#love the tiny little Lorne & Rosie dynamic going on

[ninetyminutes]

I'm absolutely obsessed with your blog and have spent the past hour looking through it! Just watched Saturday Night yesterday and was starved for content, I really love that tidbit of your fanfic you shared. Really looking forward to maybe reading the whole thing when it's posted 👀

Omg thank you so much! I’m so glad you loved the movie and I am so so SO happy to have you here reading my content on tumblr!!! Every interaction I’ve had within this fandom so far has been nothing but positive and I am beyond thankful for each and every person who interacts with my blog <3

This fic is a beast, like I’m already at 21k words and I’m maybe 2/3 way done. Maybe. I’m not going to start posting chapters until I’m finished though because I hate leaving works unfinished. But since I’m so incredibly appreciative of you taking the time to stop by and say hi, here’s a teeny little chunk that I absolutely adore :)

* * *

“Sorry about him,” Lorne said into the phone, leaning against the wall and tucking the phone closer to his ear. “He’s been in the studio with me writing this past week.”

“I think I should be apologizing to you for having to deal with him,” Rosie said with a laugh. “All of winter break alone with Chevy feels like something out of a horror film.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lorne murmured, twirling the phone cord absently around his finger as he glanced back at the now-empty couch. “It’s not been so bad.”

“You sure about that?” Rosie teased. “Because it sounds like something you keep telling yourself to make it seem bearable.”

“Maybe,” Lorne chuckled softly, ducking his head. “No, but really, he’s good company.”

“Oh, is he now?” Rosie smirked, the amusement in her voice unmistakable.

Lorne hesitated for half a second too long before answering. “What?”

“Chevy,” Rosie drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “You just got all soft talking about him.”

Lorne scoffed, straightening up and turning back toward his desk, suddenly regretting letting his guard down. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh.” Rosie’s smirk was practically audible through the receiver. “Lorne, you know I love you, but you are the worst liar.”

Lorne groaned, leaning against the wall and dragging a hand down his face. “Rosie—”

“Oh my God,” she gasped dramatically, cutting him off. “You like him.”

“I—no—I mean—” He sighed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Maybe.”

Lorne dropped onto the couch as Rosie let out a delighted laugh. “I knew it. And honestly? I’m impressed it took you this long to figure it out.”

Lorne frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lorne,” Rosie said, voice dripping with amusement, “before I moved out to New York, you would spend every phone talking about Chevy. I’d call you to catch up, and somehow, every conversation would end up being about some dumb thing he said in a meeting, or how he was driving you insane, or how—oh, my favorite—how brilliant he was.”

Lorne winced. “I never said that.”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” Rosie said gleefully. “And I was always just sat there thinking, ‘Wow, my best friend is completely obsessed with this guy and doesn’t even know it.’”

Lorne groaned again, slumping into his chair. “God, I hate you.”