#my nose is on-and-off stuffy and i'm occasionally coughing a little.

[roxygen22]

SNIFFLES

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

Summary: Ben/Bean (age 2) and reader (mom) are sick. Willy takes care of you both.

C/W: Illness but nothing graphic

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You hadn't experienced this level of exhaustion since Ben was a newborn. The poor dear had been down with a cold for three days now. His hacking cough and stuffy nose kept him from getting comfortable enough to rest well at night, causing him to be lethargic and clingy all day. Granted, you enjoyed the snuggles, but you would give anything to have your happy, energetic Ben back. Unfortunately, though, you caught his cold with the constant closeness.

Willy was accustomed to coming home to happy noises of reading, playing, or cooking. But on the third day of illness in the Wonka household, there was nothing but silence to greet him upon entry except the occasional sniffles coming from the study. Willy came around the sofa with a pitiful pout on his face. You and Ben were just lounging on the sofa staring at the fire. You had a book in hand, but neither of you had the energy to look at it.

"Oh, [y/n]. You, too?" Willy took in the sight of your pale skin and dark circles under your eyes as he picked Ben up from your lap. Normally very excited to see his papa, the boy just nestled his head into the crook of Willy's neck and sucked his thumb. He could feel heat radiating from the little body. Willy then gently rested the back of his hand against your forehead. "Both of you are running a fever."

"I believe it," you responded weakly after clearing your throat. "My skin hurts. I'm hot and cold at the same time, and I can't breathe through my nose. Ben hasn't been able to get comfortable all day, either."

"I'm home now, so you should go rest."

"No, I need to get dinner started," you argued while trying (but failing) to sit up on the couch.

"Nonsense. You can't pour from an empty cup, my sweet," Willy chided as he helped you up with his spare hand. "Why don't you go take a hot steaming bath while I make my mamma's soup recipe? It's sure to help you feel better." You opened your mouth to speak before he held up a finger, "Before you say it, don't worry about Bean. I've got him. Let me take care of you, too."

You conceded. You knew arguing further with Willy once his mind was made up was an exercise in futility in your current state. Most of the time, your stubborness rivaled his, but not this day. Your fatigue outweighed the guilt of temporarily relinquishing your [self-imposed] role of caretaker.

You made your way to the bath, thankful for Willy's contraption that provided hot water on demand.* Once the tub was filled, you sank down into the water with a long sigh. Your muscles protested as you went about your normal ablutions, but the steam did wonders for your ability to breathe. You felt semi-human again as you stepped out and toweled off.

Willy was a bit slow-going on the soup since one arm was busy supporting the toddler on his hip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your boys. Their matching curly hair was in disarray thanks to the humidity from the soup. Ben looked up, alerting Willy to your presence in the kitchen with a quiet "mamma" as he reached for you. That was a rarity when Willy was home, preferring you only if he was tired or sick. Ben and his papa were as thick as thieves.

Willy turned around from the stove to look at you as he handed you the boy. "It's nice to see some color in your cheeks again, even if it's just from the warmth of the bath. Did it help?"

"A bit. I can actually breathe through my nose at the moment."

He chuckled and went back to stirring. "Good, good. Soup should be ready in a couple of minutes." You set Ben in his high chair and started to grab bowls and bread before Willy good-naturedly scolded you. "Nuh-uh. Sit." You pursed your lips and glared but complied nonetheless.

Willy set the table and dished out the soup. He scooted Ben's high chair closer to help him eat so you could focus on feeding yourself. The soup looked amazing, leaving you longing to actually be able to smell or taste it. Instead, you just enjoyed the warmth as it soothed your scratchy throat.

The family slowly ate their dinner in relative silence. Unable to smell or taste, Ben quickly lost interest and begged to be held. Willy obliged and set the boy in his lap. Having ate your fill, you pushed the bowl back and stood up to clear the table.

Willy tutted at you. "[Y/N]. I've. Got. This. Now. Go. To. Bed." Ben, however, was not ready to let you out of his sight. Reaching up to you from Willy's lap with grabby hands and pouty lip, he whimpered. Before you could react, Willy turned the boy around to face him instead. "Now Bean, Mamma takes good care of us all the time. It's our turn to take care of her. She is going to go night night a little early. You and I, little man, are going to read a story after we clean up the kitchen." Over Ben's head, you saw Willy mouth to you, "Go."

You smiled, blew a kiss, and quickly made your exit before Ben turned around. It felt deceitful, but if anyone could keep Ben distracted, it was Willy. You could faintly hear Willy bustling around the kitchen singing the clean-up song without further complaint from the boy.

