bearprofessorr

[bearprofessorr]

chasing the stars.

being kind costs nothing, but earns you so much more than you could ever imagine.

ship: bfd!declan o'hara/fem!reader. tags/warnings: slow burn, alcohol mentions, panic attacks, fluff/comfort, no y/n. word count: 2.5k.

--- a/n: i've already written p2 and i'm just saying it is way slower development wise than i'm used to writing - however, it'll get there i promise <333. I'll edit it and get it up probably when im part way through p3 just to keep the flow of posts decently consistent (famous last words). enjoy <3

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Declan was, as ever, stressed as fuck when he came back from work - barely stopping for a quick 'hello' before heading into his office and slamming the door shut behind him. You, as had become habit on a Friday night, were two glasses of white wine deep, cooking some new recipe with Taggie in the kitchen as a new years resolution the pair of you had made to broaden your taste palettes. Taggie was busy being a perfectionist measuring out the dough into the tray, and you - with no real intention one way or another - took the chance to peek your head around to check in on your best friend's dad. You disappeared from the kitchen with a quick, "Be right back, Tag." that was quietly acknowledged before she went back to adjusting the balls of dough. You lingered outside of the door, hearing the frustrated mutterings of the Corinium show host, hesitating before knocking lightly on the hardwood. The mutterings paused, and you heard the scratch of wood against wood, then heavy footfall until the door clicked open. Declan, expecting it to be his daughter, started to speak as the door opened, "Tag, look I'm - oh-" He paused, gathering himself in a fraction of a second, "Hey love, are you alright?" His voice softened from the slightly accusative tone he started with, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to read your neutral expression.

"Yeah no, I'm okay." You started, with Declan nodding along with a tired expression in his gaze. Your eyes dropped from his as you admitted, "I was actually coming to check in on you."

"There's no need for that, love." The nickname slipped so easily as he spoke to you, and you gathered he had no idea how close you held the endearment to your heart. "I'm alright, but thank you."

He stepped back from the doorway, going to close the door, and in a moment of confidence, you pressed your hand against it to stop the movement. "Are you sure? You don't look fine, if I must say, Mr. O'Hara."

Declan took a deep breath in at that, he had been caught, it seemed. He clicked his tongue before conceding, stepping back again to open the door of his office to you. "If you insist, I'll regale my troubles."

"Oh, I insist, I wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing what ails your soul." You joked as you walked into his office - the one place in the house that was wholly Declan. His books adorned the grand bookshelves on each wall, his work was stacked into haphazard but organised looking piles with sticky notes plastered over them, the whole room was quintessentially him. Even the scents of whiskey and lingering smoke made the room more like his. You almost felt like the room would start to push you out, with your flour covered skirt and light perfume made of peonies and vanilla acting like a magnet to repulse you from the space. Except, it drew you in, the one place in your best friend's house that it made sense you never spent any time in - apart from the obvious personal bedrooms of the house's other inhabitants.

"Make yourself comfortable, we might be here for a while." He smiled to himself, the weight on his shoulders lifting slightly with the mere concept of someone to share the burden with. Someone who he had never really spoken to in much depth - not counting the drunken talk of philosophy that he often fell into with whoever would listen. The door clicked shut behind him, walking past your to sit behind his desk, where he was already part way through a glass of whiskey - which if Taggie knew she would chastise him for, but she wasn't here.

"So, what's got you in more of a huff than usual?"

"What do you know about what's usual for me?"

"If I hadn't heard all of it from Taggie when I haven't been here, the past 3 weeks that I have been here when you come back from Corinium you've been in varying states of joy or outright despair." You shot back, which Declan silently responded with his tongue running along the the backs of his teeth, "Do you need me to repeat the question?"

"No, no, heard you loud and clear." Declan put a hand up in mock defeat, "I don't know how much has gotten to you about Tony Baddingham, but he was being even more of an arsehole than usual." He spat his bosses name out like it was rotten, even with the conversational tone of his words, "Gave the Thatcher interview to Veriker."

"James Veriker? The daytime show guy?" Your jaw dropped a fraction, enough for Declan to pick up on the visceral reaction it caused within you, "He could barely interview a chatterbox never mind the fucking PM."

