#she was ok this morning but has refused food since saturday evening. shes been drinking though.

[girldumas]

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[cilldaracailin]

The Show Must Go On

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

Random thing today but it was on the news that the dolphin I saw in Kerry last week was missing for two days and they presumed he had died... Turns out he hadn’t and was spotted this morning by a fisherman. Glad to hear he is still around! 

Anywhoo, I am back with the next story in the Robyn and Taron series.

Hope you all enjoy this one!

Suze x

*Disclaimer - I don’t know Taron and this is just fiction and for the purpose of the story, anything medical related, I research thoroughly before using*

1

“There is a great difference between worry and concern. A worried person sees a problem, and a concerned person solves a problem.”

Robyn was worried. When she stepped off the podium after giving her presentation on the Irish curriculum for Early Years Education at the childcare conference in Paris, she automatically checked her phone to see if Taron had messaged her about their possible dinner plans for the evening but instead of a message from him, she had five missed calls from Lyndsey and immediately rang her back. Once Robyn managed to talk to Lyndsey after her third attempt to call her, she heard the anxious tones of his publicist’s voice.

“He is hiding it from me Robyn but I know him too well and he has been burying it for at least two if not three days.”

Taken aback by how troubled Lyndsay was, begging Robyn to come and see Taron for herself, as he refused to listen to anything Lyndsey had to say, getting nothing but angry at her for even suggesting that he was sick. Robyn had apologised to Emma, explaining that something was wrong with Taron and she had to go. Thankfully Robyn knew once she had completed her obligatory presentation, she wasn’t really needed for the rest of the afternoon and Emma had told her to go, her manager knowing she wouldn’t have been able to stop her work colleague when it came down to anything to do with the Welshman and satisfied she had fulfilled her obligations for the Saturday conference, Emma was happy to let Robyn go.

Robyn wished she had worn her converse and not heels as she sat in the taxi on her way to the hotel where Taron’s current interviews were taking place as she had literally run from the conference centre to a main road in Paris to try and hail a taxi and now her feet were killing her and with her knees shaking with nervous anticipation, it wasn’t helping her poor feet. Neither was the dark navy pinstripe suit she wore and she was feeling warm and overheated in the back of the car, the Spring weather in Paris warm and muggy but the formal wear was necessary for the presentation she had been a part of and she wasn’t taking a detour to get to her hotel first so had to make do with the warm suit and high heels to go and see Taron.

She had followed Taron’s travels and promotion very closely through social media but also by talking with him as often as they could. The time difference when he arrived in Japan, had woken her during the middle of the night twice, Taron apologising profusely when he realised she had been sleeping but Robyn was happy to talk to him, listening to his excited tones which only increased as he finally got his hands on some fried chicken from Korea when his tour moved there.

He was even more elated when they visited China and the movie had received a wonderous reception from the critics and fans, telling tales of more food he had tired, hilarious games he had taken part in and staying up drinking sake and singing karaoke, which he paid dearly for the next day.

He was just as excited when he got to visit Sydney again and had filled Robyn in on all of the antics himself and Matthew got up to, even Colin joining in with the laughter during the trio’s day of interviews, Robyn smiling as she heard the happiness in his voice. Sure, he sounded a little tired but he was always in good form and full of animated chat, not even noticing at one point that once again he had woken Robyn up with the time difference until half way through their call.

She had watched every interview that had surfaced and laughed at his escapade’s with Colin, the older man rolling his eyes as the younger made a few jokes at his expense and frowned when some interviews focused on her relationship with Taron. During one particular table panel in L.A as a question was asked about them, she saw his eyes change colour so quickly and the pure annoyance he was feeling clearly on his face, she thought he was going to storm off the stage. It was a horrendous and inappropriate question he was asked about their sexual involvement and if the CPR was just an act to cover for their long-term hidden personal relationship. With the way the panel had been cut together, Robyn was sure it was Lyndsey or Taron himself who put a halt to the questions immediately, the person who had asked the question completely over stepping their boundaries, as in the next part of the interview, Taron had taken his jacket off whereas before he was still wearing it. Robyn knew Taron was more than willing to talk about their relationship, even telling him to do it herself and not avoid the question but there was a point where even Taron felt under attack with questions he was asked and when he had spoken to her on the phone once they figured the time difference out, she could hear the frustration and irritation in his voice. She managed to get his mind off it by talking about her impromptu flour fight in work with the children, making him giggle and talk about the one they had had together which completely lifted his mood by the time they ended the call.

Naturally the travelling and constant working showed on his face and once the tour had moved to America, she could also hear the strain in his voice at one point ending the phone call she had with him because his voice sounded overworked and extremely tired and it wasn’t long before that over tiredness appeared on his face and although he tried to hide a yawn behind a cup in one interview for Good Morning America, Robyn easily caught it. It was his traveling around Europe during the end of his second week of promoting the movie that his change in mood and persona really and obviously transformed.

It was easy to know which interviews happened on the same day, Robyn using Taron’s clothes to judge which ones happened one after the other and the day he wore his blue cardigan and white t-shirt was the beginning of his complete personality turn around. It was before they had travelled to France, the tour stopping in Germany for a night. The once happy Taron became withdrawn and quiet, the dark circles under his eyes which were expected, now deep crevices on his cheeks making his whole face look hollow and almost sickly looking. Robyn knew Taron still gave his all even when he was thoroughly exhausted and always managed to keep smiling or make a smart remake, a laugh or a joke but he was giving nothing except robotic like answers, leaving a lot of the talking to Matthew as they sat together and he was constantly drinking from a bottle of water. Nothing new for Taron, the endless talking easily dried out his throat but the fact that he wasn’t talking and still milling the water into him was out of character for him. When Robyn had tried to call him, he didn’t answer the phone but text her back explaining he was completely caught up with interviews and promised to call her back when he could, though he never did, another text coming through apologising saying he fell asleep or got caught up with a photoshoot or question and answer session. Even their contact that day had been through text although it was pretty one sided as Taron had yet to answer her back about their dinner that evening. It had been three days since she had actually spoken to him and heard his voice.

So when Lyndsey had contacted her to tell her that Taron was sickest she had ever seen him, to the point where he was almost keeling over with a cough and not eating or drinking, Robyn didn’t hesitate to get into a taxi to go to him.

“He is cranky as fuck, refusing to listen to me and pretending everything is ok and while he acts like it is for the camera, off camera I can see how he is lying to me. He won’t listen to me, won’t stop to take a break, insists on ploughing through but his whole body is held in this stiff position where it looks like if he even moves an inch, he will crumble. I have seen Taron go through a lot, but I am really worried Robyn. He is pale, sweating, breathing hard and his voice is desperately hoarse.” Lyndsey took a quick breath. “There is only one person in this world who Taron will listen too and that is you.”

Robyn could hear the desperation in Lyndsey’s voice and the not so subtle hint that she really needed her to go and see Taron because he was being stubborn and surly and a typical man. When Robyn told Lyndsey that she would be there within the next forty-five minutes, Lyndsey was silent in shock for a few seconds before she thanked her profusely, telling Robyn she would be waiting outside the hotel for her and to ignore the fans outside.

Robyn had never even factored in the possibility of fans or the media waiting outside the hotel and as the taxi pulled up to the hotel, Robyn had no idea how she was going to pick Taron’s publicist from the crowd or even see her over all the heads in front of her. After paying the taxi driver, Robyn got out of the car and stood back allowing it to leave before she figured out her next move. There were security guards positioned at the doors to the hotel and the black cars out the front were obviously the ones laid out for the cast but as far as Robyn was aware this hotel was actually the same one that Taron was staying in that night, Lyndsey taking away some travelling for him by booking him into the same hotel where the interviews were taking place, even though it might not be the most luxurious one, it gave him more time to rest up after a full day of press.

As Robyn stood behind the crowd, she took a breath and walked around to the left edge of the footpath and gathering of people, hoping to find a gap that she could get through so she could try and get a glimpse of Lyndsey but she was having no luck and as she manoeuvred through the fans and group standing outside the hotel, even though she didn’t speak French, she could understand the points and stares that were coming her way and was starting to feeling slightly uncomfortable at being noticed, really feeling at a loss of not seeing Lyndsey immediately and becoming more desperate to get to Taron. She was normally comforted by his hand when she was in a crowd like this, especially a crowd that was becoming more aware of what she looked like and who she was and the fact that she was standing there in the open made her heart flutter a little with nerves and she could definitely hear her name echo through the all the people standing around her. It was only when she blinked as a flash went off that she realised not only was the assembly of people filled with fans but with some press and media and another blinding flash went off in her direction. That flutter soon became a harder thump and she could feel herself getting uneasy as more people started to recognise her and whispered her name, more photo’s being taken of her as she stood frozen on the footpath.

She jumped a little as her phone rang. She pulled it from her large handbag and was glad to see it was Lyndsey.

“Hey I am outside.”

“Me too. I can’t see you.” Taron’s publicist still sounded distressed; her words spoken fast.

“I am behind the crowd.”

“Come around to the right side of the fans and media and I will get you through.”

Robyn listened to the end call tone and with Lyndsey ending the call so quickly, Robyn was beginning to fret now too. Lyndsey always appeared with a calm and collected persona, her focus on her job but now she sounded completely frazzled. Robyn made herself walk calmly around to the right side of the crowd again and managed to squeeze herself in through the people, ignoring the looks of animosity she was receiving from the young girls and the whispered of French around her, standing right in front of the barrier that blocked everyone from the hotel entrance.

“Robyn! There you are!” She looked up to see Lyndsey practically running towards her with a security guard on her heels.

He got the crowd to move back quickly, speaking rapid French and once there was enough room, opened the barrier to let Robyn in, Lyndsey grabbing her hand and pulling her hard away from the crowd and towards the hotel, without even a hello or hug as she normally greeted Robyn with. Even with her back turned to the throng of media and press, Robyn could see the flare from a camera flash roll over her and hated that her picture was being taken in such an underhand way but as Lyndsey had a very tight grip on her hand she didn’t really have a lot of time to think about it too much, especially when Lyndsey started to speak in hurried words to her.

“I have never seen him like this. Sure, I have seen him run down and ill. Always comes with the promotion but he is just so withdrawn into himself, almost forcing himself to hold in how shit he feels. I couldn’t tell you the last time he ate something and in-between interviews, his whole body is completely consumed by this horrible cough. He won’t listen to me and actually bit my head off this morning when I told him he needed to skip today and rest up but he was having none of it.”

