#flufframi

• Title: Yeux Disent Le Contraire  • Type: Fluff                                  • Requested by: @ramimalekrp-roleplayerpage • Request: “Can you do something with the character falling in love but using the attack method of hating you that couldn’t express his love to reader?” • Prompt: How the two of you went from enemies to lovers. • Pairing: Rami | Ahkmenrah | Josh | Finn | Reader

Whenever someone asked you about your relationship with the actor you weren’t quite sure about what to answer them.

You were his stylist that was a fact, something concrete and tangible, black on white. Unfortunately, most interviewers weren’t satisfied with such a pragmatic answer.

Was it friendship? Totally not. “Friend” was probably the last word that would have come to your mind to describe your relationship with Rami.

“Okay… Mr. Malek look over here… Perfect.” You heard the photographer say to Rami who was pretty photogenic under that light.

In fact, you could have found him handsome if your opinion of him wasn’t polluted by his extraordinary ability to make you lose your temper.

“Thank god, now I can take off that horrible shirt…” Rami said loudly enough for you to hear at the end of the photo shoot, with the exact same smirk he had every time he tried to get on your nerves.

That smirk could have sum up the whys and wherefores of every argument you had had with him.

The outcome of which was always the same, no matter what the reason.

He would fire you or you would resign then both of you would fight to prove that you were the one that had decided to put an end to that disastrous collaboration.

He would finally call you at an ungodly hour to stammer some excuses explaining that you were the only stylist he wanted to work with. After a few minutes you would put an end to those bowing and scraping with a concise yet so satisfying ‘I hate you, Malek.’ and at those words he would know that you would be back at work the following day.

At the end of the photo shoot, you packed up your things and were going to leave when you heard Rami’s agent’s voice.

“Y/N wait! I would need you to go to L.A next week with Rami for the SAGs.” And before you could answer anything you heard an all too familiar voice say:

“What about just sending the outfit to my hotel, trust me you would do me a favor by not coming with me.” Rami snapped directly at you.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be able not to put your pants on backwards without me, Malek.” He opened his mouth only to be interrupted by his agent.

“Are the two of you done? I’d like to see both of you alive by the end of the award season.”

“It wouldn’t be a great loss…” Rami sputtered ignoring his agent’s remark.

“Yeah picture that ‘Stylist kills an extra from Twilight.’” You retorted miming a newspaper cover.

“At least you would get to make the cover for once.”

“Fuck you.”

 “You wish.” And at those words, his agent handed you your plane ticket.

“We have a reservation under Malek, please.” Rami declared to the receptionist.

The latter gave Rami only one key…

“Excuse me, sir. There must be a mistake… Hum… I’m pretty sure we reserved two rooms for tonight…”

Do I need to mention that Rami’s attempts to find a solution were vain, the hotel being completely booked…

“You can have the bed, if you want, and I'll take the couch.” You heard Rami say from the bathroom.

“I’ll save you from that cliché...” You stated putting on your jacket. “I’m gonna sleep at a friend’s place, I’ll see you in the morning.”

And when you opened the door to leave, you froze at his raspy voice.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You said turning away from the opened door to face him.

“Take two steps backwards every time I take one forward.” He literally took a step towards you, as if to prove something. You didn’t flinch.

“Rami, look I’m really not in the mood to fight with you at the moment. I thought you’d be happy not to have to spend the night with me, but you’re even more complicated than I thought…”

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend the night with you, Y/N?” He whispered to your ear, his left-hand closing the door behind you, his right-hand pulling you to him before crushing his lips to yours…

At your arrival at the museum while everybody was greeting you, he stayed away and stared at you with a look you couldn't quite identify at first. Hatred or indifference, maybe both but before you could put your finger on it Sacagawea dragged you through the hallways meanders of the museum.

Your first argument was about his guards obeying to you whenever he wasn't around, your Arabic being better than his. This disagreement only being the first of many.

He wasn't sure about how he had figured it out, probably because of the Iris scent floating in the Egyptian exhibit hallways when he came back or because of the chuckles of his stone giants whenever he would speak to them in Arabic.

