house party, and then doing shots with James and their friend Calum. You were more than a little intimidated, although he had a kind face and welcoming nature, Ashton was forthcoming his opinions. On the other hand, you were always more reserved, and it took you time to feel like you belonged with their crazy crew of friends. One night, you and Ashton ended up alone in the kitchen sharing some chicken nuggets and potato gems tater tots after a wild night on the house part dancefloor, and from there you could feel a solid friendship starting to take hold.

A few months after Alice and James told you they were expecting, they’d invited you and Ashton out to brunch at one of your favourite spots. It was a little hole-in-the-wall café in Studio City that you’d first come to after Ashton wouldn’t stop raving about how good their iced coffees were. You all ordered your favourites (avocado smash with a side of smoked salmon and a hash brown for you, raspberry hotcakes for Alice, a breakfast burger for James, and pulled pork eggs benedict with a side of halloumi for Ashton) and were chatting away about your weeks at work when Alice reached down and pulled two envelopes out of her tote bag and handed on to you and one to Ashton. You took them, looking confusedly at Alice and James, who had big goofy smiles on their faces.

“Well, go on! Open them!” Alice half-shouted excitedly, squeezing James’ hand on top of the table. You and Ashton glanced at each other, perplexed, before tearing open the envelopes and finding a card inside. Yours read, “Will you be my godmother?” in gold writing on the front, and inside was an ultrasound photo with a handwritten note from Alice that made you tear up when you started reading it. You could see in your peripheral vision that Ash had a corresponding card in his envelope too, and he was standing up to give James and Alice a hug with an enthusiastic “Fuck YES! Of course I will!” that garnered some disapproving looks from the middle-aged women sitting near you. You held it together just enough to stand up and exchange hugs and choke out a “Y-y-yes” to Alice and James, before basically bursting into full blown tears of happiness and apologising profusely as your brunch was delivered to the table. As you wiped away your tears and managed to begin eating your avocado smash, you felt Ashton squeeze your hand reassuringly under the table, and when you glanced towards him he was grinning at you with a smile that was as bright as a thousand suns.

It was a normal June day at the office a few months later when your phone pinged with a text from Alice in your group chat with her, James and Ashton that

read “It’s go-time. We’ll keep you updated!”. You replied with lots of exclamation points and crying emojis, and for Alice and James to let you know if they needed anything, and a few minutes later Ashton had penned a full paragraph about the beauty of the creation of life, how he knew that Alice and James would be incredible parents, and that he couldn’t wait to meet the little one once they made their way into the world. Ashton was frustratingly eloquent sometimes. Later that night, you received a photo message of a small, pink baby snuggled up on Alice’s chest, with James’ arm thrown around her shoulders, and the caption “Charlie Rose, ten fingers, ten toes. Come visit tomorrow, she can’t wait to meet you x” and you could barely sleep from the anticipation of meeting your darling goddaughter for the first time.

Ashton insisted on meeting you at the hospital so you could visit Alice, James and Charlie together (“Dude, we’re a godparent team here! A package deal! A dynamic duo! Can’t have you getting in there as the favourite from day one!”) and you’d never seen him more gentle or smitten than when the small, wriggly bundle of blankets that was Charlie Rose was placed in his arms. Ashton rocked her gently, kissing her head, and whispering to her about how incredible she was and how excited he was to see her grow. James was snapping away with his camera, and he asked you and Ash to stand together for a photo holding Charlie, which would later be stuck on your fridge for years to come (and possibly be your phone lockscreen, but no need to mention that to Ashton).

Charlie was a tricky baby at first, resisting sleep and struggling with colic, but Alice and James were incredible and persistent and by the time she was 6 months old, they basically had the hang of this parenting thing. They didn’t want to christen Charlie in a church, but instead decided to hold one of your cherished backyard barbeques as a naming celebration for her. All of your nearest and dearest were there, and Alice’s mum had even flown in from Australia to meet her newest granddaughter. Despite it being an incredibly informal affair, Ashton insisted on making a speech about how he felt to be in Charlie’s life, to love and support her through every milestone and challenge she might encounter along the way. Charlie was happily gurgling in Ashton’s arms as he spoke, and she reached up to grab at his cheeks when he told her he loved her. Alice’s mum insisted on getting photos of everyone, including you and Ashton holding Charlie, and you tried to ignore the butterflies you felt when Ash slid his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side for a cosy photo pose. Were you actually starting to fall for him, or was it just the baby fever talking? Because damn, that man looked good with a baby in his arms.

When Charlie was almost 12 months old, Alice decided that she wanted to go back to work a few days a week. Charlie would be in childcare for most of the days, but you’d recently adopted a flexible working arrangement with your own office, and you insisted that you would love to look after Charlie for one day a week. The older Charlie got, the more adventurous she became, so what you’d originally envisioned as nice, quiet days of baking and craft activities and napping soon became full of visits to the playground and the beach and the zoo. Once Ashton heard about your regular babysitting day, he insisted on clearing his schedule as best he could, and joined the outings you and Charlie went on. It’s so much easier to cope with her boundless energy (and occasional temper tantrums) when you and Ash are together, and you have to admit it’s just as nice on the quieter days as well, when you snuggle in on your couch to watch a Disney movie, or do some puzzles with Charlie on the lounge room floor.

When Ashton was back out on tour, he’d insist on FaceTiming with you and Charlie on your babysitting day so he didn’t miss out on all the fun. Sometimes he’d read her a story or sing her a lullaby before naptime, and sometimes the timezones wouldn’t work out and he’d end up calling during naptime, so the two of you just spent a little time catching up on each other’s lives from your opposite sides of the country or the planet. Ashton also loved collecting little souvenirs for Charlie on his touring travels, and your group chat with Alice and James was regularly filled with photos of snow globes or little soft mascot toys he’d found in one city or the next. It was so cute how excited Ashton got when he found a new souvenir for Charlie, and you couldn’t help but imagine how adorable he’d be when he had his own children and carried on little traditions like this for them too.

One particular weekend, Alice and James were going away overnight to attend a friend’s wedding nearby, and despite their anxiety and nerves (and admittedly, your own), they decided to leave Charlie with you for the night as your house is the main one besides their own that she spends time in. They dropped Charlie off just after lunchtime, and after a teary goodbye, she’s soon happily playing with her toy cars and trains on the lounge room carpet (including making broom-broom noises, what a cutie) when you get an unexpected call from your boss. They’re rambling about a client needing an urgent rewrite on something that you’d submitted the previous day, a pretty sizeable project, and you could feel yourself starting to fill with dread at the idea of having to rework the entire thing while also keeping Charlie happy and entertained. After managing to jot down the gist of the rewrite on the back of a colouring in page you found on your coffee table and ending the call with your boss, you took a deep, calming breath before looking over to where Charlie was still playing on the floor. Sure, she looked content and adorable now, but nap time was fast approaching, and then dinner, and then eventually bedtime, and there was nothing Charlie liked more than stomping her feet and putting up a fight where sleep was involved. It was time to call for help, and your fingers found Ashton’s contact in your phone and hit “call” before you realised what you were doing.

