#no thunder only electricity between them like classic trope I love

[bearlytolerant]

Why did I choose to write a slow burn?

To cause the yearning within myself.

[vindicatedvirgil]

Sending another one ^-^ 86. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” with intrulogical?

sorry that it’s taken so long to get to some of these requests, the college AU has taken priority!

how about some classic tropes? everyone loves a good “there’s only one bed” fic right?

summary: Remus and Logan are coworkers from a science laboratory, out of town for a convention. But when the hotel room only has one room with one bed left, and a thunderstorm rolls in, there may be a breach in contracts.

tw: descriptions of thunderstorms, anxiety attack

---

“I’m sorry, sirs, but there’s only one room left and it just has a double bed,” the concierge explained, and Logan groaned, wanting to smack his head on the counter in front of them. 

“We had two bedrooms reserved!” Remus’ anger-laced voice was there beside Logan. “We booked them months ago, we’re in town for the science convention–”

“You missed your check-in time. I’m sorry, but once you do that, we start giving the rooms away,” the concierge continued, and Logan desperately wanted a drink. He said nothing, though, letting Remus handle things. His mustached coworker was always good at intimidating others.

“Our flight got delayed! This is bullshit, isn’t there anything you can do?” Remus insisted, and the concierge sighed, picked up a phone, and dialed, then spoke in hushed tones to someone on the other side.

“We can offer you a discount on the room and complimentary room service,” they finally said, hanging up the phone. Remus grumbled to himself then agreed.

And then the two were lugging their suitcases into the elevator, Logan sure that he’d collapse on the floor from exhaustion and jet lag. Once they made it into the room, Remus let him shower first, and by the time Logan was out, there was food delivered to the room.

“My turn!” Remus cackled, running into the bathroom and closing the door quickly. Logan glanced over the many options that his coworker had ordered for them, and settled on the salad. He sat on the bed, eating slowly, listening to Remus’ loud singing as the shower water kept flowing.

Logan heard the rain start pouring outside, and he frowned, setting his empty bowl back onto the plate. He shuffled under the covers, his head falling to the pillow, and hoped that there wouldn’t be a thunderstorm blowing through the area. Luckily, he was exhausted, so he dozed off before he could even hear Remus’ comment about food or feel his warm body slide into the bed behind him.

-

CRASH

Logan shot up, his body trembling as the thunder boomed outside, the flashes of lightning too bright even with the curtains shut. He wrapped his arms around his body, holding tight, trying his best not to wake up his coworker. He’d be the laughingstock of the entire lab if they found out he was afraid of thunder and lightning. Except there was another round of loud thunder, and Logan nearly fell out of bed.

“Lo?” A sleepy voice asked from beside him, and he froze. “You ‘kay?” Remus sat up beside him, a hand landing on Logan’s lower back, making him jump. “Whoah, it’s okay! It’s just me,” The next wave of thunder rolled over their heads and Logan flinched, diving into Remus’ arms. 

“Thunderstorms scare me,” Logan admitted quietly, gripping onto Remus, who he realized was not wearing anything on the top half of his body. He clung tighter when more thunder rumbled, and Remus held him close to his warm body.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he breathed quietly, his chin resting on the top of Logan’s head. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” He ran his fingers through Logan’s short hair, humming a tune to a song that Logan couldn’t put his finger on, and the two sat like that for a while, until Logan’s eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep in Remus’ strong arms.

When he woke up, the rain was still cascading outside but no hints of thunder or lightning, he was still enveloped by his coworker’s arms, only they were laying down now and Logan’s head was resting on his supple chest.

He knew their professional relationship was ruined. Logan prided himself on his professionality in the workplace, and yet, here he was, in the arms of the most handsome man from their laboratory, soft fingers entwined with calloused ones, and Logan wished they could lay there a bit longer. He stared up at the sleeping face of Remus, watching the way his mouth was partially open as he breathed deeply, and Logan found himself entranced with the plump lips, not noticing that the other’s eyes were opening.

