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mygrandmathinksimsassy · 6 years

Note

Maddie, I need kindergarten/daycare teacher Ben Solo in my life like I need Adam in a brocade dinner jacket.

(This was initially going to be a prompt fill and now it’s a whole thing that I’ll be posting to AO3)

“You’re a teacher?”

Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had.

Finn covered her halfof rent last month.

Rey thought she’d havegot a research job by now, or at the very least, an internship she could dopart-time while working somewhere else for what would hopefully be more thanminimum wage. She doesn’t need a career just yet, just something that looksdecent enough to talk about if she ends up getting any interviews for any ofthe schools that have asked for secondary applications, but apparently that isasking too much.

It’s taking a bit toolong to get hired.

Finn might have tohelp with the next month too.

–

She owes him one. Sheowes him thousands of times for everything he’s done for her since they satnext to each other in that physics class he ended up dropping when he decidedpre-med was not for him, but she definitely owes him at least one.

Finn has been teachingfor about a month now, at the ritzy elementary school on the other side oftown, the one that looks like something out of a movie. It’s the sort of placeshe would have killed to go to as a kid, a place where they send thesixth-graders to a wilderness camp every year and the textbooks were written inthe past decade.

It’s the kind ofschool that has enough money to throw a carnival to welcome back theirstudents.

The kind of carnivalthat apparently needs volunteers.

–

It’s eight on a Fridaynight. Finn has been passing out by nine every night since he’s started, wornout from keeping up with a class of thirty third graders, but he’s wide awakeright now.

Apparently, it’s timeto collect.

“I don’t think I’mqualified to run a first aid tent.“

The Great British Bake-Off drones on in the background when Finn asks herto fill in for a parent volunteer who dropped out the night before. If shemisses Mary Berry complain about a “soggy bottom,” then that defeats the entirepoint of the drinking game she found when drafting cover letters got a bit toooverwhelming.

“It’s not like you’regoing to have to operate on anyone,” Finn says. “We just need a warm body tohand out band-aids. You can say it’s clinical experience. It’ll look good onyour resume.”

Someone ends updropping their cake, a confection that looks nothing like the tastefulillustration they had been shown at the beginning of the episode. and they bothreach for their glasses of the cheapest wine she could find at Target.

“I will pay you infriendship- “

“We’re already friends.”

“Then I will also payyou in takeout afterward,” Finn tells her. “Whatever you want. My treat.”

“Indian food or I’ll quit.”

“Whatever you want.”

She was always going to say yes. Finn knows that. She knows that.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the bribe.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank god.” Finn letsout a sigh and sinks back against the couch they found on the side of the roadwhen the college kids moved out of their apartments at the end of the schoolyear.

It’s still a prettydecent couch. It hardly looks like it came from the street.

“I already signedyou up.”

–

The school Finnteaches at is nice.

Like really nice.

Nice enough where shefeels bad for showing up in jeans and a t-shirt that she got from doing a 10k afew years back.

The moms are allwearing Lilly Pulitzer in shades that run the gamut from aqua to lavender. Afew of the more daring ones are in green. All of them have blow outs and roundsunglasses perched on their heads complete with iced coffees that seemed gluedto the inside of their hands.

The dads are all inthe same light blue button down tucked into the same pair of khakis. It’s likethey all agreed on a uniform beforehand and she pities any kids who get losttoday because they are going to have a hell of a time.

She follows Finn througha balloon archway toward a makeshift fairground covered in orange and bluedecorations. A handful of kids wave to him when Finn makes it onto the campus,calling out his name like he’s a rock star trying to make it out of an airport.They are all thrilled when he waves back at them and it’s worth it to volunteereven if it’s just to see how happy Finn is now that he’s in his element.

There are roughly ahundred different booths with different carnival games and kids already liningup to win stuffed animals and way too much candy.

It might be the bestparty she’s ever been to.

–

The first aid tent ison the corner of the makeshift fair grounds, just across from a ring toss gameand right by where someone is setting up a popcorn maker.

The department chairFinn works with, a swanlike woman named Amilyn, is already waiting. She’s got ahead of pink hair with a matching pink stud in her nose and a maxi dressunderneath a flowy rust-colored cardigan. There are Birkenstocks peeking outunderneath the hem of her dress with pink leather straps, ones that lookwell-worn like she’s been holding onto them since Lilith fair.

There was a car in theteacher’s parking lot covered in political bumper stickers urging passersby to“Coexist.”

One guess as to whoseit was.