“Hey, how’s it going with my favourite girl?” Ashton answered cheerily, and your heart stopped beating for a moment before you mentally face-palmed when you realised that he was talking about Charlie, not you, being his favourite girl.

“Hey Ash! All good so far, but um… I think I’m going to need some help. My boss is having a crisis, so I need to smash out some edits and new content in the next three hours, but Charlie’s due to go for a nap and you know that she -” You could feel yourself starting to sound more panicked with each word that you spoke, but Ashton quickly cut you off with his soothing voice.

“That she likes to pick a fight at nap time, yes. A truly assertive future world leader on our hands, I reckon. I’m just finishing up a demo, but I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I’ll sort dinner as well, spaghetti sound okay?” He mused, sounding as calm as ever.

“That… would be amazing. Thank you. You’re actually the best human to exist, you know that?” You gushed, feeling some of your anxiety immediately begin to disappear.

Within half an hour, Ash was in your lounge room handling Charlie’s nap time negotiations while you were furiously typing away at your laptop at the kitchen counter and fielding more frantic phone calls from your boss. Another 20 minutes passed before Ash proclaimed victory as Charlie lost her battle against sleep, and he came to see you in the kitchen and make a start on dinner. You were so lost in your task that you didn’t hear him come in, and you jumped a mile out of your seat in fright when he gently touched your shoulder in greeting.

“Jesus christ, Ash! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You huffed, taking your glasses off and rubbing your eyes in exhaustion.

Ashton leaned on the counter opposite you and raised his eyebrows in concern. “Sorry love, didn’t realise you didn’t hear me come in. You good?”

Damn it, why was he always so nice to you these days? Remember the days when you were scared of him because he used to argue with you about politics and the state of the world? Why did those seem somehow easier because fear was more natural to you than whatever this other feeling was that you were starting to have whenever Ashton was around you.

You sighed and put your glasses back on, frowning briefly at the screen before hitting save one more time (just in case your bad luck took a turn and fucked you over with lost documents).

“Yep. Sorry. It’s just been a bit of a day. Did Charlie go down okay?” You forced a smile as you glanced up at Ashton over the top of your laptop screen.

“Yeah, she gave in once I offered another bedtime singalong. And maybe, juuuust maybe, I might have mentioned something about some sweets after dinner…” Ash looked at you guiltily, licking his lips nervously. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him, but you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face.

Ashton got started on making spaghetti while you tapped away at your computer, and soon enough you heard Charlie calling out for Ashton in her little sing-song voice on the baby monitor you had set up on the kitchen counter (“Asht-aaaaa! Where are youuuuu! Asht-aaaaa!”). The spaghetti smelled incredible, and when Ashton brought Charlie into the kitchen from her nap and she’d had a little while to play a bit more, you settled at the kitchen table to tuck into some dinner. Well, Charlie was more interested in playing with her food than actually eating it, but yours was delicious and for the third or fourth time that day, you thanked Ash profusely for being such a gem (to which he just gave you one of those dazzling smiles in response).

After dinner, Ashton took Charlie for a bath and read her a bedtime story while you powered through the final part of the project edits you needed to finish before your boss burst a blood vessel. You could hear Ashton reading to Charlie on the baby monitor, doing all of the different character voices, and her little giggles in response were both breaking and warming your heart. Warming it with the cuteness and how much you loved that little girl and her cheeky soul, and breaking it with the guilt about how it was supposed to be you snuggled up reading to her, but instead you were frantically typing about key messages, marketing strategies and budget lines. You were doing your last section of re-writes when Ash came back into the kitchen, and this time you didn’t jump when he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. In fact, you leaned into his touch, and moaned quietly in relief as his thumbs began to work into the tension in your muscles.

“How’s it going?” Ashton asked quietly, continuing to press his hands into your back and shoulders.

“Almost there. Mostly just proof-reading now, and then I can send it and not fucking think about it for another second until at least Monday. Ash, I’m so sorry again, I know this isn’t what you had in mind for your Friday night and I should’ve been more organised but I just didn’t think that -” You began to ramble, feeling the guilt wash over you.

“Hey, hey. Stop. It’s fine. We’re a team, remember? The dynamic duo? Gotta stick together. We’ve got a whole lifetime of dealing with Charlie meltdowns and milestones ahead of us, love. It’s our job and our blessing, for the rest of forever. Don’t feel guilty over one night.” Ashton said softly, squeezing your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. There were those butterflies again, and your skin was almost burning from where his hands had touched you. You simply nodded at his words, before returning to your laptop and the task at hand. Ashton stepped away and quietly began washing the dishes (honestly, is there anything this man didn’t do?) as you began typing again.

Finally, about twenty minutes later, you hit send on the email to your boss with the completed rewrites, and shut your laptop with a deep sense satisfaction, letting out a triumphant whisper-yell, mindful of the sleeping child down the hallway from you. Ash looked up from where he was sat on the couch, scrolling on his phone, and rushed over to high-five you when he realised that you’d shut your laptop.

“Right. You go shower and I’ll put the kettle on, then it’s one episode of Sons of Anarchy and then off to bed with you.” Ash began, tugging you out of your seat and pushing you towards your bedroom before you could protest.

“Wait… how did you know I was watching Sons of Anarchy?!” You turned and asked, with one hand on the door to your bedroom.

“I was stalking through your Netflix earlier when you were lost in editing land. Plus, I know you can’t resist a charming male lead who has a killer smile and looks damn good in a leather jacket.” Ash chuckled, shooting you a wink and one of those goddamn smiles.

You hated to admit it, but you felt so much better after your shower, and having Ash pull your feet up over his lap and absentmindedly run his hands softly across your legs from time to time wasn’t exactly bad either. You stuck to your promise of only one episode of Sons of Anarchy, and after pulling your groaning self up off the couch and jokingly half-carrying you to your bedroom door, Ashton bid you goodnight with a hug and a kiss to the forehead before disappearing into your guest room.

As you settled into your own bed, alone, and pulled the blankets up over you, you couldn’t help but think how nice it was to have Ash so present with you and with Charlie, and how sweet it would be in the morning to wake up together in the same house and go for breakfast at your favourite little brunch spot down the street, before waiting for James and Alice to return in the early afternoon. It was all your own little family unit, and as you felt yourself being lulled into sleep, you also felt a deep sense of content in your heart about the loved ones in your life. And then also there were those butterflies, just slowly but surely making their presence known, and getting a little bigger every time you thought of Ashton, and how much he loved Charlie, and how much she loved him and you, and how much you loved them both.

