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kindofchaoticgood · 7 years ago

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Walk on Water

A celebration story for my surprise four day weekend, wherein Uma and Harry are music stars on tour together who do the relationship tag. Enjoy! (Lyrics from Beyoncé and Eminem’s new song ‘Walk on Water’ and Eminem’s song, ‘Hi, My Name Is’)

There are snatches of music dancing around in Uma’s head, but every time she tries to play them out, they sound wrong. She tries another simple phrase on the keyboard, but a note clanks too sharp.

“Motherfucker!” She growls, slamming her hands down on the keys, which make a dismally discordant noise.

“Leave poor Artemis alone,” Harry chides, stepping into the room. His hair is fluffing all over the place, a result of towel-drying after his shower. “It’s not her fault you can’t do it right.”

Uma shoots a glare at him that makes grown men cower but only makes him laugh. “Shut up.”

“No,” Harry grins and sits down next to her on the bench. “What’s wrong?”

She gives him a suspicious look to assess the seriousness of his question and then says grudgingly, “I can’t get this phrase down. It’s playing out perfectly in my head, but every time I try to play it out on here it sounds wrong.”

“Play it for me,”

Uma places her hands on the keyboard and starts playing, adding her voice to the piano chords. “I walk on water, but I ain’t no Jesus. I walk on water, but only when it freezes.”

She tries to play the next phrase, but she only manages to get through two notes before another damn false note rings out that makes even Harry wince. “Goddamn it!” she shouts, resisting the urge to bang her head on the keyboard. What is it with this fucking phrase?

“Hey,” Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder and draws her closer to him. “You’ll get it, okay?”

Uma just sighs and places her head on his shoulder. He smells like sandalwood, detergent, and something that’s purely Harry, and she curls further into his neck, lured in by his warmth.

“Come on darling,” Harry pulls back slightly from her to look her in the eye, a hint of a grin on his face. “Say it,”

“I’m not saying it.”

“Say it.”

Uma looks at him sternly, trying to maintain her stance. There’s a full-out grin on Harry’s face now, but seriousness in his eyes. It’s one of these things that he does with her, the constant encouragement and praise. She has always been self-deprecating to the point of putting herself down, and it’s a habit that Harry is slowly trying to train her out of. Uma doubts that she will ever be fully rid of the habit, but she loves Harry for trying.

“I’ll get it,” she says, and he smiles at her, not the usual smirk that’s always present around his mouth, not the rakish grin that makes his fans weak at the knees, but a real smile, the kind that makes his blue eyes sparkle like the ocean in the morning and makes his face softer. She loves that smile, and seeing it always makes something warm come to life in her chest.

“See, was that so hard?” Harry leans in and kisses her cheek, and she smiles despite herself and places her head back on his shoulder. She can work on the song another time. For now, she needs to take a nap.

“Love?” Harry murmurs into her hair.

“Hmm?”

“You aren’t falling asleep, are you?”

“I was planning to,” she mumbles back, burrowing into his neck. God, he’s always so much warmer than me. How is this fair?

“Well, you can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Do you remember when you were really tired after doing a concert and an interview right afterwards and I asked you to do a live video with me next week? And you said ‘I’ll do anything you want as long as you let me sleep’ so that live video is today,”

Uma’s eyes snap open and she pushes her head off of Harry. “WHAT?”

“Love you, bye!” Harry launches himself off of the piano bench as Uma tries to grab him and runs away.

“Harry James! Get back here right now, or I’m never having sex with you again!”

*****

“I don’t even remember agreeing to this,” Uma complains as Gil sets up the tripod in front of the sofa. Harry is already lounging on top of it, looking unfairly good-looking, as usual. “Why can’t you do this on your own?”

“Because we polled the fans on Twitter, and they said they wanted us to do the relationship tag for our next video,” Harry says, glancing up at her from his phone.

Uma frowns. “What the fuck is a relationship tag?”

“No idea,” Harry admits, running a hand through his hair. “But they’re going to be the ones sending us questions, so we’ll figure it out.”

Gil gives her a reassuring grin. “It’ll be okay Uma. Desiree and Harriet are gonna be going through the questions as they come, and you know they won’t let anything too bad slip through.”

That much was true. Harriet loved embarrassing Harry, but she was protective as fuck over her brother and Desiree was more like Uma’s mother than her cousin.

“I still have my performance makeup on,” Uma protests in a last-ditch effort to save herself.

Harry casts a glance over her hot-pink lipstick, turquoise eyeliner, and gold contour and smirks at her. “You look hot,” he says simply, moving over on the sofa so that there’s room for Uma.

She groans and stalks over to the sofa, throwing herself down on it and fiddling with a stray black and turquoise curl sulkily as Gil and Harry begin arguing about the position of the tripod.

Harry is the one who uses social media. He constantly posts on Instagram, updates his Snapchat story religiously, and uses Twitter like a lifeline, whereas Uma usually only posts on her Instagram once in a blue moon and only uses her Twitter to post sarcastic comments.