"You must beRey,” she says. There’s a unicorn already painted onto her face, but somehow,she makes it work. “Finn has told me so much about you. I feel like I knowyou already.”

She must look panickedat the notoriety because Amilyn smiles in an almost maternal way.

“Only good things,”she tells her. “Let’s get you set up.”

Rey is given a firstaid kit with plenty of band-aids and a cooler filled with water bottles andjuice. There are two folding chairs with “Chandrila Elementary” embroidered inblue fabric on the back and a little trash can just behind the table.

“If you need anything,I’ll be at the face painting booth pretending I know how to draw.” Amilyn givesthe tent a once-over. “Seriously, don’t hesitate to let me know if you needanything.”

“It’s ok,” Rey tellsher. “I’ll be fine.”

When Amilyn leaves thetent, it looks like she’s gliding.

The DJ- the schoolseriously hired a DJ-is playing a “Hey Ya!” at a volume so loud that Rey canbarely hear herself think. There is no chance any of these kids know whatsong is playing, but that doesn’t stop them from dancing. They’re all too youngto care about how they look, dancing just because there is music and because itseems fun, and she lets herself focus on something other than waiting for anyof the places she’s applied to call her back.

It’ll be ok.

If it’s not, there’sonly six hours to go.

–

Running the first aidtent isn’t that bad. Definitely worth the promise of as much takeout Finn iswilling to put on his credit card.

A handful of kids comein with banged up knees from falling on the black top, in need of bandages andjuice boxes before they’re ready to get back to the fun. They’re allsurprisingly well-behaved, all saying please and thank you without anyprompting from the parents who all seem way more worried than they do.

One of the moms stopsby and asks if she has anything for a migraine. When she offers up an Advil- byfar the strongest thing she has- the mom reluctantly accepts.

It’s pleasant. Boring.

Until one of the dadsstops by.

He definitely doesn’tlook the other dads.

For one thing, he’ssoaking wet. His dark hair is dripping, but still long enough to reach where acollar would be and the shirt he’s wearing- a bright orange monstrosity withthe words “Chandrila Coyotes” emblazoned on the front- sticks to his chest. Hischest is broad- big in a way that makes her think he must spend every freemoment in the gym- and she can pretty much see all of it with just how wet heis. His arms look like they might burst through the fabric. She can only hopeshe’s there when they do.

Instead of khakis,he’s in black swim trunks that cling to his thighs. His surprisingly muscularthighs.

The swim trunks clingto other parts too. They are doing an excellent job.

The only thing thatmakes him seem remotely mortal, is just how horrible the color contrast is. Helooks like he’s some sort of walking billboard for Halloween who wanted tostart the ad campaign about two months early, but she finds it in herself toforgive him for the misstep.

He’s definitelydifferent from the other dads.

She tries not tostare, but she must be staring, because it’s like she’s forgotten how to speakuntil he clears his throat.

“I cut my arm onsomething.“

He has a nice voice.Deep. The sort of voice people would pay good money to have narrate a naturedocumentary.

She remembers just howwords work and then promptly embarrasses herself.

“Is that how you gotcovered in water?”

“It was my shift inthe dunk tank.” He says this like a dunk tank was the obvious answer, but she’snever really spent much time around kids, so it might very well be. “Someasshole sixth grader spent ten dollars trying to knock me in.”

“I thought that wasthe whole point of a dunk tank.”

He looks at her withexasperation, practically rolling his eyes, and she shrugs her shouldersbecause it’s the only thing she can think to do.

“Can you just look atmy cut?”

She motions to thefree chair and her mystery patient takes a seat. He is too big for the chair,the same way he’s too big for his shirt, and when he holds up his forearm forher to inspect, it’s a wonder she can actually focus on the cut.

He is wet, but whenshe takes his arm, he’s warm.

The cut isn’t too bad-nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days so long as he doesn’t pick at it-but it’s the most blood she’s seen all day, so she can’t really fault him forcoming by. She lets the evaluation take longer than it needs to be, studyingthe muscle in his arm before glancing down at his hands.

He has nice hands,this mystery DILF, big hands that might be larger than her face. There isn’t aring on his finger and she didn’t think she was at that point yet, to ogle strangemen and wonder if they’re married, but apparently, she is. It’s a realizationthat makes her feel a little old, but she doesn’t have enough time to dwell onit when he speaks again.

“What’s the prognosis,doc?”

“I’m not entirelysure,” she says. She’s still holding onto his arm, but he doesn’t pull away, soshe keeps holding on. “But I think it’ll have to come off.”