Shit. Did you actually love him? Were you falling in love with Ashton Irwin? Before you could panic too much, the need for sleep won out, and you slept peacefully knowing two of your favourite people were also sleeping calmly in the rooms either side of you.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

#my writing #ashton irwin #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #5sos imagine #5sos writing #there's going to be a part two #charlie rose ten fingers ten toes #soft AF up in here on a saturday morning #also i fucking miss going to brunch with my pals that I based alice and james on

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malumsmermaid · 4 years

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Random question ahead! So the last few days I searched for new accounts here to read some one-shots and preferences from the boys and I wanted to know what your favorite accounts who also write are? Btw, I LOVE your writing ❤️

Thank you so much sweets! That means so much to me 🥺

Quick list of incredibly talented people who need no explanation because they’re just amazing, period: @cakesunflower @irwinkitten @maluminspace and @sexgodashton

@goth5sos Amara’s talent for world building is just...beyond everything. And her concepts are always unique and out of the box, things I’d never consider in my life and she makes them fucking WORK and I love that for her.

@calpops is to character building what Amara is to world building. I love all of Eve’s stories with all my heart and her characters are so real and life like that I can see them in my head as I’m reading.

@sadistmichael Jex. Fuckin Jex man. They’re phenomenal at smut, they explore so many things and their blog is so open for communication and education. I’ve grown up and lived in a space where learning these kinds of things about myself is taboo and it still makes me feel anxious, but the freedom on their blog to discuss anything within Jex’s comfort zone is so fresh and I can’t wait to see where their mind goes next.

@lashtonswildflower Anna comes up with the cutest family concepts and I love it, like I love kids and all but pregnancy and parenting stories aren’t always my cup of tea but she and @loveroflrh both do phenomenal jobs with those and I love them.

Finally @castaway-cashton I just can’t wait to see her grow as a writer and blossom further. Julia is lovely and I’m excited to watch as she hones her craft and learns more about her writing style and what she wants to do.

#afihemmings #recs

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simmancy · 4 years

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🏹 - let's give this one to undead great grandma

🏹 - for a talent they wish they had

Oh, there are many talents she wishes she had. She was never a particularly talented cook, for instance, but she never truly needed to cook before. She also was never particularly talented in the arts, so she finds it very interesting that Luna and her line have taken so easily to creating.

She had a different craft she took to, after all.

Thanks again Jex, this one was FUN!

Force my Characters to Spill Their Secrets!

#pp ask #ask game #simblrinterests #ask #saviorhide

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calumcest · 4 years

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i want to teach you a lesson (in the worst kind of way)

me writing 5.6k in 4 hours and pretending my essays/presentation/exams/dissertation don’t exist? it’s more likely than you think

thank u jex for listening to me scream abt this for the past 4 hours and for always being the sweetest and most encouraging person in the world you are truly such a positive influence in my life

also this is based off a prompt i got i think in 2014 never say i don’t provide! i would link the post but honestly it’s just got my 16 year old self’s embarrassing screams on it so frankly i would rather not so instead i will provide you with a screenshot of the ask under the cut

[ao3]

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window.

“The new PE teacher,” Michael says.

“He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously.

“He’s also twice your age,” Michael says. “Go on, off to your practice rooms.” The girls groan, but one by one pull themselves away from the window and start to wander off. Michael stays by the window, one eye on the girls to make sure they actually go where they’re supposed to and one eye on the new PE teacher, who’s dividing the class up into groups and handing out footballs. He is kind of hot, Michael supposes, if you’re into muscular guys who are clearly good at sports. Which Michael most definitely is.

Michael Clifford loves his job.

Sure, the staff room politics can get a bit exhausting (although Michael would be lying if he didn’t admit to loving all the drama he wasn’t personally involved in), and the kids can drive him up the fucking wall, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than teaching.

Except today. Today, when a good portion of 10C has somehow exploded into an argument over whether or not Julia snatched a guitar when Sam was about to take it, he thinks he’d rather be a human guinea pig for infectious diseases, or something. It probably pays better, anyway.

“Sam,” he says sternly, and he turns to look at Michael, anger written all over his face. “There are plenty of guitars in the cupboard. Let Julia have that one.”

“But sir, that’s the only one which-”

“I don’t care,” Michael says, holding up a hand, because he’s perfectly aware that it’s the only guitar which stays in tune longer than thirty seconds. He’s been begging for a budget increase since the day he joined the school. “It’s one lesson, it’s not an exam, you can deal with it for forty-five minutes.”

“But Mr Clifford-” Lucy pipes up, ready to defend Sam.

“No, Lucy,” he says firmly. “I want all of you in the practice rooms, now.” Sam glares at him furiously and stomps off without an instrument in his hands, Lucy and Pip running behind him to one of the practice rooms outside the main classroom. Michael decides he’s got enough on his plate without inserting himself into hormonally-charged teenage drama, so he lets them go, rounding on Noel and Olivia, who are still arguing with Julia, Brandon hovering awkwardly nearby.

“I don’t want to hear anything else about this,” Michael cuts in, and Noel and Olivia round on Michael instead.

“Sir, she stole it from-”

“He was about to pick it u-”

“I don’t want to spend my lunchtime in detention, and unless you two do I suggest you get your instruments and go to your practice rooms,” Michael says curtly, trying to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He’s getting a stress-induced headache already, and it’s the first lesson of the day.

“Fine,” Olivia spits, full of the kind of melodrama only a fifteen-year-old can summon, and Michael tries not to roll his eyes as they stalk off to one of the practice rooms at the back of the classroom without so much as another glance in his direction. He’s pretty sure he hears one of them mutter fuck you under their breath as they walk away, and he feels momentarily bad before he remembers they’ll have forgotten about it by their next lesson.

“Don’t do it again,” is all he says tiredly to Julia, who nods meekly, and scampers off to join her group in one of the other practice rooms at the back of the classroom. That being sorted, Michael turns back to the rest of the class, to find about eight of the girls gathered at the window, chattering excitedly.

“That doesn’t look like composing a short piece on three instruments to me,” he says, wandering over, and a bunch of the girls look back at him with a look of excitement on their faces.

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window and leaving a mark. Michael peers over their heads to see a distant figure standing on the field with a class that looks like it might be 7A. All he can make out is that it’s a guy, with what looks like a mess of dark brown hair and a couple of tattoos on his (very muscular, Michael notes with approval) arms that he’s waving around, clearly explaining something.

