#cure earl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-kr8tor · 3 months ago

Text

Layover

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: A trip home brings something unexpected. A second chance perhaps?

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothes), cw food mentions, cw suggestive, ex! Hobie, second chance love, lovestruck! Hobie, Fluff.

A/N: Happy octobie!!

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Buy me a ☕?

When you ran through the airport while clutching your luggage you expected disgruntled passengers from all walks of life. And when you reached the counter expecting to be checked in like usual, you didn't anticipate for your flight to be delayed because of the snow storm raging outside. You just thought that the plane could handle it, you were very wrong. With the bottoms of your jeans drenched from wading through skin biting snow, and with your luggage checked in without having the foresight to grab a pair of fresh pants beforehand; you stand in line for the complementary cup of tea that probably tastes like sink water.

Everything has gone off the rails that you started to anticipate anything, from the earth swallowing you whole to a flock of birds suddenly entering the airport and attacking and pecking at your head— but never in a million years you’d see your ex standing in the middle of the rushing crowd looking disheveled but still as handsome as ever.

“Oh,” your breath gets stuck in your throat as the bright fluorescent lights above dim in your vision, and spotlights replace it— pointing directly at him while the crowd parts for him.

In slow motion, he turns his head and you see the recognition in his eyes just as he locks eyes with you through the haze of brief unfamiliarity. His lips curl into a smirk just like how you remembered it. His piercings glow as if the sun has come out just for him, melting the ice and snow outside. His hazel eyes roam over your discombobulated expression, you must look like a fish out of water right now.

“Miss?” The vendor’s voice behind you wakes you up from your foggy thoughts. “Your order?”

“Uh…” turning around, you try to gather your words, but it seems that Hobie has taken it all from your lips. “I—”

“Earl grey, two sugars and a splash of milk.” His voice sounds close, ever closer as he sidles up next to you. When you gaze upon him, he's already looking at you with those eyes you loved. Still love. “Did I get it right?”

“Fucking hell.” You murmur, and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah, she still drinks it.” He nudges your shoulder, and you're frozen on the spot. You don't care enough to notice the barista making your drink lightning quick. “I'll take the same thing, no milk.”

“S-still lactose intolerant?” You try to sound confident even though you can feel his warmth through his jacket, it still has the same patches you lovingly sewn on it.

“I don't think they found a cure for that yet.”

“Yeah, I don't think so too.” You say in a small voice, basking in his presence. As if you two didn't amicably break up two years ago, as if you still don't long for him— or don't love him anymore. Well, you still do, but you're trying (and failing) very hard to convince him and yourself otherwise.

He grabs both of your drinks effortlessly in one hand, while the other takes you by your sleeve to pull you aside so that other people could order. Once you're parked into a corner and leaning on a pillar, (all the while not straying your eyes away from him) he gives you your drink, ringed fingers grazing your own.

“Hi, Hobie.” You finally smile, eyes twinkling from the bright lights.

“Hello, love.” His voice is low enough for you to hear, but not loud enough for other people to hear how lovestruck he is.

Your eyes are practically ogling him, he's in plaid, a long sleeve button down that you remember buying for him on a whim. Under the long sleeve is his old band shirt, the same one that you painstakingly silk printed with him and his band for hours in his houseboat. His leather jacket looks the same, save for a few new patches and stitches he mended, it practically didn't change in those two years.

He still wears all the things that remind him of you.

“You look good,” good is an understatement. He looks fucking fantastic. His hair is much longer now, and his skin still lacks worry lines as if he didn't age. There are a few more piercings than you remember, but the most glaring one is the one on his lip. It shines whenever he turns his head, and you wonder how many new piercings he may be hiding. “I see you still haven't thrown out that shirt.”

Hobie looks down, chuckling when he remembers what he's wearing. “You made this one.”

You scrunch up your nose that fades into fondness despite your thudding heart. The image of you and him sitting on the floor of his houseboat while eating take out makes you miss that life. It would be nice to hug him before bed, to tend to his wounds, to kiss him every time he goes out. To just be with him— you miss that life.

You've forgotten to take a sip from your cup, so you do to act normal. The drink warms you up just right, but with your eagerness to look somewhat normal in front of your ex, you choke on your tea.

