#so I awkwardly asked if the position could be remote partly and he was basically like no

[wtfspocks]

It’s overthinking o’clock

[hookedontaronfics]

First Contact series Part 2

Title: First Contact - Part 2 Find Part 1 HERE Rating: T Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Some light cursing and alcohol use A/N: The second installment in the First Contact series takes our three best friends on a fun Saturday night on the town and a surprise second encounter with Taron. Some more cute, fluffy Taron. The series will eventually involve more mature themes as it develops, so be warned! I hope you enjoy! x

Opening Scene. Int. A cheery maisonette in Muswell Hill, London. Saturday evening. Three roommates are sitting in the reception room, the evening sun pouring through the window, casting a warm glow. Two roommates are idly chatting and watching the telly, while the third roommate furiously types away -

“Hey!” Jules’ voice interrupted my thoughts, mid-type. “No working! It’s a Saturday. We’re going to go out and have fun!” she said.

“I’m not working!” I insisted, quickly hitting the save button and closing my laptop.

“Yeah right, it’s all you do,” Mary agreed.

“Well, I’ve just landed this position and I want to show I can excel at it,” I said, feeling the need to defend myself. But I truly hadn’t been working on a script, at least not for work. 

“And I actually like my job, unlike you lot,” I added cheekily as Jules tossed a couch pillow at me.

“Look, we all know how brillo you are! They wouldn’t have promoted you if they didn’t think it too,” she smiled. “But you also need to have some fun once in a while.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a grin. “So what did you have in mind?”

“Well, Jules and I were thinking of checking out this really fun place on Kingsland High Street …” Mary started.

“Yeah, it’s a karaoke bar and the hosts for the evening are drag queens!” Jules added with an excited squeal. “How fun will that be?”

“Uhh, you guys know I don’t sing!” I protested.

“Well you can just be a killjoy, but you’re still coming with us,” Jules replied, taking my laptop and shoving it under the couch cushion for good measure.

“Come on, then,” Mary grinned, pulling me to my feet and dragging me along to my room so I could start getting ready. After some deliberation I finally chose to wear a simple black dress over a black-and-white checkered button-down shirt. Minimalist was the way to go so I wouldn’t grab anyone’s attention, lest they try to pull me up on stage with them. I kept my makeup neutral except for a bright pink lippy and tousled my hair before deeming myself “night-on-the-town” worthy.

My friends, it would turn out, decided to make this process a lot more time-consuming. So with time to kill, I dug my laptop out from under the couch cushion, disturbing Tim, Mary’s cat, who had been stretched out and sleeping. I apologized by giving him an extra scratch behind the ears, to which he simply meowed at me indignantly and then returned to his nap.

“Suit yourself, Tim,” I giggled, perching on the ottoman and opening my laptop again. I’d set my desktop background as one of the pictures from my Tesco run-in with Taron two months ago, and it never failed to make me smile. 

Of course my friends and I had gone over every single detail of the interaction, in great length and with a lot of wine. I’d still not been able to share the experience online, partly because I didn’t want crazier fans then me to feel the need to stalk him in places like the supermarket. Taron had been kind and friendly, of course, but at the heart of it, he was just going about his life like any of us might. Being famous wasn’t an invitation to intrude upon his life in that way.

Still, as I looked at the photo, I couldn’t help but daydream a little about what could have been. Could a chance, simple encounter really turn into more?

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Jules asked, breaking into my reverie, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You’ll totally blend in… with the furniture!”

“That’s the point, Jules. I’m not changing, so can we just get this over with already?” I whined slightly.

“You will have fun, so help me!” Jules replied as Mary sashayed into the room as well, playfully tossing her hair about. Both of my roommates were in bright colorful dresses; I looked like the drab au pair next to them, but I didn’t mind. We were in high spirits as we locked up our flat and made our way to the tube, my friends awkwardly tottering on their heels and me making fun of them for their impractical footwear.