Lyndsey was still pulling on Robyn’s hand as she spoke and Robyn was finding it hard to keep up with the pace, her heels clip clopping loudly as they rushed in through the doors of the hotel, past the reception and towards the lifts.

“Ok Lyndsey, slow down.”

“He is really sick Robyn and I am so worried about him.”

“I know that but you need to take a breath for a second. You are starting to panic.”

“He won’t let me help him. Taron always lets me help him. Always.”

Robyn turned to face the older lady and placed her hands on her shoulders, seeing in her eyes the concern as clear as day. “And you know how stubborn he can be especially when it comes to his work and please take a breath for me.” When Lyndsey gave her an exasperated sigh, Robyn frowned. “Do it.” She said a bit more sternly, glad to feel her shoulders rise under her hands. “One more.” Robyn insisted and when the lift doors opened, Lyndsey had calmed down considerably.

“Sorry.” Said Lyndsey as they stepped into the lift and she pushed four on the keypad.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Robyn moved to stand beside her in the lift. “I know how much you care about him, so naturally when he acts out of character you are going to worry about him.”

“He normally listens to me.”

“What about Matthew?”

“No luck either. Got the same very angry and irate answers back. I am hoping maybe you can get through to him. You don’t know how glad I am that you were able to come, that you are here at the same time as he is. You were ok to leave work?”

“Yeah it is fine. I was finished my presentation so I could leave.”

Once the doors of the lift opened, they were met with another three security guards but as Lyndsey flashed her pass their way, the two were let through and Robyn followed the publicist down the carpeted hallway following the signs for conference room four.

“They are in the middle of an interview but due a break afterwards for some food before they continue again.”

“How long has he been working today?”

“Since six this morning.”

“Six this morning?” Exclaimed Robyn. “It’s nearly five in the afternoon. Please tell me it’s not been constant!”

“Mostly. They had an early morning TV show followed by interviews, then a photoshoot for a magazine and then himself and Matthew have been here since eleven going through the French press one by one. There are others here from other European countries too so it is pretty full on for him.”

“What time is he due to finish?”

“It should be seven but everything is running behind because some of the interviewers needed help with translation and they are taking up extra time.”

“Did he sleep last night?”

“My gut feeling is no but of course he told he me did.”

“Of course he did.”

Lyndsey stopped outside a pair of double doors, another security guard standing outside on watch. “She is with me.” Once they were through the door, Lyndsey gestured to Robyn to keep quiet and they walked to a screen behind which they could stand to watch Taron and Matthew who were sitting in the middle of an interview.

Even though Robyn knew she had to keep a low profile and not be seen, she still side stepped a little so she could see him better and immediately her heart dropped out of her stomach. It was the worst she had ever seen Taron look and that was including the first time she met him. He looked thoroughly exhausted, his face completely miserable even though he was trying to hide it with the fakest smile she had ever seen on his lips and the laugh he gave was so forced, it made Robyn cringe. She had never heard him laugh like that before and as he lifted the bottle from between his legs to take a sip of water it was either to avoid answering the question that was asked or as Lyndsey had said, to hold in the cough that was desperate to leave his body and his shoulders shook with the struggle of keeping the cough in. She could also see how Lyndsay had explained how he was holding himself too and Taron sat so straight in the chair, it looked so unnatural and uncomfortable. After holding the bottle to his lips but obviously not drinking, Taron eventually took his turn to answer the question, his voice quiet and Robyn could hear the scratchiness with which he spoke and how gravelly he sounded.

“See what I mean?” Lyndsey whispered to her. “Not himself at all.”

Robyn nodded. “But is doing a very good job of trying not to show how shit he actually feels.” Her eyes were glued to Taron. She knew the tour was going to be tiring on him but she couldn’t get over how wretched he looked, incredible black rings under his eyes, eyes which normally had a little sparkle, were dull and lifeless and she could see the effort it took him to answer an easy question, the short breathes he took to counter the cough he was covering. His cheeks were not the rosy red she loved to see when he was slightly embarrassed but more red raw from a high temperature which she was sure he had as along with his red face, there was a clear and obvious sheen of perspiration of his skin. Robyn wasn’t surprised to see the heat on his skin as he was dressed in a leather jacket, jumper and she could also see the collar of a shirt peeking through.

“How long until they are finished?” Robyn turned to Lyndsey.

“About another five minutes or so.”

“Anyway I can interrupt it and stop it?”

Lyndsey smiled sadly. “Wish you could and would love to let you but it’s best we let them finish. He is already going to be mad at me for ringing you to come over.”

“Let him be mad. I can handle him.”

“And that is why I knew I could call you. He needs you Robyn. He will always need you.”

Robyn didn’t answer but turned back to Taron and just wanted to walk over and hug him tightly against her until he gave in and accepted that he was quite obviously ill, just as Robyn predicted he was going to get back on St Patrick’s Day and it hurt her so much that he felt he had to hide how crappy he felt and put up a front for work, to keep working and not even attempt to take a break, to give himself a break, only working himself past the point of exhaustion and pure illness putting his body completely to test.

As Taron sat in the chair half listening to the questions he was being asked by an interviewer from somewhere in Europe, he couldn’t quite remember where, he shivered violently. He had been feeling cold all morning and even after he had pulled on his jacket, he was still frozen. He had been desperate for a coffee to try and not only wake himself up but warm his body up but he couldn’t stomach it or even attempt to swallow it. His throat felt like it was covered in razor blades and every swallow was painful. He had been feeling a bit rough since Wednesday and he woke up with a headache and scratchy throat and although he had been eating paracetamol to try and lift his cold, it hadn’t been helping and now he felt ten times worse, his whole body filled with aches and pains and what was making everything hurt even more was the horrible chesty cough he had been cursed with. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, up most of the time coughing uncontrollably and every time he lay his head down on the pillow to try and sleep, his whole chest seized up once more and he had to physically get out of the bed and stand up, hoping it would help ease his cough but it never did and at one point he was holding onto the desk in the room as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body convulsing painfully. In the end he had to sit up in the bed and sit up straight and it was uncomfortable for sleeping. During the day he had tried his best to hide the cough, swallowing it down or making an excuse to go to the bathroom where he hid in the cubicle until his fit of coughing was done but it left a sting in his ribs and any deep breathe only brought the cough on so he did his best to avoid any movement that would rustle his upper body, keeping his posture held tight and firm.

He knew he had been a rotten mood since yesterday and felt awful for taking his sulkily temperament out on Lyndsey but the tour was so important to him even more so because the filming had to be halted due to what had happened to him in Florida in the first place and he wasn’t going to miss any interviews because of a small cold. Lyndsey had been on his case since that morning about taking the day off and staying in bed but he couldn’t do that. He had too many responsibilities to follow through with and after he had taken more pain killers, which scraped and burned his throat horribly, he put on a brave face and used his best acting skills to hide how rotten he was truly feeling.

He had such an amazing time on his promotional tour before he started to feel sick and had enjoyed every moment, even the travelling which would normally bring him down when he was over tired and severely jet-lagged didn’t bother him as before. He was putting it down to the fact that every day, even if he got the time difference wrong, he spoke to Robyn and filled her in on the excitement of the day or his annoyance at the nerve of some of the interviewers asking certain questions about their relationship, really overstepping their privacy boundaries. He had laughed and joked and been as proud as punch promoting his new movie, both himself and Matthew bouncing off each other as they sat on early morning TV shows and Q&A sessions and panels and the whole tour had been absolutely perfect.

That was until he started to feel absolutely shit and the more he sat on the chair under the heat of the lights which normally made him sweat, he felt bitterly cold and found it more difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing as he worked on repressing the need to cough.

“What would you do Taron?”

He had been focused on trying to rub some heat into his frozen hands, he missed the question asked to him and looked up.

“Sorry?”

“If you were faced with the same situation liked Eggsy where he had to shoot his dog? Do you think you could do it?”

While Taron’s mind cursed the question, he forced himself to smile and try to be good natured with his answer. “Definitely not but if it was a life or death situation or to save a family member or a friend, then I guess I would.”

“Even Robyn’s?”

“Sorry?” Taron couldn’t help the edge to his voice, his pounding head and pain behind his eyes not helping him even try to act professional as her name was mentioned.

“If Robyn’s life was in danger, would you shoot the dog.”

“What kind of a stupid fucking question is that?” He spat angrily, taking both Matthew and the interviewer by surprise. “What do you think? She saved my life but I would give up hers for a dogs? Fucking bollocks.”

“And that is time on the interview.” Lyndsey walked over to stand in front of Taron. As soon as she heard the complete change in Taron’s voice, she knew he had had enough of the interview and needed to see a friendly face in the form of Robyn, Lyndsey praying the Irish woman could help him see sense. “You did get the little memo beforehand about the questions about Robyn.” She said to the interviewer. “And your time is actually up. Thank you very much.” Lyndsey turned to look at Taron and he was scowling at her. “Get that look from your face Taron. I know you feel like shit but there is no need for the attitude you are giving me.”

“I am fine.” Taron retorted, his blocked nose making it hard for him to fully pronounce the word ‘fine’. “And if they are going to talk about Robyn like that, I am going to react.”

“First off Taron, you are not fine and secondly you cannot get up on your high horse and go off on one whenever her name is mentioned. You know this.”

“Fuck off Lyndsey. I am fine. Just need some air from all of this shit.”

“Taron!” Robyn had been listening behind the screen and nodded to Lyndsey when she walked away to quickly to put an end to the interview. Inside her heart had soared to hear him talk so protectively about her even though she knew she probably should have been mad at him for his reaction and how he responded to the question but when she heard his angry words to Lyndsey, she wouldn’t have him treat his publicist in such a way and Robyn being Robyn couldn’t help herself and had to interfere, marching around the screen and over to where he was sitting, standing right in front of him. She immediately saw the surprise look in his tired and blood shot eyes, his features changing quicker than a finger click from infuriated to disbelief. “You do not talk to Lyndsey like that.”

Everyone in the room froze, when the young woman walked with purpose right onto the make-shift interview set up and stood in front of the lead actor with her hands on her hips, a definite scowl on her face and not only because of her sudden appearance but because they knew who she was.

“Robyn!” She could hear the pain it took him to exclaim her name and how gruff it sounded, his voice completely losing its tone before he had finished speaking.