"You're telling me." Declan bit back a scowl, feeling the tension rise in his jaw, reaching instinctively for the whiskey glass and taking a long sip. "Baddingham saw me as too much of a flight risk for 'handling' the woman 'cause I didn't want to ask about her fucking kids."

Declan took a deeper breath at that, the embers of his anger being sparked from where they had previously settled. You took that as your moment to comment, "He's not going to outshine what you could - and have done. It'll be considered monumental because it's independent TV, not because she got the true 'Declan' treatment - like she deserves."

"Right." The older man shook his head at the thought of James Veriker opposite the PM on his stage. "He won't stray from what's asked of him 'cause at the end of the day, he's Tony's lapdog."

"Didn't take you for being a gossip, Mr. O'Hara." You accused playfully at the insinuation, finally getting comfortable in your seat.

"Please, love, you can call me Declan. No need for the respectful parent shit around here, alright?" Again with the endearment, you could at least write off the smile that immediately plastered across your features as being from getting to first name basis with your friend's dad.

"Noted, Declan." To stop the fluttering in your chest, you tried your best to steer the conversation back to why you came here in the first place, "Is that really all it takes to get you in such a storm? Correct me if I'm wrong, of course, but there has to be something else."

"Well then, you should consider journalism with an instinct like that." Declan deflected, looking from you to the swirl of amber liquid in the centre of his glass, hesitating to even form the next sentence in his head - since then he would have to acknowledge it's truth. Regardless, you were ruthless, poking him again.

"So there is something?" You assumed it was some secondary work troubles, something else infuriating about another one of his co-workers that lingered in the after hours of his workday. What you didn't immediately catch onto was how he had nearly frozen on the other side of the desk, biting the inside of his cheek, breathing deep to hold back the emotion that had bubbled to the surface.

As soon as you did, though, you stood from your chair, raced around the other side of the desk to try and comfort him, unsure entirely of how to proceed, what was appropriate to do when your best friend's dad was close to breaking down in front of you. "Hey, hey," You tried to get his attention, his eyes flickered to the sound of your voice but he was still frozen, "Look, I get that you might not want to tell me - is there someone I can call? Maybe Rupert? I know he lives just across the field-"

"It's alright, love, I-" His voice choked up, jaw tensing his mouth shut as his lip quivered. Now that you were closer you could see the tears pilling up on his waterline, threatening to break the barrier and fall down his cheek. The gloss of his eyes only made them look younger, his deep brown irises reflecting the golden light of the room.

"Declan?" Your voice was quiet, having lost all power and confidence it had when you walked into the room compared to now, "If you need me to go, I can. I'm sorry if I overstepped at all."

You waited a moment for a response, but as you leant yourself off of his desk, his hand came out to reach for your arm, his hold noncommittal. The silent agreement between you was clear, even if he didn't want to speak, he really did not want to be alone. He still didn't say a word to you, but he turned his head to meet your gaze, looking up at you with his doe-like eyes. That was enough for you to rest back on the edge of his desk, adjusting your own arm so his hand slid into yours. It wasn't meant as a romantic gesture, your fingers weren't intertwined at all, it was just for the reassurance that you were here, and you cared for him. You squeezed his hand once, a sympathetic look in your eyes matched with an upside-down smile.

The soundscape of the outdoors replaced your conversation, the archetypal noise of the countryside, the rustling of leaves and choirs of chirps as the sun dipped below the horizon, coating the sky in shades of pink and orange. You both stayed as you were for minutes, until Declan broke the silence with a quiet admission, "I- you can't tell Tag about this," He prefaced, waiting for you to acknowledge it, as much as it would hurt your to hide anything from your best friend, it was necessary in the moment. He took a purposeful breath, "Her mother and I, you probably know from Tag it's not been the best as of recent."

You nodded, still holding his hand.

"I have a feeling, that if nothing changes, it won't get any better - if you catch my meaning." His voice was solemn, one admitting defeat in a war instead of the typical talk of a long-term relationship like his with Maud. "And, I don't think I can change anymore."