Satisfied that Ben was in good hands and relatively happy, you readied yourself for bed. After two nights of interrupted sleep and a full day of fever, you were practically unconscious before your head even hit the pillow. You slept solidly for hours before you woke with a start. Why is it quiet? Where are the boys?

You tiptoed to Ben's room, avoiding the planks in the floor that tended to creak. You found Willy in the rocking chair, feet propped up and holding Ben upright on his chest so the boy could breathe freely. You picked up a blanket from Ben's bed and covered them both, taking in the sweet scene. "Rest well, my loves," you whispered before retreating back to bed.

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*Remember, Willy is an inventor, so it's totally plausible that this fictional character invented the precursor to the modern water heater, lol.

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Find more "My Little Cocoa Bean" shorts on my masterlist.

[saixpuppy]

Hello, some updates:

I’m back home! And I’m sick. Will be quarantining, will still be scarce in messages, sorry!! These days I just rarely have the spare brain to hold one-on-one conversations.

Additionally: Small tweaks to blog description & about. Going back to being more in-your-face about soulbonder stuff. I might tweak a few other social media profiles, as well, I’ve been doing a slow sweep.

[hyperfixatingmenever]

Steam

Steam | One-Shot | 2.8K | General

Title: Steam

Fandom: The Mandolorian  

Pairing: Din Djarin/ Reader

Rating: General 

Word Count: 2.8K 

Summary: The kid (and eventually Mando) get sick and you've got to get creative.

Cross posted from Ao3 here

A/N: This is just some teeth rotting fluff that came to me at 2am. Enjoy! Also can’t forget to thank @soyelfuegoquearde for keeping my head on straight and beta reading for me! Bless you! 

You wake up with sleep still in your eyes to heavy breathing and small coughs coming from the kid’s silver sphere. Sitting up from your make-shift bed on the floor, you open the kid’s sphere to find him still asleep but fussing. He had picked something up a couple of days ago, and you were starting to get worried but not as worried as his dad. Mando would pace in the belly of the razor crest as you slowly rocked a fussing kid.

 "Have you tried tea?"

 "Yep."

 "Broth?"

 "Yep."

 "Medicine?"

 "Yep."

 Still pacing, you can hear soft mumbling coming from his voice modulator.

 "He could get worse... he needs a healer... but someone might tell... it could get back to... he wouldn't be safe... he needs to be safe... needs to be okay." 

 This was the first time you had ever seen Mando --- Panicked? You reach out and grab his forearm with your freehand, stopping him mid-stride.

 "Mando, he'll be fine. Kids get sick, it happens, but he'll get better. Look how strong he is," You finish saying as you boop his tiny green nose. 

 You say this to reassure him, but deep down, to reassure yourself too. You know how strong the kid is, but he was still so small. 

 Over the course of a couple of days, you had tried everything, but nothing seemed to work. He was still coughing, his nose was plugged, and when you put your ear to his tiny chest you could hear it rattle. On the fifth day of this nonsense, you had almost had enough. The kid was sick and grumpy because he couldn't sleep; you obviously didn't blame the kid. You just wished you could make him feel better. But if taking care of one person wasn't hard enough, you suddenly had to take care of two. Mando was worried and grumpy; he hadn't slept much either and was barely eating; all of his energy was focused on the kid. You practically had to push him off the Razor Crest this morning to catch his bounty.

 "But the kid!"

 "But the kid, nothing. You've spent two days just staring at him. He’s going to be fine!"

 "But what if he gets worse?"

 "We've got coms. I'll call you." 

 He turns around and looks you in your eyes (you assume). 

 "I can't go. My head’s not in it." 

 You cross your arms, unwavering in your stance.

 "It's a dumb, rich teenager who skipped bail. You could do this with your eyes closed."

 His head falls. No one speaks, but his thoughts are loud enough you can hear. You place a hand on the cold beskar of his helmet, the heat of your hand almost penetrating through the metal to cup his cheek.

 "He will be okay. I'll take good care of him." 

 Mando lifts his head, knowing that you'd do anything for that little womp rat. 

 "What if I tell you I'll give you updates every couple of hours?" 

 "Every 30 minutes." 

 "Every hour."

 "Deal" 

 His shoulders are still weighed by his paternal concern but with the assurance that his son is safe in your care, he turns away from the Crest and heads off to find his bounty. 

 A couple of hours passed since Mando went on his hunt; you had fed and given the kid some medicine as well as done your promised check-ins. As you sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall of the razor crest, still slowly rocking the kid, you start to hum a song your mom used to sing to you when you were sick as a kid. Continuing to softly hum, your eyes suddenly burst open with a memory from when you were younger. 

