#sorry for the shite photo i was too excited when it arrived

[tenroseforeverandever]

Double Blind

Characters: Rose Tyler; Tenth Doctor; Reinette; Adam Mitchell

Tags: AU - human; blind date; fluff; romance; humour

Summary: Rose Tyler has been set up on a blind date with a bloke she’s having a lot of misgivings about, but when he arrives, she finds he isn’t anything like she expected him to be.

Notes: This was written as part of a Classic Trope challenge on the Doctor x Rose Discord group. I got “Blind Date”. The story was actually inspired by one of the cute little stories on my French course on DuoLingo! To my brilliant beta team, @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, my undying gratitude, as always. You got me on the right track more than a few times, and with the amazing @aintfraidanoghosts, you helped me plan out the rough patches. My love to you all! 

Read also at: AO3; FF.net; TSP

Double Blind

Rose Tyler shifted in her seat and straightened the pale blue rose on the white table linens for the umpteenth time. She glanced covertly at the other tables around her: men and women dressed in nice suits and fine fabrics, eating meticulously presented food from china plates. Rose wriggled again, brushing invisible motes of lint from the cuffs of her white blouse, hoping she looked presentable. She told herself she couldn’t look too terribly out of place; the maître ’d hadn’t blinked an eye. 

She had never set foot inside a restaurant this upscale before. They didn’t have posh spots like this near the Powell Estate. But the French restaurant, Révélations, was where her date had insisted they meet. He’d texted her instructions to place a blue rose on the table in front of her so he could identify her when he arrived. The idea of the rose was obvious (her name) and the blue was, according to him, for hope that their date would be “just the first of many”. He hadn’t liked the idea of exchanging photos, which would have made identifying each other simple. He’d informed her that “a blind date is a blind date” and he wanted “to meet without any preconceived notions” or some rubbish like that. But Rose already had preconceived the notion that this bloke was a bit too sure of himself. It was just a bloody first date, after all, blind or not. He sounded like he was already practically planning their wedding.

She sighed, not for the first time over the last few days. Her friend, Shareen… actually Shareen’s new boyfriend whom Rose had never even met… had arranged this date: a bloke, named Adam Mitchell, whom he knew from the research labs at the Uni. The bloke had allegedly returned from college in the United States to do Post-Doctoral research on some hopelessly science-y subject Rose could barely even pronounce the name of. Why Shareen (or, more to the point, Shareen’s mysterious boyfriend…) had ever thought he would be a good match for her, Rose didn’t understand. She didn’t even have any A-levels to her name, and she worked in a shop, for God’s sake.

On top of that, if she was being honest, Adam had rubbed her a bit the wrong way with the dictatorial tone of his texts to her. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning.

“The last thing I need in my life right now,” she’d told Shareen in no uncertain terms, “is another condescending, controlling… shite boyfriend. Besides, I only just got rid of Jimmy. I really don’t think I’m ready for any sort of boyfriend.”

Shareen had scoffed. “But this isn’t Jimmy. This one actually has a real, functioning brain, and he has a proper career lined up. He has money, babe; he can look after you.”

“What? I’m supposed to be some kept woman? You sound like my flippin’ mum.”

It had taken some convincing, but eventually, Rose had tired of Shareen’s whinging, and capitulated, agreeing to go on this bloody date, despite her misgivings.

And here she sat, waiting for Adam to arrive, incessantly rearranging her stupid blue rose and terrified to order anything more than a glass of still water lest it bankrupt her. She felt like she’d been waiting forever but when she glanced at the time on her mobile, wondering if she’d been stood up, it turned out he wasn’t late… yet. Rose couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or disappointed.

After another five minutes of jittering her leg under the table linens and trying desperately not to bite her nails, she decided to pack it in. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want… this. She gathered her handbag from the floor by her feet, and made to stand, but stopped half-way. From the lobby, with the maître d’ standing next to him, appeared a tall, slender man a few years older than her. She observed him carefully for signs that he might be Adam: he had brown hair and eyes (check) and was wearing a suit and a tie adorned with blue flowers (check, again.)

So far so good.

Although, she had to admit, the overall image wasn’t quite what she’d expected from Adam, based on the tone of his texts to her. Somehow, she’d been expecting the brown hair to be carefully combed into place, not a delicious, expertly tousled mop that practically invited her to run her fingers through it. And the suit was a bit more casual than the “business casual” she’d been anticipating: rumpled brown with pinstripes; tie carelessly loosened from the confines of his collar; and a pair of battered, cream-coloured Converse on his feet, in place of dress shoes. Based on his tone, she’d thought Adam would have been more… put-together and formal.

Her heart dropped. It couldn’t be him. Loads of people had brown hair and eyes, and the tie… easily a coincidence. Besides, while she’d been told Adam was good-looking, this bloke was positively fit!

She watched with bated breath as he glanced around the restaurant. Her heart did a little flip when his eyes settled on the rose in front of her. Then his gaze lifted to hers and his face erupted into a wide, toothy grin. Rose’s breath caught and she immediately plonked back down into her seat.

She amended her first assessment: he wasn’t just fit; he was drop-dead, bloody gorgeous.

The man waved off the maître d’, who remained hovering behind him, and stepped toward Rose’s table. “Hello.” He continued to beam stupidly at her.

She figured her expression was equally ridiculous as she grinned back in a dreamy haze. “Hello.”

“The blue flower…” He nodded toward the rose in a soft Estuary accent that made her feel all gooey inside.

“Yeah. And the, erm… the tie,” she managed.

“The tie? Oh… yes, it’s one of my favourites. Love the tie. Erm…” he gestured to the empty chair across from her, “…may I?”

“Oh, God, sorry! Of course.”

He sat down and put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “So…”

“So…” Rose giggled (blimey, she wasn’t normally the giggly sort…), then pulled herself together. “So, you’re doing post-doctoral work at the Uni, yeah? On what was it, again?”

“Quantum and Temporal Physics.”

Rose gulped, really wishing she’d never let Jimmy-bloody-Stone manipulate her into dropping out of high school. Not that A-level anything would help her much in this situation, but at least she might have stood a chance. “Yeah, I thought it was something like that…”

“Fascinating field, really. My research is based on the premise that space and time are fundamentally linked at quantum level and that if we can travel on any trajectory through one, we should also be able to travel on any trajectory through the other. It’s just a matter of applying…” he rattled on, gesticulating with his hands. (He had lovely, long fingers, Rose mused dreamily, quite happy to listen to the cadence of his voice and imagine all the things those fingers could do.) “…and realigning the quantum matrices. You see, people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint…” He trailed off. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

“Just a bit, yeah.” She chuckled but her cheeks burned. “My brain checked out somewhere back around when you said, ‘space and time’.”

He cast her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I do this all the time. Donna, that’s my cousin, she calls me a great, big outer space dunce. I keep forgetting that not everyone is a genius, like me.” He sniffed and straightened his tie.

Rose arched her eyebrow at him. Okay, now this was more the Adam Mitchell she’d been expecting: a bit of a pretentious git.

“Oh, no! Sorry, so sorry! I’ve mucked it up again. I just meant… weeell, I am very clever, but I don’t mean that I think I’m better than other people… I just know things, I suppose. And I get excited and like to talk about them because I want to share my knowledge… and as Donna pointed out, I’m also a dunce.”

Rose’s heart swelled with sudden affection. He wasn’t being pretentious after all; he was just being… forthright, sweet.

“And getting back to what I really meant to say, earlier,” he blurted, “all that gobbledygook about time… it’s really just a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.” 

Rose laughed. “Now that’s some science I can get my head around!”

He beamed at her again, his relief evident. “So, what do you do?”

Rose’s cheeks heated again. “Oh, me?” She averted her eyes, dreading the disappointment she would surely see settle on his face, but she supposed it was better she was upfront about it. “I’m just working in a shop… Henrick’s.”

“Oooooh, posh.” He waggled his eyebrows, setting her off giggling again. “I commend you. Not just anyone can handle rude customers all day. I bet you get some doozies in there!”

Bemused, Rose could only nod in agreement.

“I’d end up shouting at them and get fired the same day.”

“I feel like that too, sometimes, but I’ve learned to handle it, I guess. I’m top sales, every month.”

“Oh, well done! Brilliant!” He seemed genuinely proud of her achievement. There was no sarcasm in his tone or delivery, just open enthusiasm.

“But I really want to go back and get my A-levels,” she insisted, feeling she had to defend herself. “I was good at English and French back in school… and Art! I used to love painting!”

“I reiterate: brilliant! You should do just that if it’s what you want. What sort of things–”

The waiter stepped up to their table at that moment to offer them menus and tell them about the specials of the day. Rose listened intently. The food all sounded very opulent, and was probably delicious, but she didn’t have a clue what half of it was. She did her best to keep up, nodding politely and making interested noises at appropriate points.

“May I offer you something to drink while you peruse the menu?” the waiter offered.

