why do you want to die?

Gays: "Omg what the fuck how do I tell what that is"

The literal back of the fucking car:

I chose “Quick, kiss me!” ;-) Modern AU fitzier (my jam!!)

The end of the semester party is one of the celebrations Francis never looks forward to. He loves his job and likes most of his colleagues, but he already sees them every single day of the year, is it really necessary to be together even on one of their free nights? His idea of a great night is not exactly watching Little and Jopson courting each other with increasingly colourful drinks, like two animals of the gayest species, or Harry Peglar and John Bridgens being sickeningly perfect together, and it's most definitely not being forced to stay in the same room as Fitzjames for such a long period of time without interruption.

That's the worst part of this: for some reason, at every one of these bloody parties, Fitzjames looks his best. He always looks good and he bloody knows it, and Francis knows he knows it, which makes his blood boil with envy for both him and the people who have him.

This year is no exception. Fitzjames showed up wearing a long black coat, embroidered in golden thread, its cut sharp and elegant. Francis can tell it's high fashion just from the way the fabric melts on him and highlights his strong figure at the same time, as if it was designed exclusively for his body. And his pants— don’t even get him started on the pants. He's trying not to look in that direction.

It’s going to be a long night.

What is even worse, and absolutely incomprehensible to Francis, is that, for some reason, he and Fitzjames are now in decent terms. They’re not friends, not exactly, but if their colleagues would leave them alone in a room together, they wouldn't find them yelling at each other anymore, as it was until Francis finally got into rehab.

Now, the problem would be reversed: if he would be left alone in a room with Fitzjames, they would probably end up yelling at each other again, but because Francis would do something very stupid, like kiss him, or stay out loud how much he likes talking to Fitzjames every morning when he gets to his favourite Cafè right next to campus, and he knows Fitzjames will be there too, as if waiting for him.

So being in a dimme-light room with alcohol all around and a shining Fitzjames next to him is torture, but such a sweet one, especially since Fitzjames apparently decides he’s going to spend his entire night right here, talking to Francis and sipping his sugar free Coke, because “you don’t drink, I don’t drink. Don't worry Francis.”

Francis is trying to maintain his train of thoughts away from how beautiful Fitzjames looks with his hair tied up in a artfully messy bun, two locks of it cascading at the sides of his face, by teasing him about his outfit (“You look straight out one of those high fashion weird-looking runaways, where models have 3D copies of their heads as an accessory”, “Did you just say I could be a high fashion model? Oh my, I wonder what else you’ll say by the end of the night”) when suddenly, Fitzjames stops talking mid-sentence to stare in horror at something behind Francis.

“Fuck.” He says, with emphasis, “No, don't turn around!”

“What is it?” Francis asks, worried about the sudden change of mood. Fitzjames' brows are pinched, his mouth tight in a disappointed line with its corners turned downwards.

“Just keep talking to me," he says, urgently, still looking behind Francis, "say something funny."

“I can’t do it on command, I'm not a dog.”

Fitzjames snorts a laugh, "Dogs tell jokes on command?" Then he quickly shifts to the right, actually trying to hide behind Francis.

Him. One meter and God only knows how many centimeters of a man, with heeled boots and everything. Behind Francis.

"This is not working," Francis says, "What's going on? Are you losing another bet?"

(Fitzjames and Le Vesconte from the Media and Cinema department are always betting on this or that. Always.)

“Not a bet,” Fitzjames says, then smiles so tensely it's painful to watch. “It’s Graham.”

Oh, Graham. Right. The handsome, cool looking, professional baseball player, Graham Gore: Fitzjames’ most recent ex.

Francis hates being in the middle -quite literally as it is right now,- of other people’s business and he would normally run away from a situation like this, but Fitzjames looks deeply uncomfortable, all his usual nonchalance gone, so he can’t just leave him to himself like this.

“What can I do?” Francis asks.

“Keep talking with me, don’t turn around. If he sees me with someone else he won’t come here,” he doesn't sound so sure, “hopefully .”