“Oh shit,” Hobie, without thinking, like it's the most natural thing ever and still acting on instinct, pats your back. “You alright?” He chuckles at the ridiculous situation. He never thought flying back home from a gig would cause a chain reaction of him holding you again in a crowded airport. He smiles at the thought.

“You're laughing!” You cough out. All your stiffness fades away once you hear his laugh, you missed it so much. You missed him. “I'm choking here and you're laughing.” You have tears in your eyes, whether that's from choking on nothing or it's because of your longing. Either way, you must look horrible.

His palm continues to pat, and his smile never wavered, completely endeared by you. Completely in awe of you just by standing in front of him. He missed you.

“‘m not laughin’” You give him a stern look, cheeks practically in flames. “‘m not!” He briefly takes his hand off of you to grab at his water bottle peeking in between his bag zipper that's filled with numerous stickers. “‘ere, drink.”

You take the bottle from his hand as you continue to cough. He opens the lid for you before you could wheeze, and you down it immediately. Again, you've completely forgotten about your *own drink in your other hand.

“There,” he tamps down his chuckles as he sees water dribble from your chin. “Better?”

You groan, coughing out a few more times before you hand the bottle back to him. The fact that it once touched his lips flew over your head, but once the bottle was back in his hand, it hits you like a snowplow. Your stomach flips, and you panic, drinking from your hot tea again.

“Fuckin' hell, careful.” He chortles at your side eye. “Alright, choke on it, 'm ‘ere for a reason.”

You stop drinking, back leaning on the pillar, chest heaving. “Why are you here? You don't like flying.”

“I had to this time.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“What are you, airport security?” He jokes, shoulder leaning on the wall beside him, leg crossed over the other casually. That does things to you, making your palms sweaty. “Business actually, we had a gig ‘ere in Cardiff.”

You grin, “the band's here?”

“Nah, those lucky bastards took the earlier flight.” He says as he looks over to where he was standing before he walked over to you.

You furrow your brows, “oh, you're with someone?” Your heart deflated right in your chest. Is it wrong for you to feel this way when it's been two years since you last kissed him?

A ghost of a smirk briefly appears on his lips. “Nah, just me. I took a later flight so I could visit some places. Be a fuckin' tourist for once y’know?”

Your heart inflates back to life again. “That's nice, it's not everyday you get to actually fly and conquer your fears.”

He chuckles, “I wasn't that afraid.”

“You didn't want to go on that Germany trip with me because of it.” His smile wavers, and something passes by behind his eyes.

“Sorry.” You did not expect that. Today is just full of surprises isn't it? “You know I couldn't—”

“I know, Hobie.” You grab his arm without thinking, palm cradling his elbow. You give him enough time to move away, but he doesn't. “I know what I was getting into by dating a vigilante.” You whisper the last word.

“That was before anyway, now I have someone lookin' over the city while ‘m gone.” He softly smiles, eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips briefly. “‘m still grateful for you puttin’ up with my shit.”

“I think I deserve a medal for it actually.” You joke, moving to poke his side oh so casually.

“I don't know if they sell that in the shops ‘ere.”

You chortle, “you'd get me one?”

“Shit, I'd have it engraved with your name and everythin’”

The two of you continue to giggle and indulge in each other's presence. The PA system continues to echo out in the background, hundreds of shoes squeaking on the linoleum floors, and children busying themselves with their gameboys beeping above the murmured conversations of their parents. Every sound is muffled, his laugh is the only thing that you can hear, and his face is the only thing you could see under the harsh lights.

It's just you and him in the crowded place.

“Let's sit down, yeah? Our planes ain't goin’ anywhere.” He pats your shoulder, palm lingering for only a moment. Since the entire airport is packed with stranded passengers, all the seats are taken no matter how uncomfortable it is. Looking around, he bites the bottom of his lip when he doesn't see any benches or chairs left.

Your heart feels like escaping from your chest. “We can sit over there, near the window.” You point with your chin at a space big enough for the two of you.

“Good eye.” Hobie gives you his drink, and you furrow your brow in question until he bends his knees to grab your luggage and his bag. “C’mon then.”