It was your turn to sit and process, as Declan stared into the middle distance, loosely focused on the door; While his other hand came up to cover the bottom half of his face, realisation settling in. Your gaze was set out of the window behind the desk, in front of you, watching the world pass by as your mind raced. You couldn't tell Taggie, never mind if Declan hadn't made you promise not to, it simply wasn't your place to break that type of news to her, no matter how close you two were. The only other thought at the forefront of your mind was how to help Declan relax, how to calm him down, get him out of the spiral he was at the precipice of throwing himself into the centre of. If it was anyone else, you would take them out on the town, forget over a bottle of wine and music loud enough to drown out their thoughts. Although, you assumed from Declan's general introverted personal life that a rowdy club would be the last place he wanted to be in this kind of state. Instead, you did the logical thing, since your own mind had run dry of ideas.

"How can I help?" You suggested, not realising that at some point, Declan's gaze had moved from the door to you, for long enough that when you looked down to get his attention, it was already fixed on you.

"A distraction would be nice."

"Like a story?"

"If you've got one."

"Yeah, it's probably all going to seem petty to you, but they're the only ones I've got of any interest, unfortunately."

"Go ahead."

You regaled some bygone tale of a schoolfriend's suspension, all the way from your young teen days but still fresh in your mind and still just as scandalous. You became more animated the more you got into the story, your hand slipping away from his to gesture excitedly about the chase around the school grounds that your friend was involved in, with teachers and students trailing behind to watch as it all unfolded. Your eyes were rushing around the room, never settling, so you couldn't see the fondness in Declan's eyes as he watched you speak, and how quickly it helped him forget about his own troubles simply by the guidance of your voice. "And then," You paused, overcome with laughter at the memory. "Then," you gathered yourself, looking to Declan to reach the apex of the story, "She got stuck on the fence while she tried to climb over it, and had to get the fire brigade in to cut her out!"

"That's…" Declan chuckled alongside you, "And you said you went to an all girl's school?"

"Mhm!" you agreed, "The amount of crazy stuff that went down in that place, you'd think it was a TV show sometimes."

"If what you've just told me is anything to go by, I might just have to agree with you there, love." He paused, thinking on the details of the story, "Are you still friends with this girl?"

"No, no not really," You shook your head, appreciating the last warm embers of the sun as it fully disappeared out of view, "I hear about her and her lot every so often, some new escapade they've gotten wrapped up in, or old stories that finally get all the details filled in."

Declan nodded along as you spoke, his voice softer but with a clearer tiredness underneath, "Like a cold case, then? Those always fascinated me, keeping tabs on seemingly dead ends just for the hope of a revitalisation."

You made an affirmative sound, letting the conversation fall into a lull as you took in a deeper breath, appreciating the serenity of the moment, breaking the silence with a quiet, "Are you feeling better?"

He muttered a small 'yeah' following it up with a sincere, "Thank you, love."

"It's no worry, you needed it, and it cost me nothing to help - so why wouldn't I?"

"You're a selfless girl, honestly." He smiled to himself, the pull on his heartstrings a problem to deal with later, "Tag is lucky to have you."

"Speaking of!" The time had been lost on you, a part of you was sad to have to leave, but there was only so long before Taggie would get concerned of your absence, "I should go check if she needs any help finishing off the food."

Declan gave a polite smile as you got up from the desk, brushed off your skirt, leaving a small puff of flour in it's wake and rushed off to the kitchen, not before pausing at the door for a moment, turning back to Declan and letting him know, "I'll poke my head round once they're ready, if you're still here."

"I will be, thank you."

[bearprofessorr]

a second chance.

sometimes getting stood up is the only way to find what you really needed.

ship: declan o'hara/fem!reader. tags/warnings: drinking, making out, no y/n. word count: 3.8k.

(crossposted on ao3)

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The night was young, and you had plans. A date. One of the boys that helped out with the Cotswolds Round-up plucked up the courage to ask you out after a few weeks of idle chatter in the breakroom. You dressed up for the occasion - even if it was only for a drink at the one proper pub in the area. It wasn't often you would be asked out; normally you would be making the first move, hoping that it was reciprocated. Not tonight. 

You arrived slightly before you planned to meet him, wanting a drink to steady your nerves as the clock got closer to 8. you finished your first drink - a simple vodka coke - and looked back at the clock, now reading 8:15. Panic rose in your throat, but you kept it down by ordering another drink. Thankfully, there was a TV behind the bar that you could watch to pass the time, distract yourself and try and convince the other patrons of the pub that you were really enthused by... golf. 