The transit to Kingsland High was uneventful, and soon we were standing before the neon sign of the Karaoke Hole. A few people were standing outside, smoking or just talking, and we could hear the strains of music and laughter filtering outside.

We had to get our ID’s checked at the front before walking into the neon-lit bar, immediately besieged by the amount of glitter in the room. And feathers. And neon. And basically every wild, outrageous piece of clothing someone could adorn their body with. I suddenly felt very much out of place and as conspicuous as I had been trying not to be.

We quickly ordered drinks, giggling over the names of the various cocktails in the LGBTQ+ friendly venue. Oh, this could be a fun night after all. The booths were all full, and we hadn’t made a booking, so I was truly grateful I’d chosen a pair of sensible flats for the standing-room night. The karaoke was already in full swing, and the hosts were engaging and welcoming to everyone there.

Jules, Mary and I were caught up in the joy of it, cheering right along with everyone for each singer or group that braved the stage. But there was no way I was getting up on that stage, even with my roomies begging me to go with them. I waved and cheered as loud as anyone as Mary and Jules stepped up to the stage, microphones in hand, looking every bit the stars I knew my roomies to be as they launched into a flamboyantly off-key version of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.”

I stood around, taking in the packed crowd, men and women of all stripes and colors here just to have a good time. It genuinely filled me with happiness to see everyone getting along, like we’d all been invited to the same exclusive party. 

When my friends returned to me, breathless and giggling, I was sure to congratulate them profusely, overblowing it on purpose until Mary told me good-naturedly to shut up. I snickered and finished my drink as the first notes of a song I instantly recognized blared out, and my eyes instantly snapped to the stage in hope. But the person about to sing George Michael’s “Faith” wasn’t who I hoped it to be, even though I knew it was completely silly of me to think I’d have a second chance to meet Taron. Still, a girl could hope, right?

Embarrassed by my private disappointment, I mumbled something to Jules and Mary about needing another drink, and politely pushed my way between sweaty glittering bodies to the bar. I had to fairly clamber onto a stool and lean over the bartop to yell my order to the bartender over the enthusiastic rendition coming from the speakers.

“I could sing it better,” someone to my right said, and I nearly fell off the stool the second I recognized that accent.

“Excuse me?” I laughed, spinning around to face the person who was most certainly the object of my fangirl dreams.

“That’s my song. I always sing it,” Taron smirked lightly. If he recognized me at all (which I mean, how could he?), he didn’t let on.

“What are you gonna do, go up there and show him up?” I teased as the bartender placed my cocktail in front of me. I took a couple sips and savored it for a moment, also secretly checking out Taron over the rim of the glass in the process.

“Ahh, haven’t had enough drinks yet. And I’m not an arse,” he grinned, waving his empty bottle at the bartender to indicate he’d like another.

“This time it’s on me,” I said, tossing a couple bills on the bartop as the bartender handed Taron another beer. His green eyes looked sweetly baffled at me below the brim of the hat he was wearing, and my heart sank just a tiny bit. So no, he didn’t remember who I was, I thought to myself.

“Well, enjoy your night,” I said, smiling and trying to pass it off as me just being an overly generous person. I hopped off the stool and turned to go back to my friends, but he reached over and tapped me on the arm, leaning in close to me to speak as the bar volume suddenly jumped. I realized I could feel his breath on my skin, and I tried not to gasp.

“I didn’t buy you a coffee as a quid pro quo, Jessica,” he said, and I didn’t even correct him on my name as my heart nearly stopped beating and reality slammed back into me. He actually remembered me, I thought stupidly, shocked into speechlessness for a moment. I suddenly felt my world tilt just a little, and everyone felt way too close. The music was too loud, and the lights were far too bright. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the proximity of Taron, or maybe just my general anxiety, but I suddenly felt like I had no air to breathe. Taron said something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“I…I’ll be right back,” I managed to stammer, before making a mad dash for the door, weaving between people until I could push the door open and nearly fell flat on my face tripping over the steps on the way to the sidewalk. I rushed past some people smoking near the entrance, who glanced at me and then went back to their conversation, before leaning against a light pole and sucking in huge breaths of air, trying to calm myself down. 

