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LOOK AT HIM

look at his pose, look at his expression, look how careful he's holding Smurfstorm's hand

Named such because it’s a mix of their names; the “Storm” from Storm/Smurfstorm and the “sy” from Clumsy.

Scenario: Smurfstorm and Clumsy are returning home after a long trip, running an errand for Willow and Papa Smurf. They get caught in a rainstorm and shelter inside a dragonfly station- A little house built in a tree where dragonflies and their riders can rest during long flights.

“Clumsy take your clothes off.”  Smurfstorm watched Clumsy sitting isolated in the farthest corner of the hut. Nothing between them but Spitfire’s body which was radiating enough heat to warm the smurfette  and dry her rain soaked hair. Her clothes draped over the dragonfly’s body, would be dry soon enough.

“N-n-no, I’m good over here- A-CHOO!!”  Clumsy couldn’t stop the sneeze, still he stubbornly sat in that corner shivering miserably, too nervous to look the smurfette’s way. “I’m fine.”

Storm sighed, shaking her head. There was a time, months ago, when she would have simply shrugged and taken his insistence to remain distant at face value, perfectly content to ignore him for the rest of the night, but things had changed. 

“Get over here you oaf!” Storm skipped over Spitfire’s tail and dragged the male smurf into the circle of warmth by the shirt collar. “I’ll have more problems to deal with if you get sick.”

“But-” Clumsy blushed, eyes covered. “You’re-”

“I’m not naked.” Storm groused. “Just take off the outer layers before you break your teeth from shivering!”

He was hesitant, more out of bashfulness than anything, but even Clumsy knew he’d get sick sitting in wet clothes. Keeping his shorts, he draped everything else onto the dragonfly’s scales. 

“See? Not too bad is it?” Storm asked from her seat on the floor. Before Clumsy could answer a bolt of lightning cracked so loud that everyone in the hut jumped.

"Yikes!" Clumsy landed on the straw covered floor next to Storm, teeth chattering.

“Wow, that sounds close.” he breathed. 

Smurfstorm shrugged. “I thought you liked rain.”

“I like the rain just fine but storms they-”  He stopped a moment as more thunder rolled past. “Storms and I don’t tend to get along.”

“Oh really…?” It was just as Clumsy understood his verbal gaffe that Storm inched closer. “I thought we were getting along pretty well.”

“You know what I meant, Stormy."  He let her pull him down to the blanket, where they lay listening to the rain thudding against the roof.

“You know…we probably shouldn’t be close like this.” Clumsy gazed into Storm’s eyes and felt a comfortable warmth settle across his nose. “I’ve probably already got a cold.”