Out of Town: A Spot Conlon Story

XIII

Walking up in Spot's arm feels right, we are already comfortable around each other. I don't want to ruin the moment but I need to get up and stretch. However, when I attempt to get up Spot unconsciously tightens his grip around me. The sun has already come up meaning that Spot is behind schedule, I have to get him up.

"Hey early riser you need to get up" I say loud enough to disturb his sleep, I also move his hair out of his eyes pushing it back ever so slightly.

He yawns obviously irritated to be getting up, he will thank me later. "Mornin' (Y/N), how'd ya sleep"

"Better than ever, but you need to get up and sell" I say referencing the sun that has already risen.

He jolts up and quickly goes over to his dresser, putting on a new days worth of clothes. He throws his worn clothing onto the growing pile on the floor. What a slob.

My ankle is throbbing, I'm not going to be able to walk on it for at least an hour or two. I just need to make it through my performance and then I can dwell in my pain. There is a dirty mirror in the corner of the room, unfortunately I catch a glimpse of myself. It looks like I slept well. I also notice I am wearing pajamas, and I don't have any clothing here. Luckily I was so exhausted last night I didn't bother to take off my bra.

Will Spot mind me wearing his clothing probably not. He only has these brown/tan colored pants. They are rather large on me, as they are still slightly larger on him. He also has a lot of checkered button ups scattered on the floor. I tuck the shirt into the pants in a desperate attempt to help them sit on my waist. Spot took his suspenders into his bathroom with him, so that option is out. If I were a belt where would I be? My movement is limited because of my ankle, so crouching down is a struggle. Looking under his bed I just see a lot of photo albums. That's personal, I shouldn't look at them. But the one on the top simply says Sean Conlon. Personal (Y/N) get it though your head, don't snoop. Besides, I'll get caught and he won't trust me, I'll bring them up when he comes out of the bathroom. I really want to look at the photos though, but I won't.

If getting down was bad getting up is worse. A shooting pain shoots up my leg the whole time I attempt to stand up. Once I am standing the pain is so unbearable my vision gets fuzzy. After I blink a few times I eventually get my vision back. Sitting back down on the bed relief floods my body. My ankle is still throbbing but the pain almost instantaneously goes away after taking weight off of it. Just get through the performance tonight, (Y/N). You got this, just push though.

Spot kicks open the bathroom door with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth but his hands are pushing his hair back. When he brings his hand back down a lock of his dusty blond hair falls in front of his face, slightly framing it. Dam he looks fine. "What's yousey up to in me's clothes?" His accent is stronger when he wakes up, his voice is deeper and raspier.

"I didn't have any clothing here and I am not going anywhere in pajamas"

"You'se came here in PJs" he gives me look of someone who just put you on checkmate. That is a great point, I need a comeback.

"Guess this isn't anywhere then" I say pulling up the falling pants. Realizing that the pants do not fit, Spot digs around in a pile of clothing before throwing a belt beside me. I go to put it on and the belt does not have a whole for wear. Again Spot saves the day by pulling out a knife and making a hole for me. What a gentleman. Putting on the belt I could swear he said something under his breath, but the combination of his accent and the quiet volume I couldn't understand him.

"Is something wrong?" I ask maybe I put the shirt on inside out, but I check and the seam is in the inside.

"Nuttins' wrong, just taking in da view" he says with a blank face. Was the compliment? No, it couldn't have been. Taking a while to gather my thoughts made the situation awkward. He motions towards the window showing a nice view of the harbor.

"But you see that everyday" at this point I am fishing for compliments. Sometimes you need a self-esteem boost, and I am cashing mine in now. Looking up his cheeks are red. Did I make THE Spot Conlon blush? This needs to be marked in the calendars, declared a national holiday. Why do I feel accomplished?

"Well, youse can make yaself ats homes here until I'se done sellin da papes" he is completely changing the subject. I must of really embarrassed him.

"In which case I'll be going back to bed" I pull the covers over my head.

"But you'se just gots dressed" he asks quizzingly

I take the duvet down just enough so I can glare at him, "Do not question me, Conlon" he just turns around and leaves, no witty comment or anything. What has gotten into him, not as cocky as usual, it is probably too early for witty comments. Nonsense, no such thing, especially for the king himself.