I “أتعتقد ان هذا مُضحك ؟” I (you think that's funny?) He asked you dryly, interrupting your daily attempt to reconcile Jedediah & Octavius after the latter had insulted the first one’s mother in latin.

I “أتعتقد ان هذا مُضحك ؟” I You corrected him, putting the emphasis on the right syllable. He had developed a special ability at hiding what he felt when he was around you but you could see by his clenched-jaw that his annoyance was overflowing out of him like Nile after the rainy season.

“Lady Y/N, would you join me for a walk?” Lancelot asked you politely, interrupting Larry’s daily attempt to reconcile Ahk and you, his main idea being about looking for what the two of you had in common instead of fighting about your differences.

“It would be a pleasure.” You answered, secretly thanking Lancelot for putting an end to Larry’s lecture. Standing up to follow Lancelot you felt a pair of eyes on you and for some reason the feeling of those vibrant green eyes on you felt kind of pleasant.

“So what, you’re just gonna leave us here, Y/N?” Larry deplored as you passed your arm through Lancelot’s inviting him to walk with you.

“Don’t take it personally Larry but those little sessions between the three of us are less pleasant than the ten plagues of Egypt, deaths of firstborns included.” And before you even finished your sentence, Ahkmenrah’s expression went from a gaze darker than his coal hair to a chuckle he was desperately trying to hide, in vain.

Joining back your exhibit at the end of that little walk with the knight, you noticed Ahk sitting on your sarcophagus, in the dark.

“How was it?” He asked, his tone closer to the whisper than to a question. For the first time in what felt like millenniums there wasn’t a single ounce of irony, sarcasm or bitterness in his voice.

“It was like feeling what Jews felt when they crossed the Sinai desert…” You retorted, sitting next to him.

Another half-hidden chuckle… and for some reason you realized that his laugh was one of the most melodic thing you had ever heard. Still, his eyes were avoiding yours.

I “هل حاول تقبيلك؟” I  (did he try to kiss you?)

You couldn't tell what surprised you the most, his question or the fact that he asked this in a perfect Arabic.

I “لا.” I (no.) You didn't know how many seconds, minutes, centuries had passed between his question and your answer but you were sure of one thing: his eyes never left yours during that span of time.

“Good.” And at that word he pressed his lips against yours…

You and Josh used to be very good friends.

Your friendship often earning you some dumb jokes from the band about when the two of you would take it to the next step.

You don't really know when that friendship (not to say little infatuation) turned into the taste of ashes you had in mouth every time Chris would mention Josh's name.

You had been one of the few persons he had accepted to see after his sisters’ disappearance.

The only person, in fact… and that for a while…

You used to pick him up after his sessions with Dr.Hill, and despite circumstances that tradition was your favorite moment of the week.

And something was telling you that he looked forward to this Wednesday tradition as much as you did.

He would always find an excuse not to go home right after his appointment. Excuses that went from a new horror movie you desperately needed to see, to a new pizzeria in town which pizzas were “better than almost any trip to the bone zone.”

You often caught yourself smiling at the thought of the note he had once left you on a napkin willingly forgotten in your car.

You can't tell when or why he decided to put an end to those traditional Wednesday afternoon trips but one thing was sure, you hadn't seen it coming.

“Hum… Sam offered to take me home after my session tomorrow… I’m hope you don’t mind…”

Not that you were against the idea of Josh making up with Sam, Chris and the others. You had been encouraging him to do so for months.

But he had done it so quickly almost precipitously…

And the closer he got to them, the farther you felt from his orbit…

Your exchanges soon only consisted of a nod in the morning when the two of you would join the band.

You weren’t even friends anymore, just two persons having friends in common.

Soon enough, the indifference turned to hatred.

You often thought about tearing that freaking napkin apart.

Still, you've never been able to... Because that stupid piece of paper was the only thing proving that you had been friends, if not more. The only thing proving that you hadn’t made it all up…

To your surprise, he invited you to the lodge with the band.

But you knew Josh, probably better than he knew himself, and you had noticed that the closer you got to his sisters’ disappearance anniversary the harsher and more acrimonious were the few remarks he granted you of.