The night continued to pass, and the golf blurred as you stared at the screen instead of watching it. The clock hit 8:45 and you had to swallow the pain of being stood up. You looked around the pub, seeing if anyone was looking at you - no one spared you a glance. There were faces you recognised, some from Corinium's other departments, but none that you spoke to at all; Until you looked down the bar, in a dim corner, noticing Corinium's prized jewel; Declan O' Hara, slowly nursing a glass of whiskey with his eyes just as glazed over as yours were, staring at the TV. Rumours had been circulating around the offices of Declan's wife being scouted for work in London after prized director Malhar Verma was spotted at the O'Hara's New Year's party. Although you knew nothing of Maud personally, she had been in some of your favourite films as a kid, and you were sure her return to the acting world would be well-received. However, from the looks of things, Declan wasn't taking the rumours too well, and from where you were sitting, it was unclear to you whether Declan was even sporting his wedding band. It wasn't as if you could go over and strike up a conversation, though. You had spoken to Declan in passing, mostly because your team helped Cameron with research and analytics - taking the analysis of audience retention and opinions off of her plate so she can do what she's best at. 

Whether he noticed you looking at him was another uncertainty - but you noticed his head move out of the corner of your eye, and you decided to act very interested in the golf again. When he stood up, you took no real notice, until he walked up next to you, got the bartender's attention and ordered another glass of whiskey. 

"Did Tony send you?" He leant his forearms on the bar, looking you over for anything he deemed suspicious behaviour, "'Cause if he did, tell him to fuck off, will you?"

"What?" You asked, more confused than defensive. 

"You work at Corinium, do you not?" Declan mirrored your expression, eyebrows furrowed as he waited for you to respond.

"Yeah, but I'm no spy - promise." You put your hands up in defence, giving Declan a weak smile and a shrug to try and calm his nerves. The bartender came over with Declan's drink before he could speak, so he quickly thanked him and took a long sip before continuing.

"So you just come to the pub - all dolled up and alone, for fun?" 

"I wasn't supposed to be. I got stood up."

"Oh. Sorry..." He awkwardly patted your shoulder, in some kind of apology - or sympathy. 

"Don't be. It was my mistake to assume he was being genuine."

"Men are cunts, take it from me - don't waste your time on them." His mind immediately darted to Rupert Campbell-Black, and his attempts to court his daughter. A small part of him looked at you, noticing you and Taggie appeared similar in age and he chastised himself for the thought. He went to say your name, but realised very visibly that he couldn't recall it, even though he recognised you. You noticed this and held out your hand, introducing yourself like you were taught to.

"I work with Cameron on research." You smiled, appreciating his gentle grip as Declan took you hand in his to shake it, placing his other hand on top to solidify the gesture. "We've actually been in the same meetings for the last month."

"Ah, that explains why I've seen you around - wait, are you-"

"Brainiac, yeah. Tony called me that once - probably not in the nicest way - and it just... stuck." You rolled your eyes at the memory, sighing, detaching your hands to run your fingers through your hair, "But I would prefer for that to stay at work. Obviously."

"Obviously," He parroted, "Of course." He noticed he hadn't reciprocated the greeting, and hated the fact he assumed people knew who he was, "I'm Declan."

"I know that." Declan winced ever so slightly at your response. You smiled without thinking, for the first time that night, "You're the golden goose of the network; and working with Cameron, I do research for your show. I think if I didn't know who you were through all that I'd be kicked to the street."

"Right." Declan chuckled, looking defeated as the conversation fell into a lull. "If you don't mind me asking," He presented the question, his journalistic instincts kicking in, "Who was it you were supposed to be meeting here?"

"Sebastian." The name rang a bell, with Declan recognising him for around the offices, mostly tailing Cameron wherever she went. Before he could make a comment, you spoke back up, "He... well- he said we would meet here and go for dinner, but that clearly isn't happening. I'd rather not dwell on it, if that's alright." You gave a flat smile, taking a long breath to stop the anxieties from crawling back into your mind. "I should have been realistic, he's... he's him, and I'm-"

"Don't sell yourself short. You're a beautiful woman, and it's a pity for him he hadn't recognised that." Declan cut you off, a stern look on his face. He took a moment to truly look at you then, in a way he hadn't dedicated the time to before - what self-respecting married man would spend his time gazing at the women he worked with? 

