#i like greta's little ponytail she is so scruffy

[fishareglorious]

Man, I sure hope that this field mission with my mentor to Vienna that happens on my birthday will be life changing!

[usuallyamazinglyaverage]

Side By Side [Ethan x MC]

Hey there, ya lovely people!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to celebrate the season of giving with your family and friends. To end this year properly, I’m back with a bit of writing :)

I’m not gonna lie, the two months before the holidays were really rough and I had to sort so much shit out. It just kept me from most things I love doing in my free time, including talking with my friends and writing. That’s why this one took me a while to finish.

(Nevermind the fact that I rewrote this fic like two times, but that’s a story for another day)

I’ll most likely take a break from OH oneshots for a while (unless inspiration strikes me), but I am still working on stuff, inluding one or two AUs and fics for some other fandoms. I hope a breather to get my muse back on track is alright with you all ;)

I wish you all a safe journey into the next year - let’s pray it’ll be a better one <3

As always, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

Summary: Big steps in a relationship are always difficult - this one is no exception.

Warnings: Just some light teasing and a bit of language - this is mostly cheesy fluff <3 (I know, I’m surprised as well)

Note: MC of the fic is Annabelle Dawson. I created the header myself, hope it’s pleasing to the eye :) This is set a few months after the end of Book 2.

Taglist:  @perriewinklenerdie @andromedasinclaire @radlovedreamer @amillionmoonsred @hopelessromantic1352 @cordoniaqueensworld @paisleylovergirl  @fangirlingmum @bucket-harrington @lu-ciq @fairyrink @princess-geek @cyb3r-kat​ @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lady-kato @queenof1000days @sunflowergirl05 @jlpplays1 @tacohead13 @the-soot-sprite  @chasingrobbie @padfoot0415 @desiree-0816 @togetherwearerapture @thisperfectmemory @furiouscloddonutpeanut @tabootheunicorn @rookie-ramsey @theroseduelist @drakewalkerfantasy @lapisreviewsstuff @jooous @aworldoffandoms @edgiestwinter @inlovewithrebels @topsyturvy-dream @cerisesayeed-ramsey @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @marywitchjane @adrianrainesworld @zodiacsign1 @silverlitskies @trappedinfandoms @sherlockedmcu @drethanramslay @awhmilkywey @htgawparksandrec @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine @desmaranj @schnitzelbutterfingers @colourmeshy @mal-volaris @kaavyaethanramsey @riverrune @honeyandsunfl0wers @humanpokemon @ethandaddyramsey @lilyvalentine @mrsdrakewalkerblog @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @datynasuha  @caseyvalentineramsey @ethxnrxmsey @squishywizardhq @custaroonie @beckaroo @colossalpainintheass @takemyopenheart @justanotherrookie @honeyandsunfl0wers @maurine07  @grandnachoconnoisseur @dr-ramseys-rookie @myusualnerdyself @mrs-raleighcarrera @akshara16 @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @alookseeblog​

Song: If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Ethan tried very hard to not look like he was running – and was failing spectacularly.

Some of his colleagues had to dodge out of his way as he strode through the hallways, white coat fluttering behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets. Slipping into the stairwell, the attending took two steps at a time, reaching the bottom floor quickly.

The atrium was packed, lit by the bright gray sky beyond the ceiling windows - reminding him that he was supposed to be busy in his office right now. Christmas was just around the corner, and after Edenbrook’s reopening, the paperwork had simply piled up, barely giving him time to bring some distance between him and his desk.

He dreaded going back already - but there was something he had to take care of first. Something that felt pivotal for his motivation right now.

Turning his head, Ethan let his eyes wander through the spacious room, from the stairs to the entrance and back again. Finally, he spotted a mess of golden locks, tucked into the usual practical ponytail.

She was with her friends, Trinh and Varma, already dressed in her day-to-day clothes, the strap of her bag slung over one shoulder. The two other women gave her a hug, shooing her along.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel silly when her bell-like, resounding laugh made his heart lurch in his chest, lifting his mood immediately.

