Who Tells Your Story (33129 words) by lululawrence Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Félicité Tomlinson, Tomlinson-Deakin family, Jon Shone, Dan Richards, Sandy Beales Additional Tags: okay now let’s see, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Phone Sex, ish, it’s complicated - Freeform, liam is just kinda mentioned, sorry liam, i’m really awful at tags, but i don’t think there’s anything triggering in here, just talk of illness, not life threatening!, okay i’m stopping now Summary:
Louis stands and is about to stop recording when he hears Fizzy say, “Holy shit, it’s really you!”
Curious, he picks up the camera and is attempting to keep it focused in case Fizzy gives him some good footage. The camera focused on a very familiar torso and tattooed arm causing Louis to freeze and glance up from the screen to see a dimpled smile.
“Uh, yeah. Hi, I’m Harry.”
Without thinking, Louis answers, “Figured that much out, yeah. Why are you here ?” Wincing, he shakes his head and is about to take it back when he hears Harry laugh.
“Well, I kinda wanted to surprise you, or Fizzy specifically. So…surprise?”
Louis finally comes to himself and turns the camera towards his sister, who is still standing with her hands covering her mouth trying not to cry.
“Would you like to come inside?” she squeaks. Harry Styles, pop star extraordinaire, nods his head and steps in with a soft word of thanks. Louis quickly shifts to the side to allow Harry through their narrow hall and widens his eyes at Fizzy.
Where should we take him? he mouths at Fizzy in worry.
I don’t know!
Louis flaps his free arm before scurrying to reset the living room from their interview setup and something more befitting an international celebrity. Shit.
…or the one where Harry is a rock star, Louis is just another midwestern kid who put his dreams aside for his family, and a wig for Fizzy changes everything.
tbh I’m still waiting on a coda that hypes up jealous!dean big time
Like all of them getting back to the bunker and Cas is taking the trench off and Dean sees a piece of paper fall out of the pocket. He goes to pick it up and freezes when he reads the print on the front. Mick Davies. British Men of Letters.
“You kept it?” he snarls at Cas.
And Cas looks confused at Dean’s tone but just answers, “Yes. I thought it would be wise in case we ever need to contact them.”
“We don’t need help from those assholes, Cas!” Dean yells and stalks away, crumbling the card in his hand. Later when he’s in his room, he tosses it in the trashcan and burns it.
And Dean thinks that’s the end of it until the next day when he finds Cas in the library researching the British Men of Letters.
“Cas, we are not working with those assholes! Did you see what the did to Sam?”
“I’m not recommending it, Dean,” Cas replies evenly. “I just thought it best to be prepared should it ever become necessary. And Mick said-”
The name rolls off Cas’s tongue and Dean sees red. “Oh. Mick, huh? We’re on first name basis now, are we? Well that’s just great.”
Confusion tilts Cas’s head and squints his eyes and it is notcute right now. “Dean is everything all right?”
“Of course!” Dean shouts, jumping to his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be thrilled about you getting all buddy-buddy with middle-aged Harry Potter?!” Dean turns on his heel and marches out of the room.
Of course, Cas is still struggling to understand sarcasm, Dean’s brand in particular, so he continues researching and is more and more fascinated about the history of the Men of Letters, which he happily relates to Mary, Sam, and a very bitter Dean.
A very bitter Dean, who answers all of Cas’s questions for the next two weeks with “I don’t know, why don’t you go call your boyfriend, Mick?”
So Cas… does… and then reports his findings to the Winchesters and Dean is ready to fucking explode every time Cas says “Mick said…” or “Mick thinks…”
Mick this. Mick that. Mick, Mick, Mick.
Dean spends a lot of extra time in the garage throwing tools and glaring at engines.
I reckon you could finish me off without breaking a sweat…
WHO THE FUCK EVEN SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT? THAT’S NOT A NORMAL WAY TO TALK TO A STRANGER.
And did Cas really not sweat? He had to. Dean tried to think back to some hunts when Cas got a bit roughed up, tried to focus his memory on Cas’s forehead, the column of his throat, which was so long and smooth up until where his stubble-
Not the point, Winchester!
And one day they’re in the middle of a hunt and they’re stumped, exhausting all of their resources and Cas begins, “I could call M-”
And that’s it!
“WE’RE NOT CALLING MICK!” Dean screams and Mary and Sam’s eyes go wide.
“Why not?” Cas pouts.
“Because I don’t want his fucking help, Cas!”
“But his library is far more-”
“I don’t fucking care!” Dean yells. “You are not calling him, Cas, and that’s final!”
Cas’s eyes narrow and, yeah, definitely not cute this time. He gets to his feet. “Are you giving me an order, Dean Winchester?”
“Yes, Castiel, I am!”
Cas turns level eyes to Sam who just nods and takes his mother’s hand. “We need to go.”
They’re gone in seconds, leaving Dean to single-handedly face the fury of an angel of the lord.
“You are being irrational and I want to know why,” Cas says.
“I’m irrational?” Dean scoffs. “You want to get in bed with the enemy! Literally!”
And there’s that damn head tilt. “I have no intention of sharing a bed with the British Men of Letters. I don’t sleep, Dean.”
Dean slaps his hands to his face, groaning and somewhere in the back of his mind, just begging Cas to smite him and end this all.