“Oh, erm…” Rose stammered. What she really wanted was to order a pint, but she didn’t think that would go over too well at Révélations. And she didn’t want to order anything too expensive…  “I’d love a glass of red wine.”

“We have a lovely selection of fine house wines for you to choose from.” The waiter opened the wine menu and pointed to the appropriate section.

Rose bit her lower lip, the words swimming before her eyes, and her heart somersaulting around her chest. “I… erm…” She glanced over to Adam, who was watching her with slightly narrowed eyes. She couldn’t help thinking he was sizing her up… and she was failing. Then his expression softened, and he offered her a compassionate smile.

“Oooh, a glass of red sounds good. How about we just order a bottle?”

Rose nodded fervently.

“What do you recommend?” he asked the waiter.

When the wine was selected and the waiter had finally left, Rose opened her menu and pretended to read over the selections. She glanced shyly up at Adam from beneath her fringe. He too, was engrossed in the menu. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t thank me yet.” His eyes met hers, sparkling with amusement. “We can only hope our waiter chose a nice wine for us. Aaand, speak of the devil…”

The waiter reappeared, opened the wine, and poured a little into each of their glasses to taste. Rose held the glass to her lips, hesitantly taking a small sip. She hummed her appreciation as the fruity flavour exploded over her tongue.

Adam was decidedly less reserved in his approach. With a flourish of his eyebrows at Rose and a quirk of a smile, he swirled the liquid around his glass, and sniffed it intently. (The show-off!) “Ahhh… that’s lovely. And do I detect… NO! It can’t be? Is that an overtone of... bananas?” He winked at Rose.

“Bananas, sir?” The waiter goggled at him. “I… erm… bananas?”

Rose clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back the bark of laughter building in her throat.

“Oh, I love bananas!” Adam cheered. “Always bring a banana to a party. And if you can’t do that, find a brilliant wine with overtones of bananas! This is lovely, don’t you think?” he addressed Rose.

“Lovely, yeah,” she agreed.

“Pour away, my good man!”

As the poor, perplexed waiter filled their glasses, he asked: “Have you had a chance to view the menu?”

Rose met Adam’s eyes and gave a little shake of her head. He turned to the waiter. “A few more minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll come back in a little while.”

As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Rose couldn’t contain herself any longer: “Oh my God! Bananas?!”

“Oh, I thought he needed to lighten up a bit. This place is all a bit hoity-toity, in my opinion.” His eyes suddenly widened. “I hope you don’t mind…”

“Are you kidding? That was the best thing I’ve heard all week. The look on his face!”

“I know!”

They did nothing but grin stupidly at each other over sips of their wine for a few minutes, breaking into hopeless giggles every so often.

Adam took a deep breath and a gulp of wine. “So,” he asked, returning the subject to their earlier conversation, “back to school, eh? Is that something you’d want to do?”

“I think so, yeah. I want to at least be able to say I got my A-levels. I let a boy convince me I didn’t need them, and it was the worst decision I’ve ever made. I feel like… I dunno, it would be like taking my life back.”

He offered her a warm smile. “Well, good for you! And then… uni?”

“Maybe… who knows? Would that matter?” She worried the corner of her lower lip between her teeth. Despite her hesitancy to come on this date, she was really liking this bloke. She could see herself spending more time with him… if he were amenable. ‘Course she wouldn’t let on to Shareen. Shareen would be insufferable.

“What? No! Of course not! Uni is not the be-all and end-all. There are so many other avenues to pursue if that’s what you want. It was right for me, obviously, but…weeell…” he tugged on his ear, “you certainly don’t need my approval.”

Rose offered him a grateful little smile and ducked her head. She sighed happily. “What I’d really love to do, first, is take a year or so and just travel. Explore the world.”

“Oh, I’d love to travel too! I’ve spent so long at school. I mean I’ve studied in the States, but I never really had much chance to look around, to explore. I love to explore!”

“Me too! I’ve never been anywhere ‘cept when me and mum used to cram into Cousin Mo’s old car and drive to a beach in Dorset for a few days on the summer hols. Mum must have gotten sick of my whinging. She finally left me behind when I was fourteen. Blimey, she and Mo must have had a grand ol’ time without me taggin’ along.”

They both laughed.

“Where would you go,” she asked, “if you could choose?”

“Oh, I rather like the idea of blindfolding myself and throwing a dart at a map of the world. Seeing where the wind takes me.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect! But, on your own?” Rose blurted out the words, not thinking through how they would sound. He would probably think she was inviting herself along on this imaginary trip they were planning. Bloody hell, she’d not known him for more than twenty minutes.

He shrugged, his cheerful expression crumbling a bit around the edges. “There is no one else… not really…” His fringe fell over his face as he pointedly turned his eyes to the menu.

There was history there, and Rose wanted to learn more, but in this moment she just wanted to be there for him. She found herself dismissing any worries about being too forward, and impulsively, she reached across the table and rested her hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There’s me.” She licked her lips as his hand twitched under hers, sure he was going to pull it away.

Instead, he flipped his over so their palms were touching. A zing of something bloody brilliant coursed through her, and as their eyes met, she knew he felt it too, a shared energy. It felt so right. She swore she could feel the turn of the Earth, the ground under her feet spinning at a thousand miles an hour, like she was falling through space.

Stunned by the feelings exploding inside her, she opened her menu to divert her mind. Glancing up she saw Adam was doing the same.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed, their hands still touching; it seemed neither of them was willing to break the link between them. Finally, Adam spoke, gesturing to the menu, “So, what do you like, Reinette? It’s my first time here; I was hoping you could tell me what’s good.”

Rose let his words sink in. What was he on about? Hadn’t he selected this restaurant? Was this some sort of test? Frowning, she slid her hand from his. “It’s my first time here, too… Wait!” She pursed her lips as she processed his words. “Did you just call me… Reinette?”

His eyes bulged, his eyebrows disappearing under his fringe. “Oh, blimey! You aren’t…?” He ran a desperate hand through his hair. “I take it you’re not Reinette, then?”

Rose chuckled, shaking her head. “Never heard of her. And I’ll wager your name’s not Adam?”

“Adam?” He frantically ruffled his hair again. “Blimey! No, I go by Jonathan Noble.”

“Nice to meet ya, Jonathan Noble. Rose Tyler.”

“Rose Tyler, eh? Roooose Tyler. I have to admit, I like the sound of that. It suits you much better than Reinette. Aaaand, it goes a long way to explaining why you weren’t quite what I was expecting… Turns out, I wasn’t expecting you at all. I was expecting… well, Reinette, who I have to admit,” his voice dropped to a confidential whisper as he leaned across the table toward Rose, “seemed a little full of herself… a bit la-di-da, if you know what I mean?”

“Don’t I just,” she whispered back. “I got the same vibes from Adam. And then you… you seemed so…” she chewed on the corner of her finger, “…so… I dunno. We just seemed to click, yeah?”

He beamed. “Oh, yes! You know, looking back, now… I was a little surprised when you didn’t know what wine to order. I assumed Reinette was the sort that would be able to rattle on about fine wines until she was blue in the face.”

“I know! I kinda had the same experience with you… just the way you were dressed, yeah. I was expecting something a little more… proper, I guess.” His smile faltered and she felt a little rush of panic. “Oh, God! No, no! I didn’t mean…  I love this, what you’re wearing. It’s comfortable and, erm… approachable. It really suits you.”

“You think?” He flushed and tugged on his ear, his eyes filling with hope.

“Oh, yeah! And the Chucks… inspired!”

Rose glanced up past Jonathan’s shoulder, distracted by a woman who had just arrived and was putting up a bit of a fuss to the maître d’. “Erm, Jonathan…” she asked, trying to come off as casual, “…what made you think I was this Reinette-person?”

“Well, I was told to look for a beautiful blonde. And she told me she would have a blue flower… a lily! She’s originally from France. A blue lily! Oh…” He glanced down at Rose’s flower, lying beside her napkin, his mouth dropping open.  “Erm… you have a… a rose. Some genius I am, eh?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, easy mistake to make. I mean, what are the odds: specifically a blue flower? But...” she grimaced, nodding toward the reception area, “I’m afraid the real Reinette might have just arrived.”

Jonathan spun around in his chair and Rose followed the path of his eyes. The woman sniping at the maître d’ was a striking blonde, dressed in a chic, expensive-looking pantsuit. She was holding a blue lily and peering around the dining room.

Rose’s heart plummeted. She would never be able to compete with such a beautiful, sophisticated woman. What would a genius like Jonathan Noble ever want with a chav from an estate in Peckham, when he could have the likes of Reinette? She picked up her handbag and swept her blue rose into it. “Thanks for being so nice, Jonathan, but it seems your date has arrived.” She offered him a tight smile as she stood to leave.