Anna turned on her heels with one last wave and headed towards the doors, tucking up her scarf and the lapels of her jacket to ward off the oncoming cold. He waited until her friends went back to their conversation before following her, maneuvering through the crowd and catching up with the younger doctor in the light snowdrift outside.

His hand on her shoulder coaxed a tiny yelp from her, hazel eyes looking up at him with a gratified sort of wonder.

"Ethan? What-"

The older doctor cut Anna off by directing her against the wall framing the entrance, cupping her chin and gently tilting it up for easier access. The kiss was rougher than he would have liked, muscle memory taking over as he nipped on the corner of her mouth.

His former intern, however, didn’t seem to mind, parting her lips with a soft sigh.

Sliding his hands to the back of her jaw, he drew Anna closer, the sugary taste of her dissipating the rest of his stress. He smiled when she grew boneless against him, delicate fingers twirling his tie.

Eventually, they had to come up for oxygen, both drawing away with barely audible hums. Anna’s thoroughly addled expression filled him with an odd pride, her lashes fluttering against her reddened cheeks.

"Is it my birthday?“ she breathed. "Did I accidentally invent the cure for cancer? There must be something I did to deserve this."

"Actually, I just... wanted to wish you a good day," Ethan murmured, tucking a lock behind her ear. "We barely saw each other the past few days. I feel like I can’t catch a break at the moment."

Tenderness seeped into her gaze, liquefying the color to a point where he wanted to drown in it and never come out again.

"Did this help?"

He chuckled. "More than you know."

"Well, feel free to do that anyti-"

"Anna?"

Ethan jumped away from her, whirling around.

This is what you get for leaving your office, a perfidious voice nagged at the very back of his tumbling thoughts.

The tip of his ears flushed hot and he had to force himself to not look away from the woman standing a few feet from them, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hi, gran," Anna offered weakly, pushing herself off the wall. "You, um, you remember Doctor Ramsey?"

Greta Dawson gave them both an impish wink. "Hard to forget this one, right?" She looked between the two for a moment. "You don’t call him 'doctor' usually though, do you? Not that I’m one to judge."

Jesus.

Ethan rubbed the flushed back of his neck, desperately trying to find his dignity among the thick snowflakes swirling from the sky.

He had met Anna’s pint-sized grandmother a little over a year ago, after assisting in an operation that had ultimately saved her life. She was a cheeky, terrifying force of nature, intimidating in a very specific way. Mostly because meeting her had felt substantial – even then. Greta was the only relative Anna had left and as such, the older doctor didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Which he probably just did. Wonderful.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, he offered his palm. "It’s nice to see you again, Greta." The old woman chortled, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Likewise, Doctor Dreamy.“

Next to him, Anna groaned, burying her face against his chest. "Please take me back to work." Despite his still burning ears, Ethan frowned down at her. "Absolutely not. You worked the longest shifts this week." The blonde answered his frown with one of her own. "Traitor."

Her pout was distracting and painfully cute, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight. "Go," he urged after a moment of indulgence. "Spend some time with your family.“ The jig was already up, so he leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips, this one far more modest than he would have liked. "I’ll see you on Monday."

"I have a better idea," Greta interrupted cheerfully, twiddling her fingers at the two doctors. "How about you join our dinner tomorrow?" Opening and closing her mouth, Anna glanced at Ethan while shuffling her feet. "I mean I... I like that thought. We're making lasagna?"

There was that coyness of hers again, making him wonder if she really didn’t know how utterly charming she was – and that there were very few things that he wouldn't do for her.

"I like that thought too,“ he said, his voice quiet but certain, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.  “Call me when you get home?“

"I will." Anna brushed her thumb along his scruffy jaw, smiling hesitantly.

"Have fun, Rookie." His blues flicked over to her grandmother, who was watching their exchange with obvious curiosity. "And, ah, you too, Greta."

The old woman winked once again. "We’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan."

“Damn.”