Quickly you move the kid from your arms into his sphere to change into a pair of shorts and take off your shirt with your breasts still wrapped underneath. With the kid now back in your arms you head to the fresher. As a kid, your mom would turn the shower to the hottest setting and would hold you while sitting on the floor, enveloped by the steam and wait for it to loosen everything in your chest. And you had the exact same plan for the kid. 

 Slowly the small fresher started to fill with warm steam, continuing to rock the kid who, honestly, hadn't left your arms much in the last five days. You feel him begin to settle and take normal breaths. You feel Incredibly relieved; all you wanted in the world right now was for this little one to get better. Finally feeling some peace, you leaned your head back and let the darkness envelop you. 

 You couldn't remember the last time you slept longer than 15 minutes. If somehow the kid was quiet and not struggling, you'd panic and wake up to check on him. But right now, you feel something cool radiating beside you and soft caresses on your face.

 "Cyare" 

 Your eyes flutter open, the lights in the fresher are suddenly very bright, but your eyes start to focus on the beskar covered man squatting beside you. 

 "Mando," you say very groggily. 

 Still lightly caressing your face, Mando explains "You missed the last check-in. I was getting worried." 

 This makes your eyes open completely. "Oh my God, Mando! I'm so sorry, we were in here, and he was feeling better, and we both fell asle-" 

 Mando cuts off your babbling. "It's fine, I was already on my way back, I was just worried-" glancing at his son sleeping soundly in your arms "about the both of you." 

 You can feel the heat start to rise in your cheeks, hoping it can be explained away with the heat still captured in the tiny room, you look away. 

 "He's doing a lot better," You say, still not looking up at Mando. 

 "That's good." 

 Mando reaches down and caresses his son’s small cheek. Small cooing noises come out of his tiny lips, and he further snuggles into your chest. This makes you look up to Mando with a smile. He’s already looking back at you. 

 Mando breaks the stare "Here, let me take him, you..." gesturing to your body, which you realize is more uncovered than your employer had ever seen from you before. Instinctively you pull the child and your knees closer to your chest, unsure what you’re specifically trying to hide. "You... um... go to bed, you haven't slept since he got sick, and you’re exhausted from taking care ---" 

 Of the kid, you thought.

 "Of the both of us." 

 Oh.

 You try and put up a bit of a fight. "No, I'm feeling better; I swear, you just got back from a hunt anyways." 

 "No, get some sleep. Let me take care of both of you... please" 

 That please melts your heart, he could have asked for anything and ended it with that please, and you would have given it to him, happily. Looking at the child once more, softly stroking one of his enormous ears, you hand him over to his dad. Even asleep, the little one knows what his father’s armour feels like and cuddles in closer. Mando stands up and reaches his free arm down to help you up; you take it happily. 

 As you stand in front of Mando, a yawn builds inside your chest, you try to cover it, but Mando cocks his head to the side, giving you a knowing look. You admit defeat with your hands and head over to the pile of blankets on the floor you call your bed. You pull a ratty old shirt that Mando had given you. 

 "I don't wear it anymore; you can have it." 

 Even though you washed it many times before, it still had his lingering smell; you tended to wear it to bed; it made you feel... safe. Before you finish reorganizing your nest of blankets, Mando speaks up.

 "Take my bed. You deserve a better sleep than one on the floor." 

 Before you can protest, Mando cuts you off again.

 "I won't be sleeping any time soon. He needs to eat and... I miss him" 

 Mando's occasional domesticity made you warm and slightly lightheaded. You’re not going to argue with a father about his kid, and he's right; you are exhausted. So without any further argument, you walk over, kiss the kid on the head, wish Mando goodnight and crawl into his bed. 

 Unsure with how much exact time had passed, but you know it had to have been many hours. Your body is heavy as you wake up, you could feel the lines of the pillowcase indented in your skin. You rub your face, hoping to get some circulation back. As you slowly crawl out of Mando's bed, you hear, singing? It is very soft and as you look around you find it’s coming from the fresher. 

 Nuhoy Verd'ika 

Te me'suum'ika laam

Te Ka'ra dral

ca'nara gar vercopa 

 Hearing Mando’s deep voice sing this soft lullaby makes your heart soar. You tip-toe to the fresher door and open it just a smidge. Steam starts to escape; the kid must have started getting stuffy again. You see Mando curled over and rocking what you assume to be the kid, in pants but no shirt. Your eyes wander over his broad shoulders and back. He has many scars and some bruises. You imagine his body is littered with them... just begging to be kissed, but as your eyes wander up, you see hair. Beautiful brown messy locks but hair, Mando has his helmet off. 