Michael vaguely remembers Paula, the headmistress, saying something about a new PE teacher starting this week, but he’d been too busy whisper-explaining to Luke why Magic: The Gathering was a great game and he should definitely play it with Michael to remember what she’d said the guy was called.

“The new PE teacher,” he says, hoping they won’t ask what he’s called.

“He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously.

Huh, he thinks, pushing himself away from the window and heading to the first practice room to make sure Noel, Olivia and Brandon have calmed down a bit. Sarah’s kind of right.

-------

Michael has a free period fourth period, and even if he usually wouldn’t be seen dead on the field, it’s a beautiful day, and it is on the route to the staff room. Well, it’s on a route to the staff room, at least, and if that route happens to be five minutes longer than simply walking through the building and over the quad, then Michael doesn’t need to know about it. He could do with the exercise, he tells himself. It’s nothing to do with the new PE teacher.

When Michael gets down to the field, the PE teacher’s gathering up the footballs from the previous lesson and stuffing them in the big netted bag that’s been threatening to break for about five years. He turns around after picking up the last one and spots Michael (who is definitely not staring) cutting across the top part of the field. He raises a hand, and Michael’s not really sure if he’s waving or telling him to get the fuck off the field, but then he’s gathering the bag in one hand and jogging over, and Michael’s absolutely not watching the lines of his muscles as he makes his way over.

“Hi!” the guy says, grinning widely, and fucking hell, he’s even hotter up close. He’s got dark brown eyes, crinkled at the corners with the brilliant smile currently gracing his full lips, and his dark hair is curled, falling into his face slightly. “I’m Calum. Calum Hood. I’m new.”

“I’m Michael Clifford,” Michael says. “I’m not.” He curses inwardly as soon as the words have left his lips - he should be legally restricted from talking to hot guys, honestly - but Calum laughs, laughs, and it’s not fake, if the twinkle in his eyes is anything to go by.

“I gathered,” he says. “So, what do you teach?”

“Music,” Michael says. “You’re PE?” Calum nods.

“Music’s my second, though,” he says.

“Oh?” Michael wants to die. Of course hot PE guy can teach Music, of all things. He was literally crafted by God to upset Michael.

“Yeah,” Calum says, with a smile. “I mean, I’m sure I’m nowhere near as good as you, but I play guitar, and a little piano. Bass is my real love, though.”

“Bass?” Michael says, trying his best not to imagine Calum’s long fingers flying across a fretboard.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “I played in a band, for a bit, but, y’know.” He gestures at himself. “Clearly didn’t work out.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool, though,” Michael says, genuinely impressed. “And hey, bassist to secondary school PE teacher is an upgrade.” Calum laughs.

“Fuck you, man,” he says, but he’s grinning, and Michael feels a warmth spreading from his toes to his cheeks. “Hey, are you heading to the staff room?” Michael nods. “Mind if I tag along? I’m still finding my way around.”

“Sure,” Michael says, shrugging and hoping it conceals the fact that he kind of wants to turn back to the safety of his music room and bang his head on the wall until he forgets someone as perfect as Calum Hood exists on the same planet as him.

“Sweet,” Calum says, beaming at him as he holds up the bag of footballs. “Let me just lock these in the shed and I’ll be right with you.”

Yeah, sweet, Michael thinks, as Calum turns on his heel and jogs away from Michael over to the tiny shed in the corner of the field which houses all the outdoor equipment. Not like Michael’s already head over heels in love, or anything.

Sweet.

-------

Calum’s officially introduced in the staff room at lunchtime on his first day, but Michael has lunch duty on a Monday so he misses it. Luke and Ashton tell him Calum’s a big hit in the staff room, “really charming, and have you seen his arms?”, which just puts Michael in a bad mood, because he now has competition.

It’s three days before Michael bumps into Calum again, in his free second period, which he’s spending catching up on all the marking that was due, like, two weeks ago and is still unfinished.

“Hey, Michael!” Calum says cheerfully, sitting down opposite Michael at the desk that he’s entirely covered with a careful class-organised system of marking. “Oh, shit, are you busy?”

“No,” Michael says immediately, because what’s his job compared to conversation with the hottest guy in Australia? “What’s up?” Calum shrugs.

“Just wanted a chat,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. You been hiding from me?” His eyes are twinkling as he says it, and it makes Michael’s stomach flip, because it’s pretty friendly for a guy he’s met once. If Michael were anyone else, he would say Calum might almost be flirting. Maybe Calum’s just like that, though. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

“Been catching up on marking,” Michael says, indicating all the papers on the desk. “I’m literally going to stop setting homework, I swear to God.”

“Can’t say I relate,” Calum says, with a grin. “Perks of being a PE teacher.”

“Yeah, but you have to deal with, like, concussions, and shit,” Michael says, capping his pen.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and all that,” Calum says breezily, and Michael snorts.

“Typical PE teacher,” he says. “I could have had my leg cut off and my PE teacher would have made me keep running.” Calum smirks.

“Well, you have another leg, don’t you?” he says, and laughs when Michael scowls. “I’m kidding. I’d let you do push ups instead.” Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“How generous,” he says. Calum grins back at him, and Michael’s heart does a fucking backwards somersault, or something ridiculous.

“That’s what you get for saying PE teacher is an upgrade from bassist,” he says.

“Hey, that’s just the natural order of things,” Michael says. “It’s not my fault bass is at the bottom of the musical food chain.”

“What’s music without the rhythm section?” Calum says, stretching, and Michael tries his best not to stare at the sliver of skin that’s exposed under his shirt.

“Acoustic?” Michael offers, and Calum huffs out a laugh, bringing his arms (and shirt, Michael thinks wistfully) back down.

“Fuck,” he says agreeably. “Guess my band could have carried on without me.”

“What kind of music did you play?” Michael asks. Calum shrugs.

“A bit of everything,” he says. “We started on All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, that kind of a thing, got more Radiohead and Tame Impala vibes as we went on.” Jesus Christ. Michael has literally died and gone to heaven, because there is absolutely no way a man this perfect exists anywhere other than in Michael’s imagination.

“Mate, I fucking love All Time Low,” Michael says, and a smile unfurls on Calum’s lips.

“Have you heard their new album?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Fuck, Monsters? What a fucking tune.”

“Right?” Calum says enthusiastically. “And Basement Noise?”

“Fucking sick,” Michael agrees.

“You’ve got good taste,” Calum says approvingly. Michael opens his mouth to say something - you’re just saying that to get in my pants is on the tip of his tongue - but he’s interrupted (or possibly saved from eternal embarrassment) by Ashton sitting down heavily next to him.

“Hey, Michael,” he says, throwing a dimpled smile in his direction. “Hey, Calum.”

“Hey, Ashton,” Calum says. “How’s the Year 10 clay project coming along?”

