"We'd go anywhere our minds would take us/ And I'd say you were beautiful without your makeup" -'Nina', Ed Sheeran
HatfulOfHallows
Ed groaned as he cracked his eyelids open and the bright light of morning assaulted him. He must've forgotten to shut the curtains before he went to sleep the night before. Hardly a shocker - he'd stayed up jamming with Taylor until around four, he was basically comatose by the time he reached the guest bedroom. At that point, his eyes were so heavy that he didn't even attempt to argue when she brought him back to the room with the balcony they'd been on earlier. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he realised he hadn't even taken his shoes off. He dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the ensuite. Ed saw that the bathroom had already been set up with towels, a toothbrush and some toiletries, so he decided to go ahead and help himself. After all, he couldn't exactly go around Taylor Freaking Swift's house looking AND smelling like a zombie. Once he was done, he got dressed in the previous night's clothes and headed down to the kitchen to sort out some food. His new friend wasn't up yet, so he decided to surprise her with pancakes to thank her for the bed. Just as he flipped the first pancake, a voice drifted from the doorway.
"Well, well, if it isn't Jamie Oliver. Morning" Ed turned to see a yawning Taylor walking to the kitchen island, head slumped. She plonked down and groaned. "I'm so tired... And a little hungover. And I'm starving" Ed chuckled.
"Well, luckily for you, I have made some improvised my usual Delia Smith pancake recipe so you could experience proper pancakes. Not those horrible bits of sofa stuffing covered in maple syrup that you Yanks call pancakes. Want some coffee?" Taylor moaned something that sounded like 'God, yes', which made Ed strangely embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "Make some then. Your machine is ridiculously fancy, I've no clue how it works."
Ed plated up the pancakes one by one as Taylor mustered up the energy to make them both coffee. He sliced a lemon from the fruit bowl and asked Taylor where her Nutella was. She looked at him as though he was crazy and informed him it wasn't really on her shopping list - something about calories and saturated fat, at which point Ed just lost interest. He showed her how to properly make a lemon and sugar pancake, and how to roll it up properly.
"So whose recipe is this again? Because even if they don't hold a candle to real pancakes, they're still awesome." Ed glowered at her statement - comfort food was just important to him, ok?
"It's based off Delia Smith's recipe. She's like our Oprah or something - she's the culinary icon of the UK. But your scales and stuff are weird and American, so I winged this. Turned out pretty well" Taylor nodded in agreement. "But they're like a thousand times better with Nutella so I'm sorry but you basically ruined breakfast." He grinned at her, while she merely rolled her eyes.
"Geez, Ed, are you like eleven years old or something? Surely you've reached an age where you can get by without needing chocolate before midday" She raised an eyebrow at him while he vehemently shook his head.
"A world where it's frowned upon to have Nutella at all meals isn't a world I want to live in" He grinned, snatching the last pancake.
"Whatever, you child. Thanks for breakfast. Want to go work on our song in a bit? I'm gonna go take a shower and stuff, because I look like an absolute urchin, and then I'll meet you in the studio." Ed looked at her properly for the first time that morning; she was still wearing her pyjamas (they had a cartoon of a cat on them and had the words 'Cat Nap' across the stomach), her hair was a total mess and her face was devoid of last night's makeup.
"I think you look beautiful" He said sincerely, without thinking twice about it. Shit. "I mean-you... I... Erm..." Thankfully, Taylor just laughed lightly as she stood up and wandered back to the doorway.
"It's ok, Ed, you don't have to lie - I'm perfectly aware of how crappy I look, no need to try and be all chivalrous by trying to spare my feelings. Anyway, I'll see you in a minute." Without waiting for any further response, she was gone, leaving him with a pile of dirty dishes and a mind that was totally running wild.
'What in the name of Damien Rice was that? Pull yourself together, Edward, she's just a pretty girl. She's just a pretty, intelligent, talented, generous, witty girl... Oh God.'
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Falling Slowly {{ sweeran }}
Fanfiction"Two musicians, adored by the media and the public alike - undoubtedly great friends. But is it possible that there's more to it?" *** Taylor Swift, America's Southern Sweetheart. Writes songs about any guy who looks at her, obviously an obsessive c...