 Nuhoy Verd'ika

Gar liser geroya nakar'tuur

akaanir nakar'tuur

parjir nakar'tuur 

 You panic and close the door. With your back pressed against the wall, your brain tries to comprehend what you saw. Mando couldn't have seen you, but if he did, you'd swear you hadn't seen anything. Well, you hadn't seen his face, so that wouldn't be a lie ...right? You would never want to be the reason Mando broke his creed. Sure, you always kind of wondered what your employer looked like, but his creed was much more important than your curiosity. 

 Nuhoy Verd'ika

gar aliit kar'taylir darasuum gar

Meh val chaaj'yc be'chaaj

kar'taylir darasuum kar'tayl nayc chaaj

Nuhoy Verd'ika

parjai shi olaror Verd'ika meg Nuhoy 

 As you hear a long pause, you think the song must be done, you realize you can't be found right outside the fresher, so you quietly bound over to your bed and start folding blankets, trying to look busy. Seconds later, Mando comes out still shirtless but with his helmet on. Thank Maker. Steam billowed out behind him like he was in one of your trashy holo-novels. 

 "Oh, you're up. How’d you sleep?" 

 "Good... really good." 

 Trying not to look at his chest, which you definitely fail at, and like you, he realizes how bare he is and instinctively pulls the child closer.

 "Um, can you take him so I, um, can get dressed?" 

 "Yes! Absolutely!" Reaching your arms out. You do a little dance with Mando as he hands you the kid and tries to get past you to get his clothes, but you both are obviously flustered. Finally, Mando gets past you; you keep your back to him to give him some sort of privacy. 

 "He's feeling a lot better." 

 "Oh, thank Maker," you say as you rock the finally peaceful child. 

 "The steam. It really helped." 

 "Good, my mother used to do it with me when I was little, and we were running out of options," you say with a chuckle.

 More quietly than before, "I don’t know what I'd do without you." 

 Your heart and stomach flutter, but with it sounding like it escaped Mando's internal monologue, you decide not to react. 

 -----

 Days later, the kid got better like you knew he would, but man, you are happy for Mandos sake. What you weren't expecting was for poor indestructible Mando to catch it from the kid. 

 "Why aren't you sick?" 

 "I guess I'm just stronger," giving him a quick wink.

 Over the course of a week, just like with the kid, you had to nurse Mando back to health. A week of forcing him to drink broth and tea and take his medicine, but just like with the kid, nothing seemed to help other than steam. 

 The first night Mando tried to do it alone, but he ended up passing out. So the next night you both got dressed in your lightest clothes, Mando, with his helmet still on he would lean against you, and you would shut off the lights. Anticipating the whooshing noise from Mandos helmet as he takes it off. The next five days, you both would spend a couple of hours sitting in the hot steam as he leaned against you and slept. 

 Your relationship began to slowly change. There were nights where you would sit in the cockpit and watch the stars go by telling stories. Sure you did most of the talking, but you could always tell Mando was listening, even with his helmet. 

 As you got more familiar it felt like Mando was always touching you. His hands, his body, constantly brushing up against you. When he reached for something, to get past you, just having a hand on you when you were in public. It felt like every chance he got he needed to be touching you. Slowly you started to get addicted to his small touches. You had no complaints you relished in the feeling of his gloves gliding across your body. Closing your eyes and enjoying the soft leather pads of his fingers or the cold beskar that covered his body. 

 Things dramatically changed between you two when Cobb offered you a job at the school. 

 “Come on Mando, don’t you think she’d make a great teacher for the little ones?” 

 “That’s not what I’m saying-”

 “So, are you not giving her a recommendation?” Cobb elbows Mando teasingly.

 “No, I-” 

 “Well, I haven’t said yes, but thank you for the offer Cobb, I’ll tell you my decision tomorrow.”  

On your way back to the crest, Mando was quiet. Mando was always quiet, but this silence felt heavy. When you finally enter the Crest you've had enough. 

 “What’s wrong, Mando” catching his arm, making him turn around. His head was pointed at the ground.

 “Are you going to leave?”

 “What?”

 “Are you going to leave? Leave the kid. Leave me.”

 “Well, I-”

 “Please don’t go.”  

 You place your hand on the side of his helmet. “I wasn’t going to leave. I care about the kid, you, too much. You guys… you guys are my family.” 

 There’s a long pause as your foreheads touch.

 “Do you trust me?”

