Ix (alpha_orionis_v) wrote in ___spaced,

FIC - Mistakes

Title: Mistakes
Fandom: Spaced
Character/s:Like in the show
Word Count (chapter/total): 6000
Rating: PG
Summary/Warnings: Tim and Daisy get a little surprise in their lives.

This is one I've been working on for a while, and you might have seen bits of it floating around before. My main issue with this story was always the ending. I didn't like it, no matter what I did. Everything always seemed like a cop-out, because I was trying to make everything all right in the end. And then, I realised that I was going about it completely backwards.

Perhaps the best thing about the pub was that it was walking distance from 23 Meteor street. That, and management had changed a few months back, and drinks had gone down about two pounds each, on average. Ever since Marsha had nearly chucked everyone out, and Mike had commandeered a tank in what could only be described as a bloody spectacular show of affection, the residents of the house made a point to spend each Friday together, pissing away their pay whilst cheating death by alcohol poisoning.

It wasn't until being chucked out on account of closing time did anyone notice that Brian and Marsha had vanished. Tim suggested that maybe it would be a good idea to look for the disappeared neighbours, but the idea was immediately forgotten when he had forgotten how to walk and nearly eaten pavement. Mike caught him at the last second, holding his friend's weight up with his shoulder.

"All right, Timmy?" Mike asked, dragging the bleach blond slightly as the three began the short walk home.

"I just need to drink it off. I think we've got some cider at home," Tim said, gamely trying to match step with Mike. "That stuff goes bad if you don't drink it right away."

"No, Tim," Daisy said, leaning against him as they walked, trying not to fall, herself. "That's vodka."

"Is it?"

"I think she's right," Mike said, leaning against Tim every bit as much as Tim had been leaning against him.

The trio rounded the corner in front of the house, stumbling over one another as they tried to negotiate the small gate in the front garden. After careful choreography and much planning, they worked their way through the gate and up to the front steps without falling over, reaching into their pockets all at once.

"I didn't bring my keys," Tim said, turning out his trouser pockets, as though hoping to find them buried deep in a fold.

"I didn't, either," Daisy mumbled, digging through her jacket. "Marsha came with, so I figured she would."

Mike quickly patted himself down, finding a water pistol, a few dog snacks, about ten pounds in loose change, and a plastic fork, but no keys. "Hang on," he said, dislodging himself from his friends, struggling to stand up correctly. "I think I left my window open."

"Mike, be careful!" Daisy called out, doing nothing to stop the man as he wandered around to the other side of the house.

Tim and Daisy both began laughing at their friend as he very obviously tripped over something in the dark. "I'm alright!" Mike called from the back of the house.

Shaking her head at her friend, Daisy snuggled closer to Tim. "It's cold," she pointed out, trying to work her way into Tim's jacket.

Sighing, Tim began ringing the doorbell for Brian's flat, not letting up on the button. "Come on, Brian!" he shouted, banging on the door as well. "Let us in!" He moved to Marsha's bell for a moment, before switching between the two. "Somebody! Come on!"

"I don't think they're home yet," Daisy pointed out.

"Yeah..." Shivering, himself, Tim wrapped his arms tightly around his flatmate, wondering how long before Mike realised that he couldn't climb up the side of the house and came back around to freeze on the front step as well. Daisy moved to rest her head on Tim's shoulder, but distances were miscalculated or intentions were misread, or possibly both, but somehow, they wound up kissing, instead. Not that it was particularly bad, although Tim did taste mostly of bitter and pig snacks.

"Tim," Daisy broke away after a moment, knowing that what they were doing was wrong.

"Don't cheapen this," Tim responded, leaning in even closer this time.

Something was off. Something small, but with his mind only working at about two percent capacity, there was no chance of figuring out what was misplaced in the universe. Not like Tim had to be anywhere that morning, anyway. He scratched his chest through his shirt, rubbing at a tender spot he hadn't remembered being there the night before. He must have run into the door or something on his way to bed. Not quite ready to get up and face the world, he yawned widely and stretched his arms, finding himself blocked by someone else in bed with him.