He smiles at that,revealing teeth that are big and white and imperfect. His eyes crinkle up allsmall and she is so pleased with herself, so pleased to have earned this smile,that she can barely stand it.

“I figured as much.”His voice is completely dead pan when his face fades back into an exasperatedneutrality. “Just give me some whiskey and a stick to bite on and we’re good toamputate.”

“I don’t have anybooze with me.”

“That’s a shame.”Mystery DILF lets out a melodramatic sigh, but his lips still curl up at theends, the ghost of a smile. “I’ll just settle for gangrene.”

She smiles before shereaches into the first-aid kit and pulls out a fresh baby wipe to mop up theblood.

Mystery DILF watchesher when she cleans his cut, in a way that makes her acutely aware ofeverything that she’s doing, every brush of the wipe against his muscularforearm, every time she sucks in a breath. The way he looks at her makes timeslow down somehow, until the dulcet tones of “Gangnam Style” blaring in thebackground fade completely away.

It’s overwhelming, notin a bad way, just overwhelming and so she tries to make conversation becauseit feels like she might float off the ground.

“How old are yourkids?”

“I don’t have any kids,”he scoffs. “I work here.”

“You’re a teacher?”

He doesn’t look like ateacher. At least not like any teacher she’s ever had.

“Would I be at anelementary school carnival if I weren’t?” Mystery not-DILF says. “I’m herebecause I have to be. Trust me, I have better things to do.”

He hasn’t beenbleeding for a few minutes now, but she can’t stop touching his arm.

“Most people likecarnivals.”

“Most people don’thave to deal with parents bugging them the entire time,” he says. “We’ve onlyhad two weeks of classes and I already have at least five different peopleasking about their kid’s college readiness. It just starts earlier eachyear.“

“What grade do youteach?”

She’s thinking sixthgrade. It’s a nice image, the thought of him unraveling the mysteries of theancient world, using his deep voice to introduce kids to the classics.

“Kindergarten.”

“Bullshit.”

She snorts, and helooks like she slapped him.

“It’s notbullshit,” he says. “I promise.”

“You don’t seem like akindergarten teacher.” She struggles to find the right word for what she’strying to convey, to reconcile the thought of this man with his broad shouldersand deadpan expression surrounded by screaming kids that just barely come uppast his knee. “Kindergarten teachers are supposed to be…”

“Supposed to bewomen?” He says with a smug expression. “I get that a lot.”

“That’s not what I wasgoing to say.”

“What was it then?” Heraises his eyebrows expectantly. “Enlighten me, doctor.”

“They are supposed tobe nice.”

“I happen to bevery nice.”

“I don’t know,” shesays with a shrug. “You just called a kid an asshole like five minutes ago.”

“I’ve known that kidsince he was five. I know for a fact that he is an asshole,” he tells her.“That doesn’t mean I’m not nice.”

He doesn’t seem like amean person, but she doubts that this man is nice.

Nice men don’t wearshirts that cling to every muscle. Nice men don’t look like him.

“How did you end upworking the first aid tent in the first place?” He asks. “You just decided tobe a Good Samaritan for the day?”

“My roommate just startedworking here last month,” Rey tells him. “He guilted me into volunteeringbecause he knew that I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

“Finn Abejide,” shetells him. “He’s teaching third grade.”

“I know who he is,”the guys says. “I didn’t know he had a roommate.”

He says this likehaving a roommate is some grand revelation. Which is bullshit.

Lots of people have roommates.

“Well now youdo.”

She lifts the secondbaby wipe from his arm and reluctantly lets go.

“What type of band-aid do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

She chooses two of thebandages from the most sparkly of the boxes she’s been provided.

Not because she thinkshe’ll be embarrassed. If he chose to wear that shirt, then he’s definitely pastthe point of embarrassment. But because it amuses her. Because the quickershe picks out a band-aid, the quicker she can get back to touching him.

She gently adheres theband-aids- purple ones with horses printed all over- and he smirks when helooks down.

“Twilight Sparkle,” hesays. “Excellent choice”

“How do you know MyLittle Pony?” She zips up the first-aid kit. “They’re a little after your time.”

“I spend most of myweek with five-year olds,” he says. “I have forgotten more about My Little Ponythan most people will ever know.”

He leans back in hischair and there’s no real reason for him to stay- he’s no longer bleeding andhe’s all patched up, so she uses the only tool left at her disposal.

“Do you want ajuice box?” She reaches into the cooler, fishing for what’s left of herhaul. “I’ve been giving them to every patient.”