“Mornin’, Lo,” Remus said, voice and expression lidded with sleep. Logan pulled away quickly, trying to hide his flushed face, but Remus’ hand tugged him back. “Hey, you alright?” Logan shook his head quickly, not looking back at his coworker. “Talk to me, Lo.”

“I can’t, we can’t, I just…” he sighed, pulling his hand away from Remus’. “Sorry, I’m just tired, I can’t think straight…”

“Ever?” Remus asked, a hint of a teasing tone in his voice, and Logan rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Yeah, me too.” Logan wanted to turn around to look at Remus, this newfound knowledge like a bungee cord connecting them to each other; one wrong (or right?) tug and they’d fall into each other’s arms. 

Logan finally stood from the bed, stretching his arms above him, and he dared a glance over at Remus, who was watching him carefully, his expression unreadable. Oh, how Logan wanted to clamber back onto the bed, land in Remus’ arms, and stay there, their lips connecting. 

He didn’t do that, though, because Remus’ phone’s alarm rang throughout the hotel room, breaking through the thick silence. “We have an hour until the conference starts,” he said, shutting off the alarm. “We should get ready and maybe get a bit of breakfast.”

“Remus…” Logan started, watching Remus stand on the other side of the bed. There was too much distance between them but it needed to stay that way. It had to. If he stepped any closer, all of Logan’s self control would figuratively fly out the window and he’d be lost in those curls, those green eyes–

“Screw the contracts,” Remus said finally, nearly launching himself over the bed, his arms wrapping around Logan’s waist, their lips meeting hastily, needily, and Logan whined, his arms wrapping around the slightly taller man’s neck, pulling him as close as he could possibly be. They crashed their lips together in that way for what felt like a millennia, Logan desperate for more, but then Remus’ alarm was going off again, and they were forced to grapple with the reality of the situation.

They opted to not speak about it, instead taking turns in the bathroom getting dressed, then going down for breakfast together, their hands brushing together in electric touches every few moments.

The conference day was uneventful, the pair separated so they could garner the most information for their fellow lab assistants, but when they made it back into the hotel room that night, their bodies and hands met in a needy way, their lips finding each other again, like magnets or a moth to a flame.

The bungee cord had been pulled, and now they were stuck together, tied up in their own choices, the consequences of their actions cast aside.

[galacticlee]

The Entertainment Conflicts

 These prompts made me cry they're amazing holy quiznack

For some reason, Tumblr decided to delete this ask, but here are your shidge ficlets, @rebelgirlmatrix1213

1)Soft!Shidge + music = my heart attack waiting to happen

And for 2) I got into Stranger Things only a few weeks ago, and I know for a fact they would love it. Besides, couples fighting over TV shows is the best, so why not.

Prompt from this post (x)

1)

It was all started when Pidge snooped through his playlist one night before dinner.

Music was a welcomed privilege to have, and the Paladins hadn't realized the quietness of the void of space until it had departed them. Thus, once the five returned to their home planet, melodies were blasted through out their cars, homes, and whatever hang-outs they attended, the unmistakable urge to jump up and wildly dance as if no one was watching stronger than ever. Each earthling had their genre of tunes that they preferred; Keith loved old rock music, Hunk a fan of classical, and etcetera. The tunes that would exhale from the local stations were a blend of 'southern' and whatever their parents would listen to, the satellite edition blasting heavy-beated pop that would threaten to break a car's speakers or Broadway show tunes that no one in the universe could ever get quite right. It took him a while, but the Black Paladin finally found his comfort songs.