"Daisy, what are you doing in my room?" he mumbled, pulling the heavy quilt with him as he rolled over to face the wall.

Daisy pulled back on the quilt, groaning slightly. "Piss off. This is my room."

Tim suddenly realised what was wrong with the universe. The sun was shining through the window at exactly the wrong angle. Tim sat up as quickly has his hangover would allow, which wasn't very quickly at all, and looked around the room for any signs of being in the wrong place. The first thing he noticed was a conspicuous lack of action figures and remote control toys. The next thing he noticed was Daisy, lying topless, next to him.

Well, she wasn't completely topless; she'd still been wearing her bra, in that sort of way that a girl wears a bra when it’s unfastened in the back.

For a brief moment, Tim entertained the possibility that maybe Daisy just preferred to sleep in her bra, until he realized that all he was wearing was his T-shirt and socks, and nothing more. He meant to wake Daisy and ask calmly if she remembered anything of the night before. Instead, he panicked and screamed, nearly sending Daisy out of bed completely as she shot awake.

"Tim! What are you doing in here?" She demanded, quickly covering herself with the quilt upon realizing that she was barely in her underwear.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I barely remember leaving the pub. I think I fell."

"Tim," Daisy said, completely stone-faced. "Please tell me you're at least wearing pants."

Tim shook his head slowly. He didn't remember taking off his trousers the night before, let alone his pants, but he definitely was not wearing either, now. "I think we did something stupid last night," he said, casting a quick glance at Daisy's bedside clock. "But the last time I got so pissed that I blanked out twelve hours, I woke up in a jail cell in Wales, so I guess it could have been worse." He scratched at his chest again, finding that tender spot once more. Pulling down the collar of his shirt, he found what was very clearly a lightly-bruised bite mark. "Did you bite me?"

"This is serious," Daisy said, pulling the quilt around her chest a bit more tightly. "We shouldn't have done this. It could put a serious strain on our friendship."

Tim sighed. "Well, I don't remember actually doing anything last night, do you?" he asked with a light shrug.

"No," Daisy replied cautiously. "But--"

"Then it never happened," he offered. "We'll never, ever, ever talk about this again, because there's nothing to talk about. We both just got so drunk, that we fell asleep in the same bed, all right?"

Daisy nodded slowly. "Yeah," she agreed. "Okay. It never happened." She started to get out of bed, stopping when she realized that she'd just been wearing a bra, and nothing else. "Uhm, Tim. You wanna..."

"Oh." Tim quickly averted his eyes, looking out the window as Daisy climbed out of bed. She quickly pulled a jumper over her head and fished a pair of trousers from the mess on the floor, dressing quickly to allow Tim to leave the room. "Where are my trousers?" he asked once Daisy's hurried shuffling ceased.

The pair quickly glanced around the room, both unable to remember what he'd been wearing the night before. "Khakis, right?" Daisy asked, finding a pair of what very well could have belonged to Tim.

"Yeah, I think." She tossed the trousers over to her flatmate, trying not to laugh as he struggled to pull them on under the cover of the blankets. Once zipped and buttoned, he climbed out of bed, making a path straight for the bedroom door. "I'm, gonna go have a shower," he said, not pausing to hear Daisy's response.

He ducked into his bedroom quickly enough to grab a clean set of clothes before moving to the bathroom. As he undressed and showered, he couldn't help but feeling a bit hurt and betrayed. True, it had been his suggestion that they forget the night ever happened, but he really couldn't have been so bad in bed that Daisy had forgotten it ever happened before he even made the suggestion. Tim at least had the excuse of literally being falling-down drunk, but Daisy... well, she was just being mean about it.

They stood outside the small office building, waiting as other soldiers entered one by one with heavy rucksacks.

"You're gonna be here when I get back?" Mike asked, perhaps a bit more nervously than he realised.

