Big Book of Hatsome One Shots

Adjusting (S)

TW: Runaway Hats AU, Smoking

Trott reckons Smith didn't smoke before he left home. He only ever seemed to smoke when he wanted an excuse to leave the room or when he was trying to look tougher than he was. Trott saw right through the bravado-- he was no more than a boy trying to act cool with a fag hanging out the corner of his mouth.

He does it most often when they go to see their social workers. He leans against the wall, marking it with boot prints with his hood pulled over his face while he puffs through a pack of Pall Malls. Him and Ross know better than to mention it, but it's blatantly obvious Smith is childishly avoiding talking to anyone that might be in a position to help them.

He has a rather one-sided fight Ross one evening. Ross had let him shout, stamp his feet, without saying a word back, until Trott had told Smith to fuck off, have a smoke and come back when he felt like being less of a prick. He had regretted it as soon as Smith had slammed the door, but he could only hope his boyfriend didn't stray too far away from the hostel.

Ross was fine. Well, after about twenty minutes of cuddling and hair petting. Then he suggests that if Trott wanted to check on their boyfriend he could. Trott gives him a small smile, a lingering kiss on the forehead and then turns to leave, picking up one of Ross' hoodies on the way out.

To his relief he finds Smith just outside the entrance way. He's sitting down on the pavement, back against the wall and a cigarette burning out in his hand.

"So," Trott says as he takes a seat on the cold ground next to him, "what was all that about?"

Smith doesn't say anything. He sets his jaw and stares at the ash gathering on the end of his cigerette. Eventually he mutters, "He prefers you."

Trott is taken aback by that. "What would make you think that?"

"Come of it, Trott. He's always like... putting his arm round you and all that." He irritably takes a drag. "I don't get that."

Trott takes a moment to consider. They had been a thing for about two weeks now. Two weeks wasn't really a time to make such an assumption in his opinion. Still he finds an angle to approach this and rolls with it,

"Smith," he sighs, "When did you realize you weren't straight?"

Smith frowns, "What? Like, I dunno, when I was thirteen or something."

"I was," he pauses to cast his mind back, "Fourteen? Maybe fifteen. My point is that Ross is only just realising he likes men, and that he's not monogamous. That's a lot to adjust to at once in my opinion."

Smith grumbles under his breath, but his shoulders relax slightly and he flicks the fag stub into the gutter. "Guess so."

"And you need to give affection to get it, silly." He keeps his tone light, giving Smith a gentle nudge with his elbow. "If you like, we could go inside and talk to Ross about it too. I think it'd be good for all of us. Just to get it all out in the open, eh?"

"I don't really want to but," Smith huffs, slinging an arm around Trott and kissing the side of his head, "you're always right. You little prick."

"I know," Trott replies smugly, as he leans into his stupid, lovely boyfriend.

Credit to bro__strider on Ao3