“What? What? No, no, no! Please stay… Rose Tyler.” Her name rolled deliciously off his tongue again and he begged her with big, sad, puppy-dog eyes. And then there was his delectable, pouting lower lip… oh, wouldn’t she just love to kiss that lip?

“I… I can’t. It’s not right. I mean she’s so… you know… and I’m not...”

“Please? Rose? I was enjoying talking to you; really, properly enjoying it!”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” he assured her with a little impatient nod. “Sit, please.”

Rose hesitated.

“Please.”

“Oh, all right!” If this lovely man wanted to finish this date with her, who was she to argue. They really had been getting along very well, after all. That energy between them when they’d held hands… she’d felt a connection with him like nothing she’d never experienced  before. A delightful shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

“By the way,” Jonathan asked as she settled herself again, “what made you think I was Adam? Was it the tie?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s just you mentioned it when I first arrived.”

“Oh, right,” Rose laughed. “Well, you obviously were looking for the flower too… but you – I mean he – told me he’d be wearing a tie with blue flowers on it. And there you were: tie with blue flowers. The two clues together…”

“Pure coincidence.” He winked. “I’d even venture to call it serendipitous, and I don’t generally believe in luck.”

“Oh, you don’t even know me yet.” Rose flashed him a toothy grin. “I could bring you nothing but misfortune, you never know.”

He dragged his gaze up from where the tip of her tongue teased him from the corner of her smile to meet her eyes. “Oh no, Rose Tyler, you have already saved me from a fate worse than death.” He nodded to Reinette who was currently flouncing through the restaurant, probably looking for him.

Rose bit her lip, stifling yet another giggle. “I haven’t saved you yet. Look out! She’s headed this way.”

“Oh, if I believe in one thing, I believe in you.” He reached over the table to squeeze her hand. “You’ll save me. You are my lucky pants.”

“Your what?” Unable to contain herself any longer, she burst into a full belly-laugh, but she gulped it back quickly as Reinette swept up to their table.

“Excuse me?” Reinette spoke with a light but haughty French accent and gave Rose a critical once-over before turning her attention to Jonathan. “Are you Jonathan Noble?”

Jonathan offered the woman a perplexed frown. “You must be mistaken. My name is… erm…” he scrubbed at the back of his neck, “…Adam.”

Reinette pursed her lips, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “So, this means nothing to you, then?” With a flourish she showed him the lily.

“Oh, weeell, it’s a lovely flower… but, no…”

Reinette’s narrowed gaze flicked between the two of them, and Rose offered her a polite smile. With a harrumph, she moved away from their table to continue her search.

“Dodged that bullet!” Jonathan told Rose.

“Well, at least you didn’t get stood up.” Rose rolled her eyes, wondering what had happened to the real Adam.

“His loss. And my good fortune! See? You are my lucky pants.”

She shook her head. “You’re daft, you are! I guess we should take a look at these menus, yeah?”

He spent a few seconds flipping through the pages of the menu, then he sighed. “Actually… I know the wine is lovely – overtones of bananas and all – but since neither of us chose this restaurant, what do you say we pay for the wine and find somewhere else to eat. That is, if you want?”

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. “I know a really great pub not far from here that’s a little more my scene. They brew their own and they make the best fish and chips. I want chips.”

“Me too! Sounds brilliant. Shall we?”

Standing, she nodded fervently, and he threw some bills on the table to cover the cost of the wine, then offered her his elbow. She blushed, accepting his arm.

“Allons-y!” he chirped.

As they made their way to the maître d’ to offer their apologies, Reinette stormed up to them. “You lied to me! You are Jonathan Noble.” Her beautiful face was contorted in fury and she pointed adamantly at his shoes. “You told me you’d be wearing Converse with your… ahem…” she curled her lip, “...suit.”

“Weeell…” Jonathan’s shoulders tensed, and Rose could only hold her breath, waiting to see how he would respond. He flourished the arm that wasn’t linked with hers. “You got me! I admit. I lied. It seems there was a case of mistaken identity, two blind dates that got muddled up, and weeeell… Rose and I rather hit it off.” He was going for the honest approach, and Rose was quietly relieved.

Reinette, however, was livid! “Ridiculous!”

“I’m sorry,” Rose added, feeling the need to back Jonathan up. “He really did think I was you. We both had a blue flower, you see…”

Reinette snarled at Rose, then whipped around to face Jonathan. “I do not get… stood up! I insist you have dinner with me!”

Rose was distracted from Jonathan’s terse response by the insistent buzzing of her mobile with multiple incoming texts. She dropped his arm and scrambled in her handbag, finally finding the phone at the very bottom. The screen was lit up with no fewer than five notifications from Adam. It seemed he was running rather late, but told Rose, in no uncertain terms, that he expected her to wait for him.

“I’m worth the wait,” read his final text, followed by winky and aubergine emojis.

Rose rolled her eyes and fought her gag reflex. There was no bloody way she was going to wait for that tosser. And she was going to be having a few sharp words with Shareen about her (and her boyfriend’s) concept of what her ideal date looked like.

As it turned out, Rose thought as her eyes settled fondly on Jonathan, she had a pretty good picture of exactly what her ideal date looked like. And unfortunately, right now, he wasn’t faring well in his battle with Reinette. It was time for her to rescue him one more time.

“Tell ya what, Reinette,” she cut into the other woman’s rant, “a young man named Adam Mitchell is on his way here… right now. He’ll be wearing a tie with blue flowers and he’ll be expecting his date to have one of these...” She pulled the blue rose from her handbag and thrust it at the stunned Reinette. “Oh, and I don’t think he believes anyone could ever stand him up either, so you should get along famously.” 

With that, she slipped her hand into Jonathan’s, and as one, they turned toward the door and pushed it open. As they burst onto the pavement, they nearly knocked over a dark-haired young man, wearing a tie with gaudy blue flowers all over it.

“Oi!” he barked as they sputtered half-hearted apologies and hurried along the pavement.

“Was that…?” Jonathan started.

“Adam?” Rose finished for him. “Yeah, I think it must have been.” Their eyes met and they erupted into laughter and looked back over their shoulders to find Reinette and (presumably) Adam fuming in the doorway of the restaurant.

Gripping Jonathan’s hand tighter, Rose grinned up at him. “Run!” she shouted.

“Oh, yes!” he cheered as they took off at a sprint.

As she ran hand in hand with Jonathan, Rose felt as though she had something to look forward to for the first time in a long time. She had walked into Révélations dreading the evening ahead, but a simple mix-up had turned her blind date into a matter of pure blind luck. Now she was running toward a future full of promise and opportunity, a future she rather suspected Jonathan Noble would be a significant part of. 

She grinned. It was going to be fantastic.

[ragehappysecretsanta]

Sorry I’m Late

Author: http://rejectedusername-trashfics.tumblr.com/

Recipient: http://theloveandthestuff.tumblr.com

Summary: The photographer for Gavin Free’s Texas photoshoot is late, and Gavin is less than pleased. Maybe the arrival of Gavin’s celebrity crush might turn it around. But the celebrity’s coming out of retirement is not the same as what Gavin assumed.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,733

Sorry I’m Late

Gavin had not always desired to be a model. He had originally signed up for photography school, but his professor had used him as a classroom model most of the time. The professor suggested that he become a model instead of a photographer. So, Gavin tried modeling and was quickly picked up for photoshoots all across Europe.

The fame had gone to his head, and he thought he needed to be a famous model all across the globe. After he had gotten big in Europe, he decided to try his hand at modeling in America. He started off in New York where he was able to pick up an American manager, Michael Jones. Jones scheduled him for magazine photoshoots all over America, all the way from New York to Los Angeles. Gavin Free was becoming a well-known magazine model. People everywhere would swoon over him.

This latest shoot was a summer-themed shoot down in Austin, Texas. Gavin had never imagined going down to Texas before this.

Gavin looked around excitedly as he and Michael entered the set of the photoshoot. “I can’t believe we’re all the way down in Texas!” Gavin exclaimed giddily as he took the environment it.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, this and Texas heat sure is something,” he said.

Gavin hopped up and down. “We’re in Austin! The capital of Texas, no less.”

“Uh huh.”

“Though, I thought that if we were going to do a Texas themed photoshoot, we would do it at a ranch or something.”

“The photographer wanted to get some shots with you at Lady Bird Lake,” Michael explained as he gestured towards the lake. “Besides, there’s a ranch-like set up over there, by the trailers,” he further explained as he pointed to the Texas ranch set.

Gavin huffed. “No matter. Texas has still got to be the most American place!”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Really? You sure the most American place wouldn’t be on the east coast? Like, the place where America fucking started?” he asked, annoyed.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Gavin replied with a shrug.

Michael shook his head. He never knew exactly what Gavin meant. “Whatever.” He pointed to the trailers off to the side of the ranch set. “That first trailer, over there, is where your wardrobe is gonna be.” Then he pointed to the trailer across from the wardrobe one. “And that one is where hair and makeup are.”