Anna stared into the mirror, grimacing at the smudge of mascara, just below her left eye. Sighing, she slipped the tiny brush back into the silver tube, exchanging it for q-tip to correct the mistake.

Her fingers were still shaky.

Wiping the black from her skin, she tried not to think about the man waiting for her in the kitchen – a hard thing to do when there were reminders of him all around her.

Her toothbrush rested next to his in a tall cup on the spacious sink.

Her towel occupied a shelf next to the shower.

His cologne and her perfume both permeated the air.

Reminders of him – reminders of them. All things she never would have thought possible half a year ago. Usually, the sight of shared commitment was a beautiful, giddiness-inducing facet of their relationship for her. Tonight, she couldn't help but wonder if Ethan was feeling smothered by it all.

Dinner with her grandmother was a step Anna hadn't even considered until she had caught them red-handed yesterday. Greta knew about Ethan, knew about the chaotic circumstances that had brought them together at last, but she had never expressed the wish to meet him in an official capacity.

Just one of the many firsts that he had been a part of.

Taking a deep breath, the young doctor tossed the q-tip into the trash bin, smoothing her hands along the burgundy fabric of her casual dress and her black tights – a last effort to calm herself.

The hallway outside of the bathroom was much cooler, making Anna shiver as she made her way to the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning against the island, his crisp white oxford peeking through his unbuttoned coat. Tapping away on his phone, he uncrossed his legs, dark slacks rustling quietly. He looked a little bit unreal in the dim light. An apparition, summoned by the farthest reaches of her mind.

“You're staring,” he informed her, finally looking up and interrupting her ogling.

Anna tried her hardest not to appear embarrassed, but her traitorous face heated at the comment anyway.

“You look nice,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before meeting his once again.

Ethan chuckled, pushing himself off the island and crossing the distance between them. “You just stole my line.” His eyes swept over the dress, the blue heavy and eager. “Though 'nice' seems very much insufficient.” Stopping a few inches away from her, he pressed a lingering kiss to Anna's cheekbone. “You're stunning.”

The warmth in his voice broke her heart just a little. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, letting his scent wash over her. Ethan stilled, one of his hands finding the back of her neck and weaving through the loose golden curls there. He didn't say anything right away, granting this moment of respite.

“You're nervous, aren't you.”

Perceptive as ever.

She released a long breath and traced the pattern of his coat. “Not because of the dinner itself.” Lifting her head, she studied his face before pressing on. “I'm just wondering if you're alright. We've really picked up the pace.”

Surprised, Ethan raised his brows. “Are you asking me if I have cold feet?”

“I... suppose I am.”

“Anna.” There was a note of gentle admonishment in his voice, urging her to listen. “You're here every second weekend. Yesterday, I practically begged you to come over, because we're barely seeing each other at work. Does that sound like I'm questioning my decision to be with you?” His lips brushed her temple. “I'll admit that your grandmother terrifies me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better.”

“Well, now I feel silly,” she murmured sheepishly.

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh, tickling the shell of her ear. “Maybe I like that about you.” He pulled away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and your busy brain.” Lacing their fingers for a brief moment, he nodded his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Anna sighed, letting him help her put on her jacket and lead her out of the apartment.

The drive to her grandmother's place felt far too short.

Her leg wiggled every time they passed another green light, forcing Ethan to rest his palm on it to soothe her. He did so wordlessly, keeping it there until he shut off the motor and offering it to her when they walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex. She took it, ever grateful for his quiet support.

The blonde fumbled with her set of keys when they reached the door, almost dropping them when it opened on it's own, revealing a her apron-clad grandmother.

“Gran,” she chastised, letting the old woman pull her into a hug. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Nonsense, dear,” Greta sniffed, rubbing her back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Anna could practically hear the lie in her affronted tone, masking her pained sigh with a small cough. “Right. A preposterous notion.”

“Just as preposterous as denying me this view for past few months.” Her grandmother gestured over to Ethan, who had watched their exchange with a subdued smile. “The women in our family did always have an eye for the finer things in life, I must say,” she mused. “Come in, you two.”