"Sure,” he says. “Whynot?”

She hands one to him.When he takes it, his fingers brush against hers.

His hands are way toobig for the juice box-it’s meant for someone tiny and everything about him ishuge- and when he jams the straw in, a few droplets splatter on her shirt.

“Sorry about that,” hesays sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to get you wet.”

He realizes what he’sjust said just about when she realizes it.

His mouth gets allsmall like he just sucked on a lemon and she is not blushing, why would she beblushing. That would be stupid.

The silence that hangsbetween them is almost painful. The conversation that follows is even worse.

"This is good juice.”

"It came with thetent.”

“Still goodthough.”

He finishes the juicebox in another lengthy sip. When he’s done, he crumples it into a ball and aimsfor the little recycling bin in the corner. The crumpled juice box landswith a thud.

When he stands up fromhis chair, she has to crane her neck up just to take him all in.

"I’ll see youaround.”

He leaves her with anod, the sort of stilted one guys use to greet each other on the street, andshe nods right back.

It’s only after he’sgone that she realizes she never got his name

–

The booth is prettymuch dead for the rest of the day and so she watches the ring toss game sinceher phone is essentially dead.

A little boy, probablykindergarten age but there’s no way she really can tell has spent the lastthirty minutes trying to win a stuffed animal. His aim is terrible, bad enoughwhere half the rings land on the ground, and she can hear the beginnings of atantrum when her Patient Zero swoops in.

He’s basically tallerthan the booth so it doesn’t take him that long to land all three rings on thebottles set up behind the partition. The woman behind the booth hands him astuffed animal alligator and then he crouches down so he’s eye level to thekid.

He hands the alligatorto the kid- a dark haired little boy with skinned knees- and the boy sweeps himinto a hug. Her patient hugs right back and she looks away when he catches herwatching.

–

She looks for him whenthey walk back to Finn’s car, hoping to get a name or maybe even another smile.

But Patient Zero isalready gone when they leave

–

Finn buys enoughtakeout to last them through the weekend.

"I promise Ididn’t mean to abandon you-“ Finn opens one of the containers and the smell ofsamosas fills the air. Her stomach rumbles like she’s just remembering thatshe’s hungry and she looks forward to the food coma that is sure to come. “-Ihad to convince like twenty of my kids to ask for balloon animal snakes becauseI couldn’t figure out how to make anything else.”

"It’s alright.”She spoons half the Chana Masala onto her plate. It might the happiest she’sever been to see a chickpea. "One of the teachers got hurt so we hung outfor a bit.

"Who wasit?”

“I don’t know,” shesays. “A guy teacher.”

“Was it Mr. Yoda?”Finn asks hopefully “Because I want him to be my grandpa. I will give him theadoption papers to sign if I ever figure out his first name.“

"This guy wasn’treally grandpa age.” Her mouth is still half full. "I didn’t get his name.He was a kindergarten teacher. Tall.”

“Are you talkingabout Ben Solo?"

“You know I don’t knowwho that is.”

"You would knowwho he is. He’s a dick.” She studies each portion of the last samosa beforefinally taking the one that’s about three millimeters thicker. Finn pops theother half in his mouth but that doesn’t stop him from ranting. “He’s the onlyguy even close to our age and I think he’s said like three words to me since Istarted. I literally have not seen him talking to another adult. It’slike he’s made it his mission in life not to make any friends.”

"I don’t know.”

She reaches for thelast samosa and thinks about the man who won a crying kid a toy.

“Heseemed nice.”

#reylo ficlet #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic #rey of jakku #kylo ren #ben solo #rey x kylo x hux #rey x ben solo #teacher!AU #this is my life now #let me know what you think #because this might be a multi-chapter opus #jadeddiva #reylo prompt fill

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 6 years

Text

How to fall in love the wrong way

Chapter 8: She’s the kind of girl who’s in my thoughts all night

My dearest Cheryl,

I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I am pretty sure that if Sweet Pea and Fogarty ever find out about this, I am doomed. They will tease me to my grave, and their laughter would haunt me forever. And that is why this will probably never see the light of day. I am going to write this letter, and then stuff it into a locked box, and throw it under my bed where it will hopefully never be found by my uncle.

Anyways, I have dithered about long enough. Let’s get down to business. I have never written a love letter before, (or so I’ve mentioned in the previous paragraph), so I am not sure of the logistics, but I assume it includes a flattering description of your love’s physical features, mental faculties, and how it all makes you feel. So let’s start somewhere there.

