[For Cook]

[not_for_ages]

There came a point, whether it was on island or off, when Freddie became used to the idea of his life being at a perpetual tilt. When he allows himself to think of it on those terms, he thinks perhaps it began with his mother, that slight listing to one side or the other. Calm moments become tricky, not to be believed; he gets his feet under him

Comments

[grabmyballs]

Cook's humming as he strides into the hut, a barrel of barely restrained kinetic energy he's almost entirely unconscious of. The door shakes with the force he uses to open it and his boots fall heavy and loud on the wood floor. He takes in Freddie in one glance and feels a sting in his lanky, relaxed form. Things have been alright, but for all his loud words at the Council speeches, he's just as stupid as everyone else, isn't he? Taking what he wants, yeah, but not all of it for the sake of other people. Other people's rules.

Fuck being adult. Fuck being responsible. No wonder Freddie always was always a bit of a sad bastard back home.

"Guess what just fucking happened?" he chirps. His grins wide and walks with confidence towards the bed to counteract his thoughts.

[not_for_ages]

"You finally grew pubes," Freddie guesses without moving from his place on the bed, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. It's the required answer, and maybe there's a little comfort to be wrung from it, even if it feels a bit empty, now. He slides his gaze over to Cook.

"Banner fucking day, mate."

[grabmyballs]

"You would fucking know," Cook shoots back without a second's thought. It's natural as breathing, same as the kick he gives the bed frame, just to shake Freddie up, physically.

"Sarah invited me to Thanksgiving." It's ridiculous. Hilarious. Cook invited to a family function, like he counts. An American holiday celebrating getting the fuck out of England, too, but that's second to the part where someone wants him.

It's quite the fucking laugh.

[not_for_ages]

Freddie sways atop the bed but doesn't move aside from turning his head to fully look at Cook, who seems inordinately pleased to have been invited to some bullshit American holiday.

"Congratulations?" he hazards, not quite comprehending why any of this should be so astonishing or hilarious. "If she has actual turkey, you'd better bring some back for me. And don't fucking eat it all on the way home, either."