Anna couldn't help but swallow as she watched Ethan hang up his coat and enter her childhood home. The furniture, the décor and even the comforting smell of chamomile and laundry detergent was the same, reminding her of days past.

With him in the middle of it all, it felt like two separate dimensions colliding and forming something she couldn't quite name. He looked both out of place and like he belonged as they followed Greta into the kitchen.

Handing her grandmother the expensive bottle of Château Monbrison the young doctor had chosen from his wine stash a few hours ago, Ethan rubbed the side of neck. “Anna told me this is your favorite. Thank you again for the invitation.”

Greta regarded him with amusement. “That's a very sweet gesture, Ethan. Tell me, how good is your cooking?”

“I -” At a loss for words, he looked over at Anna.

“He's great,” she affirmed hastily, flushing at her choice of defense. “I mean his cooking. It's great. Very good.”

“Wonderful. How about you help me prepare the rest of the lasagna then, my boy?” Her grandmother patted Anna's shoulder. “Could you be a dear and set the table? I've already left the plates in the dining room.”

“But-”

“Snowbell.” Greta brushed a lock out of her granddaughters face. “Don't worry. You'll get him back without even one hair out of place.”

On her way out of the kitchen, Anna caught Ethan's gaze, the two doctors exchanging a small, equally nervous smile before they were separated.

In the quiet of the dining room, the blonde took a shaky breath, trying to sort her thoughts as she moved plates, glasses and silverware around.

She should have expected this.

Anna trusted and loved her grandmother, dearly, but she could be a bit much at times. Then again, she had never taken such an interest in any of her partners. In Canada, she had been too far away to truly introduce her first long-term boyfriend and once she had finally returned to Boston, the relationship was already over.

And Michael – well. Nothing good had come of being with him.

Ethan was the most complicated man she had ever met by far – but he was her future. The thought strengthened every day she spend with him, every time she looked into his eyes and every time he held her close.

It was far too soon to tell him, however.

And that was exactly why she was nervous about the prospect of her Greta and Ethan alone together.

“You've been holding that fork for quite a while now.”

Startled out of her musings, Anna turned around, almost stumbling into the older doctor. He caught her by the elbows, gently prying the silverware from her fingers and setting it down.

“You're done already?” she wondered, blinking at him.

Ethan chuckled. “It's been a little over ten minutes. Lost in thought again?”

“...Can you blame me?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it wasn't as bad as you probably imagined. You're supposed to show me your room, by the way. Something about it being the prelude to embarrassing baby pictures.”

The blonde groaned, hooking her arm around his and pulling him back into the hallway. “Fine. But you better be gentle. It hasn't been renovated since I was sixteen.”

“I thought you liked it when I'm not gentle,” Ethan teased, earning himself a smack to his chest when they entered the room on the far end.

Closing the battered wood behind them, Anna watched nervously as he moved to the middle of the room, his height dwarfing the old furniture to ridiculous proportions.

His gaze wandered over the walls, the faded teal plastered over by posters and photographs. Taking a few steps closer to the scratched up vanity next to her bed, the older doctor plucked a picture from the frame of the mirror.

She fought to urge to take it from him, mashing her lips together.

Her twenty-year-old self in this particular photo looked like a textbook nerd, much shorter locks braided into two pigtails and clutching her acceptance letter for Boston's med school, while she and Greta grinned at the camera.

Ethan reattached the picture with another chuckle. Then, his gaze fell on her nightstand - and on the book sitting on it.

More specifically, his book.

The unassuming cover was well worn, some of the pages dog-eared. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, raising a brow at Anna.

"What?" she asked a bit too forcefully, cheeks burning.

His mouth twitched, eventually losing the fight against the complacent expression overtaking his features.

"Someone’s a fan," he hummed. "Want to me to sign this one too?"