“Oh, you know,” Ashton says, leaning back in his seat and pushing his curls out of his face. “Two busts have been decapitated so far, so we’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

“Nice,” Michael says approvingly.

“I know you’re talking about the decapitations, Mike, you don’t fool me,” Ashton says knowingly. Michael scowls.

“Was it Sam?” he asks, needing to know who to high-five in his next lesson.

“No, Noel,” Ashton says.

“10C? Short kid, really fucking fast?” Calum asks. Michael shrugs. How is Michael supposed to know how fast he is? It’s not like Noel’s Naruto running through the music room.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because apparently Noel’s Naruto running through the art room.

“He’s really fucking good with a ball,” Calum says, and Michael bites back an awful innuendo with a lot of difficulty. Not in front of Ashton, he tells himself.

“He’s lacking a passion,” Ashton says. “He’s good at art, but he messes around too much.”

“Same with Music,” Michael says. “He’s got a temper on him, too.”

“Well, maybe I can get him to channel it into football,” Calum says seriously. “Kids need an outlet, and something they feel like they’re good at. He needs something to be proud of.”

Fuck, Michael thinks, as Ashton enthusiastically responds in kind, staring at Calum as he nods along to whatever Ashton’s saying with a thoughtful frown. He’s definitely in love.

-------

Calum and Michael fall into a bit of a routine.

They don’t share a lot of free periods together, only the fourth on Monday and second on Thursday, but Michael will wait at the corner of the field for Calum to finish clearing up after his last lesson and they’ll walk to the staff room together, sitting and chatting shit for an hour about nothing in particular.

Michael learns that Calum’s got a sister, Mali, who’s in the music industry and whom he’s incredibly proud of, and that he’s half-Kiwi, half-Scottish, and grew up in western Sydney, not too far from Michael. He learns that Calum loves dogs more than he loves either bass or football, loves his dog (Duke) more than he loves anything else on the planet, likes playing Fifa and eating ice cream, and that his biggest fear is not having an impact on the world. He learns that Calum genuinely loves teaching, that Noel’s finding his feet with football and he’s really enjoying it, and that Calum almost went professional with football.

(“Is there anything you aren’t fucking talented at?” Michael says grumpily, when Calum tells him that. Calum laughs.

“Asking cute boys out,” he says, throwing Michael a grin, and Michael’s stomach flips.)

And so he also learns that Calum’s gay, and that he’s been single his whole life.

(“Are you serious? Michael says incredulously. Calum shrugs.

“I’m not a blushing virgin, Michael,” he says, seeing the look on Michael’s face, and Michael scowls.

“I didn’t say you were,” Michael says sullenly, but he’s secretly more than a little jealous of these nameless, faceless boys that have had the honour of fucking Calum Hood.)

Of course, Michael’s not the only one in the school to notice Calum.

A majority of the girls, and a good number of the boys, sing Calum’s praises to Michael every opportunity they get. He hears them talking in the corridors when Calum breezes past, smiling at them but eyes lighting up when he brushes past Michael (which Michael tries desperately not to think about when he’s staring out of the window daydreaming in the middle of a lesson). The staff are no better, either - Brenda and Caroline have been gossiping about Calum’s muscles so loudly that Michael only half-jokingly threatened to file a sexual harassment suit against them on his behalf.

One thing that having an incredibly hot PE teacher has done wonders for, though, is school morale.

It’s the only reason Michael’s standing at the corner of a wet field on a freezing May afternoon, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf and somehow still shivering, huddled between Luke and Ashton, whom he’d bribed-slash-threatened to join him because he didn’t want to be too obvious about it.

(“Mike, I don’t think you could be less obvious about being in love with Calum if you tried,” Luke had said, rolling his eyes, but then Michael had pulled out his trump card - he’d give Luke his coveted spot in the corner of the staff room - and Luke had agreed to go.)

“I fucking hate you,” Luke mumbles into the scarf currently covering a good half of his face. “I’m so fucking cold. This is not worth it to get you laid.”

“Fuck you,” Michael says automatically, eyes on Calum. He’s shouting encouragement and tactics at the Year 12 football team - not that Michael can hear it above the cheers and boos from the rest of the school and their opposition - but he looks so fucking good, brow creased as he focuses on the game.

“Are there usually this many people at football games?” Ashton asks, looking around in wonder. “There aren’t, are there?”

“How d’you expect us to know?” Luke asks, exasperated. “We’re not usually at football games either.”

“We’re being good friends,” Ashton tells Luke, a little sternly, and Luke huffs, but doesn’t say anything else.

Their team scores, and the crowd erupts into cheers, because it’s now only two minutes until the end of the game and they’re two-one up, so it’s unlikely the result will change. Calum still looks determined, though, muttering something to Ben, the Year 12 captain, who nods and jogs back across the bitch to prepare for the kick-off.

“I hate this,” Luke whines after a minute, because that’s apparently as long as he can keep quiet without reminding everyone how miserable he is. “This is why I’m a Maths teacher.”

“Shut up,” Michael says, and then the final whistle blows and Calum’s face is finally relaxing, tension dissipating from his posture as he cheers with the rest of the crowd.

“Calum looks really good tonight,” Ashton says, sending a glance in Michael’s direction.

“Alright, fuck me, I guess,” Luke grumbles. Ashton rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he says, but he looks around furtively before snaking his arm around Luke’s waist and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Everyone knows you’re fucking,” Michael comments, still staring at Calum. “You don’t have to be sly about it.”

“No they don’t,” Luke says, leaning into Ashton’s touch.

“Yes, they do,” Michael says, and then he forgets what he was going to say next because Calum makes eye contact with him from across the pitch and gives him a huge grin, and Michael’s stomach bottoms out. “Fuck, he’s grinning at me.”

“Well, grin back, idiot,” Ashton says, so Michael does. Calum holds his gaze for a moment, and then turns back to his team, leaving Michael feeling a little unsteady.

“I’m in love,” he declares, for the nintieth time that week.

“We know,” Luke says grumpily.

-------

Michael’s halfway through marking 8A’s elements of music test when there’s a knock at the door. He looks up, expecting to see Luke or Ashton, not Calum. He looks out of place in his football kit in the music room, and Michael’s brain short-circuits as it tries to reconcile a hot man in Michael’s music room.

“Hey,” he says, sticking his head around the door. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” Michael says, because Calum could walk in on him taking a shit and wouldn’t be disturbing him. “What’s up?” Calum steps into the room, clicking the door shut behind him, and throws himself down on a seat opposite Michael’s desk.

“So,” he says. “You know All Time Low are here next weekend?” Michael nods. He’s planning on going with Luke and Ashton. “I might have got two tickets to Sunday night.”