Gavin nodded. “Alright then. Will I have to change hair over the course of the shoot?”

“That’s up to the photographer.”

“Ah, I see.” Gavin scanned the set, looking for the photographer. He saw technicians making adjustments to the set, but he didn’t see anyone resembling a photographer. “Where is the bloke, anyway?”

Michael shifted his gaze around the set. “I don’t see him. I’m not sure if he’s here yet.”

“What?”

“Well, the shoot doesn’t start till 1. Plus, maybe he worked some stuff out for the shoot here, last night.”

“Alright. I’ll wait to start getting ready until he gets here,” Gavin suggested.

Michael shook his head. “Gavin, it’s 11. We should have had you in wardrobe an hour ago.”

“But, what if-”

“Just go get started with everything so you can be ready when he gets here,”

Gavin sighed in dismay. “Fine…” he whined.

He trudged over to the wardrobe trailer. Several minutes later, he ran out of the wardrobe trailer over to Michael wearing a skimpy outfit consisting of a belly shirt with a loose flannel on top, cowboy hat, brown cowboy boots, and booty shorts. “Michael, look!” he called out as wiggled his butt around to show off how sexually promiscuous he looked.

Michael looked Gavin up and down, then sighed. “Gavin, I’m pretty sure that’s not the wardrobe you’re supposed to be wearing.”

“Has the photographer gotten here yet?” Gavin asked.

“No, he’s not here yet. Now, you have to be serious. Go back and actually get dressed and get you hair and makeup done, or you’re going to be late,” Michael ordered.

Gavin nodded and ran back to the wardrobe trailer. The wardrobe crew put him in the right clothes for the first shoot: cargo shorts, sneakers, and a tight-fitting t-shirt. Then he ran over to the hair and makeup trailer. The hair crew flat-ironed his hair and made it look fluffy with product, while the makeup crew made his eyes look more defined.

Gavin was finished with everything at 1:05. “Shite!” he quietly said to himself. He couldn’t run because it would mess up his hair, so he quickly sped walked out of the trailer. “SORRY I’M LATE!” he called as he approached the set. He saw Michael standing there by the edge of the lake checking his phone, but still didn’t see any photographer. “Where the bloody toss is the photographer?!” he demanded.

Michael looked up from his phone. “I just got off the phone with him, he said there’s, like, a thirty mile back up.” Gavin sighed in defeat. “You know, you’re lucky he’s not here yet. Some of the bigger time photographers wouldn’t tolerate lateness.”

Gavin sighed. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed. “We wait for him to arrive, like normal people!” he emphasized.

Gavin groaned and stood impatiently. Michael tried to distract him by talking about one of Gavin’s favorite free-time hobbies, video games. Gavin took the bait and the two of them talked about Destiny for a bit. After a while, Gavin’s patience finally wore too thin. “What time is it?” he asked. He quickly grabbed Michael’s wrist to look at his watch. Gavin’s eyes grew wide as he saw the time. “1 freaking 40?!” he called out angrily.

“Gavin, calm down,” Michael pleaded.

“Is he even going to show up?!”

“He told me he was caught in a major traffic jam, when he called me.”

“That’s no bloody excuse! Does he know who I am?!” he angrily demanded.

Michael face-palmed and sighed. “Look, it’s this photographer’s first major gig. Cut him some slack.”

“It will be his last gig as well if he ever does decide to show up!”

“Gav-”

“I’ll tell all my contacts to make sure they never hire this bloody wanker! What a horrible first impression that this stupid, bloody, piss,” he began to rant in anger.

“SORRY I’M LATE!” a man yelled as he ran onto the set, interrupting Gavin’s train of thought. He was older, well built with broad shoulders, honey brown hair, and a handsome face; overall a very attractive man.

Gavin saw the man running, and his eyes blew up. He grabbed Michael and started shaking him. “Oh my god, Michael, do you know who that is?!” he demanded.

“Yeah, that’s the…”

“THAT’S JAMES HAYWOOD!” he squealed.

James finally got to Gavin and Michael. “Sorry… I’m late… traffic… was… murder. I got here… as fast as I could… God, I’m out of shape,” he wheezed.

“It’s no problem, and I don’t think you’re out of shape at all, Mr. Haywood.”

“Please, call me Ryan,” he said as he offered his hand out to shake.

“Ryan? I thought your name was,”

“James? James is my first name.  But, I’ve always preferred to go by my middle name, Ryan, so I’m doing that this time.”

Gavin nodded and gladly accepted the handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ryan.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. I wanted to meet who I was going to be working with before we got started. I was very excited to hear that I would get to be working with one of the most desirable models in Europe.”

“Oh, you knew who I was?” Gavin asked, surprised. Michael rolled his eyes, where he was standing off to the side, because Gavin had previously expected the photographer to at least know who he was.

“Of course,” Ryan continued, “I do my research. And If I’m being completely honest, the pictures did not do you justice.”

“Yeah.” Gavin braced himself to be torn apart by his lifelong idol.

“You are much more stunning in person.”

Gavin blinked and his mouth fell open in surprise. Then, he smiled at the compliment. “Really?”

“Oh, absolutely. Your slim figure, your fine assets--absolutely sublime!” Ryan complimented. Gavin blushed furiously. “Aww, you’re blushing.”

“I guess I need more makeup, then.”

“No, no, it’s extremely cute. We can totally use that in the shoot.”

“Oh, alright then,” Gavin replied with a smile. He felt as though he needed to compliment him back, and he thought back to the old modeling photos of James Haywood that he still kept to fantasize about. He was glad he could use those as a reference an excuse to compliment him back. “But well, my looks are nothing compared to yours,” he started.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you were a child-actor-turned-dreamy-90s-hunk. You were simultaneously who everyone wanted be and who everyone wanted to be with,” he gushed, his face blushing even more as he fondly thought more about Haywood’s modeling past.

Ryan glanced away as he remembered the fond memories and smiled. “Ah yes. I remember those days.”

“It was a bloody shame when you retired… But, now you’re back and everyone will fall in love with you again!”

Ryan stared off in to the distance as he remembered what his life was now and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “I don’t think they’ll be falling for me, this time,” he replied as he thought of different the roll he was taking in the modelling industry, this time.

“Nonsense! Have you seen yourself? You’re still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen!”

“Oh, thank you,” Ryan’s blush reddened.  He checked his watch. “Shit, it’s almost 2! And we’re already late, as is!” He turned back to Gavin. “I’ve gotta go grab my stuff, then we can get this shoot started.”

Gavin nodded excitedly, and Ryan sprinted off to his car. “Ooh, this is so exciting! This makes up for everything!”

“It does?” Michael asked.

“I get to model with my celebrity crush! Getting to model with James Haywood--or Ryan Haywood now--totally makes up for the fact that the photographer’s late,” he gushed.

Michael grinned. “I’m glad that makes you feel better, then.”

“It’s a shame the photographer’s still late, though.”

Then, Michael’s eyes widened in shock of Gavin’s obliviousness. “What? Gavin, no,”

“I hope Ryan doesn’t react too badly to that,” Gavin cut Michael off.

“Gavin, he is the-”

“BACK!” Ryan called as he came running back with his camera bag. “Okay, for this first outfit, I was thinking we use the set up at the corner of the set for more of a street feel since the city’s in the background. It’s a good thing I set up the lighting last night, could not have predicted traffic.”

Gavin looked Ryan up and down and was very surprised. “What?”

“You ready to head over there, or?”

“You’re... you’re… you’re modeling in what you’re wearing?”

“Oh, I won’t be modeling.”

“Huh?”

“You were right about me coming out of retirement. But I decided I wanted to try the modeling industry again from a different perspective. Instead of in front of the lens, I decided I was going to be behind the lens this time,” Ryan explained.

“You’re…”

“I’m going to be the photographer this time around,” Ryan concluded with a smile.

Gavin immediately felt bad for all threats he had made about ruining the photographer’s career before it really started. He dropped his head, “I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

Ryan tilted his head in confusion. “What? Why would you be sorry?”

“I’m sorry for complaining that you were late…”

“Like I said earlier, I seriously could not have predicted the traffic backup,” he reiterated. “It was a completely valid complaint that I was late, though.”

“I’m sorry I threatened to ruin your career.”

“Huh? What are you,” Ryan started to ask, in confusion.

“I was a right prick.”

“Sweetheart…”

Tears began to drop from Gavin’s face. “Sorry, I’ll have makeup fix me back up!” he cried as he ran off to the makeup trailer.

Ryan hesitated. “I am so confused.”

“Ryan,” Michael called. Ryan turned to face him. “Come over here for a minute.” Ryan moved over to where Michael was standing just off set. “Look, Gavin was having a big bitch fit before you got here. The modeling thing must have inflated his ego or something. But now that he knows who you are, he’s star struck. He feels bad about his bitch fit, because he still has such a big crush on you,” he explained.

