Welcome To The Media (Dylmas AU)

12. Dinner Dates

picture by: @JellyzaPrima

Thomas's pov

Now listen up, fuckers, 'cause this next part of the story gets really fucking embarrassing, and I'm only ever saying it once. Pull up a chair, get comfy, and don't you dare make fun of me.

It started the very next morning, before the sun had even peeked out from behind the surrounding trees. The cast lay unconscious around the cold fire, while visions of sugar-plums or some shit danced in their heads (or does that only happen on the night before Christmas? You get the point). Everything was calm, peaceful, and...warm.

There I was, minding my own business as I slept soundly, all cuddled up and comfortable. Now, do you know that aggravating feeling when your alarm clock goes off, and you're forced to wake up?

How about that aggravating feeling when you're forced to wake up because you're being thrown across the room like a limp potato?

Yeah, that's basically how I woke up on this fine morning.

One moment I was at peace and then--BAM! I was lying spread-eagle with my back on the ground. It was like getting hit by a train while blindfolded, because I wasn't expecting it and then boom: pain. (...Alright, I was never the best with my similes, cut me some slack.)

My eyes flew open and I groaned, immediately sitting up. "What the hell?" I moaned, my vision slightly disoriented from my abrupt wake-up call. I blinked once, twice, three times, and then Dylan came into focus, looking absolutely petrified.

He sat on the ground a few inches from myself, his hair ruffled messily (and slightly adorably) ((shut the fuck up I was tired when I thought that)) and his eyes wide in shock. His arms were extended towards me, and he looked extremely peeved off, if nothing else.

"What the fuck were you doing?" he whisper shouted, clearly trying not to wake the others. His face was ablaze, not with fury, but with what appeared to be embarrassment.

"What?" I asked, confused. What was he on about? Maybe I wasn't the only one who hit their head this morning.

Dylan stuttered, his face contorting. "You--you were--" his voice lowered to a harsh whisper, "You were laying on top of me!"

And I froze.

Then my face began to heat up too, because suddenly I remembered rolling over onto something incredibly soft the moment before I fell asleep last night, and I was recalling the comfortable feeling I had had throughout my sleep and now it made more sense why I was so warm waking up when we were sleeping outside in the middle of April.

Holy shit, Dylan and I cuddled last night.

I swear to God, it's like my life is some poorly written romance novel. How cliche was this? How embarrassing was this?

"Oh," was all I was able to manage while my groggy mind reeled. Dylan must have thrown me off when he woke up--oh Jesus, could this get any worse?

"Oh?" Dylan mocked. "Oh? That's it? Oh? Thomas, this is not okay!"

"Hey, don't blame me for this! You're the one who was...under me!" I defended.

"Um, guys?"

And I froze again.

I almost didn't want to turn around. I knew that when I did, Kaya would be sitting there, jumping to conclusions. I prayed she didn't hear what I just said, because lord, I couldn't handle anymore embarrassment--

She cut me off. "Look, it's cool if you guys wanna get under each other-- I mean, it wouldn't surprise me if you guys did a little hokey-pokey anyway-- but can you not do it when I'm only a few meters away?"