 You only respond with a nod.

 “Close your eyes...please.”

 That please. You’d do anything for that please. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut.

You hear the recognizable whooshing of Mando taking off his helmet. It hits and rattles against the floor of the Crest. 

 You feel his soft breath before anything, his facial hair tickles your top lip, and his chapped lips press against your own. He starts to pull away, but you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It's an innocent kiss but as if Mando can feel the fire in your belly begin to grow he licks your bottom lip begging for entrance. Your mouths and tongues explore each other, but you both eventually pull away breathless. 

 “Wow, Mando, that was… wow.”

 “Din”

 “What?”

 “My names Din” 

 -----

 Now weeks after that Din and you had fallen into a pattern of domesticity. Intentional touches as you passed each other, sleeping together in his bed, even showering together in the dark. You couldn't be happier. 

 You were currently sitting on the ramp of the Crest watching the kid chase a butterfly around. Every time the kid got close, you’d clap and encourage him (but you also hoped it would scare the butterfly). Secretly you cheered on the butterfly, knowing the kid probably wanted to eat it.  

 “Hello, Cyare” Din says as he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your torso.

 “Hello Mando,” Remembering only to say his name in private.

 He rests his chin on your shoulder. Both of you sitting in the comfortable silence watching the little one run around. Your thoughts begin to wander.

 “You called me that when the kid was sick; what does it mean?” 

 “Beloved”

 “Beloved?” 

 “Yes, beloved.”

 “But you said that before we were…”

 “Together? Yes. You and that little one-” pointing his gloved hand at the kid who doesn't seem to be getting tired of this butterfly. “-Are my aliit. My Family. I will always protect you. This is the way.”

 Leaning back you cuddle into his shoulder, and his arms softly tighten around you. You look at the kid and feel Dins heartbeat against you, and you know you're safe. “This is the way.”

 -----

Translation For The Song.

Sleep little warrior

The moon is up

The stars are bright

It's time for you to dream 

 Sleep little warrior

You can play tomorrow 

Fight tomorrow 

Win tomorrow 

 Sleep, little warrior

Your family loves you

Even if they’re far away 

Because love knows no distance 

 So sleep, little warrior

Because victory only comes to little warrior who sleep

[mar-bluu]

Hey there! I've been reading some of your stuff and I just... 🥰🥰🥰 So much good. We love! If you're still taking requests, (no worries if you're not) and would be interested, may I request #75 from the Fluff and Hurt/Comfort prompts (I think) "you're the only person I'd do this for" with Redfinch? Maybe just something mostly silly and fun, possibly featuring Rich Finch™? (but if your inspiration takes you elsewhere, that's fine by me. I'm not picky, I just want some happy for our boys.😉)

Heya!! I am SO sorry this took so long for me to get to, ran into quite a few problems while trying to write these last few months lol! Ship: Redfinch Word count: 3000 Warnings: swearing, mentions of a fight, i think that might be it?

“You ready to go?” Finch popped his head around the bedroom door, adjusting his suit cuffs as he checked in on his boyfriend. Albert was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, fiddling with his tie that was just a touch too loose and a little wonky. He sighed defeatedly. “I guess.” Finch walked over to him and grabbed hold of the tie, redoing it and smoothing his hands over Albert’s chest. “There. Now you’re ready.” Albert groaned and slumped forward, placing his head in the crook of Finch’s neck. “Do I really have to go? Super-fancy-high-end parties for dumb rich people really aren’t my thing.” Finch wrapped his arms around him and grinned. “It won’t be too bad. Just walk around, talk to a few stuffy people, have a drink or two, laugh politely at the occasional joke, and that’s all. We’ll only be a few hours.” He stepped back as Albert sighed again. “You’re the only person I’d do this for.” He muttered, grabbing Finch’s hand, and playing gently with his fingers. “And I appreciate every second you stay stuck with me there.” Albert smirked. “You owe me big time for this.” “I know.” Finch took hold of Albert’s wrists, adjusting his cuffs as Albert tried to do his hair with one hand. “Will your mum be there?” he asked, causing Finch to chuckle. “Yes, she will.” “Oh thank god! At least there’ll be some entertainment.” “My mother getting drunk and picking fights with other guests does not count as entertainment.” “Then why is it so fun to watch?” Albert stretched up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Finch rolled his eyes and tried to hide his reddening cheeks. “You know, sometimes I think you like my mother more than you like me.” “Well, you didn’t down six champagne flutes and deck the lady next to you for badmouthing the waitress.” “Not yet.” “Ooh, do I have something to look forward to tonight?” Finch just smirked, brushed some imaginary dust from Albert’s shoulder and left the room without a word. “Do I?” Albert called after him. “Come on, the car’s waiting.” Albert bounced out of the room following his boyfriends sown the hall. “Do I!?”