“Oh,” Ryan’s face flushed. “I wasn’t here to hear the complaints, so I’m not mad about them. And I rather liked the conversation Gavin and I had.”

“But now he thinks you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him though. I think I’m rather fond of him, actually.”

Michael sighed. “Well, now Gavin’s gonna be a drama queen.”

“Hm…” Ryan thought for a moment. “I’m going to go see if I can fix this,” he announced as he began to jog towards the makeup trailer.

“GOOD LUCK!” Michael called out after him.

Ryan opened the door to the trailer to find Gavin crying in the makeup chair. “Oh, this is awful, Turney! My idol probably hates me now!” he sobbed to the makeup artist. The artist gave him looks and nods of sympathy

The makeup artist opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.  Ryan coughed to get everyone’s attention. “May I have a moment with him, Meg?” The artist nodded in understanding and stepped aside.  He walked over to Gavin. “Gavin, I’m not angry with you,” he said.

Gavin looked up, tear streaking his makeup, “Really? Is it even okay that I played with the other wardrobe and put on booty shorts, before you got here? What a right mess I was making.”

Ryan’s eyes got wide for a second as he pictured Gavin in booty shorts in his head. It made him think of an idea and he smirked, “I can’t decide what a better ‘punishment’ would be; telling you to put the booty shorts back on for my enjoyment, or telling you buy me dinner.”

Gavin blinked and let his mouth fall open in surprise, again. “Wait, what are you…?”

“But telling you that you have to pay on a first date would be a terrible thing to do when I’m the one asking you out. So as your punishment, I’d like you to let me buy you dinner, instead.”

“You’re asking me out… on a date?”

“Yes, I am asking you out on a date. If that would be alright,” Ryan replied with a smile.

Gavin quickly jumped out of the chair. “Oh my god, this is so amazing I could kiss you!” Then Gavin’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment and he face-palmed. “Bollocks, I really F-ed that up, didn’t I?”

Ryan snorted. “Not necessarily. It’s awfully forward of you, but I can appreciate that. If you really want to kiss me so much, then why don’t you,” he challenged.

Gavin pulled Ryan’s face towards his, and he shoved his tongue into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan blinked in surprise, then pushed his own tongue into Gavin’s. Ryan’s hands migrated to Gavin’s butt, Gavin didn’t seem to notice anything at first. He only noticed when Ryan gave his ass a light squeeze. Gavin moaned in pleasure quietly in response.

The artist groaned as she witnessed the passionate site in front of her. “Ugh! Now, I need to fix the makeup more,” she loudly complained to get the pairs attention.

Ryan’s eyes widened when he heard the groan and complaint and he immediately pulled away from the kiss. He had completely forgotten that Meg was in the trailer with them and he blushed furiously in embarrassment, he normally was not a fan of obnoxious PDA.  “Right,” he coughed. “Gavin, let’s get your makeup fixed so we can do this shoot. We can talk more about our date, afterwards,” he instructed as he quickly shuffled out of the trailer in shame.

Gavin nodded “Right.” He quickly scrambled back into the makeup chair. “Hope you enjoyed the show, Turney,” Gavin teased with a laugh. Meg sighed, rolled her eyes and got right to work fixing his makeup. The day had gone from bad to good to terrible and finally to amazing. Now he was really looking forward to whatever the photoshoot had in store.

[rejectedusername-trashfics]

Ragehappy Secret Santa- Sorry I’m Late

More Edited version of gift for  http://theloveandthestuff.tumblr.com

Summary: The photographer for Gavin Free’s Texas photoshoot is late, and Gavin is less than pleased. Maybe the arrival of Gavin’s celebrity crush might turn it around. But the celebrity’s coming out of retirement is not the same as what Gavin assumed.

Word Count: 2,740

Parings: Freewood

Gavin had not always desired to be a model. He had originally signed up for photography school, but his professor had used him as a classroom model most of the time. The professor suggested that he become a model instead of a photographer. So, Gavin tried modeling and was quickly picked up for photoshoots all across Europe.

The fame had gone to his head, and he thought he needed to be a famous model all across the globe. After he had gotten big in Europe, he decided to try his hand at modeling in America. He started off in New York where he was able to pick up an American manager, Michael Jones. Jones scheduled him for magazine photoshoots all over America, all the way from New York to Los Angeles. Gavin Free was becoming a well-known magazine model. People everywhere would swoon over him.

This latest shoot was a summer-themed shoot down in Austin, Texas. Gavin had never imagined going down to Texas before this.

Gavin looked around excitedly as he and Michael entered the set of the photoshoot. “I can’t believe we’re all the way down in Texas!” Gavin exclaimed giddily as he took the environment it.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, this and Texas heat sure is something,” he said.

Gavin hopped up and down. “We’re in Austin! The capital of Texas, no less.”

“Uh huh.”

“Though, I thought that if we were going to do a Texas themed photoshoot, we would do it at a ranch or something.”

“The photographer wanted to get some shots with you at Lady Bird Lake,” Michael explained as he gestured towards the lake. “Besides, there’s a ranch-like set up over there, by the trailers,” he further explained as he pointed to the Texas ranch set.

Gavin huffed. “No matter. Texas has still got to be the most American place!”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Really? You sure the most American place wouldn’t be on the east coast? Like, the place where America fucking started?” he asked, annoyed.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Gavin replied with a shrug.

Michael shook his head. He never knew exactly what Gavin meant. “Whatever.” He pointed to the trailers off to the side of the ranch set. “That first trailer, over there, is where your wardrobe is gonna be.” Then he pointed to the trailer across from the wardrobe one. “And that one is where hair and makeup are.”

Gavin nodded. “Alright then. Will I have to change hair over the course of the shoot?”

“That’s up to the photographer.”

“Ah, I see.” Gavin scanned the set, looking for the photographer. He saw technicians making adjustments to the set, but he didn’t see anyone resembling a photographer. “Where is the bloke, anyway?”

Michael shifted his gaze around the set. “I don’t see him. I’m not sure if he’s here yet.”

“What?”

“Well, the shoot doesn’t start till 1. Plus, maybe he worked some stuff out for the shoot here, last night.”

“Alright. I’ll wait to start getting ready until he gets here,” Gavin suggested.

Michael shook his head. “Gavin, it’s 11. We should have had you in wardrobe an hour ago.”

“But, what if-”

“Just go get started with everything so you can be ready when he gets here,”

Gavin sighed in dismay. “Fine…” he whined.

He trudged over to the wardrobe trailer. Several minutes later, he ran out of the wardrobe trailer over to Michael wearing a skimpy outfit consisting of a belly shirt with a loose flannel on top, cowboy hat, brown cowboy boots, and booty shorts. “Michael, look!” he called out as wiggled his butt around to show off how sexually promiscuous he looked.

Michael looked Gavin up and down, then sighed. “Gavin, I’m pretty sure that’s not the wardrobe you’re supposed to be wearing.”

“Has the photographer gotten here yet?” Gavin asked.

“No, he’s not here yet. Now, you have to be serious. Go back and actually get dressed and get you hair and makeup done, or you’re going to be late,” Michael ordered.

Gavin nodded and ran back to the wardrobe trailer. The wardrobe crew put him in the right clothes for the first shoot: cargo shorts, sneakers, and a tight-fitting t-shirt. Then he ran over to the hair and makeup trailer. The hair crew flat-ironed his hair and made it look fluffy with product, while the makeup crew made his eyes look more defined.

Gavin was finished with everything at 1:05. “Shite!” he quietly said to himself. He couldn’t run because it would mess up his hair, so he quickly sped walked out of the trailer. “SORRY I’M LATE!” he called as he approached the set. He saw Michael standing there by the edge of the lake checking his phone, but still didn’t see any photographer. “Where the bloody toss is the photographer?!” he demanded.

Michael looked up from his phone. “I just got off the phone with him, he said there’s, like, a thirty mile back up.” Gavin sighed in defeat. “You know, you’re lucky he’s not here yet. Some of the bigger time photographers wouldn’t tolerate lateness.”

Gavin sighed. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed. “We wait for him to arrive, like normal people!” he emphasized.

Gavin groaned and stood impatiently. Michael tried to distract him by talking about one of Gavin’s favorite free-time hobbies, video games. Gavin took the bait and the two of them talked about Destiny for a bit. After a while, Gavin’s patience finally wore too thin. “What time is it?” he asked. He quickly grabbed Michael’s wrist to look at his watch. Gavin’s eyes grew wide as he saw the time. “1 freaking 40?!” he called out angrily.

“Gavin, calm down,” Michael pleaded.

“Is he even going to show up?!”

“He told me he was caught in a major traffic jam, when he called me.”

“That’s no bloody excuse! Does he know who I am?!” he angrily demanded.

Michael face-palmed and sighed. “Look, it’s this photographer’s first major gig. Cut him some slack.”

“It will be his last gig as well if he ever does decide to show up!”

