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madimpossibledreamerMostly, this came out of being invited to go drinking by underage people in the equivalent of a Hellmouth. (I said no. Busy, Hellmouth, breaking laws. Next thing you know we'd be breaking into the abandoned high school and getting swallowed by some hell dimension or other. Not my idea of a good any night.)
Also from their (brief!) interaction in a recent chapter, I realized that Fitz/Willow is also a very cute pairing.
I'm keeping my ships open, people. Board if you want a free ticket.
(also don't ask me what I'm talking about I'm exhausted this week has been hell)
also the ship! tag doesn't make any sense in this verse (yet) but i'm too fond of it to let it go
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Shadowed Suspicion, universe optional
Summary: Fitz is put off by his new neighbor.
Word Count: 500
Rating: Teen (for general flirting and mention of alcohol abuse not appearing in story)
Fitz is put off by the new neighbor.
He shows up to welcome the newbie. They can head over to the nearest pub, as Susie interrogates the man on what America’s really like, and not just the edited images on TV.
The man barely hears the question before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m busy.”
And then he closes the door.
He only realizes the eyepatch was there after the door is closed. He waits in the hallway for a bit, but the man doesn’t come back.
He ponders on the origin of the eyepatch for a bit. Is it part of some sort of costume, or effect? Or is it real? Some sort of accident?
He occasionally sees the neighbor sitting in the courtyard on nice days, typing with one hand and talking on the phone with the other. “What do you mean, they still haven’t figured out the battle test yet?” he asks particularly loudly, one of the few times that Fitz is taking out the rubbish, and at the startled look, green eyes wide behind glasses, the man looks guilty and lowers his voice substantially.
He’s always busy. He never takes a break. He occasionally travels. Fitz thinks it’s for work. At least, it should be—no one should come back looking that much more stressed if it’s not for work.
Eventually, he manages to corner the man, coming back through the hall.
“Do you have something against drinking?” he asks, rather aggressively. The strange man has been getting on his nerves. And he’s also worried, or something, which is weird and annoying because it’s so illogical. He doesn’t know the man. They’re not neighbors. They’re complete strangers. So why does he care so much?
“What?” The eye’s wide and shocked, maybe even a little panicky, before the breathing comes back to normal and he sighs deeply, shoulders slumping, suddenly small and insignificant. “I don’t hate people who do, if that’s what you’re asking. America can just be overboard about it sometimes.”
“That’s nothing new,” he states, and gets a small smile at that. Success.
“Well, no, I guess not.” A deep sigh, one that suggests the weight of the world. “My old man was an abusive alcoholic. No offense, but I don’t want to be him.” Suddenly there’s a threatening index finger pointed in his direction. “Don’t go repeating that around everywhere.”
“Most people have no idea who you are,” Fitz points out, but nods. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
And suddenly, the small smile is a grin and it’s blinding. “Hey, not like I told you.” A hand appears in his direction. “Johan Higashikata. I come running at the word ‘food’.”
“I’ll make sure to invite you to eat next time. After all, you can’t possibly do work for an entire meal, too.” Fitz shakes the hand firmly and tries not to think about the fact that he possibly just asked a complete stranger on a date.
He can figure this out later. Later. Much later.
Also from their (brief!) interaction in a recent chapter, I realized that Fitz/Willow is also a very cute pairing.
I'm keeping my ships open, people. Board if you want a free ticket.
(also don't ask me what I'm talking about I'm exhausted this week has been hell)
also the ship! tag doesn't make any sense in this verse (yet) but i'm too fond of it to let it go
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Shadowed Suspicion, universe optional
Summary: Fitz is put off by his new neighbor.
Word Count: 500
Rating: Teen (for general flirting and mention of alcohol abuse not appearing in story)
Fitz is put off by the new neighbor.
He shows up to welcome the newbie. They can head over to the nearest pub, as Susie interrogates the man on what America’s really like, and not just the edited images on TV.
The man barely hears the question before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m busy.”
And then he closes the door.
He only realizes the eyepatch was there after the door is closed. He waits in the hallway for a bit, but the man doesn’t come back.
He ponders on the origin of the eyepatch for a bit. Is it part of some sort of costume, or effect? Or is it real? Some sort of accident?
He occasionally sees the neighbor sitting in the courtyard on nice days, typing with one hand and talking on the phone with the other. “What do you mean, they still haven’t figured out the battle test yet?” he asks particularly loudly, one of the few times that Fitz is taking out the rubbish, and at the startled look, green eyes wide behind glasses, the man looks guilty and lowers his voice substantially.
He’s always busy. He never takes a break. He occasionally travels. Fitz thinks it’s for work. At least, it should be—no one should come back looking that much more stressed if it’s not for work.
Eventually, he manages to corner the man, coming back through the hall.
“Do you have something against drinking?” he asks, rather aggressively. The strange man has been getting on his nerves. And he’s also worried, or something, which is weird and annoying because it’s so illogical. He doesn’t know the man. They’re not neighbors. They’re complete strangers. So why does he care so much?
“What?” The eye’s wide and shocked, maybe even a little panicky, before the breathing comes back to normal and he sighs deeply, shoulders slumping, suddenly small and insignificant. “I don’t hate people who do, if that’s what you’re asking. America can just be overboard about it sometimes.”
“That’s nothing new,” he states, and gets a small smile at that. Success.
“Well, no, I guess not.” A deep sigh, one that suggests the weight of the world. “My old man was an abusive alcoholic. No offense, but I don’t want to be him.” Suddenly there’s a threatening index finger pointed in his direction. “Don’t go repeating that around everywhere.”
“Most people have no idea who you are,” Fitz points out, but nods. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
And suddenly, the small smile is a grin and it’s blinding. “Hey, not like I told you.” A hand appears in his direction. “Johan Higashikata. I come running at the word ‘food’.”
“I’ll make sure to invite you to eat next time. After all, you can’t possibly do work for an entire meal, too.” Fitz shakes the hand firmly and tries not to think about the fact that he possibly just asked a complete stranger on a date.
He can figure this out later. Later. Much later.