"That depends," the blonde huffed, crossing her arms. "Do I need to undertake another ridiculous task before you do it?“

Grinning, Ethan tossed the book back and crooked a finger at her. "How about you come over here and kiss me, Rookie? You can decide after if that’s asking too much."

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured, walking up to him hesitantly and slipping her hands around his neck with a pout. Something utterly triumphant twinkled in his deep blues as he craned his head down, meeting her in the middle.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm, tasting faintly of toothpaste. Ethan wrapped his arms around Anna’s waist, lifting her from her tiptoes and setting her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

There was a comfort in his body covering her own, the pleasant buzz of it all coaxing a faint moan from her throat.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, Ethan’s nose nuzzling her cheek.

"You know, you're the first guy to make out with me on this bed," she said thoughtfully and brushed her knuckles over his jaw, enjoying the texture of his beard against her skin.

The attending pushed himself onto one elbow, his free fingers mapping the curve of her hip. "I'm not sure how much more information my ego can take. I'm this close to begging for mercy."

"Oh my god." Anna pulled him back to her by his hair, their laughter mingling until they were breathless once more.

Eventually, Ethan rolled off to the side, facing the younger doctor on the mattress. It was oddly soothing, having him share the tiny bed with her. A peaceful little bubble, after the start of what was bound to be an eventful afternoon.

It gave her courage to ask the question sitting at the forefront of her mind.

“What did you and my grandmother talk about?”

Ethan's jaw tensed for a brief second, his palm lifting to find her face.

“She told me about the state you were in the week after I had left for the Amazon.” His calloused thumb drew a half circle. “And to be more careful with your heart this time around.”

“Or she'll put you six-feet-under?” Anna questioned weakly.

“No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, she asked me while offering me a glass of wine. She's just worried, princess. And she has every right to be.”

“Ethan...”

“I can't ever take back what I did, Anna,” he sighed. “We both know that. You forgive me so easily every time I mess up and I shouldn't take it for granted. Even your endless patience will run out eventually.”

“You're worth it. You always were.”

Hazel and blue connected, both achingly soft.

“So are you.”

Unspoken words, unspoken emotions, enriched by the dim light falling through pale curtains, drowning the space in silence and contentment.

“Should we get back?” Anna murmured, careful not to disturb the tender moment with her voice. “My grandmother is probably waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Forehead tipping down to meet hers, Ethan dragged her close, breathing her in. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

A/N: So cheesy. Was a lot of fun to write though :3

[halohwow]

Lavender Butterflies

Here is my Secret Santa to @eddiesmissingarm!

Your blog is amazing and I had to hold of because I didn’t wanna spill and let you know I was your Secret Santa but I’m gonna follow you riGHT NOW. Happy Holidays!

Warning for Star Wars jokes and references, I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.

-----------

Stanley Uris walked into Growing Tree Preschool with his shirt pressed and lunchbox in hand. His yarmulke had an abundance of pins in it to keep it settled atop the curls that seemed more out of control each day.

His momma had squeezed his hand, kissed his forehead, and set him off with a pat to his back. He’d wanted to bring a backpack but momma said that he didn’t need one yet.

He wanted one though, wanted something to shrink into like he could in the blankets on his couch when kids pointed at his headgear and Star Wars lunchbox. Momma said they didn’t have food for him here, which he thought was weird - and a little scary. They wouldn’t feed him?

“They can’t feed you,” Momma corrected, “It’s not kosher there.”

Stanley still didn’t know what exactly kosher was, but he didn’t like that it made him stick out.

When all the kids pulled off their coats and put them in cubbies Stanley couldn’t ignore how the clang of the metal tin just sounded like

I’m weird! Stay away!

Stan tried to keep his head down for the morning circle, sitting criss-cross-applesauce with his hands jammed into his lap to avoid touching anyone.

They had to say their names, favorite color, and favorite animal. Was Uris a weird name? Would they know that’s why he had to have a lunchbox? No boys had said they liked purple, that was a girl color, and not one kid had said anything about birds. Were birds weird? Was Stanley weird?