“Dammit, Cas, that’s not… that’s not what I meant.”
“You are referring to sexual intercourse then? Because I also have no interest in engaging with the organization in such activities.”
“Cas, you’re killing me here,” Dean says weakly, exhausted at the sheer amount of oblivion coming from this ancient creature. “Why do you want to work with them?”
“You told me to.”
“When the hell did I-”
“You’ve been telling me to call Mick for the last two weeks.”
Dean blinks, trying to remember when he had lost his damn mind in the last two weeks- “Cas, I was being sarcastic!”
“Oh.” Cas looks calmer now. “So you didn’t want me to actually call Mick?”
“No, Cas! I don’t want you to even think about that fucker!”
“Oh for the love of- HE WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU!”
Back to confused. “When?”
“When we rescued Sam! Oh, Jesus Christ, Cas. Sweat! The way he looked at you after you said you didn’t sweat.”
“Humans find the inability to perspire sexually appealing?”
“No, you idiot, you are sexually appealing!”
Dean is so frustrated he can’t even process what he just said until something lights in Cas’s eyes. It’s a bit dazed and disbelieving and… hungry?
“You find me sexually appealing?”
“I-I-I w-what?” Dean stammers.
Cas takes a step toward Dean. “You said I was sexually appealing.”
“What? No! I-I- I meant him - Mick - he-he finds you, ugh, se-sex, um, appealing. He finds you appealing.”
The light dies and Cas frowns. “Oh. So you don’t?”
Dean has to make a big decision then. To lie or tell the truth. To play it safe or take a chance.
And, well, when has Dean Winchester ever played it safe?
Blue swarms on Dean until he can’t see anything because Cas’s face is too close and something soft brushes Dean’s lips. They kiss and Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, diving into this moment and locking the angel in place with him.
When they separate Cas is grinning and Dean is too dizzy to see the teasing angel. “You were jealous,” Cas breathes.
“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Dean slurs and wonders if it’s possible to get drunk off of kissing because he’s showing all the signs of a good buzz.
“Actually, Mick told me last week.”
And there it goes. “Cas! What the hell!”
“You were confusing me,” Cas argues. “You were angry all the time but you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“So you’ve just been fucking with me this entire week?”
Cas’s fingers card calmingly through Dean’s hair and Dean gets the suspicion he’s being treated like an angry cat. “My apologies, Dean. Can we go back to kissing?”
Dean has half a mind to deny Cas but Cas’s other hand is hovering just over his ass and who the hell is he trying to kid?
“Fine. But we’re gonna have a long talk about your pen pal later.”
But that talk comes several, several hours later.
Oh look I accidentally wrote a shitty drabble again oops my bad
Note: Not requested, but this came about because I went to the pool today and then went straight to work and I felt that sleepy feeling you get after spending time in the sun. Its a special and specific kind of sleepy. I don’t know how else to describe it, but it’s nice. It made me want to take a nap with Shawn.
The cool air of your hotel room hits you as soon as you
swing open the door. You had turned the air conditioner on high before you left
because you knew it would be hot outside, but a shiver runs down your spine as the
blast of cool air hits you without warning. You head straight for your bathroom to
take a shower, dropping your wet towel on the bathroom floor before removing
your black bikini and getting under the warm stream of water.
When you get out of the shower, you feel exhaustion hit you.
You had just spent the last four hours lounging by the pool, and the sun takes
a lot out of you. It’s one in the afternoon, a perfect time for a nap. There is
something about afternoon naps after mornings spent in the sun. They’re
magical, and they have a certain feel to them.
Exiting the bathroom, you hear the television on in the
hotel room, and a smile spreads across your face knowing that your boyfriend
has returned. He was gone doing press all morning. You offered to go with him,
but he insisted you stay back and enjoy the resort. You were in Florida after
Shawn is seated at the edge of the bed, watching the hockey
game on the tv. When he sees you, he smiles and says “Hey baby,”
“Hey hun, how was work?” You question as you crawl onto the bed behind
him, which immediately prompts him to move so he’s lying next to you.
“Good, nothing special.” You cuddle
closer into his side as his arm automatically wraps around you, and he asks,
“You tired?” To which you only sleepily nod in response. “Didn’t you just sit
at the pool all morning?” He questions, purposely giving you a hard time, but
you know he’s joking and doesn’t mean it in a mean way.
“Yeah, but the sun makes me
sleeeeepy.” You drag out the last word before hiding your face in his t-shirt.
The afternoon sun is shining into the hotel room, and the exhaustion you feel
is a good kind of exhaustion. Shawn has a show in a couple of hours, but
neither of you have anything planned until then. “Take a nap with me?” You ask
“You’re literally the cutest
person ever.” He tells you smiling down at you.
Your eyes flutter closed,
and you’re too tired to respond to his statement. You feel his lips press
lightly against your forehead before he moves slightly to get more comfortable.
And in his arms you fall asleep listening to the sound of his steady breathing.
“I’m the cunt you married. The only time you liked yourself was when you were trying to be someone this cunt might like. I’m not a quitter, I’m that cunt. I killed for you; who else can say that? You think you’d be happy with a nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby! I’m it.” - Gone Girl (2014)