So, I could write sonnets about your beauty and novels about your face, but thing is, you don’t need to be told that. You know exactly how beautiful you are. I mean, sure your face is perfect, and your nose is the cutest thing I have ever seen, and your eyes are the stars guiding me home and blah, but what’s the need? You could describe your face way better than I ever can. Just know that you are the prettiest person in the world to me. I feel like that’s enough.

But your beauty, while divine, is not all that attracted me to you. There is just something about you, Cheryl. How strong you are, how fiercely independent, how brave. I know you don’t believe it yourself, but there’s a lot of good in you. You try not to show it to people, but you’re amazing. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and I wish other people could see that in you too.

Cheryl Blossom, you’re absolutely sensational.

I suppose that brings us to an end of this section. Now, there is something else I’d like to add. I’d like to add my resume here, to sell myself, so there’s a chance of you choosing me, even If you are way out of my league.

I am a serpent. That ought to say that I am pretty badass. No matter how many stories Fangs tells you of me standing on one chair for an entire day because there was supposedly a rat in the room.

I can play the ukulele. And while my voice is horrible, I suppose it’s a nice thing to have a girlfriend who will serenade you all the time. Because seriously, I will.

I know you. I know about your embarrassing childhood spill-ups and your marks, and that one goth phase in middle school that lasted a month. I know all of these. And I would love to know more.

I am tiny, but I will love you and protect you all the time. That is a promise.

Anyway, I have rambled on long enough. Thank you for bearing with me throughout all this.

Yours, eternally

Toni

“It’s okay, you can come out now,” Cheryl tells her.

She hears it as if from very far away, which she supposes makes sense because her head is buried under two cushions, and her girlfriend’s arm. She slowly takes them off, and, still grimacing from embarrassment, chances a look at Cheryl’s face. Which isn’t so bad. The girl is absolutely glowing; her cheeks are bright red, and she’s wearing the widest smile ever. She slowly shifts onto Cheryl’s lap.

“Okay, now that the torture is over, can I have this back?”

“Absolutely not!” Cheryl tells her, sternly “I’m keeping this till the end of eternity. Which, coincidentally, is the amount of time you’ll be mine. Just saying.”

Toni groans.

“Did you like it, though?” she asks, then.

Cheryl’s expression softens from mirth to something tenderer “I loved it. I love you. Thank you for writing this. It’s amazing.”

Toni ducks her head in an ‘Aw Shucks’, kind of way and waves it away “Eh, it’s……whatever. No big deal.”

“When did you write this, though? There’s no date on it.”

She thinks for a while “Uh, I think it was the first time I serenaded you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah. This one, I definitely wrote right after that.”

Cheryl kisses her cheek, and then frowns at her “Wait, did you say this one?”

Uh oh.

“Toni, are there more!?”

********************

The night of the serenade is a funny story.

Mostly because it also is The night of a Fangs and Sweet Pea and Toni adventure and The night of the human pyramid and The night of Archie doing something stupid and Veronica somehow enabling it even more and Jughead trying to be all brooding and unaffected as always and Betty making everything ten times worse and funnier. Either way, you know, it’s a fun night.

It starts with the jukebox.

Which is ironical, since the jukebox doesn’t start.

********************

“Baby, no.”

“But, Cheryl.”

“No means no, buddy,” Fangs cuts in “We’ve told you multiple times it’s a terrible joke.”

********************

So, the jukebox isn’t starting at the Whyte Wyrm, and they’ve all taken turns smashing on the metal cover but the sound fizzles out after a while, and that’s when Archie has the bright idea of entertaining the patrons by singing some songs.

Veronica joins in and they end up doing a terrible duet of the High School Musical song which only the drunk biker dudes from out of town appreciate. Jughead spends the entire evening roasting them. Finally, Veronica has had enough, and challenges him to sing. Which, obviously, Betty takes over. Then she, does a terrible version of Teenage Dream, and another terrible three way group song with Archie and Veronica. In the end, it’s just Toni and Fangs and Sweet Pea and Jughead staring at each other in despair.

Talk somehow shifts to the topic of music, does a jump to the subject of romantic music, and before she knows it, Toni has, in a weird game of Truth and Dare, somehow agreed to serenade Cheryl Blossom.

Veronica voices the only concern that exists “Isn’t her mom, like legit insane? How the fuck are we supposed to make a ruckus in her house?”

And Cheryl feels relieved for a moment, right until Fogarty opens his big fat mouth “Her mom’s out of town, dude,” he says “Got this thing.”