Stanley blinked, everyone was looking at him - it was his turn. It was his turn and he was stuck like a dummy in momma’s sewing room and -

The door crashed open, for a second Stanley thought it was the other teachers, taking away the little weird kosher boy. He didn’t belong here with normal kids.

But a teacher wasn’t there, or even a grown up, instead a small boy who couldn’t be older than Stan clung to the doorknob he must’ve slammed into to make it swing like that.

He had on glasses that looked too big for a grownup, with a bright yarn band around the back to keep them on his head. His momma would call the boy’s hair a bird’s nest and his face was splattered with freckles. His clothes didn’t match at all, plaid red shorts and a shirt with a truck on it and dirty shoes and

A purple button up. Soft purple like the lavender that momma kept in the kitchen. Stanley’s favorite purple.

Stanley knew he should close his mouth, daddy said he’d catch flies like that and Stanley didn’t want bugs in his mouth. But this boy,

“Richard!”

Richard, Richard, Stanley didn’t know what to do - how are you supposed to act when someone this bright bursts in a room? How are you supposed to stay calm when there was a fluttering in your tummy that you can’t even pretend to control?

Richard plopped down next to Stanley, knee landing on his thigh as he squeezed into the space the other children had made around the weird kid. Richard didn’t seem to mind, he smiled, bright and toothy, at Stanley and stuck his hand out for a shake.

“You’re new! I’m Richie!”

Stan stared at the hand, everyone was watching him, Richard - Richie was so loud,

“We’re... we’re supposed to keep our hands in our lap.”

Richie blinked, “Wazzat?”

Stan’s eyes fluttered around the room, all these kids were watching them, but Richie didn’t seem to notice or care.

He looked back to Richie, mumbling out the tune of the rhyme he’d been taught minutes ago, “Criss-cross-applesauce, hands in your lap.”

Richie, instead of scoffing or looking away - or putting his hands in his lap, let out a high laugh. It boomed across the room, making Stanley jump, and the teacher turn to them again to scold them.

Scold them both, Stanley didn’t want to be scolded he -

Richie’s arm came around his shoulders after Stanley had looked away from the offered shake again, he was practically in Stanley’s lap now.

He and the teacher were arguing, Stanley had never argued with a grownup before, something about being nice to the new kid and making friends but Stanley couldn’t pick out anything for sure.

He was too distracted staring at Richie. The class started up again after this bolt of energy settled into a tremor against his side.

Not once, for the entire morning, did Richie’s arm leave Stanley’s shoulder. His fingers fiddled with the stitches of the material or would grip and hang on or tap out an off tempo rhythm.

The wrinkles in his shirt did bother him, and the song he couldn’t place was frustrating, but the itch was barely in his mind and he wouldn’t dream of asking him to move. This warmth against his side was the only thing keeping him together.

Not once did Richie question a thing about him, sure he asked about his yarmulke but simply grinned with a, “Cool” When Stanley stumbled over the pronunciation.

It was like everything about Stanley amazed this boy, which was ridiculous, Stanley was the most plain person he knew. He wasn’t brave like all the heroes or smart like the princesses in Star Wars. He was... Stanley, that wasn’t anything special.

He finally said as much once lunch came. Richie had heard the isolating clang and twisted his neck to look over Stan’s shoulder to see the box. The box with Luke and Leia and Han, Richie reminded Stanley of Han a lot, holding individually wrapped slices of turkey and cheese - he couldn’t stand the thought of them together - with a bag of baby carrots and a small carton of orange juice. It was a clean healthy meal, and it made him stand out like a sore thumb among the sea of messily made ham and cheese sandwiches.

Richie, without prompt, reached for a carrot with the arm still around Stanley’s neck. He paused though, right before he reached them when he felt Stanley stiffen underneath him.

He instead poked Stanley’s cheek, “Could I️ please have a carrot, Stanley?”

Stanley reached into the small bag, pulled one out, and handed it delicately to Richie. Richie snagged it and munched happily, chin balanced on his shoulder.