It was only after she started collaborating with Harry that she even got an Instagram; before that, all she had was the Twitter account and a secret Tumblr. To be fair though, there were a lot of things she hadn’t had before Harry.

She still remembers the first time they met; her verse in Khushal Nanzari’s (or, as his fans knew him, Gonzo) new song and the new single she had just released were taking off, and Harry and his band were invited to a celebration party Gonzo was hosting to celebrate the release of his third album. She had been sipping Cristal in a ridiculously tiny glass in an expensive metallic dress when Harry Hook, lead singer in Skullduggery Road, had walked up to her and said, “Your verse in Gonzo’s song was the most lyrically complicated thing I’ve ever heard, and you made my dragon of a big sister tear up with your voice in ‘Rise Up’. In short, you’re bloody amazing and can we collab on something?”

Uma had agreed before she even fully processed what she was agreeing to, because this was the lead singer of one of her favorite bands, how could she say no? They had exchanged numbers and Uma had completely forgotten that she had his number until he texted her the next day I’m also pretty okay at dancing if you need more reasons to work with me ;) and Uma had laughed out loud and set to work writing a song. Within a week, she had the song written and before she knew it, ‘What’s My Name’ featuring Harry Hook had been on Billboards Top 100 for four weeks straight and Harry was asking her out.

And now, they were going on their second tour together and had been together for two years. (Damn, has she really been stuck with him for that long?)

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry leans over and gently bites her shoulder through her oversized hoodie. She ruffles his hair absently, and gives him a small smirk to show him she’s already gotten over her complaints.

“And we’re going live in three … two … one,” Gil calls out, and then starts recording.

“Hey, I’m Uma Triskelion,” Harry says immediately.

“And I’m Harry Hook,” Uma adds, leaning against the sofa.

“We’re live in our tour bus, and we just finished off a performance in the Rabbit Hole – hence Uma’s unique makeup look.”

“Thanks love,” Uma mutters and Gil snickers. Harry just grins before continuing.

“So you lot have been begging us to do the relationship tag, whatever that is, so if you want to ask us a question, tweet us at #AskHumaLive –”

Uma makes a face. “What the hell is Huma?”

“That’s our ship name,”

“What? Since when?”

“Since forever, since we started dating, remember that?” Harry teases. “Or is your memory fading?”

“Who came up with that?” Uma demands, slightly creeped out. From behind the tripod, Gil is silently laughing, and she discreetly flips him off.

“The fans, baby, always the fans,” Harry replies distractedly, scrolling through his phone. “Ah, we already have our first question! AaliahWitch says ‘Uma, when is Harry’s birthday?’”

“June 14th,” Uma replies easily, and then studies her phone. “ChanceDaring12 says ‘What’s Uma’s middle name?’”

“Astraea,” Harry says immediately. “BurrShotFirst176 says ‘Where does Harry’s family come from?’” “England, but you grew up in Scotland.” Uma smirks at the disappointed look on his face. “HarrysHook – nice name, by the way – wants to know if you can name all of my cousins.” “Jonas,” Harry was starting to count off on his fingers. “Desiree. Harmonia. Piper. Poppy—” His face went blank. “Shit.” Gil snickers and Uma grins at the camera. “Second question, and he’s already choking,” she says smugly. “I’m not choking!” Harry protests. “I know that I’m missing four of them – wait, one of them is Madrigal!”

“She hates that name,”

“Madi, then!” “Three more to go,” Uma mocks him. “My cousins are going to be so sad when they realize you don’t know their names; they love you, you know.” “Jesus Christ,” Harry groans, and throws himself dramatically into her lap. Her phone vibrates with a message from Desiree and she laughs evilly as she reads it. “Desiree says that the girls are watching right now, and that they’re really sad that you don’t know their names,” Uma informs him gleefully, then turns to the camera. “It’s okay babies, I still know all your names,” she says with a sweet smile and a wave. “I’m sorry, okay?” Harry says, his voice muffled from under his hands. “I’m an absolute monster but I really need help.” “Hmm,” Uma grins. “What does the Internet think? Do you think I should give him a hint?” Harry turns over to the camera and gives it his best pout. “Please help me, Interwebs, you have no idea how many cousins she has.”

When she glances down at her phone, most of the tweets are in favor of her giving him a hint, and the conversation thread is full of people wondering why she has so many cousins. “Their names start with L, A, and T,” she says, smoothing out his hair.

Harry considers this. “That actually doesn't help at all. D’you have any idea how many girls names start with those letters?”

“They’re all related to music,” she points out offhandedly, snickering when Desiree sends her a picture of the girls making sad faces at the camera.

“I think that made things more confusing, to be honest,” Harry confesses. “I give up,”

“Lyrica, Allegra, and Talea,” Uma smirks down at him.