Taron’s whole face switched from anger to surprise to relief as Robyn stood in front of him, dressed in another stunning fitted pants suit and he suddenly forgot what he was angry for but seeing the look of disappointment on her face, his head hung to his chest, remembering how he had spoken to Lyndsey feeling completely ashamed with himself. As he let his body flop a little back in the chair, he wasn’t holding himself as he had been and the strength at which he had been using to cover the cough left him and his whole body crumbled forward with fatigue as he was hit with a severe and brutal fit of a burning cough from his chest and as he over balanced on his chair, finally fully giving into how he truly felt, he expected to hit the floor but instead a strong pair of arms caught his left arm while a very familiar pair went to his shoulders to help keep him upright.

Robyn knew her sudden presence had the people in the conference room talking to each other in quiet French but when she dropped to her knees to catch Taron before he fell forward off the chair, she had definitely heard the gasp from those around her, glad Matthew had also reacted quickly grabbing Taron’s left arm to keep him upright too.

“I’m sorry.” Taron spluttered through painful spasms of coughing. “Lyndsey I am so sorry.”

“Shhh don’t talk.” Robyn gave his shoulders a slight rub, feeling them violently shake under her hands as he coughed. She thanked Matthew as he helped to make sure Taron was sitting by himself and she knelt up, in-between Taron’s legs putting her right hand straight onto his forehead and immediately became more concerned than she already was. As she predicted he had a temperature and as she moved her hand around to the back of his neck, Taron’s skin was on fire with an obvious fever and not only was his skin over heated, it was definitely covered in a layer of perspiration and Robyn wasn’t surprised as he was dressed in more layers of clothes than she had ever seen him wear.

“Robyn?” Lyndsey came to hunch down beside her, so glad that Taron already seemed to be admitting defeat to how he was feeling, immediately letting Robyn in to help him but she saw the look of worry increase on her face.

“I need help to get this jacket off him.” She answered moving her hand from his neck and as she went to slide the leather off his shoulders, Taron’s whole body was stricken with another horrible wave of coughing and within seconds, his face had turned red and Robyn could see the pain in his shattered facial features. “Shh Taron shh.” Instead of trying to take his jacket off, Robyn wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him to her, taking all of his weight as he slumped against her, his arms by his side, as she gently rubbed his back round and round in soothing circles. “Shh Taron.”

Matthew had stood up and was standing behind Robyn, ready to catch her in-case she lost her balance as she held Taron but she looked extremely steady on her knees, so he moved to stand beside Lyndsey.

“She came.” He said to the woman who stood with her eyes glued to Taron and Robyn. Lyndsey had told Matthew in-between their interviews that she as going to call Robyn and although he couldn’t say he was surprised to see her, the woman having flown to New York for Taron, he was definitely relieved. He had watched Taron suffer in silence over the last three days and though had tried to talk to the younger man and help him, he was being his usual stubborn self and refusing to listen. Thankfully there was one person, apart from his mother, who Taron listened too and she was currently holding him tight in her arms, whispering to him.

“Of course she did.” Lyndsey confirmed. “She would do anything for him and I knew as soon as he saw her, he would do this.” Lyndsey didn’t really know what to do as she looked at the two in front of her, if she should go and help Robyn but with the two locked in a tight embrace, more so Robyn holding Taron, she didn’t want to move them until Robyn was ready to.

They both watched as Taron finally let go of everything he had been holding in and he sounded terrible, even worse than Lyndsey had imagined. She had never known Taron to be so secretive about his health before, always being open with her if he had a headache or needed an extra shot of expresso to keep him awake because he had slept badly the night before but for some reason he felt the need to keep it to himself how sick he was really was and as she watched Robyn whisper to him, Lyndsey was so thankful for the Irish women who held Taron’s heart in her hands.

Taron felt like he was dreaming and found it so hard to believe that his wonderful Robyn was in front of him. He literally collapsed into her arms and had nothing but trust for her to catch him and she did and he clung to Robyn, his head on her shoulder and he couldn’t even bury his face in his usual comforting spot on her neck as he was consumed by the pain in his chest and ribs from coughing and he was so caught up in how dizzy and poorly he felt that he hadn’t even properly processed how she was in front of him holding him but there she was, rubbing his back with one hand, her other at the base of his neck.

Robyn could feel her legs shaking as she took all of Taron’s weight but she didn’t dare let him go or ask him to move. As he leant against her she could feel how the horrendous cough travelled through his whole body and not only feel it but hear it too and the rattle in his chest was worrying to her, especially at how long it took for the current bout of coughing to end. Once he had caught his breath, she felt him almost throw his face into her neck and she could feel the laboured gasps for air he made against her skin. She moved her right hand into his hair and cupped the back of his head. “Don’t take deep breathes Taron. Just little shallower ones. Too deep and you will cough all over again.”

Taron always trusted Robyn and followed her advice, concentrated on doing the opposite of what he was used too when he was feeling panicky or his anxiety rise and the quick little intakes of air helped him a lot. As he closed his eyes and breathed Robyn in, he felt her hands move from the outside of his jacket and right under his clothes, her hands on the bare skin of his lower back above the waistband of his jeans and belt and the cold of her hands felt so wonderful on his skin and he moaned when she took them away.

“I need to get you out of this coat.” Robyn pushed her hands up and under his clothes as far as she could and once on his bare skin was met with a little dribble of sweat that dripped down his spine and his body was over heated and temperature ridden as it fought whatever bacterial virus it had picked up.

“I am freezing.” He whispered hoarsely into her neck.

“You have a temperature Taron so while you feel cold, your body is on fire. I need to get some of these layers off.”

Robyn looked to Lyndsey who was standing to her left and nodded with her head, glad that Lyndsey understood that she needed some help. Together, with Matthew helping too, they managed to slide Taron’s jacket down his shoulders and off his body, Robyn feeling a shiver run through him as he still leant against her.

“And jumper. Hun, I am going to have to get you to sit back on the chair.”

Taron moaned in protest at being moved but with no energy at the moment, he couldn’t object as he felt his body being gently moved back in the seat. He looked up to see Lyndsey beside him and he reached over to grab her hand. “I am sorry.” He croaked.

“You can make it up to me when you are not a pathetic sweaty mess and I can say I told you so.” Lyndsey gave his hand a squeeze. “You are bloody lucky to have Robyn in your life and I am glad you listen to her. You are never to let yourself feel this ill again Taron, do you hear me? This could have been sorted three days ago if you had of just been honest with me. You are so much more important to me rather than the bloody promotion and your health comes first before anything.”

With a pitiful nod, Taron brought his hands to cover his mouth as he took another fit of coughing and as his cheeks turned red once more, Robyn could feel his friends starting to panic. Without a doubt, Taron was very ill but he didn’t need to see those around him with worried faces.

“Lyndsey does he have a spare t-shirt or shirt?” Robyn was glad to see her nod. “Can you get it for me please.” Once Lyndsey had walked back behind the screen, she turned to Matthew. “Any cold water around?”

“Cold bottles ok?”

“Perfect.”

Once Robyn was sure Lyndsey and Matthew were distracted for a few minutes, she turned her attention back to Taron who was sitting slightly hunched forward with his eyes squinted closed. Now that he was finally given a break from coughing, she could hear once more how laboured his breathing was and the raspy rattle that was coming from his chest.

“You are a disaster,” She said to him, smiling slightly as he managed the tiniest of nods. “Do you know how mad I am at you?” He nodded again. “Is this why you haven’t actually called me since Thursday?” Another miserable nod came her way. Robyn shook her head. “Can I take this jumper off now?” Taking his next nod as permission, Robyn reached forward and holding the bottom of his jumper started to pull it up his body. “Arms up.” She instructed him, Taron listening to her and lifted his arms up above his head, giving Robyn the space she needed to get the jumper off him. Throwing it to the side, she couldn’t help the sigh that came from her lips. “And the shirt too.” He wore a light blue shirt under his jumper and Robyn deftly opened the buttons and pulled it down his arms and threw it to the side with the rest of his clothes. “Jesus Christ Taron. I am fit to kill you.” Robyn’s eyes glanced over his white t-shirt, sighing at the wet patches from where he had been sweating in his layers. She brought her hands to his face and once her hands touched his cheeks, he immediately leaned into them. “I am glad your mother can’t see you like this.”

Taron groaned, cringing as another cough filled his lungs, his throat on fire, his head feeling like it was going to burst. He could feel his body being guided into Robyn’s again and he couldn’t help but lean against her once more, relishing in the coolness of her neck against his right warm cheek but he shivered, feeling cold in the large conference room. He could feel Robyn’s hands running up and down his back and he felt too unwell to even care that the back of his t-shirt was soaked with perspiration or to even feel embarrassed when her fingers creeped under his top and ran in such delicate circles down his spine. He was exhausted in every possible way and his body was making it very clear that he had taken hiding how ill he was too far.

“Here Robyn.”

Matthew walked back over with two cold bottles of water.

“Thanks so much. You can just leave them on the ground beside me.”

“Here is a clean shirt for him too.” Lyndsey knelt beside Robyn with a fresh crisp black shirt in her hands. “What can I do for you.”

“I would really like to try and cool him down a bit. He is running a desperately high temperature.”

Lyndsey looked to her. “You can tell that just by holding him?”

Robyn smiled a little. “Kinda but if you feel his forehead, the back of his neck and then feel your own you will feel the difference immediately.” When Lyndsey hesitated, Robyn encouraged her by taking her hand and guiding it to the back of Taron’s neck, both Taron and Lyndsey reacting to the difference in temperature that they felt. “Now feel the back of my neck.” Robyn bent her head forwards a little and with her hair twisted up in a plait, Lyndsey had easy access to her skin.

“Jesus Taron is so hot.”

“I knew you always had a thing for me.”

It was a laughter that broke up some of the tense atmosphere around them but unfortunately the laughter turned silent as Taron was consumed by another round of coughing, moving completely away from Robyn and back into the chair as he brought one hand to his ribs and one to his mouth. He could feel Robyn’s hands on his knees which he was very thankful for.

“Robyn what can we do for you?” Asked Matthew.

“He really needs a doctor.” Robyn summarised quickly.

“No.” Taron spoke through a rough cough.

“Taron…” Warned Robyn.

