David Bowie (Mostly Smut) One-Shots

The Question *request*

Request from hannahlvsf !!

"Are you... sure this is a good idea?" 

"Yes, mate, just do it! We're sick of waiting, imagine how your poor partner feels!" 

You'd found over the years that your character had matched with David's unusually well since you'd seen him struggling to open a jar of coffee granules in the kitchen in your first week of living in Haddon Hall; you'd just been another tenant in the building then, but there was something about him that drew you in, and he could have said the same for you.

The decision to sleep with him a week into knowing him would not have been made if you'd known he was already dating somebody, but he'd left them before you'd even been able to get mad at him for it. He'd dropped a lot of things for you, and made a fair few sacrifices, which you'd been told in secret by the others in the building that he never did for anyone. 

You'd been together for three years, now. Naturally there had been ups and downs that had come with living together before even knowing one another, but the close proximity had only allowed you to grow together, with no choice but to talk when you argued. David had recently started looking for homes a little further West than where you were currently; he'd said it was for the 'brilliant bus service' Twickenham had to offer, but you could read him like a book; there were homes with gardens in that area, there were secluded little neighbourhoods, and there were primary schools. He'd made it quite obvious that he'd wanted to have children with you, to which you'd told him to hold his horses until the pair of you could afford it.

But that was discussing the future, which you did not care for too often. Right now, you were in his bed. Yes, it was technically both your bed, but you'd started sharing David's flat in the manor house two years ago, and it still didn't feel like it was yours when David wasn't there with you.

It was early morning, and the room was no tidier than it had been before you'd slept. There were clothes all over the bed, towels and laundry draped over the full-length mirror in the corner, and every seemingly un-washable surface (such as the curtains) were stained with paint. 

David's pillow carried the strong scent of his shampoo. You picked it up and put it on your chest. 

The window beside you was opened slightly, and you could feel the cool tunnel of air sweeping in and out, and the sounds of the area around the house.

People making their way down the row of shops that faced the house, the odd car, birds, wind...

The door to the flat unlocked, and with it came the gradual fade of people talking, which reached a peak before fading out again, silenced by the door clicking shut.

"Are you awake, love?"

"Somewhat." you tried to stretch out on the bed, but the amount of junk scattered over it prevented you from doing so. Your left foot was barred from moving by huge stack of books. "Can you please move your shit off this bed?"

"Yes, will do." he chuckled quietly as he came in, pausing for just a moment to look at you, for that was one of his favourite things to do. "I've made you coffee!"

You thanked him as he handed it to you, but you knew full well this man could no culinary expert.

"There was only brown sugar left." he told you as he started moving stuff off the bed, but not really having anywhere to put it, so he just held it. "Should taste fine, though!"

You honestly didn't know what to say as you looked into the cup. The 'sugar' was large and granular, and still yet to dissolve.

"David, my love." you sighed. "That's couscous."