Angry at myself and embarrassed over my panic didn’t even remotely begin to describe how I felt at that moment, moving through emotions too fast to even process them. And nothing had even happened, not really, other then Taron having an unusually impeccable memory. I really needed to get a grip on myself. I pulled my phone out of my purse, which had been slung around my body, ready to text Jules and Mary to come out and rescue me as I surely couldn’t face Taron again, when the door swung open and he made a beeline over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, keeping his distance until he was sure I could handle it.

“Just peachy,” I breathed, making him tilt his head again.

“Is that a particular phrase said in the States?” he asked, willing to distract me from whatever had caused my panic.

“Uh, yeah, I suppose so,” I said, even managing to laugh a little. “It’s painful how American I still am, isn’t it? I’ve been living here a year already!”

“It’s not so bad. Where you’re from is an important part of who you are,” he said sweetly, stepping a bit closer as he could see me relaxing. “I’d never want to take that away from someone.”

“You’re really … real, aren’t you, Taron Egerton?” I laughed softly, knowing that probably didn’t make any sense to him, but he stayed quiet, allowing me time to elaborate. “I mean, just as sweet and kind in person as everyone thinks you are. That’s kind of rare.”

“Thank you, I… That’s generous of you,” he said, closing his eyes and nodding his head in that way he did when he was humbled by a compliment.

“Well, I mean it. First you save my brown sauce, then you rescue me from panicking over nothing. I’m beginning to rack up quite a tab,” I joked.

“Hmmm, that’s a bit of a problem, innit?” he said, slowly smirking at me again. “I suppose you could repay it by having you and your mates join me and my mates at our booth. We’ve plenty of room,” he said, giving me his most winsome gaze, his eyes passing over me head to toe. I was grateful for the shadows cast by the street light, as I’m sure I was a bright shade of scarlet.

“Can’t say no to that, now can I?” I smiled, biting my lip slightly as he reached out and offered his hand to me in a gesture of support. I slipped my hand in his, noting that he threaded his fingers with mine as he led me back inside.

We quickly found Jules and Mary dancing together, clearly a bit drunk, and who hadn’t even noticed I’d been missing. Great friends, those, I thought cheekily. When Jules saw Taron and me holding hands, she made a big show of it, pointing to our hands and then giving me a cheesy thumbs up. I would have felt embarrassed but Taron didn’t give me the chance, leading the three of us to the booth he and his friends had commandeered. He introduced us to a few people whose names I’d definitely forget later, then returned to the bar to replace our abandoned drinks.

When he’d returned, he slid into the booth next to me, so close that his thigh was directly against mine. And it was warm, very warm. I was distracted by the sensation for a moment, then chided myself and blushed, as if my thoughts had been posted on an electronic sign above my head for all to read. Still, those kinds of thoughts weren’t going to help me survive the night sitting next to Taron, so I tried my best to be chill, starting with downing my cocktail way too fast.

Jules and Mary had no problem joining the conversation with Taron’s friends, and I did my best to chime in when I could, getting a few laughs out of the table. More drinks and badly sung songs ensued until Taron drummed his hands on the table. “Only one person hasn’t yet gone up on stage,” he said, turning to me as his friends all “ooohh’d” at me.

“Oh no, no no no. I don’t sing,” I replied, trying to kibosh that whole idea before it started.

“Oh come on, love, it can’t be that bad,” Taron chuckled, clearly feeling buzzed himself at this point. He took his hat off and plopped it on my head. “You’ll be a star,” he grinned, dragging out the word.

“I can’t go up there by myself,” I replied, desperately trying to come up with some reason other than that I was massively afraid to stand in front of all those people. “I have laryngitis!” I said, unable to keep a straight face at that as everyone else cracked up. I clearly needed to work on my lying game.