“No doctor. I will be ok. Just need to…” He never got to finish his sentence and bent over with his head in his hands as a sharp pain pricked him behind his eyes and once again, he was catching his breath, rasping sounds coming from his chest. “No.” He said as firmly as he could manage. “I just need to sleep it off.”

The three stared at him before Lyndsey and Matthew turned to Robyn. In her heart, she knew he needed to see a doctor, the intensity of the cough she was sure would only be helped with an antibiotic but if Taron was already refusing to even talk about going to see a doctor, Robyn wasn’t going to waste time to convince him, Taron needing to accept that fact for himself.

“Right ok then well let’s get this t-shirt off.” Robyn had lifted her hands to the hem of his top but stalled and looked around the room to the crowd who had gathered around them. She hadn’t really noticed them before but now as she went to physically strip Taron, she could feel every pair of eyes staring at them. “Any chance we can have the room to ourselves for ten or fifteen minutes? Just to make a start on cooling him down? He doesn’t need a crowd around him.”

Lyndsey got to her feet and walked straight over to the event managers to have a quick word, while Matthew knelt beside Robyn, as Taron sat back in the chair again, taking some shallow breathes with his eyes closed.

“Do you have some magic or something? Maybe some fairy dust from the leprechauns? Can I borrow some for when we film the new movie?”

Robyn looked to him. “Magic leprechaun dust?” She questioned, reaching forward to hold Taron’s hands in hers. “What on earth are you on about?”

“You have this way about you when it comes to Taron, I am wondering if you give him something when he goes to visit you.”

“I do have a fairy fort in my back garden so I have access to fairy dust and magic mushrooms whenever I want. I slip some into the cookies I bake for Taron when he comes to see me.”

Robyn grinned when she saw confusion cross Matthew’s face and feeling a squeeze on her hands, turned to look at Taron who had a small smile on his too.

“Really?”

“Sure Matthew.” Robyn shook her head. “Fairy dust in the cookies,” She turned back to Taron as he cleared his throat a few times, watching as his eyes creased at the side. “Can you take a drink for me?” She asked him, frowning as he shook his head a little. “If you are going to refuse to drink anything for me, this is not going to work and I will be calling for an ambulance, never mind a doctor.”

Taron didn’t even need to look at Robyn to know how serious she was about calling the ambulance. “My throat is so sore.” He winced.

Robyn let go of his hands and placing her thumbs on his jaw, moved her fingers to his neck, feeling the swollen glands of an obvious sore throat. “Of course it is and yet you still won’t go and see a doctor.” Robyn picked up one of the bottles of water Matthew had brought her. “Small sips. You don’t take any water in; you end up in hospital.”

Reluctantly, Taron took the bottle from her which she had opened for him and bringing it to his lips, took the smallest of sips, his throat painfully dry.

“Is there anything other than water around?” Robyn asked, knowing the water probably tasted horrible to Taron at the moment. “Anything like a Lucozade?”

“I think they have something like that, hold on.”

While Matthew stood up and walked over to the refreshment table, Robyn took the bottle of water from Taron, much to his delight and as she screwed the lid back on, Lyndsey walked over.

“We have twenty minutes to ourselves. They are asking when the interviews are going to continue.” She spat shaking her head. “Absolute nerve of them.”

“And you did tell them they aren’t right?”

“I told them as politely as I could that these interviews would not be going ahead with Taron, today or tomorrow.”

“What?” Croaked Taron. “Lyndsey no. I have to do them. I need to promote the movie. Especially after the rush to get it finished on time.” The more Taron spoke, the more awful he sounded and Robyn could hear the ache in his voice. “I will change my shirt and continue on.”

Robyn knelt back on her heels, staring at him. “Are you actually serious?” She questioned him.

“What?” He asked, looking to her, wide troubled eyes looking back at him.

The extreme tiredness was so evident on his face and his scowl made it look so much worse. “You want to sit through another five hours of interviews when you feel like complete and utter shit, can barely talk, are crippled with a horrendous cough and have a banging headache?”

“The movie needs to be promoted.” He insisted, trying to hold in another cough that wrecked his chest.

“Taron you’re about this close to collapsing on the floor from exhaustion and how ill you are.”

“I have managed so far today without anybody’s help. I can keep going.” He insisted.

“I give up.” Robyn stood up.

“Robyn?” Taron asked, his voice breaking as he said her name.

“You know I love you and will always support you, but not this. I can’t watch you sit here hunched over in agony, barely able to drink anything or talk. You are sick Taron and incredibly sick with a stupidly high temperature that could easily become very serious but if you want to put your body through more interviews and answering questions by all means go ahead and do it, but I won’t stand or sit here and watch you do it.” With a quick turn, Robyn walked away from him and headed back towards the door she came through with Lyndsey.

“Robyn!” Taron got to his feet and though he was very shaky as he stood, walked after her as she strolled away from him, pushing past Matthew and Lyndsey who tried to stop him. “Please don’t go. Not again.” He took to a quick jog, every movement hurting him. He caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “You can’t leave me, not like this.” He coughed.

Robyn shook his hand away. “When you are finished the interviews, call me and I will come back.” Robyn picked up her bag from where she had left it on the floor. “I am going to sit downstairs in the bar until you are done.”

“You are serious about leaving me again.” Taron rasped.

“You seriously want to sit through another five hours of this feeling like you do?” Robyn turned sharply to him and gestured to the set up for the interview. He didn’t answer her, his eyes going to the floor. “I know how much this movie means to you and I understand how much pressure you felt for this promotion, how important it was for you to get it perfect. The filming was halted because of Florida but something happened that you had no control over and yet you feel so guilty over that and getting through these three weeks and doing it thoroughly and properly is everything to you at the moment.” Robyn took his hands. “I understand it Taron but it doesn’t mean that I can watch you do it, not when you are this sick and ill and I care about you way too much to watch you suffer through it. Another five hours of this and I guarantee that you will be in a hospital bed, on an IV line. You know where I will be if you change your mind.”

Robyn let go of his hands and turned on her heels away from him. It was a drastic and very unfair move to make on him but her reaction needed to be severe for Taron to see that she was deadly serious about walking away from him when he needed her. She had her hand on the door ready to push it open when he called for her.

“Robyn please.”

It was the hopeless and grave voice with the deep broken tone she had expected to hear and she quickly turned around to face him and dropped her bag onto the floor, her arms out to catch him as he stepped over to her and crippled over from tiredness. This time Robyn wasn’t able to keep herself and Taron standing and she didn’t know how she managed but eased the two of them to the floor, Taron’s face buried under her chin as they sat in a ball together on the floor, Taron’s hands gripping her arm tight.

“Don’t leave me.” He cried unhappily as he dug his face into her shoulder.

“I am not going anywhere.” She assured him as she stroked his left cheek. “Except to get you to bed.”

It was a tight cuddle, one that Taron needed desperately and as his body was crippled with another cough, Robyn laid her cheek on his head, feeling Matthew and Lyndsey stand close by waiting and watching for what was going to happen next. Robyn continued to soothe Taron with hushed words and feather light caresses on his cheek as he held her tightly. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position for both as Robyn knelt and Taron was half sitting and half kneeling against her and once Taron caught his breath, Robyn nodded to his director and publicist and the three got the exhausted Welshman to his feet and back onto the chair.

“Reverse phycology at its best.” Robyn explained to his publicist and director as they questioned her moves and words. “Works like a charm.” She pulled at the hem of his t-shirt and as Taron lifted his arms above his head, finally got the sweat ridden piece of cotton off him.

“Always were good at it.” Taron whispered as he shivered, now in just his jeans, goosebumps covering his upper body. “I am sorry and you are right. I need to go to bed.”

“And you had better remember that and no need to say sorry again. Let me cool you down a bit first before we move you to your room.” Robyn slipped off her own suit jacket and placed it on the ground beside her. She picked up one of the cold bottles of water and poured it over his white t-shirt, squeezing the excess water out so it dribbled onto her jacket and not all over the floor. Once she was satisfied with her home-made cold compress, she knelt up between Taron’s legs. “This is going to be cold Taron but it will immediately help to get this temperature down.”

“You mean how hot I am?” He asked hoarsely.

Robyn grinned at his attempt to smile. “We don’t need to fix that, just your body temperature.” She placed her left hand on his right cheek and placed the folded t-shirt on his forehead, seeing Taron close his eyes at the initial touch, feeling the shiver that ran through him. She moved the t-shirt down to his right cheek and then around to the back of his neck, Taron’s chin moving to his chest to give Robyn more space to cool him down. “You ok?”

“Cold.” He answered.

“Not hot anymore?” Robyn joked.

Taron’s slight laugh turned into a cough and his hands went to his chest and ribs. “Don’t make me laugh. It aches.” He closed his eyes as Robyn moved his wet t-shirt down his back and up to his neck once more before she took the t-shirt way from him. He then lifted his head and looked at her, Robyn’s focus completely on wetting his top again. She was wearing a light blue blouse with a V-neck and if he didn’t feel so rough and rotten, he knew he would be feeling something other than tired and ill. As she knelt in between his legs, once again looking after him, he couldn’t quite believe that she was there for him when he needed her the most and hated her way of making him see that he couldn’t carry on with the interviews and desperately needed to lay down and rest but she did it so well and he knew it was her way of showing she cared. His eyes still did a quite roam over her and his heart jumped as it always did, but he moment of joy was soon overshadowed by his cough and he brought both his hands to mouth. He felt Robyn’s wet hands on his shoulders and as always, he felt comforted by her touch.

“Just let me go over you once more and then we can get you settled in your room.”

Taron wished he had the energy to return a smart comment to her and his chin went back to his chest as she placed the wet t-shirt on the back of his neck again.

“Robyn what do you need?” Asked Lyndsey. Herself and Matthew had been keeping quiet, just watching Robyn look after their friend. Of course, they had heard the stories from Taron about Robyn, about her actions in Florida but to see it first hand, both gave each other a knowing look. There was definitely more than friendship between the two. Lyndsey walked over and crouched beside the Irish woman. “I can make a run to a pharmacy for you.”

“Please.” Robyn gently pushed on Taron’s shoulders, getting him to sit back against the chair and moved the cold compress to his forehead. “Paracetamol and cough bottle for a chesty dry cough and lots of tissues and where the nearest doctor is.”

“No doctors.” Taron murmured.

“And where the nearest doctor is and if they do call outs on the weekend.”