As much as you would have wanted to believe him, wrap yourself in his kind words, you simply couldn't. What did it matter if you were beautiful if no one was around to treat you as if you were? Actions and words meant very different things - both needed to be true if you wanted to believe it. This came across clearly on your face as you turned away to stare into your glass, both hands interlocked around it on the bar. 

"Thank you, but that doesn't change anything." You sighed, draining the last of your drink into your mouth, pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "I'm sure you didn't come here to comfort my bruised ego - I'll get out of your way so you can actually enjoy your night."

"And what enjoyment do you think I came here for?"

"I don't know," You shrugged, scanning the room before looking back at the TV, "Maybe you just wanted to watch the golf."

He laughed at that, raising his eyebrows in disbelief, leaning his back against the bar as you stepped away from it, "Really?"

"Look, what else am I supposed to say?" You looked down at his hand around his whiskey glass, noticing he was still wearing his ring, but the words came out of your mouth before you could hold them back, "That you've come here to drown out your troubles? I'm not like you, Declan, I don't pry."

He noticed your eyes dip from his, and a part of him wanted to hear you say his name again, in that perfect accent of yours. It was that same part of him that he kept locked away for fear of turning into the men he criticised. The small glint in his eye at that quickly disappeared, not without you noticing. "Maybe you should. You'd learn a lot about a person that way."

"You look like you're dying to tell me why you're actually here," You stood your ground, relaxing your posture, "so, go ahead."

"I wouldn't say dying to, but if you insist-" Declan teased, shrugging while he gestured with his glass for you to sit back down, but when you didn't, he nodded to acknowledge your lack of action and continued, "I came here to avoid Taggie sitting me down and trying to stop me from falling into 'old habits'." He exaggerated with the curl of his fingers. 

"Old habits like the one in your hand?"

"Bingo."

"Maybe you should listen to your daughter, Declan."

"Maybe you should mind your own business, darling." He mocked, enjoying the anger that immediately rose to your face, only to be concealed - except the lingering red around your ears.

"You're the one who-" You scoffed, noticing the smile playing on Declan's face and taking an audible breath, turning on your heel, "Forget it. Enjoy your habits, just try not to leave when the bar closes - makes you look like you have a problem."

"It's only a problem if I leave alone." Declan called out to you, and he watched as you stopped mid-step and placed your foot down delicately.

You paused, still facing the door, hands tensing as you considered your options. There were two ways this could go, if you stayed - and misread his signals, you go home disappointed. If you're right about the undertone of his words, and you stay, you can forget Sebastian and enjoy some good company - maybe more.  Already having been disappointed by one man tonight, the only way that has the potential to change is if you stay. 

"Is that so?" You turned, your head tilting to emphasise the playful nature of your question. "In my mind that would just be two people fuelling each other's addictions, but if you'd prefer I stay to make sure you get home in one piece-"

"I can take care of myself, you wouldn't need to carry me home." He paused, "If anything, the opposite's more likely."

"I think you underestimate how many people I've drunk under the table who've thought they can hold a light to my drinking prowess." You were bluffing - you'd only competed against one person, who was already pissed and was half-way to the bathroom after the first drink. 

"And you're the one saying I've got a habit? Looks like you've been practicing yourself."

"Only on weekends." You joked, and by the look on his face, it was clear Declan understood you were playing up your tolerance, and made space for you at the bar as you stepped closer.

"Right." He chuckled, "It's not for sport, then?"

"You could say it's more a hobby." You smiled, taking your seat facing Declan, while leaning an arm on the bar. "There's not much else to do out here."

"It's fair to indulge every so often." He gestured with his glass to the bartender for another round, taking the last sips from it, "Less destructive than hunting."

You rolled your eyes, the reminders of your summer job at a range leaving a sour taste in your mouth that was quickly replaced with a drink. "It's a hobby for assholes with delusions of grandeur, as far as my interactions with them have gone."

"So, the whole of Cotchester?" Declan raised an eyebrow, eyes following yours.