“Gav-”

“I’ll tell all my contacts to make sure they never hire this bloody wanker! What a horrible first impression that this stupid, bloody, piss,” he began to rant in anger.

“SORRY I’M LATE!” a man yelled as he ran onto the set, interrupting Gavin’s train of thought. He was older, well built with broad shoulders, honey brown hair, and a handsome face; overall a very attractive man.

Gavin saw the man running, and his eyes blew up. He grabbed Michael and started shaking him. “Oh my god, Michael, do you know who that is?!” he demanded.

“Yeah, that’s the…”

“THAT’S JAMES HAYWOOD!” he squealed.

James finally got to Gavin and Michael. “Sorry… I’m late… traffic… was… murder. I got here… as fast as I could… God, I’m out of shape,” he wheezed.

“It’s no problem, and I don’t think you’re out of shape at all, Mr. Haywood.”

“Please, call me Ryan,” he said as he offered his hand out to shake.

“Ryan? I thought your name was,”

“James? James is my first name. But, I’ve always preferred to go by my middle name, Ryan, so I’m doing that this time.”

Gavin nodded and gladly accepted the handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ryan.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. I wanted to meet who I was going to be working with before we got started. I was very excited to hear that I would get to be working with one of the most desirable models in Europe.”

“Oh, you knew who I was?” Gavin asked, surprised. Michael rolled his eyes, where he was standing off to the side, because Gavin had previously expected the photographer to at least know who he was.

“Of course,” Ryan continued, “I do my research. And If I’m being completely honest, the pictures did not do you justice.”

“Yeah.” Gavin braced himself to be torn apart by his lifelong idol.

“You are much more stunning in person.”

Gavin blinked and his mouth fell open in surprise. Then, he smiled at the compliment. “Really?”

“Oh, absolutely. Your slim figure, your fine assets--absolutely sublime!” Ryan complimented. Gavin blushed furiously. “Aww, you’re blushing.”

“I guess I need more makeup, then.”

“No, no, it’s extremely cute. We can totally use that in the shoot.”

“Oh, alright then,” Gavin replied with a smile. He felt as though he needed to compliment him back, and he thought back to the old modeling photos of James Haywood that he still kept to fantasize about. He was glad he could use those as a reference for an excuse to compliment him back. “But well, my looks are nothing compared to yours,” he started.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you were a child-actor-turned-dreamy-90s-hunk. You were simultaneously who everyone wanted be and who everyone wanted to be with,” he gushed, his face blushing even more as he fondly thought more about Haywood’s modeling past.

Ryan glanced away as he remembered the fond memories and smiled. “Ah yes. I remember those days.”

“It was a bloody shame when you retired… But, now you’re back and everyone will fall in love with you again!”

Ryan stared off in to the distance as he remembered what his life was now and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “I don’t think they’ll be falling for me, this time,” he replied as he thought of different the roll he was taking in the modelling industry, this time.

“Nonsense! Have you seen yourself? You’re still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen!”

“Oh, thank you,” Ryan thanked as his blush reddened further. He checked his watch. “Shit, it’s almost 2! And we’re already late, as is!” He turned back to Gavin. “I’ve gotta go grab my stuff, then we can get this shoot started.”

Gavin nodded excitedly, and Ryan sprinted off to his car. “Ooh, this is so exciting! This makes up for everything!”

“It does?” Michael asked.

“I get to model with my celebrity crush! Getting to model with James Haywood--or Ryan Haywood now--totally makes up for the fact that the photographer’s late,” he gushed.

Michael grinned. “I’m glad that makes you feel better, then.”

“It’s a shame the photographer’s still late, though.”

Then, Michael’s eyes widened in shock of Gavin’s obliviousness. “What? Gavin, no,”

“I hope Ryan doesn’t react too badly to that,” Gavin cut Michael off.

“Gavin, he is the-”

“BACK!” Ryan called as he came running back with his camera bag. “Okay, for this first outfit, I was thinking we use the set up at the corner of the set for more of a street feel since the city’s in the background. It’s a good thing I set up the lighting last night, could not have predicted traffic.”

Gavin looked Ryan up and down and was very surprised. “What?”

“You ready to head over there, or?”

“You’re... you’re… you’re modeling in what you’re wearing?”

“Oh, I won’t be modeling.”

“Huh?”

“You were right about me coming out of retirement. But I decided I wanted to try the modeling industry again from a different perspective. Instead of being in front of the lens, I decided I was going to be behind the lens this time,” Ryan explained.

“You’re…”

“I’m going to be the photographer this time around,” Ryan concluded with a smile.

Gavin immediately felt bad for all threats he had made about ruining the photographer’s career before it really started. He dropped his head, “I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

Ryan tilted his head in confusion. “What? Why would you be sorry?”

“I’m sorry for complaining that you were late…”

“Like I said earlier, I seriously could not have predicted the traffic backup,” he reiterated. “It was a completely valid complaint that I was late, though.”

“I’m sorry I threatened to ruin your career.”

“Huh? What are you,” Ryan started to ask, in confusion.

“I was a right prick.”

“Sweetheart…”

Tears began to drop from Gavin’s face. “Sorry, I’ll have makeup fix me back up!” he cried as he ran off to the makeup trailer.

Ryan hesitated. “I am so confused.”

“Ryan,” Michael called. Ryan turned to face him. “Come over here for a minute.” Ryan moved over to where Michael was standing just off set. “Look, Gavin was having a big bitch fit before you got here. The modeling thing must have inflated his ego or something. But now that he knows who you are, he’s star struck. He feels bad about his bitch fit, because he still has such a big crush on you,” he explained.

“Oh,” Ryan’s face flushed. “I wasn’t here to hear the complaints, so I’m not mad about them. And I rather liked the conversation Gavin and I had.”

“But now he thinks you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him though. I think I’m rather fond of him, actually.”

Michael sighed. “Well, now Gavin’s gonna be a drama queen.”

“Hm…” Ryan thought for a moment. “I’m going to go see if I can fix this,” he announced as he began to jog towards the makeup trailer.

“GOOD LUCK!” Michael called out after him.

Ryan opened the door to the trailer to find Gavin crying in the makeup chair. “Oh, this is awful, Turney! My idol probably hates me now!” he sobbed to the makeup artist. The artist gave him looks and nods of sympathy

The makeup artist opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted. Ryan coughed to get everyone’s attention. “May I have a moment with him, Meg?” The artist nodded in understanding and stepped aside. He walked over to Gavin. “Gavin, I’m not angry with you,” he said.

Gavin looked up, tear streaking his makeup, “Really? Is it even okay that I played with the other wardrobe and put on booty shorts, before you got here? What a right mess I was making.”

Ryan’s eyes got wide for a second as he pictured Gavin in booty shorts in his head. It made him think of an idea and he smirked, “I can’t decide what a better ‘punishment’ would be; telling you to put the booty shorts back on for my enjoyment, or telling you buy me dinner.”

Gavin blinked and let his mouth fall open in surprise, again. “Wait, what are you…?”

“But telling you that you have to pay on a first date would be a terrible thing to do when I’m the one asking you out. So as your punishment, I’d like you to let me buy you dinner, instead.”

“You’re asking me out… on a date?”

“Yes, I am asking you out on a date. If that would be alright,” Ryan replied with a smile.

Gavin quickly jumped out of the chair. “Oh my god, this is so amazing I could kiss you!” Then Gavin’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment and he face-palmed. “Bollocks, I really F-ed that up, didn’t I?”

Ryan snorted. “Not necessarily. It’s awfully forward of you, but I can appreciate that. If you really want to kiss me so much, then why don’t you,” he challenged.

Gavin pulled Ryan’s face towards his, and he shoved his tongue into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan blinked in surprise, then pushed his own tongue into Gavin’s. Ryan’s hands migrated to Gavin’s butt, Gavin didn’t seem to notice anything at first. He only noticed when Ryan gave his ass a light squeeze. Gavin moaned in pleasure quietly in response.

The artist groaned as she witnessed the passionate site in front of her. “Ugh! Now, I need to fix the makeup more,” she loudly complained to get the pairs attention.

Ryan’s eyes widened when he heard the groan and complaint and he immediately pulled away from the kiss. He had completely forgotten that Meg was in the trailer with them and he blushed furiously in embarrassment, he normally was not a fan of obnoxious PDA. “Right,” he coughed. “Gavin, let’s get your makeup fixed so we can do this shoot. We can talk more about our date, afterwards,” he instructed as he quickly shuffled out of the trailer in shame.

Gavin nodded “Right.” He quickly scrambled back into the makeup chair. “Hope you enjoyed the show, Turney,” Gavin teased with a laugh. Meg sighed, rolled her eyes and got right to work fixing his makeup. The day had gone from bad to good to terrible and finally to amazing. Now he was really looking forward to whatever the photoshoot had in store.

