Catfish and the Bottlemen Imagines

It's Good To Be Back

AN: Hello! I had a request just last night on Tumblr to write something about Van getting nervous before playing at Reading festival so I just wrote this really short fic super-quick! Sorry it's rubbish... it was very rushed! I'm so excited to see the lads tonight! Hope you're all good! 😘 xxx

You blink, groggily, the morning light filtering through a gap in the blinds, harsh and unforgiving. You've not slept well. You never do in hotel rooms. There was a time a few years back when you thought you might actually start getting used to it, but then the pandemic hit. Things had been a little different since then.

You turn over in bed, pulling the sheets around your naked frame, sighing at the empty space beside you. You reach out a hand to touch the sheets to find that they're cold. You wonder at what ungodly time in the morning your boyfriend had risen and what he's doing now. Then the faint sounds of an acoustic guitar drift to you, giving you your answer.

A quick check of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand shows that it's a little after 6am and you stifle a yawn as you sit up in bed, reaching down for the oversized t-shirt that you sleep in which was discarded last night in the throes of passion.

The cool air of the air-conditioned hotel room hits your bare skin which instantly erupts into goosebumps as you hurriedly slip the t-shirt over your head, pulling it down over your body. Then you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and rise up, making for the source of the gentle melody of the guitar which drifts through the slightly open balcony door.

The morning is bright, clear skies with a light dusting of gossamer clouds scattered across the blue, promising a warm, sunny day. Perfect festival weather, you smile to yourself.

You find Van on the balcony, sitting on a chair cradling his acoustic guitar, hunched over slightly, eyes on the frets as he plucks at the strings. He's caught in concentration and hasn't noticed your arrival, head bowed, tiny creases on his brow, the tip of his tongue just poking out the corner of his mouth. You take a moment to admire him, a smile finding its way on to your lips as you lean back against the doorframe.

The morning sun paints golden flecks on his hair which has gotten so long, falling around his ears and curling softly at his shoulders. A constellation of sun-darkened freckles paint his cheeks and the bridge of his nose from his recent trip to LA. You can still see the slight blush the sun's left on his pale skin where his unbuttoned shirt hangs open.

"How long have you been up for?"

The sudden sound of your voice startles him and his fingers slip off the strings with a noisy twang as he lifts his head quickly, a smile breaking out instantly on seeing you there.

"Morning love, you gave me a fright," he says, his eyes widening slightly. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I was trying to be quiet."

Anyone that didn't know Van well would think that he looked the picture of happiness as he sits there beaming at you, his face all lit up, but you know better. You can see that there's something behind the smile, a certain hesitance, and it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"It's okay," you assure him. "Couldn't sleep anyway. You know what I'm like in hotel rooms."

He raises his eyebrows at you, his grin widening cheekily. "Thought you'd sleep like a baby after last night. Thought I might've worn you out!"

You giggle, shaking your head, making a show of rolling your eyes. Van laughs too, lifting the guitar off his lap and reaching down to set it on the floor, leaning up against his chair. He holds out a hand to you, beckoning you over.

"C'mere Y/N..."

You step over until you're within Van's reach, slipping your hand into his, and he pulls you gently to him, urging you to sit on his lap.