“No doctors.” Taron repeated though he knew he was being ignored as his publicist and best friend spoke in hushed whispers. Through tired eyes, he saw Lyndsey walk away from them.

“I got that drink for you too Robyn.” Matthew now crouched beside her.

“Perfect.” Robyn thanked him. “Not that he is going to drink it.”

Taking the wet t-shirt from his head, Robyn threw it to the side and picked up the black shirt Lyndsey had left on Matthew’s chair for him. She draped it over his shoulders and helped Taron to get his arms in. Once the material was fixed on his frame, she buttoned it for him.

“Best we just get him to his room.” Robyn said to Matthew. “What floor is he on?”

“Seventh.”

Robyn groaned. “Of course, he would be.” She looked at Taron as he sat with his eyes closed, taking short breathes through his open lips. “And how many people would we meet along the way?” She asked herself. “You have a hat?”

Taron shook his head before he started to cough again, the throbbing behind his eyes increasing with each painful cough.

“Ok shh Taron.” Robyn placed her hands on his cheeks, feeling the heat on his skin and left them there until he had stopped coughing. “You poor chicken.” She said quietly. “Really putting yourself through hell.” She turned to look at his director. “Would you help me get him back to his room?”

“Of course.”

Robyn left Taron to grab her handbag and she stuffed her suit jacket and Taron’s clothes into it, actually slipping his leather jacket on herself. “Maybe this is something else I can add to my wardrobe.” She joked but when once again Taron didn’t take to laugh, she knew he was definitely feeling very unwell. She dropped in the bottle of Lucozade type sports drink that Matthew had given her into her bag too, needing something other than water for Taron to drink. “Anything else belonging to you around here?” She asked Taron, who was just sitting in the chair sad and completely deflated.

“No my phone is in my pocket.”

“Ok so let’s go then.”

Robyn looked to Matthew and they nodded to each other and taking an arm each, got Taron to his feet, who was very glad to have the support either side of him, even happier when Robyn slipped her arm around his waist, her grip on him tight and firm. He felt himself leaning more into her than Matthew and once again was so thankful for her in more ways that he could describe.

@fuseburner​ @hitmeonmytspot​ @primaba11erina​ @turkish276​

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9

Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Rhodey/Tony

Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal

Link: Read on AO3

Summary:  Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?

++++++++++

“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.

 Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt.  Tony is working out of his.

 Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”

“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”

 “I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”

 “Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.

 They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”

 Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.

 Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.

 Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.

 Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.

 Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.

 Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.

 What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.

 Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”

 “You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.

 Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”

 “So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.

“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”

 Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.

 Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.

 As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”

 “Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.

 Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”

 “You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”

 “Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.

 Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.

 By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.

 Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.

 Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”

  “Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”

 “Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”

 “Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.

 They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.

She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”

 “Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”

 “You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”

 When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”

“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

 Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc.  When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”

 “How did you…?”

 “You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”

 Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”

 “Well, I’d like to meet him.”

 +++++++ Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”

 “Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”

 A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.

 She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”

 “That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”

 The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.

 “I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.

 Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”

 “Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”

 “They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.

 Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.

 “Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”

 The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

 “You’re serious?” Tony gasps.

 “Completely.”

 “Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.

 ++++++ The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.

  Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.

[keywestlou]

I GOT HUSTLED AND LOST MY PANTS IN MYKONOS

DAYS 24 and 25…..Greece the First Time

Posted on June 21, 2012 by Key West Lou

I am glad I wore clean underwear.

Wait till you read this story!

First, I could not write yesterday. Sorry. Traveling, etc. No time. Ergo, I have combined this blog to cover two days.

I am in Amorgos. Mykonos behind me. I am glad to have left Mykonos. Overall, it was not one of my favorite places.

Short of returning home, Amorgos was the only place I could get to and get out of when I wanted to. To get to Amorgos, I had to go by boat. A big speedboat. Four hundred passengers.

Because of the strong winds, there had been no boats out of Mykonos for three days. The whole world was waiting to get out.

I arrived at the boat dock one hour before departure as required. Sun boiling hot. Wind still brutal.I found a shady spot next to a building which also broke the wind.

Time came for the boat. Still no boat. However, all four hundred of us were required to form a line up to the dock. We stood there in the hot sun for another hour.

Finally, the boat arrived. We had to wait for the 400 on to get off before we 400 waiting could get on. Another half hour. In the sun.

There were a group of Asians surrounding me. Father, mother and three college age daughters. Behind me about a half dozen Asian teenagers on break. The two groups were not traveling together.

The line started moving. I had my ticket in one hand and was pulling my suitcase with the other. At some point, we were out onto the actual dock. The wind was beating us up. Extremely strong. Little needles of sand blowing into us.

I was wearing a sport shirt, shorts and sandals. And a pair of jockey shorts. The sport shirt was being worn outside my shorts.

All of a sudden, a large gust of wind hit us. The wind swooped my shirt upwards. The shirt was in my armpits and above my head. I immediately dropped the suitcase, held tight to my ticket, and raised my arms up to bring my shirt down. As my arms went up, my shorts went down. To my ankles. There I was. Standing with my arms over my head, my shirt in my armpits and my shorts down around my ankles.

Louis in all his BVD glory.

I was glad I had listened to my mother who told me to always wear clean underwear.

Everything was rapid, but seemed to be happening in slow motion.

The Asian family in front of me starred wide eyed. The father looked grim. I could not see the Asian girls to my rear.

I pulled my shorts up, shirt down. Did not even break a smile. Proceeded on as if nothing had happened.

My next story from yesterday is about a know it all who got hustled. I was the know it all.

The boats had not traveled for 3 days. The wind too strong. I drove the ticket lady crazy every two hours the third day. The winds were supposed to die down a bit and it was anticipated the boats would be able to travel the next day.

It was 9 at night. I am dealing with a hard assed middle aged Greek woman who could care less about the plight I was in. I had to get out of Mykonos.

There was only one boat scheduled for the next day. Amorgos would be the fourth stop. These boats operate like trains and buses.

She could get me a ticket/seat to the first stop. However, there was no room at the inn thereafter. Genius me said why don’t I try to influence her. I took out a ten euro bill. I slipped it towards her on the counter and said…..look again, you might have overlooked something.

Her eyes brightened as she saw the ten euro bill. As she grabbed for it, she exclaimed…..oh, yes I do have one more seat. There was one problem. I would have to change seats at the first stop. No problem!

There was a problem. It became apparent when I went to change seats at the first stop. The new seat was in section P and had a number 401. There was no section P nor seat numbered 401.

I smiled. She had hustled me!

No way was I going to get off the boat. I had a ticket, even though it was a bogus one. I went to the back of the boat and sat on the floor. There were a dozen others who must have been hustled also. We were all sitting on the floor for the rest of the trip. No one bothered us.

My third story involves Demetrius and dinner last night.

When I got off the boat in Amorgos, I was tired. The boat ride had been rocky. There was an outside cafe immediately where the boat dropped passengers off. I went and sat down. I was the only customer. It was around 7 in the evening.

I asked for a drink. Introduced myself. His name was Demetrius. He gave me a drink and some cheese and olives.

I felt sorry for Demetrius. No customers, except for me. I said I would return for dinner.

Demetrius was a typical looking 60ish Greek Man. White haired, paunchy.

I returned two hours later for dinner. The place was packed!

When I finished my meal, I knew why. Fantastic tasting food!

It was my mother’s cooking.

I had two spectacular dishes.

The first was a mixture of zucchini, tomatoes and potatoes all cooked in a red oily sauce. Actually buried in the sauce.

The first mouthful told the story. It took me back 60 years. The same dish my mother used to make.

I cleaned up the sauce with bread. Not a drop was left on the plate.

The next dish was fried eggplant. I have not had fried eggplant since my mother passed away some 25 years ago.

Hers and Demetrius’, to die for!

My mother used to make parmigiana. I probably spelled the word wrong. On occasion, I can be a poor Italian. The first thing she did was to  fry the sliced eggplant. I always loved the fried product. My mother used to holler at me for eating it that way. It was to be part of a larger dish she was preparing.

Last night, I experienced that taste again.

I found a place to stay. Elini’s. I am in a first floor apartment. Across the street is the beach and ocean. My apartment is not a cave as in Santorini, but a quaint little white cottage. I am sitting on the terrace in front writing this blog.

Enjoy your day!

—

The U.S. Catholic Bishops Conference is giving Biden a hard time. Strange. Biden is a very religious person. Has been his whole life. An extremely good Catholic. A Catholic in more than name only.

The Catholic Church is divided as the U.S. is. There is the extreme right group as represented by the U.S. Conference of Bishops. Then  Pope Francis’ group.  A more liberal thinking one.

Since Francis was elected Pope, the Bishops group has been moving to have his powers reduced. The Bishops obstruct Francis at every turn.

The Bishops walked hand in hand with Trump. They can be characterized as having had a relationship that can only be described as submissive at best and fawning at worst. Typical Trump supporters.

Two prominent lay supporters of the Bishops are Steve Bannon and Newt Gingrich. Both far right wingers.

Bannon you will recall has one sole purpose in life. To bring down existing governments. The Catholic Church is a government.

Gingrich is a semi-important figure within the Church. Trump appointed his wife the U.S. Ambassador to the Vatican. Gingrich moves within the Vatican as Trump’s de facto representative.

The Bishops are out to get Biden. They have publicly announced that Biden is to be refused communion. Biden is a frequent taker of the Eucharist. The refusal based on one reason. Biden supports abortion.

Most Catholics do not believe the position of the Bishops is fair.

The Eucharist is a shared meal of joyful thanksgiving and not a reward for doctrinal purity. Christ included Judas at the Last Supper.

The Catholic Church has lost the younger generation. They cannot pick a fight with them. So the Bishops go after the President of the U.S. Query: If the Eucharist is denied Biden, how many other Catholics will walk away? A significant number I dare say.

Note that so far Biden has not been denied Eucharist by any priest. There has not yet been an actual confrontation.

An hypocrisy exists.

It is wrong that Church officials such as the Bishops have allowed the Church’s “pro-life” teachings to devolve into just one thing: “Anti-abortion.” They are all for Presidents and politicians who promote and expand capital punishment, are ok when programs are cut that devastate the poor, are fine with eliminating elementary health care to tens of millions of the poor, support initiatives to deny fundamental human rights to immigrants, see not problems with promotion of laws that incarcerate minorities at vastly disproportionate rates, and are ok to turn a blind eye to sexism, discrimination and misogyny as long as those officials say that they are anti-abortion.

