Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Stories •|| MARJOREECE ||•

Prompt: Marjorie and Reece tell each other childhood stories.

Marjorie was knee-deep in dust and old boxes, clearing out the attic of their new house. She had been going through old furniture, old family photos, and various other odds and ends when her fingers brushed against something solid—a heavy, wooden trunk tucked in the corner. Curious, she wiped away the cobwebs and gently pried it open.

Inside, she found a jumble of old things—tattered notebooks, space models, a few cards, and a faded red jacket. But what caught her attention the most were the pictures. She pulled out an old, framed photo of a younger Reece with a goofy grin on his face, holding a fishing rod in one hand and a small, oversized cap on his head.

Her eyes widened as she carefully took out more things: a model airplane, a slightly worn space poster with a signature scrawled across it, and a pile of report cards.

A smile tugged at her lips as she turned to Reece, who had come upstairs to help her with the heavy lifting. "You never told me you were this cute when you were a kid," she teased, holding up the photo of him and waggling it in front of him.

Reece chuckled, his face flushing slightly as he took the picture. "Oh, that's from the summer I went fishing with Autumn and Mia. We used to spend our weekends at the lake. Don't make fun of me—there was no such thing as looking cool back then."

Marjorie set the photo aside, an impish glint in her eye. "You have to tell me more about this. I know so little about your childhood. You've told me bits and pieces, but I want to know everything. Like... everything." She was holding his old action figures now, examining them as if they held the secrets of the universe. "How did you get so... well, you?"

Reece raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I think you just want to know about the embarrassing stuff."

"I do," she admitted, laughing. "Come on, tell me some stories!"

After a long, drawn-out sigh, Reece agreed. "Alright, but only because you begged. But first, let me get dinner done, and then we can have some wine, alright? Story time is only acceptable after a good meal."

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

Later that night, after dinner, Marjorie and Reece curled up on the couch with glasses of wine in hand, the soft glow of the living room lights giving everything a cozy feel. Reece stretched out, a content smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, clearly in a more relaxed mood now.

"Alright," he began, swirling his wine and leaning back. "Where do I start? Well, let me tell you about the time Autumn and I decided to start a 'treehouse' in the big oak by the lake."

Marjorie perked up, eyes wide with excitement. "A treehouse? This sounds good."

Reece's lips curled into a grin, his voice lowering slightly as he recalled the memory. "It wasn't a treehouse. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Autumn was insistent about building it with me, and we were determined to make it 'official.' So, we grabbed whatever we could find in the garage—some old planks of wood, a broken ladder, and a bunch of rusty nails—and tried to build something. We didn't have any tools, so we used rocks and sticks to hammer the nails in. And dear, old dad was on a business meeting out of town, which made it perfect because no one was there to tell us off. Our mum would just let us do whatever we wanted."

Marjorie laughed out loud at the image. "Oh no! That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

Reece chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It was. Halfway through, the whole thing collapsed on us. But the funniest part? Mia was watching from the ground the whole time, and she called us idiots. Then she climbed up and started mocking us. Autumn and I were covered in dirt, and Mia just stood there laughing. But after a while, she joined in, and we spent hours trying to rebuild it, only for it to fall apart again. And we never finished it."

Marjorie was laughing so hard she almost spilled her wine. "I love that Autumn tried so hard, and Mia was just there to criticize. What a mess."

Reece smiled fondly at the memory. "Yeah. But it was... one of those times when we were all so carefree. Like, it didn't matter that the treehouse was a pile of broken wood. We just kept trying."

He took another sip of wine, the smile slowly fading into a more thoughtful expression. "There was also this one time... Autumn and Mia decided to 'prank' me. They convinced me that if you ate a certain berry from the woods, you could see into the future. Of course, they didn't tell me it was poisonous, so I spent the next few hours thinking I could see things that weren't there, like the trees talking to me or random animals following me around."

Marjorie stared at him in disbelief. "You ate the berries? How are you even alive right now?"

Reece's face lit up with a grin again. "Autumn was actually really worried when she saw how loopy I got. But Mia? She was laughing so hard. It was the funniest thing for her. Autumn had to drag me back to the house."

"That's insane," Marjorie said, still trying to stop herself from giggling. "I can't even imagine you, the serious, responsible one, doing something so silly."

Reece looked at her and shrugged with a playful smile. "Hey, we were kids. We were all pretty stupid back then."

There was a moment of silence as the memory settled between them, both of them reminiscing about the simpler times. Then, Reece turned toward her and said, "Alright, it's only fair now. Your turn. Tell me a story from your childhood. Something embarrassing, like mine. Come on, I know you've got a good one."

Marjorie smirked, taking another sip of her wine before setting the glass down and leaning back into the couch. She folded her arms thoughtfully, and for a moment, Reece wondered what she was going to say.

She tilted her head slightly, considering how best to begin. "Alright," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "But I'm warning you, you might not recover from this one."

And as Reece leaned in, waiting for the story, Marjorie gave him a mischievous grin. "There was this one time I tried to convince my entire class that I had a pet unicorn."

Reece burst out laughing, his wine sloshing over the rim of his glass. "A pet unicorn?!" he gasped. "How did you even think that would work?"

Marjorie gave him a sly smile. "Oh, it worked. For a while, anyway. I brought in some sparkly pony figurines and told everyone it was my unicorn's 'magical horn.' But it all fell apart when I tried to show it to the class, and instead of a majestic unicorn, I brought in my cousin's old pony. Needless to say, it wasn't as convincing."

Reece wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "You're crazy. I love it. But that's something I can't unhear now."

Marjorie laughed too, settling back into the couch, feeling lighter. "I think we both have some ridiculous stories."

Reece nodded, a grin still plastered on his face. "Yeah. We sure do. And I'm glad we can share them now."

As the night continued on, their stories filled the air, laughter echoing in the room. It was one of those moments where the past felt like a shared bond, and even the most embarrassing memories became part of the glue that held them together.