--

The large ballroom had been opened up, half the wall sliding back to reveal an extra room used to house the food and drink bar, but it made Albert feel vulnerable and exposed. He hated it. In a room full of up-tight men in stiff suits, and snotty women in flowing, over-the-top dresses, Albert felt completely out of place. He felt small, like everyone was watching him, judging him silently, every airy laugh or titter made him tense up. Finch had been dragged off by his dad to talk to a group of snobby looking people over by the fountain. Yeah, the fountain. There was a fountain just in the ballroom. Albert sighed, they’d only been there for an hour, but it felt like seven. He couldn’t wait to go home. He was sat at one of the elegantly decorated tables, resting his tired feet on the chair opposite –he knew he should’ve gone one shoe size higher- picking absentmindedly at a loose thread of the lace-trimmed tablecloth, lost in his own thoughts. The sound of someone clearing their throat above him pulled Albert from his thoughts. He quickly dropped the tablecloth and brushed his hands over his lap, looking up to see a lady in a lavish turquoise dress, dark hair scraped back into a high, stylish bun. She extended one delicately gloved hand, which Albert took on instinct. “Cordelia Van Rensselaer,” she introduced herself with a small curtsey. “And you are?” “I- uh, Albert, Albert DaSilva.” He stuttered, giving a small shaky nod of greeting. “Well, Mister DaSilva, I just happened to be walking by when I noticed you seemed to be awfully lonely.” Albert took his hand away. “Oh, no I’m-” “So I figured I’d come and brighten your evening.” She picked his hand back up, tapping her foot slightly as she fell into the beat of the song. “Shall we dance?” Cordelia pulled Albert to his feet, she was a lot stronger than she looked. He jumped a little, trying not to trip over his feet or step on her very expensive looking dress. “Ah! No-” Albert moved back, hitting the backs of his knees on the chair behind him. “I’m actually just waiting for my boyfriend to get back- and- and I’m not much of a dancer.” He pried himself out of Cordelia’s iron grip. “Oh.” She said, clearing her throat. “I see.” She smoothed her hands over the ruffles of her dress, opening her mouth to continue speaking, when she froze, eyes narrowing in realisation. “Wait… DaSilva,” she rolled his name around her mouth. “Boyfriend…” her eyes widened as the pieces clicked in place. “You’re dating Patrick Cortez!?” Albert stuttered. “I- uh- yeah? Finch is my boyfriend-” “Oh, I should’ve known!” Cordelia hissed. “That stuck up, no good jerk!” “Hey-” Albert tried to interject, frowning at her sharp words. “I did you a favour by offering to dance with you- I extended an olive branch and you set it on fire!” Albert blinked at her. “What are you fucking talking about?” “Enjoy the rest of your night, DaSilva!” with one last sneer at him, Cordelia turned on her heel, stuck her nose in the air and flounced away to harass her next victim. Albert stared after her in confusion and disbelief- mostly confusion- god, he hated these rich people parties.

--

“-and she spilled her champagne all over the oysters!” Finch laughed along with the group of other well-dressed people, tossing back gulps of wine and snacking on dainty little quiches that were being passed along by waiters. Finch held his hands up, excusing himself from the group, and not so inconspicuously scanned the room for a familiar streak of red hair. Spotting his boyfriend skulking over by the food, Finch smiled to himself and set his sights on Albert, making his way over as quickly yet subtly as possible, ready for a break from all the intrusive, boring questions. “Ah, Patrick!” Finch came to a screeching halt as his father materialised in front of him, an older man at his elbow. Shit! Here we go again. Finch resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Have you met Atticus Caswell and his sons?” he gestured to the other man. Finch bit the inside of his cheek. “No, I don’t believe I have.” He gave a strained smile as his father took him by the elbow and led him a few steps to the side, where another gathering of people he hadn’t noticed earlier stood, swirling wine in crystal glasses and chatting freely. Finch’s father immediately started forming a line of people for Finch to meet and talk to. Finch sighed, this was going to be a long, long night.