“What’s up with the lunch?” He asked, and there was no mockery in his tone, no menace in his eyes, but Stanley cracked.

“Why are you talking to me?” He wanted to swallow the words back up when he saw the curious smile crumble into a wobbling lip.

The arm left Stanley and he felt a cold line where it’d been. Richie shoved himself off of the bench and ran down the hall, out of sight.

Stanley wanted to cry too, he’d scared off the nicest boy he’d ever met and now everyone would hate him -

Stanley heard a giggle.

It had started as just a titter, but quickly grew as he turned to look. A blonde girl with a pretty ponytail chewed on gum she wasn’t supposed to have, Stanley was too scared to tell her that.

“What’s funny?” He asked instead, cringing as her head whipped to him. She didn’t laugh at him though, she looked pleased.

“I️ was wondering why you kept talking to Trashmouth,” she said, “It was funny, you made the baby bawl.”

Stan felt what must have been his heart breaking at the fresh peel of laughter from the group.

“He’s so annoying and a total crybaby, it’s the best game!”

Stanley was out of his seat before he could think about it, shoving his lunch in disarray into the tin as he ran after where Richie had retreated.

Bawl, bawl, look at the baby bawl! echoed behind him.

He found Richie tucked underneath the water fountain, rubbing furiously at his nose and eyes, only smearing the tears across his face.

Stanley sat, criss-cross-applesauce, across from Richie, allowing his knees to brush Richie’s dirty sneakers as he quietly unpacked his lunch in the gap between their legs.

Richie tensed, scrambling his glasses back into place, but relaxed a bit when he recognized Stanley.

His lip was still wobbling and the tears didn’t abate as he hiccuped, “W-wh-what are you doing?” The tone was defensive, waiting for a jab or taunt.

Stanley just smiled, trying to look happy despite the tears building in his own eyes at the fear behind Richie’s glasses.

“I’m sorry,” he started, plowing through at Richie’s opening mouth, “I️ didn’t mean to be mean. I just... you’re really cool and I’m not and you talked to me and I️ thought it was a joke.”

Richie stared for so long Stanley wasn’t sure if he’d heard him, finally he whispered, “Did Greta tell you to do this?”

Stanley didn’t know who Greta was but he figured he had a good idea.

“No,” He murmured, trying to make sure to keep eye contact like momma taught him, “She’s mean, I️ would never talk to her. I️ like you.”

Richie looked like he’d been slapped, “... You like me?”

“I mean,” Stanley rolled his eyes with a wobbly smile, “You’re really loud, but I️ guess I’m okay with that.”

Richie laughed, it was a wet but sweet sound. Stanley wanted to hear it all the time.

“I’m sorry I’m a crybaby,” Richie chuckled, “I️ know I’m annoying.”

Stan reached for Richie’s hands, letting them hover before Richie grasped them on his own. His momma always said to let them meet you halfway, since sometimes people like Stanley didn’t want to be touched.

When Richie took his hands Stanley leaned up, bringing their faces closer, “You’re not annoying,” he said, and leaned up to kiss his forehead, “Just a stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking Nerfherder.”

Richie’s eyes were like saucers, the tears finally stopping as he smiled. He gripped Stanley’s hands tighter for a moment, then twisted so he sat mirroring Stanley - knees resting atop Stanley’s own.

They ate slowly, Richie patiently waiting for each carrot or turkey or cheese slice to keep from touching Stanley’s own. Carton of orange juice opened on both sides to keep from their mouths touching - Richie had thought of that one all on his own, Stanley almost kissed his forehead all over again.

They packed the trash away and made their way back to the classroom as the teacher called for nap time. They both froze at the sound of Greta laughing as she passed them.

“Hey,” Richie started as they hesitated outside the door, “If I’m Han Solo,” a blinding grin split across his face, “Does that make you my Leia?”

Stanley took his hand, “Of course,” he smiled back, “She’s the best.”

The teacher didn’t move them apart when Richie fell asleep on top of Stanley, hands still grasped between them.