Rafael “Ted” Cruz. Guilty of another mistake. Defecating on the people of Texas.

What occurred in 24 hours  beginning wednesday evening an example that he considers himself better than those he is sworn to represent.

Simply stated, Cruz was in Cancun while Texas was without power.

He arrived in Cancun wednesday evening at 10:30. He left Cancun at 6 the next morning to return home. In between, he realized he had made a serious error.

Upon returning, Cruz released a statement confirming he had gone to Cancun with his wife and daughters for a vacation after school was cancelled for the week and they were left without power at their Houston-area home.

Cruz’s return ticket was for saturday. He had it redone for thursday morning. His wife and daughters remained in Cancun.

Enjoy your day!

  I GOT HUSTLED AND LOST MY PANTS IN MYKONOS was originally published on Key West Lou

[niall-is-my-dream]

The Bucket List - Chapter Twelve

You'd got back from golf on Wednesday at 2:30 and spent the next two hours in bed together, savouring every moment you had before he had to leave to finish packing for his trip. You'd laid there holding each other, staring at him while he spoke. You'd taken your time having sex, exploring each other knowing it would be a while before you saw each other again.

You'd had your dance class with Katie that night so that had been a distraction from Niall. Thursday had been busy to, you'd had swimming, food shopping and jobs around the apartment to do. You'd made a list of bits and pieces you needed to finish furnishing it and were trying to sort out your spare room.  

Friday night you were playing at the pub so you headed over there in the afternoon and spent some time with your Pops filling up the snacks and drinks behind the bar.

"I like Niall." Your Pops said as you were both worked. "Such a nice young man, you wouldn't realise he's a famous singer, very down to earth."

"You only like him cause he's Irish and likes golf!" You said chuckling.

"Ha! Well??!!!" He said chuckling. "Look, I know I'm not your real Pops but I think of you as one of my own. Your Mam and I love you dearly. When you first came here over a year ago now we couldn't help but be protective knowing you were on your own with no parents. We just want you to be happy and we like Niall very much, I just wanted you to know that."

"Oh Pops, you soppy git." You said as you reached over and embraced him. "Thank you for being protective of me and for being an amazing Pops. I'm sure my parents are looking down on me and are happy I've got you, Mam and Michael."

"Just don't go falling in love and moving away with him!" He said. "Your Mam will go nuts!" 

We both laughed. "Don't worry, I won't!" You said.

You carried on sorting the bar out and were joined by your Mam not long after. She'd brought over dinner from their house for you all to eat in the staff area out the back. Rachel one of the barmaids had just started her shift, so you and your Pops escaped out the back to eat. Since it was the summer she'd been slow cooking a ham all day and had prepared a salad and new potatoes to go with it. Your Pops grimaced at the lettuce he'd been given, but knew your Mam was just trying to keep him relatively healthy. 

You loved these two with all your heart. Mary and Bob had been married 36 years and had moved to London 28 years ago when Michael was 5. They wanted a good school for him and better job prospects. They'd taken on The Charm in Putney over 18 years ago and were well known and liked. They did charity nights, quiz nights and loved having live music. They always opened up on Christmas day for a couple of hours, welcoming in everyone for a pint and a mince pie. You absolutely adored them. 

You often felt sadness at the loss of your own parents, but knew you'd always be supported by Mary and Bob. They were not interested in your money, always refusing your offer to help. So you often worked behind the bar to save them some wages being paid out and you liked to take them golfing and for lunch. You paid for trips to the theatre for them but they always hated accepting. Far too proud and Irish for handouts.

After you'd eaten, you headed out to the bar to find James and the lads setting up.

"Hi Annie!" James shouted across the bar. "You ok?"

"Yes mate, you?" 

You and the lads chatted for a bit as you helped them set up. James had asked you to play banjo on a song by Mumford and Sons that they were planning on singing. It was one of your favourites and you knew the part so happily agreed. You also said you'd play the piano for Ophelia as that proved a popular one when you'd played it a few weeks ago.

The pub started getting busy and you and the lads decided to kick off with the music early. Katie and Willie walked in just as you were about to start playing. You saw them both over at the bar and waved to say hi. The set went great and after you'd finished your bits your Mam came over and greeted you with a Guinness as she always did. 

"You did great as usual sweetheart!" She said.

"Thanks Mam." You said giving her a kiss.

She went back to collecting glasses and you made your way over to Katie and Willie.

"You guys ok?" You asked.

"Yeah, good thanks hun, how have the last few days been, missing Niall yet?!" She said smirking.

"Ha! Fuck off with your teasing!" You replied. "I'm actually fine, I think I'll get used to him being away for periods of time. Plus I'm used to being on my own a lot."

"He been texting you?" Willie asked.

"Yeah, here and there but he's busy with his job so I don't expect him to be in contact a lot and he's only been gone a few days."

He had messaged you that morning suggesting you make your instagram private in case you were contacted which you had done straight away. He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone released the picture of you leaving the restaurant together. As worried as your were about being contacted by fans and press you were more worried about your Step Mum, Step Sister and ex contacting you. You'd already formulated a plan in your head and that was to tell them to fuck off. You thought this was an excellent plan, Katie had agreed.

"Katie, do you think you could get the week of the 20th off?" You asked.

"Probably why? Isn't that when you lads are going away?" Katie asked Willie.

"Yeah it is." He replied.

"Well, I was thinking if they're going away we probably should to. Somewhere hot, maybe a spa place, my treat?" You said.

"Ooohhhh sounds like a good idea, can't let the lads have all the fun!"

"I'll have a look over the next week and let you know. Just find out Monday if you can get it off work and text me then I'll book something."

"Ok hun, I will."

You walked back that night to your apartment with Willie and Katie and promised to catch up with them sometime this week, suggesting a bbq at yours next Sunday when Niall was back.

The week without Niall actually flew by you'd been so busy. You visited your parents for dinner, got some new furniture which you had built yourself. You'd taken a picture of the bedside cabinet for your spare room and sent it to Niall showing off your handyman skills. He'd been impressed! You'd been swimming twice, food shopping, golf with your Pops and had even worked a couple of shifts at the pub. You'd had dance class with Katie and she'd come over to yours after and you had eaten pizza and drank wine whilst you looked at holidays online.

Niall face timed you Thursday lunch time. It was the evening time where he was.

"Hey babe, you ok?" You said smiling. He looked tired.

"Mmm I'm ok, tired though and missing you." He said.

"I miss you to, not long now, couple of days."

"I know I can't wait. So I was asked in an interview this morning about you."

"You were?"

"Yeah, they asked me if I was single and I said no that I had started seeing someone recently."

"You did?" You said smiling.

"They asked me about you and I told them that you weren't a celeb and that I wanted to keep you private for now so that your day to day life wasn't disrupted too much. That ok?"

"Yeah of course babe, I said before whatever is best for your job."

"I know you did. I'm sure the picture of us leaving the restaurant will appear somewhere now." He said sighing.

"Doesn't matter we can deal with that at the time." You replied. "When are you back anyway?"

"Flight lands at about 11pm Saturday night. So will try and sleep a bit, get over some jetlag and I'll come over to you Sunday afternoon."

 "I can't wait, although I'm having Katie, Willie, Deo, Martin, Michael and Claire over for a bbq sunday. Everyone coming over about 12."

"Sounds good, I'll join you at some point when I'm awake if that's ok?"

"Course it is, you want to stay at mine that night?"

"Already planned on doing that." He smirked. "Can't wait to hear you moan my name!"

"Ha! You are a dirty boy Niall Horan!"

"I know, but you love me!"

"I do." You said quickly before realising what you'd said. 

Fuck! 

"Anyway, I'm due at the pub in half hour so I should get going." You were flustered now.

"Annie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"You do?" You said your heart beating like crazy and your smile growing wider.

"Yeah, a lot actually. Missing you so much it hurts."

"Niall?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you to."

And he smiled at you. 

"Wish I could kiss you right now." He whispered.

"I know, wish I  could kiss you to. Only 3 days to go." You replied.

"Yep, 3 long days." 

Chapter Thirteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/168297576598/the-bucket-list-chapter-thirteen

[bigolclown]

So, it is almost 5am and I can’t sleep. My dog, Meg Ryan, died earlier tonight and I am a wreck. I’m just going to ramble for a while, because I’m a wreck and sleep isn’t happening and I don’t know what else to do.

The wife and I got our dog in ‘05. We already had a dog, a black lab named Lady, who we got back when we lived in Nevada. When we moved to Arizona we thought it would be a good idea to get Lady a buddy, so we went to the pound. We’re big believers in getting pound puppies. There were a thousand dogs there and we had just about settled on the one we were going to get when the wife (K) noticed one that was marked as being “dog of the day”. K asked what that meant, and they told her that it meant that this was the dog’s last day and that she would be put down if she wasn’t adopted that day. Well, that ended the discussion and we had our dog. We tried to think of a name (our other dog had come pre-named) and decided we wanted something unusual, and K blurted out Meg Ryan, more as a joke than anything else. Well, it stuck, so our dog of the day was Meg Ryan.

We had suspicions that Meg had been abused by her previous owners. The first clue was her ears. Someone had clipped them, and had done so badly (she’s a shepherd mix, so there was no reason to do so). Second, she was terrified of men. This slowly improved as the years went by, but she never really fully trusted me. She was definitely a mama’s girl.

We had a bunch of good years as a small family. Lady was older, and she passed a few years back. That was tough, but we soldiered on. Then the force turned against me and K, and we wound up splitting, and because of reasons, I kept the house. That meant I kept Meg (again, for reasons). So now we were a duo. K visits frequently (which Meg loves, cos like I said, she’s a mama’s girl), but when it comes to the family unit, it has been just me n Meg for the last couple of years.

But now Meg wasn’t the puppy we got from the pound anymore. Years have passed and she was starting to show her age. A while ago she had a tumor removed and the vet wasn’t sure that it hadn’t spread (it was a wait-and-see situation). She started experiencing arthritis, and that was progressively getting worse. And two weeks ago K took her to the vet because I had been seeing weird behavior and the vet indicated that Meg was starting to show signs of dementia. We were then told we should begin to brace for the worst sometime this year.