With a small smile, you follow behind him as he carries the bags effortlessly. After weaving through the crowd, you two finally make it to the large window that displays the tarmac where planes are waiting around in the plush snow.

He sets your bag next to his own in the corner, sitting down on the carpet that is probably older than the two of you combined. Patting his side, you chuckle, cheeks warm but you still sit beside him. You're so close to him that your knees kiss his own, and you're only a hair width away from his lips when you turn to look at him.

His lips part, and you see his Adam's apple bop up and down as he swallows thickly. Your eyes glance at his lips, and you quickly look away, moving to the side even though there's not much space between you and the wall beside you.

Hobie clears his throat, smile hidden as he casually turns his head away from you. “Why are you ‘ere then?”

“Business.” You hand him his warm drink, and again, your fingers brush along his own. This time, you let your touch linger upon his own for a brief second more.

“I thought you're out ‘ere to wade through the snow.” He takes a sip from his cup, eyes flicking down towards the bottoms of your jeans where it's darker and wet from the snow.

“What?” You look down, and you immediately want to slap yourself for the blunder. “I-I forgot to grab a pair of pants before I checked in my luggage. I–it's very silly of me.”

Hobie chuckles lowly, finger absentmindedly playing with the cardboard cup sleeve. After two years, he can't believe you still have the ability to fluster him. “Tell you what, borrow my trousers, you could get sick from the cold.”

“I'm fine, Hobie. Besides, my flight's about to begin boarding any minute now.” A second after you said it, the PA system announces that your flight is delayed. Again.

Hobie laughs, “comedic timing. Just take my trouser, love.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, laughing with him a moment later once you've recovered. You decide to tease him. “I hope you don't mean the one you're wearing right now.”

Smirking, Hobie leans closer to you, whispering in your ear. “Even though we're at an airport, that won't count as bein’ in the mile high club, lovie.”

Maybe your flight getting canceled isn't so bad after all.

“Damn, I thought it would count!”

Hobie moves away, grinning from ear to ear. “Just take my bloody trousers. I don't want a repeat of that one winter we had back home.”

“That was one time, I learned my lesson. And fine, I'll wear your pants, I've worn worse.”

“Rude.” He says with a soft smile, “it's in my bag, the biggest zipper.”

You gesture towards the bags next to you, “You want me to rummage through your things?”

“Why not? You've already seen my knickers. And me in just my knickers.”

“That's not it, Hobie.” You say like you're winded after getting the image of him in that one pair of knickers in your mind. Thanks, Hobie.

“Too much crossin’ the boundaries then? Hand it to me.” He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable, the same reason why you had to ask him if he's sure about you rummaging through his things. You don't want him to feel uncomfortable too.

“Kind of, I'll be wearing your pants anyway so we crossed that boundary a few minutes ago.”

“What is it then?” He knits his brows, concern etched on his expression.

“It's just that— it's your stuff, maybe there's something in there that you don't want me to see.”

“Love,” he says softly, “you've seen everythin' there is to see. Nothin' changed much, ‘m not carryin’ somethin' that will make me embarrassed.” When you still don't look too sure, he twists in his seat to loom over you, you get a full display of his chest as he pulls at his bag to put it over your lap. He smells just like how you remembered. For a second there your heart stopped at the sight of him above you. “Go rummage through my shit, yeah?”

You bite your lip with a shake of your head. “I will scream if I hear something vibrating.”

Hobie's booming laughter echoes throughout the airport, rising above the PA system.

Grinning, you open the bag, there's a few shirts on top that you recognize, and a couple of jeans. But when you see something red and blue with the familiar spider logo, you clamp the zipper shut.

“You brought your suit?” You look at him, bewildered.

“Why not? You never know when a mutant lizard would appear.” He takes a swig from his cooling tea, acting nonchalant but clearly amused by your reaction.

“What if security sees it?” You whisper.

He copies your tone. “They did.” Your eyes widen. “They thought it was a costume, love.” Winking, he smiles teasingly at you.

“That makes a lot of sense actually.”