“Bloody hell!” Harry complains, then addresses the camera as he sits up. “Lyrica, Allegra, Talea, I’m dreadfully sorry I forgot your names darlings. I’ll take you out for ice cream the next time I see you, alright?”

Just then his phone buzzes and Harry stares down at it for a second before saying out loud, “Screw you, Harriet!”

“What did she say?”

“Something about how you need to spray whipped cream on my face. Utter nonsense.”

“Actually,” Gil pipes up, a shit-eating grin on his face, “it’s common custom in the relationship tag that if the person gets a question wrong, then whipped cream gets sprayed on to a plate and then the plate is smashed on their face at the very end.”

“How the hell do you know this?” Harry demands as Uma laughs. “I like this game,” she says smugly.

“We don't have any whipped cream though,” Harry protests, looking desperate.

Gil reaches behind him and pulls out a can of whipped cream. “Actually . . .”

“You bitch,” Harry growls as Uma bursts out laughing.

“Language, baby, what kind of message will this send to the Internet?”

“That he's a backstabbing traitor,” Harry declares as Gil and Uma laugh at him. “Gil Charbonneau cancelled, Marya Rasputin is my new best friend.”

“You wish,” Uma retorts. “Gil, hand me the whipped cream.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Harry groans as Gil hands her the whipped cream and a paper plate and she gleefully makes three large mountains on the plate. “I can't get any of the other ones wrong now.”

She grins. “It's my turn, isn't it?”

“Yeah . . . LittleSeaWitch wants to know where our first date was?”

“The aquarium. You kept on making up weird backstories for all the animals, and we nearly had to leave because you kept on interrupting the tour guide and telling the little kids that the nurse sharks had clinical depression.”

Harry grins smugly at the memory. “That was a good day.”

“Can't take him anywhere,” Uma tells the camera. “HumaLives wants to know what my eye color is.” She averts her eyes from him and then covers them for extra measure.

“Brown,” Harry says instantly.

“How do you even know that?” Gil demands. “Most people get that wrong,”

Harry shrugs. “She has beautiful eyes.”

Uma is intensely grateful that no one can see her blush as Gil lets out a sappy 'Awww’ and Harry kisses her cheek.

“Next question,” she says quickly, before she can start giggling hysterically, like she always does when she's nervous or embarrassed.

“Atlantic_Melody asks, 'What is Harry's favorite book?’”

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. QueenAudreyTheFirst wants to know what movie makes me cry every single time,” she glances up from her phone. “None of them. I don't cry during movies.”

“Bullshit,” Harry says smugly, then does a terrible job of cupping his mouth and whispering, “The Book Thief.”

Uma jabs an elbow into his side and Harry laughs. “Come on darling, don't hate me because it's true,”

“Get out,” she tells him, but he and Gil just smirk at each other over the camera.

“Leader_of_Marching_Band_Nerds asks ‘What does Harry eat for breakfast?’”

“The souls of the innocent,” Uma deadpans. “No, this one doesn't eat breakfast.”

“All my life I was very deprived,” Harry starts rapping. “I ain't had a woman in years, my palms are too hairy to hide-”

“His sister dropped him on his head as a baby,” Uma tells the camera. “WarriorPrincessLonnie wants to know who the dominant one in our relationship is.”

“Oh, me, obviously,” Harry flexes and winks at the camera.

“Funny, that's not what you said last night,” Uma says without thinking, and then starts laughing at the look of utter disbelief and incredulity that Harry's giving her.

Meanwhile, Gil has dropped to the floor, laughing so hard that his face is turning red. “Yes, Uma, drag him,” he chokes out, before dissolving into laughter again.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” Harry says slowly, a smile starting to come over his face as well. “Do you realize what you’ve just unleashed?”

“I ain't afraid of no ghosts,” Uma quips. Her phone is blowing up with messages from her friends; Ashe, Sierra, and Marya are making dirty jokes and Claudine is begging them to stop.

“Plain-Jane-the-Queen wants to know what my shoe size is.”

Uma freezes. Shit. “Well, wizards and witches, that's all the time we have for today-”

“Now hold on just one damn second!” Harry protests as Gil cracks up again.

*****

Later on, after all of the whipped cream has been washed off, and they're curled together on the couch, Uma gently pokes Harry in the shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?” Harry mumbles sleepily into her hair, the sound reverberating through her chest. It's completely dark outside, and the moon is streaming through the windows of the trailer, leaving white light trailing on the carpet.

“I think I figured out the song,” she tells him, lacing their fingers together.

“Really?” His other hand is underneath her hoodie, lazily stroking her hip.

“It's going to be a rap song,” Uma says, and feels Harry shift to a more seated position to look her in the eye. “I was thinking we could collab on it?” She glances up at him. “Is that alright with you?”

Harry is giving her the most awestruck look she's ever seen, the same one he gives her every time she sings for him. “Of course, it's alright love,” he reassures, leaning in to kiss her. “I always want to collab with you.”

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