“That’s sick,” Michael enthuses. “Who are you going with?” Calum throws Michael an odd look, somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Well, I was hoping you’d want to come?” he says. Michael blinks.

“Me?” he says.

“Yeah,” Calum says, and there’s definitely a hint of amusement in his tone now.

“I, uh.” Michael’s not really sure how to speak without saying yes, please, and please let me suck your dick while I’m at it. He swallows, hoping it’ll make the words disappear from the tip of his tongue. “I’d fucking love to.” Calum grins, looking relieved, and Michael realises that he must have been nervous . Something about that sends a thrill coursing through his veins - he’d made Calum nervous, somehow.

“Sweet,” he says happily. “Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at five.” Michael just nods, not really trusting himself to speak, and Calum pulls himself up out of the chair, throwing him one last smile before he leaves the room.

Fuck, Michael thinks, as the door swings shut behind Calum, pulling his phone out to Google how to fall out of love with a colleague.

(It doesn’t help him at all.)

-------

Next Sunday comes around faster than Michael had expected, given how much he’s been thinking about it.

Luke and Ashton had been a little incensed when he’d told them he was no longer going with them but with Calum.

(“What?” Luke had said crossly. “Michael, you already bought your ticket.”

“Yeah, but it’s a choice between third-wheeling you or one-on-one time with the love of my life,” Michael says dramatically. “What do you expect me to choose?”)

At five to five, Michael’s sat in his living room, leg jiggling nervously as he checks his phone every two milliseconds just in case he’s somehow missed a notification from Calum in the time it’s taken him to blink.

Calum, though, doesn’t even text to say he’s arrived, just rings the doorbell at five on the dot, scaring Michael shitless.

“Hi,” Calum says, smiling, when Michael opens the door. He’s wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt and straight-leg blue jeans, which should look incredibly nineties and not good at all, but somehow makes Michael want to drop to his knees right there and then. Although, he supposes, that’s what Michael wants to do regardless of what Calum is wearing, so it’s probably nothing to do with that. “You look gorgeous.” Michael has to bite his cheek to check whether he’s still alive and not, like, ascended to heaven.

“Thanks,” Michael mumbles when his mouth floods with pain and it becomes clear that yes, he is actually still alive, feeling heat rise to his cheeks from the sheer intimacy of this moment with a colleague-slash-friend-slash-soulmate-but-he-doesn’t-know-it. He’s so used to seeing Calum in the context of school that it feels strange to see him in normal clothes, standing on Michael’s doorstep.

“Are you ready, or, like, d’you want me to stand here all evening?” Calum says after a moment, and Michael steps out of the house with a scowl.

“Fuck you,” he says, trailing behind Calum as they walk to his car.

“Maybe if you’re lucky,” Calum says, and Michael chokes on his next breath. Calum, however, doesn’t seem to notice, as he’s getting into the car and starting the engine. Michael takes the opportunity to splutter for a second, re-learning how to breathe for the first time in twenty-five years, and takes a deep breath before getting in the passenger side of the car.

“What d’you reckon’s going to be on the set list?” Calum asks, reversing out of Michael’s driveway and setting off down the street. Michael hums in consideration.

“Aside from the obvious?” he says.

“No, Michael, tell me that Dear Maria’s going to be on the set list,” Calum says sarcastically. Michael scowls.

“I’d punch you if you weren’t driving,” he tells Calum, and Michael sees him grin in the dim light.

“I’ve found my shield,” Calum says, running a stop sign. Michael squawks as they swerve into the road, grabbing onto the handle on the door. Calum rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve seen how you drive.”

“Fuck off,” Michael says, scowling, but he can’t deny it. Speed is more important than safety, is his motto - mainly because he always sets off at least ten minutes late.

“So?” Calum prompts. “Set list?”

“I hope Monsters,” Michael says. “But honestly? I’d love some of the older stuff on there too.”

“Yeah, I miss Stella being on the set list,” Calum says wistfully.

“You saw them when Stella was on the set list?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, a tad smug, and okay, fuck him.

“Fuck,” Michael says, and he can’t even disguise the envy in his voice. Calum just laughs, throwing Michael a glance, and his eyes are glittering in the sunset, making Michael’s heart hurt a little bit. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Hey,” Calum says, aiming for affronted, but he’s still grinning. “Don’t antagonise the driver.”

“I can antagonise you all I want,” Michael says. “You’re not going to kill us on the way to an All Time Low gig.”

“Might kill us on the way back, though,” Calum points out.

“Yeah, well, I can probably die happy, then,” Michael says, with a shrug.

“True,” Calum agrees. “Good music, pretty boy in the passenger seat, what more could you want?”

“Exactly,” Michael says emphatically, and it takes him until Calum’s started talking about the merits of Nothing Personal as compared to Don’t Panic to realise what Calum had just said.

Michael’s in the passenger seat.

-------

The show, as expected, is amazing.

Michael’s seen All Time Low, like, five times now, and they never fail to disappoint. He voices as such to Calum on the way home, running on a high of adrenaline and having seen Calum jumping in the pit, screaming the lyrics to every single song, which had only made Michael’s whole being-in-love-with-the-hot-PE-teacher situation a little more difficult to handle.

“Right?” Calum enthuses, speeding along the almost-empty highway. “I’ve heard it so many times, but Therapy live just hits different.”

“God, I know,” Michael groans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, letting the memory flash in front of his eyes. “I actually heard the full band version live, once.”

“Yeah?” Calum asks, a tinge of envy in his voice. Michael savours the moment.

“Yeah,” he says, a touch smugly. “It was fucking sick.”

“I can imagine,” Calum says. “I told Alex that they should play it like that tonight, but-”

“Hang on,” Michael says, cutting Calum off, because he cannot be understanding this correctly. “Alex who?” Calum suddenly looks a little guilty.

“Uh,” he says.

“Alex who, Calum?”

“Gaskarth?” Calum offers after a moment, and Michael gapes at him.

“You know Alex Gaskarth?”

“Well, y’know, I used to be in a band, and we opened for All Time Low, and-”

“You opened for All Time Low?” Michael asks. Calum chews on his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m- look, I’m sorry for not telling you, okay? I got the tickets through Alex, but I thought if I told you you might just want to go for them, like, you wouldn’t get it, and-”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you know All Time Low,” Michael huffs, sinking down in his seat. Calum throws him a worried look, so Michael adds: “I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” which makes Calum smile as he turns into Michael’s road.

“Fuck you,” he says, but the concern is fading from his face as he parks on the road by Michael’s house this time. They both get out of the car, and then Michael hovers awkwardly by the little path that leads to his house.