"I'll be standing right here," Tim assured, pointing at the sidewalk.

"You're not gonna forget about me again?"

Tim sighed. "Mike, I've said I'm sorry more times than I can count," he said, knowing Mike would never let him forget his mistake, and knowing that Mike was right to never let him forget. "I'll be out here waiting for you when you get back."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"And you're sorry?"

"Deeply sorry. Now, come here." The two embraced in a friendly hug, as always, oblivious to the looks garnered by others. After a moment, Mike pulled away and saluted his friend before picking up his rucksack.

"Right," he said with a curt nod. "Guess I'll be off."

"Have fun," Tim said as Mike pulled his rucksack over his shoulders and joined the rest of his platoon. He loitered outside the building for a few minutes, making sure Mike wasn't going to rush back out because he'd forgotten something. Or because he wanted to make sure Tim would remember to pick him back up. Once confident that Mike was properly situated and wouldn't be back outside any time soon, Tim tossed his skateboard on the sidewalk, eager to get home and try out the new Tony Hawk game.

Daisy wandered out of her room to find Tim slumped down in the beanbag, growling angrily at whatever new game he'd dragged home. For a moment, she considered retreating back to the safety of her bedroom, deciding at the last second that perhaps Tim might be a bit easier to handle in his current distracted state.

"Tim, we need to talk," she said nervously, her fingers twisting at her jumper in a dozen directions at once.

"Okay," Tim replied absently, not taking his attention from the television. At least he was willing to listen.

Daisy inhaled uneasily, taking time to choose her words carefully. "I'm late," she said finally, almost angry that the weight on her chest only seemed to get heavier.

Tim shrugged. "So?" he asked, still not looking away from his game. "What're you standing around talking to me for? Hurry up and go, if you're so late."

Daisy sighed shakily as she rubbed her face with her hands. "No, Tim," she said quietly. "Late... as in... I think... I'm pregnant."

Tim dropped his game controller, sending his character crashing rather spectacularly into the side of a taxi. He was overtaken by a colliding sense of ghostly chill and overwhelming heat. "What?" he managed to say, barely choking the letters out.

"I think it's yours," Daisy said quickly, still tugging at her jumper. "No, actually. I'm positive it's yours."

Tim tried to convince himself that it was a joke. Daisy was just getting back at him for... not doing the dishes like he'd promised. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to get up and run. He wanted to scream.

Instead, he drooled on himself a bit, having not shut his mouth. Shaking his head, he rubbed the saliva out of his beard with his hand. "No," he said coldly, trying to force a laugh. "Why would you say something like that?"

"I'm serious!" she insisted, stepping closer to her flatmate. "Listen, I know we said we'd never talk about... that... but we can't very well ignore it anymore. Not if we're going to have a child because of it."

Tim jumped up from the floor, holding his hand out accusingly. "Hang on," he demanded. "How can you even be absolutely sure that it is mine, anyway?" He backed away from Daisy, as though close contact with her might cause every molecule in his body to implode. "What about that bloke you brought home that one night?"

Daisy took another step toward Tim, sending him backing into the television. "Because he used a condom!" she insisted. "He was responsible about it."

The implication was too much. Tim frowned as he quickly darted around Daisy, climbing across the sofa and over the end table, stopping just before the door. "What about you, then?" he asked. "If I was so irresponsible, why didn't you get responsible, then? What about your birth control? Why'd you stop taking it?" He reached for the door, ready to rush upstairs to Mike, before remembering that he'd left for a training exercise not two hours earlier.

"We were both pissed!" Daisy shrieked, stomping forward. "It was stupid, and we shouldn't have done it in the first place, but we can't take it back, now!" She herded Tim away from the door and closer to the table, more willing to be upset with Tim and have him yelling back than being scared and alone. At least a shouting match with Tim meant she didn't have to think much.

"Sure you can You can always get an abortion," he said simply, missing the look of horror that swept over Daisy's face. "I'll stay with Brian for a bit, you prove that you can't afford the responsibility, and it's done." He shrugged, as though the situation was resolved.