One thing about Meg is that she is stubborn. If she doesn’t want to do something, she’ll punch you in the face rather than just give in. And she hates taking her meds. She had to take two pills daily... one was an arthritis pill and the other was a pain pill. Now, the pain pill she was prescribed was notorious for tasting terrible. So Meg, who started with an inclination to fight med taking, had absolutely no interest in taking her pain pill. And since she’s stubborn, she also wanted nothing to do with her arthritis pill. I would try hiding them (together and individually) into her food, I tried dissolving them in water, I tried putting them into her treats.... all to no avail. She would spit them out or simply refuse to eat if she tasted them. The best I could do is to get her to take them every other day, sometimes every three days. And I let her get away with it because I couldn’t think of a way to get her to take them. Because I suck at being a doggie-daddy. Because I suck in general.

So Thursday I notice she’s walking slowly (I let K know right away cos we touch base most mornings). I attribute it to her arthritis, which makes me feel like shit because I suck at giving her her pills. Then I get an idea...  I’ve been giving her a new med (for her dementia) that isn’t in pill form. This one is liquid, and I have to use a dropper and squirt the liquid into her mouth, which she then has no choice but to swallow it. So I dissolve her pills in water and use her dementia med dropper to squirt it into her mouth, and bingo! On top of this I start giving her body massages to help with her arthritis. I was rewarded with a big smile. And that made me smile in return.

But Friday she’s a little worse. And she wasn’t eating. Which isn’t unusual... she doesn’t keep a real schedule when it comes to eating; I make sure there is food in her bowl and she’ll eat whenever she feels like it. Sometimes she’ll go a whole day without eating, but never more than a day. And I always note when she’s not eating because that’s what you should do. So, her not feeling well and not eating, that combo got me concerned. I was even more concerned on Saturday morning, when she was walking even more slowly. Now she can’t stand easily on her own, and she whines for me to come to help her stand. K suggests I should talk to the vet about giving her more of her arthritis meds, maybe that would help her feel better faster. The on-call vet suggests that I not... says that these pills will take a while to work into her system and that I just need to be patient and help her as needed. It is hard to hear because at this point I’m feeling like crap for letting my dog come to this, but it is what it is.

So another thing about Meg is that she’s a bit anti-social like her old man. She doesn’t like hanging around in the living room where K and I (and later, now, I by myself) liked to be. She’s chosen spots in different parts of the house that are isolated and dark where she can relax and not deal with anyone, coming out to visit me only when food is on her mind. But Saturday afternoon I start hearing her whine. I think it is call for me to help her stand, but when I do she doesn’t go anywhere. She just stands for a while then lays back down. Now I’m thinking it is a general discomfort whine. Which I totally get because she’s been feeling bad since Thursday. I also wonder if it has to do with her not eating... she has to be starving at this point. I offer her food, I offer her treats, but she still has no interest in any of it. I’m pretty concerned at this point, but I’m wondering if she’s not eating because she’s in so much discomfort, and I’m hoping that when her meds kick in she’ll start eating again. I talk to K and she is hopeful that once the meds kick in, her appetite will return to normal. I should note at this point that K works long hours on the weekend, and we had agreed earlier that she would come by on Monday to visit. So what I do end up doing is moving Meg to the living room so she can be nearby. I’m not convinced she wants the company, but I’d rather have her near me than off alone. But she’s still whining from the discomfort, and I’m starting to get frustrated at the situation. Because I can’t think of anything other than waiting. And because I’m an asshole that get’s frustrated when his dog is miserable. Because I’m an asshole in general.

So now we’re at Saturday night and it has been a while since Meg has had any water, so I help her stand so we can walk over to her water bowl. Only now she can’t take a step without falling. And now I’m starting to panic. So I carry her over to her water bowl and she drinks. Good sign. She’s drinking normally, except she can’t stand. And she’s not whining when I’m holding her, so she probably is just exhausted, right? She’s gone a few days of being miserable, and the meds are bound to kick in soon, and she’s drinking normally. It is late Saturday night, so I decide to find a vet on Sunday and have her looked at.

So me n Meg sit in the living room for a bit, and now it is bedtime. She normally likes to sleep on the tile be the front door, but I decide to make an extra-comfy bed by putting together some of the doggie beds I keep distributed throughout the house. I then move a fan over her so that she keeps cool (she likes to be cool, thus the sleeping on the tiles). I give her a full body massage, which I at the time assumed she enjoyed because her breathing changed to a relaxed pace, then I brought her water bowl over and helped her drink some. Then I decided to try to entice her to eat something. She didn’t want any wet dog food, and she didn’t want any peanut butter (which was a new thing I was trying at a friend’s recommendation). I then offered her some cheese, which she usually enjoys. She lifted her head, took the cheese into her mouth, lowered her head, and then she was gone.

And I’m a wreck.

I’m a wreck because I lost my buddy. I’m a wreck because I’m a piece of shit for not forcing her to take her meds all along. I’m a wreck because tomorrow I need to tell K that Meg has died and I have no idea how to do that. I’m generally a pretty even-keeled guy... but I can’t stand the idea of making K sad. Knowing that K is going to cry is causing me as much pain as losing Meg. And K has to work tomorrow. When do I tell her? Before work so that she’s a wreck at work? I don’t know if she’d be able to get the day off on such short notice. I could tell her after work, but then I have to either lie or avoid her when she texts me for the morning check-in? That also comes with the extra risk of her getting pissed off at me for not telling her right away.

Ok, it is a little after 6, so I’m going to try to get a couple of hours sleep before I have to talk to K. I think I have to tell her before work. Dammit. I’m a wreck, and the day is just gonna get worse.

[thetravelling1]

T+73: The Date.

Ok, this story is likely to be a bit of a long one, so bear with me please!

Part 1: Context

I flew out to NZ 73 days ago, with a bag holding all my possessions and an incredibly vague plan to find a job and get a visa. I didn’t know anybody here, and one part of my journey would be build a new social circle from scratch. I now have a job and a visa, and so was in the mood to celebrate.

Building a complete social circle once you get a foot in the door is relatively easy; the trick is meeting people at first. There are two approaches I’ve taken so far - Meetups and Online Dating sites. In my experience, Meetups have been much more amiable - you are there to do a specified activity, and even if you don’t click with anybody, you still get to do that thing.

In terms of online dating, I’ve used OKCupid, Tinder and Bumble. OKC is the most “thorough”, having a series of essay based questions to read about each other, and a lot of multiple choice questions that the system uses to rate how well you’re likely to match. The problem is that there aren’t many people in Christchurch on OKCupid.

Tinder has a reputation of being a “hookup” app, but in my experience that hasn’t been the case. You have a few photos and a small amount of text to give a sliver of insight into yourself - and only people who like each other’s profiles can start contacting each other. This results in less time wasted on interactions that are clearly not going to work.

Part 2: Prelude

I swiped right on Kylie’s profile for a combination of shallow and personality based reasons. She enjoys pizza, wine and board games. She likes to go walking. While she doesn’t live in Christchurch, it’s an easily travelled distance (half an hour). She has 2 kids, but the father has custody on the weekends, and she lives near supportive family. We had a nice chat and I suggested meeting up that coming weekend, on Saturday. She was in Christchurch anyway having a “Girls Day” with friends so it was perfect to meet at a pub walking distance from mine.

I won’t misrepresent things and imply that there weren’t warning signs. My housemate queried “what is she, in high school” when Kylie commented about how excited her friends were that we were meeting up - or that her friends were on the crazy side. I charitably put this down to hyperbole and someone being happy about finding someone on Tinder who’s vaguely on their wavelength, but you can take it as foreshadowing. 

On the day of the date, I met up with a friend in the morning at a farmer’s market, and we went for a lovely walk up to the Port Hills over Lyttleton. Then we had lunch, and I accidentally left my NZ sim phone in the cafe. I went home for a nap and shower, put on a fresh pair of jeans and an actual shirt before heading to the pub (5:30)

Part 3: The conventional part of the date.

I got there first, and ordered myself a diet cola, then sat outside in the sun trying to get my non-sim phone to connect to Wi-fi so I could message her - when she turned up, right on time! She grabbed a glass of red and we sat outside, chatting about all sorts of stuff. She’s on good terms with her ex, her kids are handling separated parents well. She had dated another guy after separating from her husband, but I was her first date after splitting up with him.

I wouldn’t say there was romantic chemistry there per se, but we were having an amiable enough conversation and it was a nice evening and a good setting. Kylie refused a second drink as she was driving home (note: it feels like the default behaviour here is to have 1 drink if you’re driving. It’s a little unnerving but when in Rome..)...But it was looking like maybe having dinner together and/or watching a movie could be on the cards.

Part 4: A jarring sense of something unusual.

A bartender came over with a shooter, placing it on the table in front of her. “From an admirer”. This appeared to be as much of a shock to her as it was to me. We looked around and there were no hints of guys trying to muscle in. Still, this is not what you expect. The shooter appeared to be kahlua and baileys, and Kylie enjoyed it. We kept chatting, and more of the story came out.

Her “girls day” involved two of her friends, Charlotte and Pixie. Pixie had recently broken up with her bloke, and was feeling down about it. So down, in fact that she was under strict orders not to drink. Charlotte had a bloke, but doesn’t often get a chance to go out and relax, so she took the opportunity to take Pixie out to a pub. Specifically, the pub Kylie was going to.

They assured Kylie that they were just looking to hang out with some guys, and wouldn’t interfere with the date. The shooter that the bartender provided was from Charlotte, the first sign that this assurance wasn’t necessarily a firm boundary. The good news was that as Pixie wasn’t drinking, Kylie would be able to get a lift back to Pixie’s to crash - and therefore, could drink more.

I can’t remember exactly whether this fact was raised before or after the Tequila was delivered “from an admirer”. But hey, when in Rome, roll with the surprises - right?

Part 5: Genre Shift

Now we could go back to drinking normally, I went back to the bar to refill us both. Spiced Rum and Diet Coke for me, Glass of Red for her. Regardless of anything else that happened on top, this was the baseline. While I was at the bar, Charlotte turned up. We chatted, I thanked her for the shots and pointed out I was relieved it wasn’t an interloper.

Charlotte announced we’d be joining herself, Pixie and two newfound friends for Truth or Dare. Wait, what? Apparently that’s what they’d been up to since arriving. It’d been quiet enough so far that I hadn’t noticed (bear in mind that this is probably 7pm on a Saturday night, and my back had been to them). The delivered shots had been part of the dares.