"Unfortunately so." 

"I'm certain you've heard everything there is to know, then?"

"Not that isn't already common knowledge."

"You'd be surprised - like how we all 'know' about Cameron and Tony-" The commonplace gossip slipped from Declan's mouth before he could think, but since it was only to another Corinium member, he realised it was safe to speculate. When you cut him off to fill the rest of his sentence, he breathed out a small sigh of relief.

"But his wife's none the wiser, yes I'm aware. I don't have the protections you do to go around telling everyone's business to any ears that'll listen." You shook your head, relaxing it to rest on your hand, propped up on the bar.

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're Declan O' Hara. Your whole schtick is digging up people's pasts, making a living off of the skeletons in their closets." You accused with a flourish, taking a long sip from your glass.

"Not always."

"But you have, right? Like with Rupert - you didn't say what it was but I know for a fact you had something catastrophic." There was a sparkle in your eye at that, the thrill of the chase, Declan knew that tone - he used it himself when he knew he had someone pinned. Backed into a corner, ready to strike. "You reached for something. I saw. Twice during that interview when you were readying yourself for the question, you reached," You reached across, poking the side of his chest. "Right there, for your blazer pocket."

"I was bluffing - to throw him off, and it worked like a charm." Declan brushed your hand away, lightly closing his hand over yours. Your heart fluttered at the contact, "Now, if I did have something on Rupert, as soon as I made the choice not to say it on air, that information never really existed."

"Because of your daughter?"

The question caused him to pause, the words hanging in the air. 

"What?" He tried to regain his balance, his gut tossing itself to the side. Thankfully, you didn't notice, and kept talking to fill the silence. 

"I overheard people talking about her bursting into the building to track him down during the break - did she know?" You interrupted yourself, "Was that what you were going to expose him for?"

Declan shook his head, trying his best to mask the disdain he felt for Rupert's advances on Taggie, "No, there wasn't anything to expose. Rupert's life has been incredibly public, everything I said was already out there, public knowledge."

"Tony and Cameron public or actually public?"

"Front page of 'The Times' public."

"Hmm." You didn't look fully convinced, but dropped the subject simply because of the look Declan was giving you - stern, final. "You two seem... friendly."

"We are." Declan agreed, adding with a knowing smile, "He's better than people assume he is - once he comes back down to earth." 

You chuckled at that, knowing the stories that filtered through the area of his specific brand of ego. The alcohol had fully seeped into your bloodstream now, if the dull pulse of your heartbeat in the back of your head was anything to go by. The lights seemed to shine a little brighter, haloing Declan in a warm glow. You didn't say anything, didn't feel the need to. You simply stared, observing how in the silence, Declan turned to face ahead of him, leaving you with the side profile of his face. He was tired, that much was evident - the light beginnings of unshaved stubble rising on his cheeks, a similar shade to the bags under his eyes, half-hooded eyes that threatened to close without forceful blinks every so often. It was only once you hand made contact with the side of his face that you realised it had moved to brush against his cheek, a slow, soft movement with the backs of your fingers. Declan moved his eyes before his head, an equally soft look and light glisten of water in them as they noticed the touch. 

Your eyes widened, your hand froze, you took in a short breath and held it tight in your chest. As soon as your hand twitched to move back, his rushed to hold it, trying to form the sentences in his mind to express what had made his heart stutter. All that came out of his mouth, like a plea, was the simple question;

"Can I kiss you?" 

You barely had time to process your head nodding, your instincts answering for you, before his lips met with yours for the first time. The first thing you noticed was how he tasted, of whiskey and cigarettes, combining with the scents of cedarwood - it was addicting to say the least. He pulled back, Declan's hand lingering on your cheek. Your eyes looked into his to try and find any hint of hesitation, of regret, and found none.

It was the light jeering of a table off in the corner that took you both out of the moment, made you duck to hide your blushing face from the other patrons of the bar. 

"Don't listen to them," Declan used the hand on your cheek to guide your face to look back at him, "They're only playing around."

"It's hard not to, not when I can feel them looking at me-" You cut yourself off, draining the rest of your glass. It was almost abrupt, the way you stood, grabbing your bag. Declan put a hand on your arm, trying to slow you down, and you answered his question with your own before he was able to ask it, "Are you coming or not?"