—

You look at yourself in the murky airport bathroom mirror, hands tying the strings on Hobie's pants. Its red checkered pattern catches the eye, and its soft material reminds you of his pajamas. It might be his pajamas actually. You remember all the cold nights in the houseboat cuddled next to him, with the boat rocking softly as you whisper about your day in his ear. You wish you were there right now.

You push open the creaking door, and you see Hobie waiting for you, standing nonchalantly on a pillar with yours and his bag strewn near his feet. Once he hears the door, his head perks up, and a smile appears when he sees you in his clothes.

“Lookin' bloody fit, eh?”

“Stop, I'm already embarrassed enough. I feel like a kid in kindergarten who just had an accident.”

“Well, did you?”

You make a face at him. “No, the hell?”

Hobie shrugs, “I won't judge you if you did.”

You push him lightly, palm pressed on his chest, making him laugh. “Shut up.” Looking over the space you and Hobie were sitting at, you find that it's already occupied. “We lost our seats.”

Hobie follows your gaze. “That's alright, I heard a few blokes talkin' ‘bout rentin’ a car. We could try our luck there.”

“Impromptu road trip?”

“D’you want to stay ‘ere till tomorrow?”

“No,” you sigh, “let's go.”

Hobie takes each of your bags and his own while making sure he walks in the same pace as you so he doesn't go further away and lose you in the crowd. You don't argue about carrying your own bags since you know you'll lose and he'll charm you with that smile you love. It's better not to faint in the middle of a packed airport.

You're arm to arm with him, and your instincts tell you to hold on to his arm like you used to do. You wish you could still do it, just hold him lest he gets lost in the crowd or go further away from you. He doesn't, he won't, and you know that despite the two year gap of being away from him.

You have a lot of things to tell him, and he has a lot of thoughts about you. For now, he walks close to you, wishing, hoping that the divide between the two of you will crumble the moment you hold onto him like how he remembers.

A passenger bumps into you, and you collide on Hobie's side with a quiet yelp.

He reaches for you, thumb pressing on the small of your back in an attempt to keep your balance without dropping the bags. “You alright? What a wanker.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, eyes roaming around his concerned face. “I'm okay.” He looks marvelous basking under the light.

“You sure? You look a bit peckish, love.” He guides you towards the nearest food stall, all the while avoiding people from colliding into you.

You can't tell him that you're suddenly clammy because you're absolutely awestruck and still very much in love with him. So you lie. “I can't get anything past your senses, huh?”

He chuckles, trying to ignore your quickening heartbeat in his ears. “You want a sandwich?”

You give him a lopsided smile as he drops you off to the side of the sandwich stall. “Sure, Hobie.”

“What kind?” He leaves the bags near your feet, a smile never leaving his pierced lips. “The usual?”

“You still remember that?”

“I remembered your tea order, of course I remember your usual.” He casually says, hand hidden in his pockets, hoping that you can't sense his sudden bashfulness.

“It's not aunt Janet's chippy but it'll do.” You grin as the memory of you two having afternoon dates at your local chip shop passes by your mind.

“Don't tempt me, or I'll start swingin’ in this storm to get us some.”

“That's physically impossible, Hobie.” You unconsciously mirror his movements.

“Yeah, if you're not Spider-Man.” He shrugs with a smug look as he walks backwards to order your snack.

He'll be the death of me one day. You think as your eyes never leave his form.

—

You finish your sandwich right on time when Hobie comes back from the car rental counter. His annoyed expression tells you that it did not go well.

“What happened?” You swallow, throwing away the paper packaging at a trash can. Hobie leans on the glass wall right next to you, hands in his pockets. You narrow your eyes at his suspicions posture, “you're fucking with me aren't you? You have the keys in your pockets, right?” He tilts his head towards you with a tight-lipped smile. Your teasing grin falters. “Right?”

“Nah, not this time, love. Sorry.”

You sigh, wincing, hope snuffed out. “Really?” He nods, you really hoped that you would get to go on a road trip with him again. “Damn, I thought you were joking.”

“They're not lettin’ any cars out because of the ice. Slippery road and all that.” He huffs, and then flicks his eyes at you. “How was the sandwich?”

“Pretty okay,” you turn your head to him, body drifting closer. The window is cold under your head. “The bread should've been toasted better though.” Rummaging through your pockets, you find your wallet to pay him back. “How much do I owe you?”