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 26

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where we’ll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com We’ll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, we’ve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/

                                                         A/N:

Hey loves, I’m sorry it’s been so long since an update. That’s on me, Telford. My real life deadlines and book releases have kicked my behind. 80,000 words is a hella lot to edit. But I’m back, and we hope it’ll be worth the wait. <3

Oh to answer a question: No, Tig wasn’t super close with J.T. (That we know of) In the series. That’s something we cooked up for this universe. There’s a lot of room to “read between the lines and embellish” in the series because they left so much uncovered.

                                           Mo Astor Chapter 26

Journee

I sit on the bed surrounded by clothing in various states of cleanliness and my bra and panties. I’m caught somewhere between getting dressed for a family dinner, and making a slide show. I swear Gemma is the biker version of Mommy Dearest. When she asks for something, she expects it to be done. Like all mothers and daughters, we’ve had many a falling out over it before I learned how to handle her in a diplomatic, non-combative, and open-ended manner. Unless she had an actual yes, you could work your way out of things when it came to her. Non-committal was the way to go. Lee had left not too long ago to stall her along with Jax to let me and Chibs get ready.

The sound of his motorcycle in our driveway makes me grin. He’d only been gone a few hours, but after spending every waking hour with him, it felt like an eternity. I quickly finish the line-up, press the save button, and set the computer aside. I meet him in the doorway, and he sweeps me up into his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and whimper as he kisses me like his life depends on it. I’m lost in the taste and smell of him. Leather, mint, cigarettes, and his favorite cologne. I can’t fight the urge to wrap my legs around his waist.

He moans, and I slip my tongue into his mouth, taking the lead. He growls, and I bury my hand in his rapidly growing hair and tug. I tilt my head, hungry for more as he walks me toward the bed. He turns and lowers onto the bed with me on his lap. I grind against the bulge in his jeans. We part, breathing heavily.

“She’ll kill us if we’re late,” I rasp.

“I’ll kill her if we aren’t.” he buries his fingers in my hair and tugs. I go pliant under his heavy-handed ministrations. He knows exactly how to turn me into a quivering mass of need.

“Stand up and take your knickers and your bra off for Daddy.”

I rise, hook my thumbs in my underwear and give him a little strip tease. He empowers me. There’s no need for embarrassment or shyness when his hungry gaze is upon me. He licks his lips, and I giggle as I step out of the underwear I just put on post shower. I pop the bra, and he sighs like I’m a vision.

“Aye lass, you’re even lovelier than I remembered. Now come and take your Daddy out.”  

I walk over to him, keeping his face eye level with my breasts and I lean in, gripping his knees. He bites my stiff nipple, and I yelp as I slowly lower to the ground, keeping my legs wide, so he can see how much I want him. My old man likes to watch.

“So wet for me lennan.”

“Always, Daddy.”

“Shite.”

I unzip his pants and free him from his boxers and denim prison. He springs to life, and I cup the base and stroke him. His silk over steel in my hands. I lean in and circle his head with the tip of my tongue.  I suck him in, enjoying his salty flavor as I moisten his stiff cock. He groans and rocks his hips. “As much as I’d like to drag this out, I need to be buried inside your kitty more.”

I release him with a pop and climb onto his lap. The site of him gripping his base for me sends a fresh gush of liquid from my core. The man is pure masculine sensuality in motion. I ease myself on, whimpering as he stretches me as I slowly lower onto him. The pain quickly yields to pleasure, and I grip his shoulders. “Ride me love, hard and fast.” He strokes my swollen clit, and I let out a cat-like yowl.

“You’re so big, Daddy. You fill me up.”

“Jaysus Christ.” He rubs faster as I find a steady rhythm. I clench around him, and he gives a rumbling purr of approval. “Just like that love.”

The slap of our skin and the feel of him moving inside me have me coasting on the edge. “So close.”

“Aye. Give it to me my little lass.” He gives a final swipe as my orgasm hits, and grips my hips as he controls my speed. I scream as I convulse and he slams in and out of me, heightening my pleasure before he yields, exploding inside me. There’s no time for a lengthy loving when the Queen is waiting. I rest my head on his shoulders as the aftershocks continue to rocket through my body. I reluctantly unwrap my arms from his neck and stand up. He grabs my wrist.

“Leave it, love. I want to know I’m still inside ye tonight.”

I nod my head and bend down, cupping the side of his face as I brush his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mo astor, with everything I am.”

“You sit. I’ll clean you up for once,” I say as I move to the bathroom, enjoying the feel of his warmth inside me.  I know our relationship isn’t normal. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, all-consuming, soul deep, and intense enough to border on scary. We’re bound together forever.

***

Ten minutes later we’re roaring down the streets of Charming, and I’ve got my hands out, enjoying the feel of the wind against my face and the setting sun on my back. There’s nothing like being back home. I have a Disc loaded with some of the best shots from our vacation and trinkets for Mom. Heaven forbid I leave the country and not think about her. I hold Chibs tighter. I still can’t believe this man is officially my husband. Journee Ryther Teller Telford. It’s a long ass name, but it describes everything a person would need to know about me. I was raised by clubs. Brought up around women and men most couldn’t understand and feared.

Violence was a normal part of life, and while woman knew their place, they were tougher than the average, because they had to be. When your man is constantly away you have to be able to hold things down and have his back when he needs it. I knew how to pitch a decent alibi by the time I was three. It’s a different lifestyle, but the only one I know. When I went off to college, I learned swiftly I’d never make it in the civilian world. I couldn’t do the niceties, politically correct talk, ass kissing, and rule following. The things most kids Lee and I’s age found entertaining were old hat. Who needed to get wasted every weekend when we’d been allowed to drink since we hit sixteen?

I used to think all I needed was a SamCro Brother. It was part of the reason I gave Kyle a chance to start with. I couldn’t have been more wrong. But everything I’d endured led me to the place I needed to be. So I’d do it all over again to land here.

We pull into the driveway and my excitement ramps up. With all the wedding plans it seems like I haven’t seen anyone in a relaxed state in ages, and I missed my Juicy. I was a bit bummed when he wasn’t home when we arrived at the house. I hop off the bike, and Chibs backs in. He hands me Gemma’s crystal set from Scotland and the disc and walks around to wrap an arm around my waist and guide me to the front door.

We knock, and she answers with a smirk. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

I Grin. “Hi, mom.”

“Don’t’ be too mad at her Mother, Its me fault we’re late,” he says.

“Seeing as how you just got back from your honeymoon I’ll let it slide, just this once,” She says with a wink.

“This is for you,” I hand her the box and the disc like peace offerings.

“How sweet of you thinking about me baby. Are these the photos?”

“Yes, ma’am. I made a quick slide show.” “That’s my girl.” We hug, and she kisses my cheek before moving on to do the same with Chibs.

I walk inside and catch site of Juice. My heart squeezes, and we both beam. He stands, and I rush to him, laughing when he lifts me off the ground. The maternal feelings are real with this kid. I rub the back of his head. “You stay out of trouble?”

“Relax, Ma. He did good while you and Da were away,” Tig drawls. I blow him a kiss. “I missed you too, Tiggy.”

I’m passed around the table, as hugs and kisses on the cheek are issued. I end up in Hap’s arms, inhaling the dark scent that used to be the most comforting in the world until Chibs.

“You look good, Cocoa. Have a good time?” he asks softly. I nod my head.

“The best time, Hap.”

“He gives me a quick squeeze. “Good.”

We step back, and I make my way back over to Chibs.

“We got a lot to celebrate tonight. I got my babies in one room again,” Gemma says.

“Good to have you back, brother, Baby J,” Clay says.

“Good to be back,” we say at the same time before laughing.

Clay shakes his head, and I take my seat squeezed between Jax, who's on the opposite side of Lee, and Chibs with Juicy and Hap across from me. I’m insulated by all my people. It’s the best homecoming I could’ve asked for.

The conversation begins to flow as the food is passed around and dished up.

“Did you ever see something in Scotland other than your bedroom,” Tig asks.

“Aye brother, plenty more.”

“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Tig quips.

“We actually brought some for you guys,” I say smugly.

He sticks his tongue out, and I laugh. To be one scary son-of-a-bitch the man is an overgrown child.

“How was the food?” Bobby asks.

“You would ask that,” Chibs drawls as the table erupts into laughter.

“It was good, but I missed your muffins,” I say placating him with a wink.

“Tell us what we missed,” Chibs says slyly turning the conversation away from us with a light squeeze of my knee. I take a drink of water to hide my smirk.

I enjoy the lasagna as we hear animated tales of customers who forget Samcro weren’t your average mechanics, and tales of Sac, my husband’s idiotic prospect.

The night flies by like it always does when we’re all together, and we move to the living room where Juicy rigs everything up to show the photos. I sit sideways on Chibs lap as the slideshow fires up, relaxing against him as he explains each location. His rich baritone is soothing, and he’s a natural storyteller. I relive the memories as he explains the legends and lore connected with the different places we visited. I think Scotland stole a bit of my heart.