“Things ended up badly between the two of you?”

“It wasn’t nice,” Fitzjames says, lowering his gaze, clearly embarrassed, “He cheated.”

“What?” How can someone in their right mind cheat on James Fitzjames? “That sucks. I’m sorry, James.”

“Yeah.” He weakly agrees, “whatever. I don’t want him to see me and think I’m still thinking about him. Because I’m not.”

“Right.” It feels a bit weird to be here talking about Fitzjames' ex boyfriend who cheated on him, with the man himself, but he's not going to abandon him if he needs help. “Talk to me and keep smiling like you always do, you know how to do that well.”

James gives him a somewhat hurted glance, “Right, you think I can do that exclusively.”

Oh no, not back at their usual bickering, please, not when Francis was actually trying to pay him a compliment.

“I meant that you're always nice and smile to everyone," he forces his voice to remain steady, "even to people who are not very nice to you."

Fitzjames actually stops obsessing over what's happening behind Francis and brings his attention back on him. They both know what Francis is referring to.

He shrugs easily, "It's not like I'm always right, either. Plus, smiling helps easing the tension for me as well."

He opens his mouth to offer a comment to that, like a normal person who knows how to interact with his hopeless crush would do, but his mind goes on its own.

"You look good when you smile.”

James fixes his eyes on him, looking equally shocked and delighted. His cheeks may actually have turned a bit red, but perhaps it's just the semi darkness of the bar.

“Thank you, Francis.”

“You know that, it's not like—”

“Oh fuck, he’s coming this way,” James interrupts him, eyes back over Francis' right shoulder, “Fuck, fuck, I don't want to see him, I'm not prepared.”

“Calm down, we can—”

“Oh shit,” Fitzjames hisses, and with one last, desperate glance behind Francis he whispers, “Quick, kiss me.”

“Wh—”

Something absolutely out of this world happens: Fitzjames’ mouth is on Francis’.

It feels like it goes on for an hour, Francis feels everything: Fitzjames’ perfume, James’ lips -soft, made to be kissed,- Fitzjames’ big hands gently framing his face, not forcing him into the kiss, just caressing him; he can feel Fitzjames’ breathing against his upper lip and nose, the way his lips part slowly and how he waits for Francis to make the next move, leaving him a choice, which is to gently push his tongue on Fitzjames’ lips and feel him take a heavy breath in return. Fuck, he tastes so sweet, like Coke and himself, it's like drinking his scent.

Francis didn’t even notice he put both hands on Fitzjames’ hips, bringing him closer.

“Sorry.” Fitzjames whispers on his lips, once they part (barely). "I panicked."

“Would you like to panic some more?” Francis says, brushing his lips against his with every word, “At my place?”

Fitzjames does a little high pitched laugh, pure adrenaline and charm, and whispers, “Please.”

.

.

-james’ outfit

did some art of @junomarlowe​ ‘s Starcross which is a must read!

bonus:

IT’S HERE!!!

Thank you so much to all the amazing artists who decided to partecipate and created AMAZING ARTWORKS for us all to colour!

DOWLOAD THE TERROR COLOURING BOOK HERE

Even if you haven’t made a drawing for it, please do get it and show us your amazing art using hashtag #TTCCB, so we can all admire each other’s masterpieces!!

Shoutout to all the artists who partecipated:

@caravaggiosbrushes (me ehehe) @kahootqueen69 @chained-to-the-mirror @matt-j-freeman @uglyjetta @lucenorthstar @katherine1753 @zeroannat @crowleysbianism @huntseric @albaaca​ @calamitys-child​ @pooraurora​ @seaweednpeanuts @amatlapal​ @awhbeans​ @cardinal_chang @vandrawsing​ @brainyraccoons​ @chonkycrozier​ @burningfreeze​

here’s a first sneak peek of my work for The Terror Pin Up Calendar!! This is going to be on a postcard, as bonus merch :}