Shiro rocked out to whatever his tiny girlfriend would, thus the songs that would echo throughout the walls of their home vastly consisted of indie rock and whatever slow, electronic beats she felt fit the pair's collective emotion. The genre grew on him, creating a soft spot in his mind for anything that reminded him of Pidge. His now vast collection of memories with her included the pair with ear buds stretched between them, whether it be in bed, walking across busy city sidewalks, or huddled together on a crowded tram. Dancing together in their kitchen, or bedroom, or shower was a common event, socks or bare feet sliding and squirming across the tile or wood floor with ladles or hairbrushes or hands used as would-be microphones. Music was the warmth of her figure next to him in the early gold morning, the cooling touch of her fingers trailing across the back of his neck amidst steaming water, and the soft melody of her voice dancing from her lab as she worked on some intergalactic project. Anything that reminded him of her, especially a band or artist, helped his day go by.

Thus, as he explored her playlist, he began to grow a love for Lindsey Stirling.

He expected to be made fun of, as was the norm when either of the couple found a new, freaking-out-about thing to get behind. The teasing was always loose, always comfortable, but he couldn't quite put his metallic finger on why he kept the artist tucked in his pocket. Yet, he did, humming the tunes of the songs he could remember and sneaking his favorites into her phone.

But he could never hide anything from the intelligent Holt.

"Soooooo," She started, leaning over the kitchen counter with her feet kicking in the air, thumbs pressing against his phone's screen. Her smile was audible through her words, though he couldn't decipher if it was coy, sympathetic, or incredulous. "I see you have a favorite electric violinist."

He near dropped the spatula he was holding, mouth drawing together into a thin line and hand around a saucepan tightening whilst his face began to sting. Shiro stirred its contents faster, a tad bit nervously. "Hmm, what about it?"

He braced himself for the incoming roll of the honey-shaded eyes, or the awful violin impression, but they never seemed to arrive. Shiro glanced up from the pan, throwing his eyes over his shoulder and toward her. She wiggled in place, smile wide as she swung her legs back and forth against the cabinet and phone pressed in her lap. She fiddled with the sink's taps, choosing her next words with a pursed lip.

"Master of Tides or Crystalize?"

"What?"

"Master of Tides, then."

 He narrowed his eyes, blinking as he ceased the stirring and reprocessed the statement. Pidge's freckled features were glowing, intelligent grin shining at her partner as she squirmed off the marble slab and neared him. Fingers pressed against the screen of his phone, her steps became bouncy, shoulders moving back and forth as a rhythm began to exit its speakers. He instantly recognized the noise, the thump of a beat fading out of the device and into his ears.

"No teasing?" He questioned, dropping the hand from the dish as she snatched onto it and twirled it around her.

Pidge shrugged, stuffing the phone in her pocket after transferring it to the speakers hidden around the home. "I may or may not have an obsession with her as well," She admitted, caramel freckles flushed as Katie unrolled his arm. "And I might know most of them by heart."

"Might?" The food was now forgotten, utensil set on an unoccupied burner as she grabbed his other hand, the melody that bled through the hidden speakers she installed for God knows why picking up its pace. The tune was familiar to him and appeared to be with her as they slinked across the kitchen floor, feet turning and hands clenched around each other's. She rose on her tip-toes, moving an arm to position on his broad shoulders.

"Oh, so we're really dancing now?"

"You call this dancing?"

He grinned as they moved, raising his metallic limb as she twirled underneath it, giving a snort and a roll of her energetic eyes in response. The song was faster, livelier as the pair's pace increased, knee and ankle-high socks sliding across frigid tile and arms dropped when dancing became more of a flail-your-arms-to-the-tune-and-feel-good sort of feat. They spun and waved and tossed and turned, grins breaking into uncontrollable laughter as the pace of the song hurried and slowed, on and on again. By the end of the song, both were wheezing from chuckling, Pidge's hands pressed to Shiro's cheeks and his upon her wrists as the electric instruments washed away, leaving an out-of-breath couple and a steady beat that was soon to past.

He was glad she snooped through his phone.

2)

"Jancy will never top Mileven, Shiro, how dare you!" She shouted, pointing a finger toward him as she stretched away from him, digging her feet into the sofa's cushion. Shiro's face furrowed back at her as he leaned over, near spilling the contents of the bowl that lay in his lap.