“You’re a traitor,” he says, when Calum rounds the corner of his car and comes to stand opposite Michael. He’s lit up in the orange light of the streetlights, dark brown hair surrounded by a halo of amber, and Michael doesn’t think he’s seen a prettier sight in his life.

“I had to make sure you were coming for me,” Calum protests, a smile playing at his lips. Michael blinks at him.

“What do you mean?” he says, nonplussed.

“Well, y’know,” Calum says, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” Michael says. Calum looks at him oddly.

“Wait,” he says. “You...you know this was a date, right?” Michael gapes at him.

“Are you- wait, what?” Calum’s face falls, and he takes a step back, and no, no, no, that’s not what Michael wants. “Wait, no, I-”

“Fuck,” Calum says, laughing uncomfortably as he cards a hand through his hair. “I probably should have made it clearer, huh? I did say I was bad at asking out cute boys.”

“Me?” Michael’s voice is a good three octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m cute?” Calum smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Michael, I’ve been flirting with you since, like, the minute I saw you,” he says.

“You have?”

“Jesus Christ,” Calum mutters, and then seems to pull himself together. “Look, I’m sorry if I, like, overstepped, made things uncomfortable, whatever. I’m happy to keep it professional, and-” he cuts himself off when Michael laughs. “What?” he says, and it comes out snappy.

“Are you serious?” Michael says, and he’s grinning now, so much he thinks he probably looks a little creepy.

“You’re kind of being a dickhead, now, you know that?” Calum says, a little sharply.

“No, Calum, I- fucking hell,” Michael says, and a bubble of manic laughter escapes from him. “I’ve been kind of in love with you since, like, before we met.” Calum looks at him for a moment, expression unreadable

“Before we met?” Calum asks carefully.

“Yeah,” Michael says, nodding. “10C pointed you out, in first period, and I kind of stared at you for half the lesson.” Calum says nothing for a moment, just keeps looking at Michael, and it’s starting to get a little unnerving, when-

“Oh,” Calum says, and a small smile is creeping onto his face. “You- wait, so, like, I didn’t misread it? You do like me?”

“I mean, I did just say I was kind of in love with you, but sure, I like you," Michael says, and Calum grins, lit up by the streetlights and his happiness, and Michael thinks he’s found space in his heart that he didn’t even know he had since meeting Calum.

“So,” Calum says. “This was a date?”

“This was definitely a date,” Michael agrees, feeling his stomach flip pleasantly at the words.

“Would it be cliché to kiss you goodnight?” Calum asks, and Michael grins.

“Definitely,” he says, “but I’ll kill you if you don’t.” Calum grins back, and takes two steps forward to close the space between them, bringing a hand to Michael’s jaw and pressing his lips to Michael’s gently. It’s chaste, sweet, slow, languid, and Calum kisses like Michael’s the only thing that matters in the world. He smells like mint and pine and vanilla, pressed close to Michael’s chest, slipping an arm around Michael’s waist, and Michael groans into the kiss as he thinks about Calum’s long fingers splayed across the small of his back.

“Too much?” Calum asks, breaking away, and Michael shakes his head, pressing his forehead against Calum’s shoulder.

“Not enough,” he says, because he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get enough of Calum Hood. Calum pulls him in for a proper hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, and Michael’s glad Calum’s got strong arms because he feels like his knees are about to give in.

“Do you want to come in?” he mumbles against Calum’s shoulder.

“Is that a proposition?” Calum says, smile evident in his voice.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Maybe.” Michael swallows. Jesus Christ.

“Then it is.” Calum pulls back and looks at Michael, suddenly serious.

“Hey,” he says. “This isn’t- this isn’t just sex for me. I really like you, Michael. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I want something more with you.” Michael grins.

“Have I got to repeat the whole ‘kind of in love with you’ thing again?” he says, and Calum grins back.

“Alright,” he says, and Michael hears his car squeaking to indicate it’s locked. “You’re making the excuses when we turn up to school tomorrow, though.”

-------

A few students give them strange looks when they get out of Michael’s car in the morning.

“Is this seriously the sportiest thing you own?” Calum grumbles for the fiftieth time, picking at the green hoodie and black jogging bottoms that Michael had chucked at him that morning.

“Quit complaining,” Michael says, locking the car behind them and starting across the car park to the school. “Green’s your colour.”

“Oh, that’s why you picked it,” Calum says, jogging a little to catch up with Michael.

“Yeah,” Michael says with a grin, unashamed. Calum shakes his head, but he’s grinning too.

“I’d kiss you right now if I could,” he says, as they turn into the building.

“What’s stopping you?” Michael asks, as they make their way up the stairs to the staff room.

“Uh, code of conduct? The contract I signed when I joined the school?” Michael rolls his eyes as he pushes open the door to the staff room.

“Morning!” he chirps, heading straight for the desk Luke and Ashton are already sat at, Calum in his wake.

“Morning!” a few people in the room chorus over the general buzz of post-weekend chatter.

“Hey,” Luke says loudly, frowning. “Why’s Calum wearing your clothes?”

The room goes still, and Michael just grins.

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos slash #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #bro the way i can just knock out 5.6k of fic in 4 hours but spend 3 hours reading a singular academic article #do i have a brain? debatable

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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years

Text

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 10

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 10 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 10/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - Double digits and one chapter closer to the end of the Ponds. Elise’s meltdown is in the next chapter!]

“Mercy. 81 residents,” the Doctor read. He stood in front of a town sign.

There was a “Keep Out” sign and a line of stones and wood surrounding the entrance.

“Look at this. It's a load of stones and lumps of wood,” Amy said.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned it.

“What is it?”

“A load of stones and lumps of wood,” the Doctor said, stepping over the line.

“Uh, the sign does say Keep Out,” Rory told him.

“I see “Keep Out” signs as suggestions more than actual orders, like “Dry Clean” only.”

Elise, Rory, and Amy stepped over the line. As they walked down the main street, the inhabitants of the town watched them silently.

An electric lamp outside the Post Office sparked. The Doctor snapped and pointed at it. “That's not right.” The Doctor soniced it and the light came on.

“It's a street lamp,” Rory said.

“An electric street lamp about 10 years too early.” “

It's only a few years out.”

“That's what you said when you left your phone charger in Henry the Eighth's ensuite.”

“Doctor, um…” Amy said.

“Anachronistic electricity, Keep Out signs, aggressive stares. Has someone been peeking at my Christmas list?”

“Doctor.”

The Doctor stuck a toothpick in his mouth and walked into the saloon. The saloon went quiet when they entered. The Doctor walked up to the bar.

The bartender kind of reminded Elise of River. Maybe she should suggest they go see her soon.

“Tea. But the strong stuff. Leave the bag in,” the Doctor said.

“What're you doing here, son?” the bartender asked.