“Here, I’ll bargain with you,” Taron said, putting an arm around my shoulders lazily. “You and me. We’ll go up there together, and we’ll just have some fun, yeah? Forget everyone else in the room. I’ve got you,” he said, his eyes slightly glittering in the dark of the bar. I knew he’d said all of this just for my benefit, and it was getting difficult to turn him down. I looked over at Mary and Jules, both of whom knew about my anxiety. But they were both nodding their heads, trying to encourage me to overcome it.

So I agreed, against my better judgment. I quickly finished my cocktail, hoping that the liquid courage would kick in, and let Taron drag me up to the stage. We debated over a song for a little bit while waiting our turn, landing on something I actually knew by heart, so at least I wouldn’t be tripping over the words and embarrassing myself further.

When our names were announced and we hopped up on the stage, our group of friends burst into ridiculous cheers, which made me blush some more and nearly want to bolt, but Taron was still holding my hand and it anchored me a bit. “Don’t look out there. Forget about them. Just focus on me,” he whispered, so I took a deep breath and did my best to take his advice. It wasn’t hard to focus on Taron, who looked almost rugged with his black blazer and stubble, his hair a bit flattened down from the hat that I was now wearing. It somehow made him look even more adorable, but I don’t think he could have looked anything less to me.

Our music started and Taron instantly lit up, the performer in him living for moments like these. My only hope was simply to survive. We’d chosen Elton John’s duet with Kiki Dee, the ever-catchy “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” Taron, bless his soul, did everything he could to get me to loosen up, and it somehow worked. I wasn’t glued to the monitor screen because I knew the words, and eventually even I was dancing a little bit with him, clearly being outshone but at least looking like I wasn’t totally out of my element. By the end of the song, I was beyond grateful to leave the stage, but also proud of myself for actually going through with it.

Taron grabbed me around my middle and cutely hugged me, picking me up off my feet and swinging me around slightly in his excitement over what we’d just done. “That was so good! I had no idea you had pipes on you like that!” he grinned, knocking his hat askew on my head a bit.

“I never said I can’t sing, only that I don’t,” I laughed, caught up in his excitement and the effects of alcohol.

“Well you really should more often,” he smiled, pulling me close so that he could fix the hat before dropping his hands down to my shoulders and staring at me for one awkward moment, as if he wanted to put them elsewhere but decided against it. “You have really beautiful eyes, has anyone told you that?” he asked.

“Not...not really, thank you,” I said, totally stunned as we stood there, the flow of the crowd around us totally forgotten. For that moment, it was just Taron and me.

But then the moment passed, and whatever he had thought to say, or do, he decided against.

I felt a pinprick of disappointment as he led me back to the table, ordering another round of shots for the table as everyone greeted me back with congratulations and praise that I had a half-decent voice. I gave them all smiles and tried to entertain Mary and Jules’ texts about how cute we had looked up on the stage together.

We all chatted some more and took the most ridiculous pictures with each other and the night wore on, Taron at times resting a hand on my knee, or even leaning his head against my shoulder, but making no further moves and I half-wondered if this was just how he was when he’d drunk far too much.

I got up to go to the bathroom, badly needing to pee at that point, and stewing on what Taron’s actions could possibly mean. It couldn’t be because he was attracted to me, I decided, especially as I’d chosen the most boring outfit in the world. At least his hat did something for my overall aesthetic, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. My eyeliner had smudged a bit but didn’t look overall bad. I sighed and pushed my way into a stall, realizing once I sat down that I’d totally left my phone on the table. Jules was notorious for hacking my social media with stupid posts, especially when she was drunk.

Once I’d washed up and returned to the table, it hit me that I was absolutely knackered. I nearly stumbled, into Taron no less, trying to get back into the booth. “Guys, I so need to call it a night,” I said, unable to stop the yawn that escaped. Jules and Mary had been whispering and giggling together, but had stopped when I’d returned. If I hadn’t been so drunk myself, I would have been suspicious.