It took a moment for his mind to catch up, but as soon as he met your eyeline again, saw the light reflect in them, he nodded and slid his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together - the bar had his card on file, they would charge what they wanted. Frankly, he couldn't give a shit about how much he had spent, all he wanted was to follow you wherever you decided to go. That was good enough for you, and the pair of you left the bar to light cheers from the same table as before. As soon as you were outside, as soon as Declan knew there were no more eyes on you but his, he pulled you closer, feeling the goosebumps from the chilled air on your skin.

Declan's eyes were focused on your lips, physically restraining himself from devouring you there. You took the initiative in a rare moment of confidence, hovering over his lips before pressing them together, breaking apart for a moment only to return open-mouthed, deepening the kiss; His hands rushed to pull you closer, tangling into your hair and around your waist, fabric bunching under his grip. You pulled away, the chill of the night forcing you out of the moment. Declan chased your lips with his, instead electing to brush their noses together before pressing his forehead to yours. "What's wrong, darling?"

You smiled at that, had to stop yourself from breaking down into a puddle of laughter at how soft the situation had turned, "I- We might freeze to death out here if every ten paces you stop and-" You dodged his lips again, turning your head so they pressed against your cheek, still giggling all the while "-God, if you don't let us actually get to where we're going, I'll never forgive you."

It was almost childlike, how Declan pleaded with you, how his round brown eyes tracked yours, "I'll keep you warm, sweetheart, I swear."

"Declan-"

"No-" He interrupted, running his hands down your arms, interlocking your fingers once he reached your hands.

"As much as I would love to take your word for it, I can't feel my hands right now."

"They're fucking freezing." Declan commented, pressing both of your hands together so he could cup his around them in some attempt to warm them up. 

And at that moment, the bright lights from the unfortunate turn of a car into the driveway of the pub caught you both off guard, and something in your gut felt the need to make significant distance between you and Declan. Luckily so, since as the car pulled up, Declan recognised it and winced, knowing what was going to happen already. Not Taggie, but Rupert stepped out of the family's car first, with his daughter in the passenger's seat. 

"Fuck."

"Declan! Man of the hour, thought I'd find you rotting away here!" Rupert cheerily leant on the bonnet of the car, a shit-eating grin on his face as he crossed his arms. "Look, I'm not one to judge what a man does with his time but-"

"Fuck off Rupert." Declan rolled his eyes, pulling his blazer across himself. You were glad you hadn't been noticed, and tried to just start walking home when Rupert lifted himself off the car and walked with a brisk pace to step in front of you.

"Not so fast, sweetheart." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, not quite meeting your eye, "I know the last thing you want to do is talk, but I'm not about to stand here and let you walk home by yourself."

He turned around to look back at the car, watching how Taggie had stepped out and was standing face-to-face with her dad, chastising him for staying out so late. Declan looked over for a moment, offered a small wave to you and Rupert and resigned himself to the justified beratement from his daughter - he knew in the bottom of his heart that she was right, but drinking was the easy way out and they both knew that. 

Taggie carted him into the front seat of the passenger's side, and beckoned Rupert over with a stern but tired look on her face. Rupert patted you on the shoulder, leaving you with a small, "Just one second, alright?" before jogging over to Taggie. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but with the vague gestures that Rupert made to you and the glances you caught from Taggie, you assumed they were talking about you. It made you want to dissolve, but that was the risk you took. And, at the end of the day, you were glad of the rest of the night you had, even if it ended prematurely.

Rupert, ever the gentleman, walked you the 30 minutes home, in relative silence. He broke it only to ask your name and if you were alright, both questions that you answered with the least information required. 

After a particularly awkward walk, you got to your door, and as you fumbled with your keys, you paused, took a breath and turned to face Rupert. "Look, I don't want this to become a whole ordeal-"

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul." Rupert smiled, and it looked more genuine than the ones he flashed on Declan's show, "Your secret is safe with me." He reassured, nodding goodnight as you disappeared into your house to sneak into bed, alone.

[bearprofessorr]

masterlist. [wip <3]

Requests: Open!

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Rivals:

Declan O'Hara - a second chance - chasing the stars (bfd!declan)