"How could you?" Daisy demanded, stomping close to Tim. "Absolutely not. We were responsible enough to sleep together, we can be responsible enough to do the right thing."

"What?" Tim asked. "Put it up for adoption, then?"

Daisy slapped him, the sound echoing through the flat like a whip crack. "I'm not just going to cast my problems off to somebody else!" she shrieked. "Not that a child is a problem, but how could you even think that about your own flesh and blood?"

"You don't even know that it's mine!" Tim shouted back, stepping close to Daisy. "Mike was there that night. How do you know it's not his?"

The two stood in silence for a moment, considering Tim's words.

"No," they both said at once.

"Of course not," Daisy said, shaking her head.

"What was I thinking?" Tim rubbed his face with both hands, still wanting to be sick, but not having the energy to actually get sick.

"By that reasoning, it could be Brian's," Daisy pointed out. "He was in the house that night. He let us in." She stood in horror as Tim worked out the possibility of Daisy ever being with Brian in that way. "Tim! It's yours. Not Brian's. Not Mike's. Not Devon's. Yours." She crossed her arms over her chest, willing herself not to break down into tears.

Tim shook his head, his teeth grinding painfully. "Prove it," he said, his voice a low growl. He stood silent, waiting for Daisy to say something -- anything -- that would convince him differently. "You can't. I'm not responsible." He stomped around Daisy, slamming the door loudly as he all but ran out of the flat.

Shocked and a bit sick, herself, Daisy fell into the nearest kitchen chair, trying to keep herself from crying, and failing miserably.

It was well after dark when Tim wandered into the flat, finding Daisy curled up on the beanbag. He silently made his way across the flat and sat down next to Daisy, not saying anything when he felt her move away to avoid contact with him.

"You're sure it's mine?" he asked softly. "I mean, absolutely, positively sure beyond all doubt?"

Daisy nodded weakly. "It can't possibly be anyone else," she said, on the verge of tears once more. "Devon was almost two months before you. I'd have known long before today."

Tim nodded slowly. "Okay, but you're absolutely sure?"



They sat in a heavy silence, staring forward at the television that wasn't on. Tim shifted slightly, feeling Daisy react and pull farther away from him. "You left me," she said flatly. "Just ran out."

"I know," Tim replied, that familiar sick feeling returning. "You just came in and told me I'm gonna be a dad. I guess I panicked."

"You don't really want to move in with Brian, now, do you?" she asked hopefully, her fingers tugging nervously at her jumper again.

"No," Tim replied honestly. "I don't know why I said that. Guess I just wasn't thinking right."

"You've got a bad habit of that," Daisy pointed out without any humour in her voice.

"I know."

They fell back into another silence, ignoring Colin as he ran through the flat, dragging an old T-shirt in his mouth.

"I'm scared," Daisy said suddenly.

"So am I," Tim replied, surprised when Daisy leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her even closer. "God, I'm gonna be a dad," he said, laughing nervously. "What am I supposed to tell my mum?"

Daisy groaned. "What am I supposed to tell my mum?" she asked, burying her face in Tim's shoulder.

He gently rubbed his hand along Daisy's arm, matching rhythm with her breathing. "Well," he said casually. "I guess the moral of the story is don't get pissed and sleep with your flatmate."

She pushed Tim's chest, not sure if she should laugh or scream. "Tim, this is serious," she reminded him.

"I am serious!" They leaned against one another, Tim continuing to move his hand along Daisy's arm. "This doesn't mean we have to... you know... share a bed, now, does it?" he asked nervously.

Daisy shrugged lightly. "I dunno. Not if you don't want to, I guess." She sat up suddenly, putting her hand over her mouth. "Oh, no. Tim, what are you going to tell Sophie?" she asked, surprised when Tim only shrugged.

