in which Faye is a lonely local actress, Harry is a tattooist, and together they're the world's messiest "friends" with benefits without ever acknowledging it. 8.5k (with a new moodboard!). happy reading, as always! x
FEEDBACK IS NOT ONLY WELCOMED, BUT ALSO ENCOU– you get what i mean.
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Harry arrives at her door, staring almost frustratingly at the number on it. It's quiet and untouched, just like the doorbell that's littered in cobwebs, and to avoid it, he raises his hand and knocks on the wood instead, straightening his back. How is he so blind that whenever he ends up at her door, he's thinking the same thing, jittery with excitement. Yet, this time, the small voice at the back of his head is now a blaring noise in his ears, half of which suggests that he's a great friend, and the other half telling him that he's made many terrible decisions in his life, but running back to her and being at her every beck and call is by far the most pathetic one.
Faye opens the door when he's still in the midst of his thoughts, and instead of greeting him with her usual cheer of his name, she only motions him in quickly. When he takes his time, presenting her with a lopsided smile first, she reaches out the grabs the lapel of his jacket, forcing him inside.
She hasn't said a word to him yet. He places a steady hand on top of the container in his hand, making sure it doesn't slip from her harsh movement.
"Hi. I got you soup," he tells her, as if he hadn't texted her over and over, annoyingly asking her if it was okay that the place couldn't separate the noodles and soup because of how it's made.
She smiles and brings her hand to her chin. She extends it outwards, signing to him, "Thank you."
She's taken aback when he signs back, "You're welcome."
"Didn't know you knew..." she coughs into her arm, "sign language."
"Only a bit. Don't talk, okay? You're on vocal rest."
"Did I tell you I was?"
They enter her kitchen and he's halfway done with putting the soup on the counter when he freezes.
"No, but you said your voice was shot...so I assumed... It's what singers and actors do, right?"
She reaches for the container and opens it up. There's a cheeky smile on her face. "Did you look that up?"
"So what if I did?"
"No need to get all defensive?" She rubs her throat with a pout.
"Right." She moves the soup into a bowl. "Okay, no more talking now."
"Thank goodness."
He receives a swift punch to his bicep for that comment.
When she finishes pouring it in, she smiles at him and steps up on her tiptoes. She reaches for his jacket and brings him in again, and as he stumbles toward her, his arms go around her waist as if they belong there. It's subconscious; he doesn't even realize he's doing it. Faye kisses him softly, and he nearly groans at the taste of her Cherry chapstick, his hands grabbing onto the pretty white sweater she wears. Not expecting this kiss, it's a little messy, but he makes it work as her hands slide up to cup his jaw and finally their lips match up with each other. He eases her back onto her heels as he bends down to accommodate for the difference in height and withdraws once, just to kiss her again.
He feels her smile in the remaining kiss as they release one another with a wet noise. Grinning, she signs, "Thank you" once more and then turns back to the counter where her eating utensils lay out on the drying mat as if she's just done the dishes. She drops the spoon into her soup and then walks around him to get to the living room.