--

It was now ten pm and they had been at this stupid party for four hours. Four. Whole. Hours. Albert had eaten his way through half the food table and drunk at least three waiters clean out of their trays. And he hadn’t seen Finch once since they got there. Albert had been getting progressively more annoyed with the night as it dragged slowly on, but the dullness of not having his boyfriend at his side was what was killing him the most. He was beginning to seriously consider setting the gaudy curtains on fire just to get Finch’s attention. Just as his thoughts turned to the fountain, he felt a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist. “Hey.” Albert craned his head back, trying to catch a glimpse of who was behind him. “Finch!” he gasped with delight as Finch buried his face into Albert’s neck, sighing with relief. “Miss me?” He asked and Albert grabbed hold of the hands that were still clasped tightly around his waist. “Not at all,” he smiled. “In fact, I quite enjoyed sitting here drowning myself in champagne and little tiny sandwiches. Did you know there are six different types of ham, but they all taste the same!” Finch grinned against his neck. “So I’m free to go back to mingling?” He began to untangle his hands from Albert’s. “No!” Albert pulled Finch’s arms back around him. “No, I was so bored! Please don’t leave me here to suffer again!” Finch chuckled and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Albert’s jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ve been just as bored as you are. Do you know how much it took me to not throw every single one of those people’s drinks in their faces? A lot.” “So why are we still here?” Albert whined. “It’s not like anyone would miss us.” Finch hummed. “Tempting, but you know my father would kill me. Besides-” “Well, would you look who it is?” The pair of them looked up to see a turquoise coloured demon standing in front of them, arms crossed over her chest, face turned to the ceiling as she looked down her nose at them. Finch sighed and let go of Albert, straightening his suit. “Hello, Miss Van Rensselaer, how are you this evening?” Cordelia clicked her tongue. “I was doing fine until you showed your hideous face.” “Hey-” Albert tried to interject, but Finch put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm. “That’s nice to hear,” he smiled, voice cold. “What may we help you with?” “Oh so now you want to help me?” Albert looked back and forth between the two, Cordelia had leaned right in, her face pushed right into Finch’s personal space. The overwhelming chemically floral scent of her perfume made Albert’s head spin and he fought to keep himself from coughing as he looked quizzically between the two. Finch rolled his eyes. “Look, Miss Van Rensselaer,” he had dropped the cold formalities. “If you don’t want anything from us, would you oh so kindly piss off? My boyfriend and I are trying to enjoy the night.” Cordelia screwed her eyes up and snarled. “Unfortunately for you, I’m allowed to stand wherever, and next to whoever I want!” her vicious demeanour shifted and she batted her eyelashes charmingly, pitching her voice up much higher than it was. “I hope I’m not sending you the wrong signals.” She said sweetly, baby-voice still dialled up to eleven. Finch not-so-subtly pulled on Albert’s sleeve, moving a step in front of him, narrowing his eyes at the haughty girl before him. Cordelia dropped her façade and returned to her aggressive stance. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Van Rensselaer’.” She hissed. Finch gasped, clutching at imaginary pearls. “Oh of course! My mistake, your royal bitchyness.” He bowed deeply. “Shall I kiss your ruby red slippers?” Cordelia bit back a growl, balling her hands into fists and stepping even closer to Finch, almost nose-to-nose with him. “Why you-” “Oh, Cordelia! Darling!” a whirlwind of champagne skirts rustled into view as Finch’s mother draped herself around Cordelia’s shoulders, wine glass loosely clutched in one hand. “How are you?” Albert struggled to keep the grin off his face. Finally, this night was going to get entertaining! Cordelia shifted under the other woman’s weight, stumbling slightly, trying to keep as far away from the wine that threatened to spill, as possible. “I- uh, I’m fine Mrs Cortez, thank you.” “Oh, that’s so good to hear darling!” She slurred. “But I saw you bothering my boys.” She tossed back another gulp of wine. “And I just wanted to remind you of what happened last time you tried something like that.” She purred, voice dripping with cheerful venom as she twisted a finger through a loose lock of Cordelia’s hair. Finch grinned and leaned down to Albert. “Cordie had the outline of my mother’s wedding ring on her cheek for a month!” He whispered through barely restrained laughter. Albert fought back a smile, as their attention was drawn back to the two ladies. Cordelia had grabbed Mrs Cortez’s wrist, still trying to keep away from the drink while also relieving herself of the weight of another woman hanging off her. “Well, Mrs Cortez,” she started, forcing a strained smile. “I was just having a friendly little chat with Patrick here!” She narrowed her eyes and hissed under her breath. “No reason for you to stick your fat nose in it.” Not as quietly as she thought, apparently. “What was that, darling?” Cordelia visibly froze. “O-oh! Nothing, Mrs Cortez, just clearing my throat.” “Mm, that’s what I thought.” She turned to look at her son. “And, oh! My boys! I got caught up, I forgot to ask you how your night’s going!” Finch pulled Albert closer to him by his waist. “It’s going well, thank you, mother.” “Ah, that’s good to hear sweetie!” Cordelia muttered again, her smile tightened “And you, Albert?” “Just fine, Mrs Cortez.” Albert grinned, shooting Cordelia a smug look from the corner of his eye. Cordelia snarled quietly. “Stuck-up bastard, I swear-” Mrs Cortez smiled, nails digging into Cordelia’s shoulders as she tried to stop her eyes from rolling. “Oh Cordie darling,” she sighed. “looks like we need to have another chat.” She moved her hand from Cordelia’s shoulder up to her pinned back hair, grabbing a fistful. “This way, darling.” And off she marched toward the balcony, dragging a squawking Cordelia behind her.