"Jonathon and Nancy will always be the best paring in the show, Pidge." Shiro's voice was firm, and his steel grey eyes burned in the back of her head, but she stuck to her argument as she climbed back and thrust her fist into the sweetened kettle corn, stuffing her face full of it and resting her feet on his arm while awaiting him to continue. "Even the insane conspiracy theorist said that they belong together, and even Steve and the jocks though they were dating in Season One. So the Jancy plot is stronger than the Mileven."

She waited until he made a move for the corn to retaliate with her . "Sure, but think about it. Eleven and Mike are part of the main five or six that are the core of the series. Name a more iconic duo than them."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Batman and Robin. Spiderman and Deadpool. Coran and his moustache is also-"

She pursed her lips. "Coran is not an acceptable answer-"

"Should we even get on the Jopper subje-"

The two were interrupted by the screen in front of them thundering aggressively, the pair's heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of their collctive favorite show, Stranger Things. Pidge had come across the hit series while preparing to dive into the depths of Netflix one day, watched the first season, and promptly demanded her partner watch it alongside her. It was an instant hint, and both absorbed the irony of the government-hiding-secrets trope that they knew all too well about. And, as was the trouble of being a fan (or in this case, stan) and having your significant other be the same, it offered either pure happiness when you completely agree, or heated arguments in any other alternative.

For these two, it was indefinitely the latter.

Pidge squirmed closer to Shiro, tucking into his side as his arm fell instinctively over her shoulder. They sat in a few minuets of silence, watching as a group of kids biked down a road, only then speaking after the credits rolled and the 'Play next episode' button appeared. She turned her head to the side, strands of hair that fell out of her incredibly messy bun tickling the back of her neck as she spoke her following words with childish determination.

"We need to give Keith the Steve Harrington hair-cut."

Shiro exhaled a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Do you think he would really allow us to style his hair, much less give him a style from the 80's?"

The brunette rolled her eyes as she reached for the kettle corn, nudging the collar of her (Shiro's. It was Shiro's, but it as hers) shirt back over her bare, pale shoulder. "He's had a mullet for, like, seven years at least, and a mullet is one of the things that defined the eighties! We might as well have the damn thing piled taller than his Lion," Pidge reasoned, throwing a hand out to emphasize her statement as the other reached for the snack-bowl. Her only response was another shake of the head and a gesture to play the next episode in addition to Shiro's head slowly dipping to the side and resting on her covered shoulder. The opening minuets finished, theme starting up with it's scarlet-outlined letters floating across the screen when Pidge grabbed his flesh hand, turning her head to whisper in his ear.

"Hey, Shiro."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I could make us have Eleven's powers?" Her golden eyes glittered, mouth forming into a curious smirk as she watched all of the ideas of consequence fire off in Shiro's synapses. The bowl of kettle corn was trashed as both moved quickly, Pidge aiming to leap away but was pinned down to the sofa by her much bigger, much stronger boyfriend. She gave a slight pout, forcing herself to restrain her laughter in her throat. His eyes were narrowed, the white patch of hair falling in between their eyes as he shook his head.

"Bad Idea. Bad, bad idea." He answered, tapping his fingers against her wrists which he held to the sofa's arm rest. Her response was an exaggerated sigh and a roll of her eyes, though her grin broke though her poorly cobbled-together pout while her freckled cheeks folded up.

"We just watched an eleven year-old girl flip a van, though," She reasoned, wrapping her legs around his torso as she flung a hand out to the screen, lips pressed together as she attempted to illustrate the failing point. The episode they had watched seemingly hundreds of times was becoming white noise, conversation no longer about Pidge running off to her lab but about keeping each other's focus. As Shiro listened on, he realized what he would say in the next few seconds could very well get him kissed, or get him killed. "That could help us defend the universe!"

"Only the kind of person who puts Mileven at top priority would say that."

"Don't you start-"