A picture pops up that makes the blood rush to my face as Juicy quickly clicks past it.

“Waait. Was that …. Nipple?”  Tig asks.

“You aren’t the only one who likes to play games, Tiggy,” Chibs drawls as he moves on to talk about the castle in the next photo. I cover my face as the cheers go up in the room, and all eyes turn to me. There never was any such thing as keeping secrets among this crowd, and eventually, our flash me game was going to be walked in on.  My family, can’t live with them, can’t kill them all and not have questions asked.

[thisisntjustmsthisisleahsms-blog]

Not the Good Hand.

Having finally gone through the large folder full of my hospital letters, which in retrospect I should have done before starting the blog, I would like to clarify a few things from the previous chapter. The time it took for me to actually get my diagnosis, was quite a bit longer than I’d remembered it being. The date of my second appointment with Dr Gillmore and the official date of my diagnosis was October 2011, nearly a whole year after the resting bitch face incident and even then, it wasn’t a proper diagnosis. It was referred to as a clinically isolated syndrome with demyelination... yeah I have no idea what that means either, but I can tell you now it was NOT an isolated incident.

I’d also just like to correct the hilarity that was me telling you all that I had LEGIONS on my brain.

Legion

 1.    A division of 3,000–6,000 men, including a complement of cavalry, in the ancient Roman army.

 What I meant to put was LESIONS – I do not have a small Roman army pillaging my head. Thanks to mum for pointing that out.

 Lesion

 1.    A region in an organ or tissue which has suffered damage through injury or disease, such as a wound, ulcer, abscess, or tumour.

 Anyway, now that’s all cleared up, where was I?

 The Head Tilt Phenomenon

“I mean, the probability is that this won’t affect you again until much later on in life. You could be in your... mid 40’s maybe, before you have a relapse.”

Please remember this. This statement from Dr Gillmore was the reason I decided that it didn’t matter about the MS, because clearly, I was indestructible. MS? HA! Not going to affect me for another 20 years or so, drop the mic, leave the office, see you in 20.

I thanked Dr Gillmore (although thinking about it I’m not really sure why... do you thank someone for basically giving you a life sentence?) And we left. As we got into the lift to go down to B floor, I remember feeling very non-plussed by the whole thing. If this lead neurology consultant has just told me it’s probably not going to happen again until I’m like 40, it doesn’t really mean anything right now does it? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me and even when it does happen again, it’s only a numb face. Maybe it’ll even out? Give the right hand side a couple of numb weeks? Literally couldn’t hurt and this changes NOTHING.

And that right there guys and girls, that carefree train of thought is why you do NOT make those sorts of off handed comments to stupid teenagers. They will take it for gospel. No amount of the use of the word ‘maybe’ will change that.

To the best of my recollection, we had driven to the appointment. It’s not really relevant, but I know some of you like the little details, a little something to set the scene if you will. We drove home (probably) and I flounced into the house, not a care in the world. I was actually in quite a good mood at this point because I’d started to be able to taste things on both sides of my mouth again; all I was thinking about was eating a bacon cheese burger. And then I saw Dad.

I can only assume that Mum had rang him at some point and given him an update on the situation, because as I walked through the living room door he turned, looked up at me from the sofa and he pulled the most sad, melancholy, disneyesque face I have ever seen to date, it was like looking at Droopy. This is when he tilted his head. Most of you reading this are guilty of doing the head tilt, whether it be in response to a friend whose dog has died or upon discovering that there are no more Oreos left in the cupboard. Both excellent reasons for tilting ones head, however, the amount of times I’ve wanted to slap someone upside their head for tilting it at me in a sort of “oh my God, I’m so sorry, how long have you got left?” kind of way, is unreal. So please, don’t EVER tilt your head at someone who has just told you they are disabled. Yes be considerate and ask questions, but I’m not a fucking puppy stuck in a pipe.

“How are you feeling?”

Well, to be honest with you Dad, I was feeling pretty perplexed. The only time I’d seen his face come even close to how it was on that day, was when he watched Lenny Henry feeding sugar water to a malnourished African child on a previous year’s Red Nose Day. Why is he looking at me like I’m a malnourished African child? I was genuinely confused at the reaction this irrelevant news was receiving. I told him I was fine, asked if anyone wanted a cup of tea and left the room post haste, as mum proceeded to point out to him that everything was fine, I wasn’t dying and that it probably wouldn’t affect me for a very long time. I can’t cope with this shite; I can’t deal with the seemingly soothing voice asking if I’m ok every 5 minutes, whilst looking at me like I’m made of glass. I decided to ring a friend and go for a walk. My apologies to you Louise, I can’t remember the full details of the conversation we had on that particular day, we’ve had a lot of serious conversations and a lot of long walks, they’ve all blended into one. What I can tell you is that there were numerous inappropriate jokes about my gammy face and that we 100% agreed that it was fine and it wouldn’t happen again for a very long time.

BULLSHIT.

The Hangover and The Claw

An unfortunate, yet sometimes comical side effect of MS is the way it likes to tinker with my memory, so my apologies if I have to back track from time to time. Join me, if you will, in attempting to journey back to April 2012. It was an exciting year, we had the London Olympics, Macklemore released Thrift Shop and I was having a cracking time, enjoying a LOT of nights out with various people from my TGI’s crew, only occasionally falling off a wall and/or throwing up into the streets of Derby. It was fucking great! On a side note, I hadn’t told any of my managers about my diagnosis at this point, it wasn’t affecting me and I had no intention of working there until my early 40’s, ABSOLUTELY NOT. But, I digress.

One very hazy morning(ish), having drunk myself to oblivion the night before (never drink Old Rosie at the end of a night, the hangover is just NOT worth it), I peeled my face away from my pillow, stumbled to the bathroom and proceeded to loudly empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl - still in the clothes from the night before. No shame.

Somewhere in between throwing up and trying to figure out why I hadn’t stayed round my friends house as originally planned, I can only assume I was too drunk and had been bundled into a taxi by someone, I became aware that I had pins and needles in my hand – hmm... must have slept on it. No worries, I’ll just shake it off.

Any minute now...

It’s going to wear off... any second...

Well fuck me was I shaking my hand on and off for at least 15 minutes and it did absolutely FUCK ALL. I can assure you if you think you’ve had the worst hangover in the world before now, you haven’t. You add the confusion of a numb hand and a lying bastarding consultant, that’s when you have the right to call it the worst hangover in the world. Mid 40’s my arse you lying prick. This is when the panic set in; picture it, a panicked hangover. It was hideous. I was already throwing up, the panic of my numb hand made me need to throw up more and I was sobbing into a toilet bowl. I cried as the reconstituted rum and coke spilled from my mouth, I tried to catch my breath as the room span around me and looked down at my now lifeless, sick covered hand, in an attempt to have something to look at to stop the spinning. I sobbed as the sight of my gammy hand caused me to projectile across the bathroom floor, not having the time or the attention to detail to stick my head in the toilet. Absolute chaos.

As the days went by, I noticed a definite weakness developing in good old righty. Never called my right hand that before - genuinely never will again. It didn’t feel right to type, but I like the way it looks on a page so. Good ol’ righty was not coping well and bearing in mind that this is my good hand, I started dropping things. To anyone that has just laughed because I referred to it as my ‘good hand’, it was EXACTLY like that. My hand was non-negotiable and had adopted a sort of claw shape, the numbness had crept up into my forearm and I could no longer hold anything without my wrist buckling, if I’d been asked to stir mash it would have been great. I seriously thought at one point, my God, I’m going to turn into a lefty...and no one likes a lefty! On the 17th April, I went to seek advice about my claw at the hospital. I’ve attached a photo of my clinic letter, purely and simply for the fact that they refer to this particular relapse as a MILD one. Looking back now, they were bang on, but at the time I was not impressed about this. Mild?! After the traumatic bathroom incident?! Oh how stupid I was, it was only going to get worse... which is great for all of you because from an outside perspective it just got more entertaining. I was given a weeks’ worth of oral steroids to speed up the recovery process in my hand/arm. I know what you’re thinking, steroids? And the answer is no, I did not get hench. My right arm did not become akin to Popeye’s and I didn’t have veins popping out of my skin. I’ll go into the wonders of steroids next time, oral steroids are no fun but IV steroids are where it’s at. You’ll also get to find out how I faired on 2 numb legs during snowy weather conditions, how I ended up being reviewed on Trip Advisor and the wonders of a drug called Copaxone.

I must apologise for the delayed arrival of blog number 2. Unfortunately for me, just as I decided to start writing a blog about my MS, my MS thought it would be appropriate to give me a numb fucking hand, so the last blog and this one have been written with some difficulty. So actually... I take my apology back because fuck my MS.

Thanks again for reading guys, hope you enjoyed the trials and tribulations of my astounding disability and bear with for number 3!

Leah x