“Son?” The Doctor laughed. “You can stay.”

An African American man stood up. “Sir, might I enquire who you is?”

“Of course. I'm the Doctor. This is…”

Everyone in the bar stood up.

“No need to stand. You see that? Manners.”

A man in a top hat came up behind the Doctor and started measuring him.

“Oh, thank you. But I don't need a new suit.”

“I'm the undertaker, sir,” he said.

A younger man in a brown suit and bowler hat stepped forward. “I got a question. Is you an alien?”

“Well, er, bit personal. It's all relative, isn't it? I mean, Elise and I think you're the aliens, but in this context, yes. Yes, I suppose we are.”

The group grabbed Elise and the Doctor. A few other people grabbed Amy and Rory.

“Doctor! Elise! Put them down!” Amy yelled.

“Don't think we won't kill you,” the bartender said.

“Take your hands off her!” Rory yelled.

“Don’t worry, everything is completely under control,” reassured the Doctor.

They tossed the Doctor and Elise over the line. The Doctor helped Elise up. When they turned around, everyone had their guns pointed at them.

“He's coming. Oh God, he's coming,” the African American man said.

“Preacher, say something,” the man in the bowler hat told him.

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

The Doctor turned around to see a Cyborg coming towards them. He grabbed Elise and placed her behind him.

“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.”

There was a gunshot.

“You, bow tie, girl. Get back across that line,” a man with a mustache told them. He pulled his coat back to reveal a Marshal badge. “Now.”

The Doctor and Elise stepped over the line and Elise immediately ran over to their companions, allowing Amy and Rory to comfort her.

The Cyborg disappeared.

“Isaac, he said he was a doctor. An alien doctor,” the man in the bowler hat told him.

“That a reason to hand him to his death?”

“Isaac, it could be him.”

“You know it ain't.” Isaac turned around and walked back towards town. “Ma'am, Miss,” he said, nodding towards Amy and Elise.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Doctor, Amy, Rory, and Elise followed Isaac to the Marshal’s office.

“What was that outside?” the Doctor asked.

“The Gunslinger,” Isaac said, “Showed up three weeks back. We've been prisoners ever since. See that border line stretching round the town? Woke up one morning, there it was. Nothing gets past it, in or out. No supply wagons, no reinforcements. Pretty soon the whole town's going to starve to death.”

“But he let us in,” Rory told him.

“You ain't carrying any food. Just four more mouths to feed. We'll all die even sooner now.”

“What happens if someone crosses the line?” the Doctor asked.

Isaac tossed him a hat with a hole in it.

“Ah, well, he wasn't a very good shot, then.”

“He was aiming for the hat.”

“He shoots people's hats?”

“I think it was a warning shot,” Amy suggested, giving the Doctor a look.

“Ah, no, yes. I see. Hmm.”

“What does he want? Has he issued some kind of demand?”

“Says he wants us to give him the alien doctor,” Isaac said.

The Doctor tossed the hat back to Isaac.

Amy turned to the Doctor. “But that's you. Why would he want to kill you? Unless he's met you.”

“And how could he know that we'd be here?” Rory asked, “We didn't even know we'd be here.”

Amy chuckled and turned to Isaac. “We were aiming for Mexico. The Doctor was taking us to see the Day of the Dead Festival.”

“Mexico's two hundred miles due south.”

“Well, that's what happens when people get toast crumbs on the console,” the Doctor snapped, “Anyway, I think it's about time I met him, don't you?”

“Who?” Isaac asked.

“The chap outside said I could be the alien doctor, but you said I wasn't, so you already know who it is.” The Doctor laughed. “Two alien doctors. We're like buses. Resident eighty one, I presume, so beloved by the townsfolk he warranted an alteration to the sign. Probably because he rigged up these electrics, and I'm guessing he's in here, because if half the town suddenly wanted to throw me to my death, this is where I'd want to be.”

The Doctor turned to the cells.

“I don't know what you…”

The man in the cell pulled back his blanket. He had a face marking similar to the one the Gunslinger had. “Isaac, I think the time for subterfuge has passed. Good afternoon. My name is Kahler-Jex. I'm the doctor,” he said.

Isaac let Jex out of the cell and the Doctor immediately shook his hand. “The Kahler. I love the Kahler. They're one of the most ingenious races in the galaxy. Seriously, they could build a spaceship out of Tupperware and moss!”

Amy gently pulled the Doctor away from Jex and sat him down in a chair. “All right. How did you get here?” Amy asked him.

Jex sat down at Isaac’s desk. “My craft crashed about a mile or so out of town. I would have died if Isaac and the others hadn't pulled me from the wreckage.”

“And you stayed, as their doctor?” the Doctor asked.

“On my world I was a surgeon, so it seemed logical. And it gave me an opportunity to repay my debt to them.”

Isaac scoffed. “Listen to him. Talking like it was nothing. Tell them about the cholera.”

“Now, Isaac, I'm sure our guests are…”

“Two years after he arrived, there was an outbreak of cholera. Thanks to the doc here, not a single person died.”

“A minor infection we'd found a treatment for centuries ago.”

“No, no, what, what do you call them? The electrics?”

“Using my ship as a generator, I was able to rig up some rudimentary heating and lighting for the town.”

“So why does the Gunslinger want you?” the Doctor asked.

“It don't matter,” Isaac said.

“I'm just saying, if we knew that…”

“America's the land of second chances. We called this town Mercy for a reason. Others, some round here, don't feel that way.”

“Now, Isaac, we've discussed this…” Jex told him.

“People whose lives you've saved are suddenly saying we should hand you over.”

“They're scared, that's all. You can hardly blame them.”

“Them being scared scares me. War only ended five years back. That old violence is still under the surface. We give up Doc Jex, then we hand the keys of the town over to chaos.”

“Did you try to repair your craft?” the Doctor asked, “Surely someone with your skills…”

“It really was very badly damaged,” Jex insisted.

Elise had a feeling he was hiding something.

“We evacuate the town. Our ship's just over the hills, room for everyone. I'll pop out, bring it back here, Robert's your uncle.”

“Really? Simple as that?” Amy asked, “No crazy schemes, no negotiations?”

“I've matured. I'm twelve hundred years old now. Plus I don't want to miss The Archers.”

If the Doctor was 1200 years old, that would make herself what? Around 300 or so? Elise had a hard time keeping up with her own age.

“Oh, so you're not even a tiny bit curious?”

“Why would I be curious? It's a mysterious space cowboy assassin. Curious? Of course I'm not curious.” The Doctor started to leave.

“Son?” Isaac asked.

The Doctor popped back in.

“You've still got to get past the Gunslinger. How you going to do that?”

The Doctor put the hat on his head. “With a little sleight of hand.”

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