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The entire room had gone silent, every person halting their conversation to watch them storm out. Albert and Finch followed suit, staring after them for a few seconds, until the balcony door slammed shut, and the room returned to its quiet chatter. Albert let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and laughed. He laughed and laughed, burying his face in Finch’s shoulder. He felt his boyfriend wrap him up in a hug, chuckling as well. “I love your mum.”  Finch snorted. “She loves you too, I think she asks more about you and how you are than she does me.” Albert stepped back, intertwining his fingers with Finch’s. “What can I say? I am pretty interesting.” He leaned out of the hug, hands still on Finch’s shoulders as the sound of Cordelia and Finch’s mother arguing floated faintly in from the balcony. The music slowly began to pick up again, and Finch smiled a little as he started to rock back and forth slightly, Albert could already tell what was coming and he bit back an eye roll and grin of his own. He felt Finch’s arm settle around his waist. “The night’s still young,” he murmured, pulling Albert back in closer. “Care to dance?” Albert smiled. “Ah you know I’m not much of a dancer, sweetheart.” Contrary to his words however, he reached down and slipped his hand inside of Finch’s squeezing it gently. “But with you, my dear? I’d love to.” and with that, Finch, who was undisputedly the better dancer of the two, lead them around a small section of the floor. Albert chuckled in embarrassment as he stumbled over his own feet, grabbing a little tighter on to his boyfriend’s shoulder. Finch slowed, helping Albert get his feet back under him before continuing on at a slower pace, listening to Albert count the steps under his breath. Eventually, they slowed again and returned to a gentle rocking, enjoying each other’s company. Finch could feel Albert growing tired, one hand clutched at his shoulder with the other pressed at his chest. “Hey Finch?” he murmured. “Hmm?” “I love you.” Finch blinked slowly, feeling a sweet warmth spread slowly through his chest. “I love you too, Albie.” And they stayed like that for a while, swaying in each other’s arms, letting the music wash over them, completely absorbed in each other’s presence. Albert, who was hiding his tiredness a little worse now –Finch was all but holding him up- could hear the steady beat of his boyfriend’s heart, which was not helping his sleepy state. “This is nice.” He mumbled into Finch’s dress shirt. “You also make a wonderful pillow, have I ever told you that?” “I don’t believe you have.” Finch chuckled quietly. “Well you do… you’re very warm… and comfortable…” he snuggled closer, and Finch watched as Albert’s eyes fluttered closed, he was just about to bend down and pick him up should he collapse in the middle of the ballroom, when a slightly muffled scream and the sound of a shattering wine glass sounded from the balcony, jerking Albert from his almost-sleep, steadying himself against Finch. The two of them looked toward the balcony, where the screaming was getting louder, before looking back at each other. “I think that may be our cue to leave,” Finch muttered glancing toward the balcony again. “I think you’re right,” Albert said, prying himself off of Finch and balancing on his own weak legs. Finch stole a glance toward the doorway that led out to the hall, then down to the exit and their freedom. “I’d say we can get the car around and be in bed in under half an hour if we leave now without any interruptions.” “Sounds like a plan,” Albert said as he stifled a yawn. Finch grabbed his wrist and gently tugged him toward the door, one eye on their escape and the other on the remaining guests, steering well clear of them. Their pace quickened as they passed through the door, turning into the hallway, and speeding toward the outside. Pushing open the large front doors, Finch helped Albert over the steps leading down to the garden where their car was waiting for them. “Hey, babe?” Albert asked as he and his boyfriend slid into the car. “Yeah?” “I’m never coming to one of these again.” Finch laughed. “Fair enough.” He took hold of Albert’s hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing his lips over Albert’s knuckles, before driving off into the night, leaving the stuffy party and all the stuck-up people at it, behind.

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(@gendistic42 here’s the context :3)