“How do you know?”

He just looks at Toni and everyone nods in understanding.

********************

“I hope you know that this is ridiculous,” she tells the entire group, half an hour later as she’s sitting on Sweets’ lap, who is stuffed in the middle of Jughead and Veronica. Archie’s driving, and Betty is drifting off to sleep on the passenger’s seat beside him. Fangs is crouched in the back of the van.

“What’s so ridiculous about joining two souls in eternal union?” Veronica asks her.

“Oh my God, is that what it is? Are you……shipping us?” Toni asks her, in utter disbelief, and there are three simultaneous snort, one from Jughead, Sweets and Fangs.

“Everybody in the school ships you, dude,” Fangs tells her.

“It’s true,” Archie chips in “Ever since you’ve started hanging out with her, Cheryl’s mellowed. Like, a lot.”

“And you guys would be so cute together,” Veronica gushes “Like, if this was a TV show, you’d deserve to be the couple in focus, no questions asked. Every scene would be you. Every song would be you. Every duet would be you. Every….”

“We get it, Veronica,” Jughead pipes up, quiet yet amused “They are your babies.”

Veronica agrees, and Toni closes her eyes, wishes for this nightmare to be over.

********************

Of course it isn’t.

Veronica and Archie are still singing their terrible duet, as they cross the garden. Jughead is half-supporting, half-carrying Betty, who’s mostly asleep. Sweet Pea is still nursing his bottle, and they are all so, terribly, terribly drunk. Oh, and Fangs somehow manages to ruin the rose plants growing at the edge of the fence as they are breaking it, but falling on them. Then, he squeals like a little girl who has just discovered that Ken is gay.

********************

“I did not squeal.”

“The thorns are on my butt, guys, help me,” Sweet Pea mimics a high-pitched voice, and all of them laugh.

********************

“Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou?” Archie and Veronica shout up at the window, trying to hit it with tiny pebbles (Only one of them hits the mark) “Your Romeo is here to drop a verse.”

There is a sound, then Cheryl is out on the balcony, looking the most confused anyone has ever seen her “Andrews? What the hell?”

(And Toni knows this is totally not the time, that she has to do something potentially very embarrassing and stupid, but Cheryl looks adorable, hair all mussed up, and eyes squinting, wearing a green nightgown that has mice on it)

(Toni has never been more in love)

“My babies!” Veronica sighs, and that’s when Cheryl notices the rest of them.

“What are you people doing here in the middle of the night? Toni?”

She stares at Cheryl for a minute, deciding how to scream her explanation. The, deciding against it, she recruits Fangs (who is still whining about his butt) and Sweet Pea to bend so she can climb up on them. It takes fifteen minutes, one broken wine bottle, and three rounds of exasperated sighs from the rest of the audience before she can finally get up on the balcony.

“Surprise?” she says, feebly.

“Why are you here? What’s going on? Why does Veronica keep staring at us like we’re her long-lost daughters? Why do you have that ukulele with you?”

“Um, truth or dare. A stupid dare. Because she ships us. And” Toni says, concentrating “I have to sing you a song?”

“Um.”

“It’s a dare,” she explains, blushing.

Cheryl keeps staring at her in silence, so she carefully wears the ukulele, and starts playing the opening chords of “Can’t help falling in love with you”. She tries not to look at Cheryl’s face, during, too embarrassed, instead concentrating on the chords and how not to let her voice fade away. Finally ending it, she chances a look up at the other girl.

Cheryl’s mouth is pursed, but Toni can clearly see that it’s an attempt to mask her smile. She looks a little red around the cheeks, and though her arms are crossed, she isn’t angry at all.

“So…..that was it,” Toni breaks the silence that has fallen over them.

“That was it,” Cheryl replies, a slight smile on her lips.

“You’re not, angry?”

The smile widens, and before Toni has time to think, Cheryl is right in front of her. She leans around, and gently kisses Toni on the cheek. There is a loud ‘Whoop’ from down below, and Toni knows they’re being complete idiots right now, but it doesn’t matter, because she is also being a complete idiot right now.

“No, Toni,” Cheryl says “I’m not angry.”

Then she walks back into her own room.

Chapter title from Forever by The Explorer's club

Song mentioned in the chapter: Can't help falling in love with you by Elvis Presley covered by Twenty One Pilots

#riverdale choni #choni #choni fic #choni fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #cheryl x toni #toni topaz #cheryl blossom #romance #fanfiction #tumblr fandom

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