"Nothing," he said. "We broke up about a month ago. She was offered a permanent position with Marvel, so we called it off." He pulled Daisy close to him again. "And nothing against you, or anything, but your bed has got to be the single most uncomfortable thing I've ever come into contact with."

Daisy shrugged lightly. "Yeah, well," she said quietly. "S'got a few broken springs, and that."

Tim sat forward suddenly. "Daisy!" he said, turning himself in the beanbag to face her directly. "Why didn't you say anything before? We could have fixed it, then."

She shrugged again and leaned back into the beanbag. "It's not a big deal, is it?"

"It is a big deal," Tim said defiantly. "Especially if you're going to have a child." He looked around the flat, searching for an idea. "Why don't you take my bed until we can get you a new mattress," he offered, waiving his arm toward his room. "I can sleep on the sofa until then. Not like I haven't done it before."

"Oh, Tim," Daisy said, awkwardly climbing to her feet. "You're not serious."

"I am serious." He started back toward his bedroom to fetch a blanket. "That thing'll just fuck up your back, and you don't need that on top of everything else. We'll see if Mike can find us something when he gets back."

Tim awoke with his face pressed into rough upholstery, taking a moment to remember where he was. The walls were definitely the wrong colour. And there was a loud, banging noise that he didn't remember being there before.

As he untangled himself from the heavy quilt, yawning widely, he remembered having fallen asleep on the sofa, although more planned out than usual. As he stumbled to his feet, prepared to make his way to the kitchen, he realised that the loud banging was someone knocking on the door; one of the neighbours, no doubt.

Putting the refrigerator, and any breakfast it might contain on hold, he pulled open the door, not surprised in the least to find Brian standing in the hall.

"I brought back your kettle," Brian said slowly, holding up the old tea kettle for Tim to see.

Tim stepped out of the way to let Brian enter, pointing for him to put the kettle on the table. "Thanks," he mumbled as he opened the refrigerator door. "Did you wash it?"

Brian nodded slowly. "Yeah..." he said carefully. The taller man took a small step away from the door, noticing the mess on the sofa. "Did you sleep out here?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yep," Tim answered casually, shutting the refrigerator door, having found nothing suitable. "Daisy's bed is broken, and mine's too small for two people."

"I see." Brian turned to face Tim once more, holding his hands up nervously in front of his chest. "Well... congratulations."

"On what?" Tim asked as he sat down at the table. "Sleeping on the sofa?"

Brian jumped back slightly, bringing his hands closer to his face. "No. On the... baby. Marsha-"

Realising that the matter hadn't yet been made intentionally public, Brian opted to wave awkwardly and rush out of the flat without saying anything further. Not in the least surprised that Marsha had managed to find out already, Tim simply picked up the tea kettle and deposited it into the sink before shuffling back to the sofa and burying himself under the quilt once more.

"So," Marsha said, pouring herself her third glass of pinot. "You decide on any names, yet?"

"We only just found out three days ago," Daisy reminded her. "We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl, yet."

Twist leaned closer to Daisy, as though getting ready to share some great secret. "Not that I'd know from experience, or anything," she said, her voice in a hushed whisper, "but if you want it to be a boy, you should eat lots of celery."

"You've got to be extra careful, now that you've got a little one on the way," Marsha said, taking a long drag from her cigarette and exhaling the smoke over the table. "Won't be able to go out to the pub with Tim, any more."

"Yeah, well," Daisy managed to say, coughing uncontrollably.

"And Daisy!" Twist said, lightly patting her friend's arm. "You lucky thing. You've got the kind of figure that you won't even grow out of your clothes until just before it's born!" She stirred her tea, which she otherwise hadn't touched. "They say you never actually recover from having a child. And the only alternative is a big ugly, unattractive scar. I could never do it."

Marsha finished off her pinot and poured another glass. "You go through all that pain and suffering just to have them hate and resent you, later on," she lamented. "From the day they're born, it's all about them. Can't do anything right."

"You won't be able to go out at night, any more," Twist pointed out. "You can't take a child to the club."