You soon concluded that he didn’t want you to come, that he just didn’t want to be the kind of asshole that invites everyone besides one particular person.

So you came up with some lame excuses about not being available because of a family dinner.

And for the first time in months, you caught the glimpse of a smile on his face at your words. It was official, he hated you...

You're the first person he asked for after waking up in the hospital, the day following his prank.

At first, every cell of your body told you not to go, that he wanted you only because everyone had turned their back to him after his demonstration of humor.

Unfortunately for you and your will not to care, while you were on the phone with Josh’s mother explaining you how important you were to him and how he didn’t want to see anyone besides you, your eyes lingered on the piece of paper pinned on the wall.

“I’ll go.” You said out of the blue, interrupting whatever she was saying while your fingers brushed the words on the napkin, as if to feel the hand that had left them there.

“Y/N? You came?”

“I did it for your mother… and because that’s what…” You stopped at the thought of Beth and Hannah. “… they would have wanted me to do.”

You hated that man with every fiber of your being, still your heart bled at the sight of the scratches, bruises and stitches on his face.

You can’t tell how much time you stayed there on that chair next to his bed, your mind emanating and analyzing a thousand thoughts per second.

“What are you thinking about?” Josh asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I just don’t understand you, Washington. So what, you hate me enough to destroy every shred of affection I used to have for you but not enough to pull that sick prank on me?”

He remained silent.

“You know what? That was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.” You declared before standing up to leave.

He grabbed your wrist before you could do so.

You looked at him, searching in his eyes to know what was happening in the battlefield that he called his mind.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” And before the sound of his voice even stopped resonating within you, his lips captured yours.

Tobey hired you after you beat him in a car race.

The guys were so excited at your arrival, their team despite being the best of the country desperately needed to be spruced up.

Finn quickly shook your hand before going back to the mustang he was working on.

You decided not to care, your attention being fully caught by Joe and Benny's questions about your favorite brand of hubcap or your opinion on this or that car model.

The first car you worked on with the team was a Swedish Koenigsegg Agera R.

After 1 month spent pampering that car, you could count on one hand the number of times you and Finn had talked to each other.

“Guys… hum and Y/N, the work you did on that beauty is breathtaking. I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’m sure everyone here will agree with me… Y/N I would like you to drive her at the next De Leon.” Tobey solemnly declared handing you the keys of the car. Benny and Joe opened a beer and drank to you.

“To Y/N and her new steed. I hope that it won’t be the last thing you will be riding.” Benny declared raising his beer.

You hadn't been able to appreciate every sexual nuances of his joke, the latter reminding you that the De Leon, despite being the most prestigious race was also the most dangerous.

“That’s out of question.” Finn retorted suddenly, reminding you by doing so that he was there.

Joe, Benny and Tobey defended you, reminding him that you were the best and that he knew it.

“You heard me, that’s out of the question. I’ve put so much effort in that car that there’s no way I’m gonna entrust it…” He stopped as if to gather the courage to speak. “… to a girl.”

The garage remained silent for a few minutes.

“Go fuck yourself, Finn.” Tobey finally said, putting his jacket on and inviting Joe and Benny to do so.

The minute you heard their cars driving away, it took you all your will not to kill Finn right there and then.

Wrenches were thrown.

You had never noticed his skill at avoiding objects thrown in the air by a woman’s bruised ego.

“You know that I’m gonna drive it whether you like or not.”

“Nope.”

“You know I am.”

“That’s what we’ll see.” Finn taunted you before trying to break the window of the car with a wrench you had “placed” there sooner.

You stood in front of the car window before he could do so.

You were not even sure, given your relationship with him, that it would keep him from ruining 4 weeks of hard work (or incidentally from putting an end to your life).

It worked.

He dropped the wrench, the impact sound of which on the floor made you flinch.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” He ordered you, while staring at your face to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

He had a smile drawn on his face. Finn was a handsome man; a thousand thrown wrenches wouldn't change anything to that.

“What makes you smile?”

“You’ve got a bit of…” He said low while wiping away a small stain at the corner of your mouth. “… motor oil.

You couldn't tell if it was true or not but the kiss he placed on your lips right after felt better than winning any race.