“A hundred quid.” He chuckles at his own joke.

“Fuck off.” You scoff out with a giggle.

He finds your laughter contagious, grinning he shakes his head. “Nah, it wasn't much, keep it.”

“I gotta pay you back, Hobie.” You insist.

“You already did with the tea, love.”

You laugh some more. “That one was free!”

The PA system interrupts and calls on your flight again, and as you predicted, it's delayed. You barely notice the announcement with him looking at you softly.

“Everythin’ is free if you think ‘bout it.” He pokes your bicep playfully as you roll your eyes with a grin. “I think that was your flight, lovie.”

“Yeah, I expected it this time— wait, when's your flight? Did they announce it already?”

“It's cancelled,” he says casually. “Is it that bad though? I got to see you because of it.” His tone is tender, with a hint of apprehension under his voice.

“Too bad on the impromptu road trip though.” You scooch closer to him. In the busy airport where every person rushes in and out, you and Hobie are in your own world where it's just you and him. “I would've loved to stop by the chip shop with you.”

“We could still do that,” Hobie whispers, eyes downturned as he wraps his pinky around your own. He gives you space to move away or flinch, but you don't. Instead, in a twist of events, you pull him closer with just your pinky, toe to toe with him, holding him just like how he remembered. “I'll take that as a yes then?”

“Ask me,” your free hand rises to his chest, palm right on his heart, feeling how his heartbeat hastens. You lock eyes with him, smiling gently as you see his pupils dilate with just you in his vision. “Please ask me.”

“I saw you a few minutes before we met at the tea stand. And I followed you like a bloody creep thinkin’ that I was hallucinatin’ or some shit—” you stop his rambling with your hand cupping his cheek. He leans against your touch, eyes closing for a moment. Your heart leaped in your chest when he did. “Breakin’ up was a bad idea.” He says as he opens his eyes, hand holding the back of yours, feeling his calloused hand around your own. “Go to Janet's chippy with me, we'll get your usual. And I'll get mine and I'll give you the first bite like always.”

“Like our first real date.” You almost couldn't get the words out with the lump in your throat.

Hobie nods with a lopsided smile, eyes glimmering in the light. “Say yes, please.”

“Yes.” Your lips wobble. “And you're fucking right, breaking up was a very bad and stupid idea on our part.” A tear escapes that he promptly wipes away carefully.

Hobie exhales like it's the first time he lets go of a breath. His forehead meets yours, and you hold him, giggling, pecking the tip of his nose.

“I missed that.” He leans away, cradling your face in his hands. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you have no idea.”

“I have a faint idea.”

You chortle, eyes tearing up again. “You wanna argue who missed who the most?”

“Anythin' to hear you talk, love.” As he tilts his head to kiss you, he inhales and brushes his lips on yours. He feels complete.

Before you could seal the deal, the PA system echoed again. This time though, they announce that your flight is canceled. You hear simultaneous groans across the airport, except from you and Hobie.

You laugh against his lips, making him chuckle. Leaving a chaste kiss before moving away, you silently promise to give him a proper one once you and Hobie are out of the rushing crowd.

Moving away, you kiss his knuckles as you take his bag away. He understands the memo, carrying your luggage as you continue to walk away.

“Where are you goin'? We can't rent a car to drive back home.” Hobie calls after you, matching your pace almost immediately.

“I booked a hotel just in case something like this happens.” You swear you heard his breath hitch in his throat.

“Just like this?” He points to himself with a knowing smile.

“You know what I mean, Hobie.” You say with a lilt in your tone. “Either you sleep in a cot and wake up with an aching back, or you sleep in the same room with me.” You flick your eyes at Hobie, who's absolutely dumbstruck, that's quickly replaced with a huge grin, his eyes crinkle at the corners as you nudge him playfully.

“I prefer sleepin’ in the same bed with you if you'd ask me to.” He switches your bag on his other hand, carrying it all in one hand effortlessly so he could reach for your hand.

“Well, this is me asking.” You squeeze his hand thrice, walking towards the airport's hotel with a skip in your step. You're glad that your flight was canceled.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banner by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

270 notes · View notes