The thought amused me, but I knew that wouldn’t be on the cards; we were still talking about going for food (having not eaten) so these would probably be the last drinks before making new plans. Kylie was out to meet me, and wasn’t looking to merge with the crowd.

I stepped outside, and Kylie had merged with the crowd.

Part 6: Truth or Dare

I haven’t played this since university, 14 years ago. And I didn’t play it at university, as far as I can remember. At high school...yeah ok, I’m not sure if I’ve played this game since I was a child. It’s surreal how silly the game is, the combination of risque and childlike natures butting up against each other. I’d basically decided that there weren��t going to be any romantic feelings arising, so moving away from a traditional date format wasn’t a big loss.

Charlotte and Pixie had met two other locals, and everybody seemed positive and friendly, so I stayed and resolved to go with the flow. Charlotte had oodles of personality, had a pink dress that matched her hair. Pixie was a little quieter and more reserved (maybe because she was the not drinking), her blue hair also had a matching dress. I forget the names of the two guys, but one was killing time until his Tinder date (he was going to the cinema), and the other was his mate.

It quickly became clear that I was the PG one of the group. Certainly, when compared to the ladies. Early on, I asked one of them what the most illegal thing they’d done was - I was not expecting “I once got strip-searched while holding Methamphetamines (a class A drug)” as a result. It certainly helped me out that Kylie was the one asking me, so everything had a fairly light touch.

Part 7: Interactions with other Patrons

So we’ve got the scene. 6 of us are sat round a picnic table in the courtyard of the pub. 2 guys, 3 ladies and me. Charlotte was evidently a dab hand at this; she knew to alert the bouncers - and find a safe table of other people sympathetic to the cause, to involve with dares. These dares varied from finding someone to do the Macarena to, to licking someone’s face. Yeah, that’s the level we were at by this point.

Some of these safe tables were amused by what we were doing, and before long I was being summoned by one of the tables that Kylie had gone over to chat to. A big, burly Glaswegian “invited�� me to perch on his knee, so from that position we were able to confirm that yes - this was a first date, yes - we met on Tinder, and yes - we’d gotten merged with her “crazy” friends in a game of Truth or Dare. As I was explaining, Kylie sat on my knee, and Pixie sat on hers, making a chain of 4 people with the Glaswegian at the bottom. That didn’t last long.

The bartender was also becoming embroiled in the mess too, as Charlotte had noticed that he kind of liked her (not that she was interested, what with having a boyfriend). As such, when I bought a round, I was under strict instructions to announce that one of the drinks was for the girl with pink hair, and therefore it should be a special one. “I don’t think she can be shocked”, I commented. “Challenge accepted, he replied”. When he delivered the cocktail, she gave him a peck on the cheek. Then tasted it, and swapped with a friend (she doesn’t like spicy cocktails).

Part 8: Oversharing

I’m listing all of the shenanigans as if I was a passive observer. I feel like I should state for the sake of journalistic integrity that I certainly played a part, enabling the rest of the behaviour. I was happily referring to the evening as a car crash, but still going to the bar when it was my round (that as I recall came a bit more frequently than I’d expected). I wasn’t counting drinks...Maybe I could have been the voice of reason...Maybe I was enjoying the trainwreck of the evening with a morbid curiosity.

It was also interesting to hear other aspects of the ladies lives come out. Since splitting with her husband, Kylie had dated a hairdresser called Aragorn. Charlotte had previously dated Aragorn, and as the drinks flowed and the questions continued, certain home truths came out. Apparently, Kylie made lists about the things she didn’t like about her exes. I know this, because I was shown Aragorn’s list. Some of it was mundane, some explicit, and one line just said “Intellectually Inferior”. I have to appreciate the brutal honesty there.

Kylie also demonstrated her Tinder Swiping technique. Yes, on our first date I got to witness her going on Tinder and looking for other guys. The surreal-ness of the moment far outweighed any offence taken. However, the biscuit was taken when one of the ladies showed off a website she had found, where guys would post dick-pics in costume (the person, and the dicks). I still wrestle with what the appropriate reaction should have been. At the time, I went with stunned disbelief.

Part 9: Genre Shift, Part 2

The evening wore on, and the two guys decided to leave. They left most of a pint of light beer, and Charlotte decided that Pixie was safe to drink it. Charlotte found a couple of people from the “safe” tables to make up the numbers, but it didn’t really matter as the game was kinda falling apart regardless. We figured that food was probably a good idea, so we ordered a plate of Nachos (with the next round of drinks). Charlotte stays indoors for now.

When we came back, Kylie disappeared again to chat to some other newbies (I’d been helpfully informed that this was just the way she is), leaving me to chat with Pixie. It wasn’t long before a bouncer came over to have a friendly chat. 

“Your friend, over there... she has to leave. She’s too drunk, and bothering other customers”.

Well, shit. 

Part 10: Suddenly I’m sober

I honestly can’t remember being in the situation where I’ve been in the company of someone being ejected from a pub before. I turn to Pixie, who disappears inside (emphasis on the disappears) while I chat to the bouncer. He’s aware of my situation, and sympathetic, but can’t let Kylie stay there. I point out that we’re waiting for Nachos to hopefully sober her up. When they arrive, he offers to box them up - but she has to leave.

We head down to the picnic tables on the outskirts of the pub, and two ladies there offer to help take care of Kylie while I find her two friends, who are suddenly nowhere to be seen. I have to tell Charlotte twice (the second time with a “what the actual fuck”). Kylie falls off the chair, again. We discuss the options.

I can’t phone for a taxi, because my phone is in Lyttleton, and it’s a half hour drive back to Kylie’s.Charlotte can’t stay to help out, because there is a cute Eurasian guy at the bar she’s chatting toPixie can’t leave to take care of Kylie because she’s on her second pint now and the evening looks promising for her. The only option, Charlotte asserts is for me to take her home. I sense a nudge and a wink offered from Charlotte but not accepted by me.

I point out that while my place is walking distance, Kylie can’t walk. Pixie needs a recharge on her Vape anyway, so will ferry Kylie to mine, but not stay.I point out that she’s blackout drunk, and waking up in a stranger’s bed could be concerning to her. This doesn’t seem to be a problem.

Part 11: Exodus

So, Pixie and I both prop Kylie up and walk her to Pixie’s car. Kylie sits in the back. We drive two minutes to mine, and have to wake Kylie up. Pixie and I get her through my gate, in the front door and to my bedroom. Kylie collapses on the bed, already passed out.

My landlady is concerned that I left the gate open. While Pixie plugs in her Vape, I go close it and explain the beginnings of the situation. Pixie leaves. I explain the full story to my landlady. She understands and gets a bucket and towel, just in case. I go back into the bedroom. 

Kylie’s awake, and heard everything. She is valiantly staying almost upright, outraged at the suggestion that she might throw up. We assure her it’s not a slight on her character. She says she should go. At this point, I think better of pointing out that she doesn’t really have anywhere to go, as her friends have abandoned her.

I open a bag of cookies and get a glass of water. One cookie and mouthful of water, Kylie’s back to passed out on my bed. Bowie the dog is agitated, and would be more agitated if someone slept in the living room - and there are doubts of the safety for Kylie to be passed out alone. It’s 9:30, Oh boy, it’s going to be a long night.

Part 12: Sharing a bed

I change from my shirt into a t-shirt, and get my mobile. I’m full of emotion, put on life-tilt by the way the evening totally got away with me. I’m scared for Kylie, I’m scared for myself, I’m angry at Charlotte. I can’t sleep, and so I put Youtube on and watch videos. For over 5 hours, until 3am. Kylie makes occasional movements, and occasional sounds, True to her word, she doesn’t throw up.

At 3am, Kylie wakes up and says her first statement of the new day - that she forgot how uncomfortable it is to sleep wearing a bra. I sympathise and face away as she gets comfier and then goes back to sleep. I finally allow myself to relax, and fall asleep.

At 5am, we both wake again. Kylie is a bit more talkative now; waking up in my bed didn’t phase her at all. She can’t remember how she got to mine, but takes a sip of water. We chat a little, but I’m overtired and overstretched mentally. She is due to meet up with the ladies to raise money at a local market that morning, and starts texting them. At 6:30am, they are apparently on their way. We turn the light on and she sees the bucket. “I never throw up” she comments, offhandedly.

We wait outside, and a few minutes later, Pixie drives up. Charlotte is in the car, but they are literally just picking her up and driving off. I return inside, and see her jewelry. Pixie drives back to pick up the jewelry, and they are gone.

Part 13: The Aftermath

Sleep remains elusive for a while; I don’t really sleep all day, but I don’t get up either. It messes with my mind, and my sleep pattern goes out of whack. I mean, it’s 1:15am 3 days later and I’m still a bit zombified.

I receive a message a few hours later saying Kylie made it to the market, with her friends - and they are re-evaluating their life choices.

The following morning, Kylie sends me a message to say that she appreciated me taking care of her - but needs to do some soup searching and so will be deleting her Tinder profile (that’s why I will see her disappear from my contacts list). I appreciate that, and wish her the best. She points out that she meant to type soul searching, not soup searching. I understand. 

Part 14: The Lessons

I take the time I have to look back at the warning signs, see if there’s any lesson I can take from it. There were definitely some yellow flags I need to be aware of. It’s good to stay aware of what might go wrong, and how it might go wrong.

But you know what? If you never have regrets, you’re not taking enough risks. It was exhausting, and ended the wrong way - but the evening was certainly memorable, and certainly entertaining in its own screwed up kind of way.

I came out here to meet new, interesting people. On Saturday, I met an order of magnitude more people than I was prepared for, and none of them were actually obnoxious, or bad people, or in any way unfriendly or unwelcoming. 

I’m grateful to the bouncer for calling it a night before Kylie did something really dangerous, and to the barman for playing along like a good sport. I’m grateful to the randoms at the bar for getting into the spirit of things and letting the forces of nature that were Kylie, Charlotte and Pixie do their thing. I’m grateful to Charlotte and Pixie for being a lot of fun throughout the evening, and legitimately caring about their friendship (I’m generously saying that their decision to have Kylie stay at mine was based on good judgment of character, knowing they can trust me and maybe slightly impaired perception).

Mainly, I’m grateful to Kylie for opening the door on what was certainly the most interesting story I’ve encountered to date, and inviting me in.

It’s going to be a while before I’m up to something like that again, though.