“You’re sure you need to go, darling?” Taron asked me, looking like he needed to find a place to pass out himself.

“Mmm yeah and I think you should too,” I smiled, trying to hand him his hat back, but he shook his head.

“Keep it, it’s a consolation prize,” he said, winking at me and making my insides melt. If there’s one thing I can tell you, Taron Egerton could stop traffic with that wink of his.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” I giggled, stuffing my phone back in my purse. “Thank you for the fun night. It was really, really great.” And you’re bloody gorgeous, I thought drunkenly, glad those words didn’t leave my mouth.

“The pleasure has been all mine,” Taron smiled, nodding to the rest of his group as Jules and Mary and I managed to extricate ourselves from the booth without breaking an ankle. We all took our good-byes, making empty promises to hang out again some time, and Taron escorted us outside and helped flag down a taxi for us. He was a gentleman through and through. He offered hugs to the three of us, maybe hugging onto me a little longer than was necessary, and made sure we were safely in the cab and on our way before returning to the bar. My last image of him was his hand raised in a half-wave, his crooked smile fading into the darkness.

By the time we arrived back at our flat, my head was absolutely pounding. Mary shook me to rouse me from my stupor, half-slumped against the cab door and probably not remotely attractive at all. The street light outside hurt my eyes, and I was starting to get grumpy that I wasn’t already safely tucked in my bed.

“You always do this! I hate your grump stage, it’s such a bummer!” Jules complained, tearing off her dress and dumping it in our main room.

Mary shook her head at our roommate’s exhibitionist streak and quickly took me by the shoulders and escorted me to our shared bathroom. “Just take a bath and relax and you’ll feel better, promise,” she smiled, as if she’d done this many times before.

“Okay, mom,” I playfully whined, dumping my purse on the counter, my phone falling out onto the floor. I bent over to pick it up, swearing slightly and hoping I hadn’t cracked the screen, which had lit up showing my notifications. My eyes went wide as I noticed a text and I screamed, bringing Jules running, crowding into the small bathroom with us.

“WHAT IS THIS?” I yelled, shoving the phone in their faces. There, clearly visible on the screen, was a text message reading <Had a lovely night with you. Until next time, -T.>

“Oh, that,” Jules said offhandedly, as she and Mary exchanged glances with each other.

“Well, when you went to the bathroom, …” Mary began.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it yourself!” Jules interjected.

Mary squealed at that. “So when are you going to text him back?” she asked.

“Not with both of you breathing down my neck!” I laughed in a dazed manner, shooing them both out of the bathroom. “I love you guys,” I said, giving them the biggest smile.

“Love you back,” Mary said, making a heart with her hands while Jules just blew me a kiss, still only dressed in her skivvies.

I closed the door and sank down to the floor, staring at the text until my phone screen went blank again. I took a deep sigh and opened the message back up, my fingers hovering over the keys for a moment. <I had the best time. Hope you got home safe. -J> I set my phone aside and started the water, deciding on a quick shower instead of a bath. Once I was clean and feeling slightly better, I brushed my teeth, swallowed a couple painkillers, put on my jammies and nestled under the covers. I peeked at my phone again, half-afraid that there wouldn’t be a text back or it’d turn out to be a wrong number, even if that didn’t make sense as he’d texted me first.

My fears were proven false, though, as I had another text waiting for me. I opened it nervously. <You really think I’m bloody gorgeous?> I stared for a moment at the text, before throwing my head back and having to laugh. I definitely couldn’t trust myself when I was drunk, that’s for certain.

<I’ll ask sober me in the morning> I sent back with a winky face emoji before setting my phone aside for the night. My head was still pounding and I badly needed to sleep, no matter how tempting it would be to text Taron all hours of the night. 

From first contact to the second, I’d been given hope. Not that I was the perfect girl for Taron, or for anyone for that matter. But he’d seen me enough to care, maybe even to like me. And that was a future I’d be all too happy to wake up to the next morning.

Keep reading - Part 3