Stuart Twombly x reader

11

 Stuart watches you across the table, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in amusement, and you scowl back at him, eyes flickering down to your bag to check the book is definitely out of sight.

 After the stretch of silence, broken by the muted chatter surrounding your table, Stuart finally says, "So, it's just the two of us." You pick at the food in front of you primly, sighing huffily.

 "Brilliant," you mutter sarcastically, raising your hands to feign excitement.

 "What are you up to today?" Stuart asks, much to your surprise, and you frown at him warily, looking over his face for signs of sarcasm; you catch it glittering in his eyes and playing on the smile on his lips. He waits patiently for your response and you hear his leg jiggling under the table.

 "Why do you care?" you scoff, chewing slowly and glancing at him under your eyelashes. He blinks at you, then looks down at the table carefully, tracing shapes into the surface with his fingertip.

 "Because I'm trying to be nice to you. Is that a crime?" he throws back, struggling to keep his eyes on your face, though he sounds just as snarky as always. Another silence follows and he finally looks up at you curiously, waiting for your answer, his tight lips and irritated eyes snapping out of your suspicious thoughts. You decide to roll with it, skimming over the weirdness.

 "I'm working," you respond shortly, waiting for the wave of insults and sarcastic insults. It throws you when they don't come.

 "And then what?" Stuart replies, making you frown deeper, your brow painful from how deep the confusion is etched upon your face.

 "Err...I go home." You pause for a moment, sucking your drink through your straw. "Well, to my temporary home."

 Stuart purses his lips and nods as if interested, looking away from you again, and you are just about to ask him the same thing to keep the conversation from becoming more awkward when he says, "Why do you like reading?"

 The question is fired quickly, the words snapping from his mouth with almost embarrassed curiosity, and you blink for a moment, lips still wrapped around your straw. You think about it and shrug, suddenly smiling.

 "I don't know," you reply honestly. Stuart catches your distant smile and reciprocates, breathing a laugh. You narrow your eyes at him light-heartedly. "Why don't you?"

 Stuart shakes his head and laughs once again, more to himself. "What's the point? It's not real, why should it matter?"

 "Because that's the best part about it!" you exclaim, sitting up straight eagerly. "Books can make the unreal real, they can take you places and to people you couldn't just think about."

 Stuart raises his eyebrows doubtfully. "And that's a good thing?"

 "Of course. It doesn't hurt to be taken away from the real world for a while, Stuart," you point out; he doesn't respond, merely smiling back at you as if you both are trapped in a photograph, your eyes glued to one anothers. Seconds tick by unnoticed. Stuart swallows hard, grin faltering, but the expression fades to blank, returning back to the unhappiness that radiated from his face whenever he was in your presence before.

 A hand clamps onto you, fingers gripping hard, and you jump, not expecting the physical contact. You turn to see Neha standing behind you, smiling brightly at the two of you, and she says, "I see you two are finally getting along. See -" She points her finger to him and to you several times. " -smiling!"

 You watch her slide onto the bench next to you, the sudden arrival of Yo-yo, Lyle, Nick and Billy bringing a bubble of discussion, volume at the table increasing, leaving you and Stuart watching them plonk themselves down in silence. You feel almost giddy, a pleasant warmth seeping into your veins, and it wavers and threatens to disappear the second the others arrived.

 You were, for once, actually happy in Stuart's presence, speaking to him as if you are actually friends instead of enemies. Although the talk was basic, stopping and starting awkwardly with too-much smiling and not enough flow, it was a start, and you wanted to keep talking to him all afternoon, something inside you desperate for that connection between the two of you.

 When you look at Stuart, the others oblivious to the sigh that escapes you without permission, he keeps his eyes trained on his phone though they are still, taking in nothing, his mind clearly somewhere else. You can't help but hope, as you turn to join in with the conversation about Captain America, that Stuart is thinking about you.

 You sure as hell know that despite your mind focusing on the Captain America input you are preparing to share, Stuart's smile is lingering in the back of your mind.

I'm crap at being able to get these things done on time. I've been busy and getting worn out from being busy and getting distracted and stuff :s