Daisy sat silent, watching in horror as the other two women relayed to her every horror and limitation of being a parent.

"I'm being punished," she said to herself.

"Oh, were you saying something, sweetie?" Twist asked.

Daisy put her head down on the table, wishing everyone would just leave.

"Are you sure Tim's even fit to be a father?" Twist wondered aloud.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daisy asked defensively as she raised her head, slightly.

"I've seen how he spends his weekends. All that lager and hash."

Daisy groaned and put her head back on the table as the front door opened, admitting Tim into the flat, met by angry glares that would frighten a polar bear away. "Oi," he said, holding his hands up slightly to examine the front of the jacket. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he chose to ignore them and focused his attention on Daisy. "How you doing?" he asked, stroking her head gently.

She answered him with a grumble.

"Well, here," he said, reaching into his jacket. "I got you something." He sat a box of Jaffa cakes on the table as the telephone rang. "What have you two been telling her?" he asked accusingly as he went to answer the phone, taking it into his room.

"Oh, I can't do this," Daisy moaned, reaching for the box of Jaffa cakes and prying it open with her fingers.

"What?" Twist asked. "Open the box?"

"No," Daisy said, biting into one of the cakes. "Have a child. I didn't even know him when we moved in, together. We were both desperate."

Marsha poured another glass of pinot, ignoring Daisy's lament. The three sat in silence, Marsha drinking, Twist stirring, and Daisy devouring the snacks as Tim wandered out from his bedroom, skateboard in tow.

"I gotta go pick Mike up," he said, placing the telephone back in the cradle.
"He's not supposed to come in until next week," Daisy said, confused.
"Yeah, well," Tim said making his way back toward the door. "Something happened, didn't it? Be back in a bit."

Tim had things to say. Important things. Things that could very possibly, and most likely would affect their entire future together. Things that needed to be said now, damnit.

And Tim wasn't able to get two words in edgewise, because Mike was too busy going on about how Dexter crashed the Jeep into a lamppost, breaking two people's noses, and ending training early.

"Mike," Tim said desperately as they walked through the garden gate. "This is serious."

"That's what I've been saying!" Mike nearly shouted in his childish way that Tim usually found quite endearing. "We were supposed to be out there until Saturday!"

Tim sighed, unlocking the front door. "No, Mike," he said. "I mean, I have something really serious to say. Our friendship may depend on it."

Mike seemed to still only be half listening, more interested in slinging his rucksack off his shoulders. They stumbled through the narrow hall, Mike's rucksack taking up most of the room, and let himself into Tim and Daisy's flat, knowing the door would be unlocked.

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked, chucking the heavy rucksack on the floor, surely scratching at the cheap tile. At least Marsha was no longer around to see the damage -- not that she'd have probably cared, anyway. Or even noticed, for that matter.

Mike paused in his steps, looking at Tim almost defiantly. "Timmy," he said sternly. "You didn't break anything, did you? Nothing important?"

Tim shook his head furiously. "No, Mike," he said, upset that it had taken the whole of the twenty minute walk back to the flat to even get this far. He sighed and slumped down in the nearest chair, motioning for Mike to do similarly. "Daisy...expecting."

"Expecting what?" Mike asked. "It's not like it's her birthday, or anything."

Tim could have pulled his hair out, if not for the beanie protecting the peroxide-damaged mess. "No. Expecting," Tim said slowly. "Having a child."

Mike sat back in his seat, skirting a fine line of shock and odd approval. "I didn't know she and Duncan were serious," he said.

Tim shook his head again, disbelieving that something so simple could be so hard to relay. "Devon," Tim corrected. "And they're not. It's not his."

"Whose, then?"

The two men sat silently at the table, communicating in the delayed telepathy that they'd shared since childhood.

"Well, it can't be yours, so whose is it?" Mike asked stubbornly.

Astounded, Tim threw his arms out to the side. "Mine!" he spat out.

"When did you ever sleep with her?" Mike tilted his head to the side slightly, as though in extremely deep thought.

Tim sighed. "You remember that night you tried to climb up the side of the house, because Marsha had the keys, and fell asleep at the pub?" They stared blankly at one another for a moment. "Yeah, I don't, either, but that's when."

Mike shook his head. "No, you didn't," he said simply. "S'not my fault you ate Brazil nuts and can't remember anything. You know you're allergic to those things, Timmy."

"Yeah-- What? Are you saying that you slept with her, then?" Tim asked incredulously.

"No," Mike said simply. "I'm saying that you didn't, is all."

They stared at one another blankly, both shifting their gaze up to the front door as it opened, Daisy walking in slowly. Tim tried to say something -- anything -- but not a single intelligible fragment seemed to form in his mind.

"Hey, Mike," Daisy said happily, expecting him to jump to his feet to greet her, and slightly disappointed when he didn't. "What's...going on? Training go well?"

"Yeah," he said nervously, realizing that he was likely to witness another explosive domestic. He got to his feet, eager to leave the flat. "Well, I should really get going," he said as he hefted his rucksack from the floor. "They want us in at--"

"Mike," Tim said gravely. He wanted to be angry; furious, even, but it seemed as though every circuit in his brain was set on standby.

Carefully putting his rucksack back on the floor, Mike straightened himself up and cleared his throat. "Congratulations, Daisy," he said with a curt nod. "But it's not Tim's."

"What?" Daisy asked weakly, leaning against the counter. "Wha--How? How do you know?" She looked toward Tim, her heart sinking when he refused to look at her. He sat stiffly with his arms crossed over his chest, looking toward the far wall with a familiar scowl that was only slightly masked by his scraggly beard. After their last fight, he was determined not to say anything, rather than running the risk of cocking everything up again by starting a screaming argument. Much easier to just keep silent for as long as possible.

"You two never did anything, that night," Mike said, shaking his head slightly. "You snogged like a couple of randy teenagers, but you both passed out before you could do anything you'd wind up regretting, anyway. I'd have moved Tim back to his room, but I didn't want to wake you up." He looked down at the floor, embarrassed with himself and for Daisy. "I went in there to break you two up when I heard him take off his belt, but you'd both passed out by the time I paused the game."

Tim threw himself to his feet and stomped back to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Left behind in a stunned silence, Daisy and Mike furthered the distance between the two of them, neither able to look directly at the other.

"When'd you find out?" Mike asked cautiously.

"Day you left." She wrapped her arms around herself, that sick feeling that had only recently started to go away suddenly back with full force. "Mike," she said after a moment. "Could you, uhm..." She nodded toward the door, taking another small step backwards.

"Right," Mike said simply, picking up his rucksack. "Guess I'll...leave you lot alone, then."

Tim buried his face in his pillow, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Doing both seemed like a good plan, but it required far too much energy, so he screamed instead. At least the pillow was thick enough that it muffled most of it, and the shut door kept Daisy from hearing anything else.

Only, she did, and a few moments later, cautiously opened the bedroom door.

"Tim?" she ventured softly. "I...I'm sorry."

"You going to bed?" he asked, face still buried in his pillow.

Daisy shrugged. "I guess."

In one swift movement, Tim snatched up his pillow and the spare quilt before rushing out to the front room. "Told you it's not mine," he growled as he passed Daisy. Flinging the bedding toward the sofa, Tim dropped himself on the beanbag and started up his PlayStation. Something needed to be drowned.

Daisy and Twist sat across from one another at the kitchen table, both silently staring daggers into the back of Tim's skull. Judging by the quilt and pillow still half-way on the floor, Tim hadn't gone to bed the night before.

"You could at least be supportive, Tim," Twist reminded him sourly.

"I am supportive," Tim growled back, not looking away from the television. "But I'm not responsible."

"You're such a pig."

Tim threw down his controller without pausing the game, and rounded on Twist. "Oh, get fucked!" he shouted. "Aren't you a bit overdue for your next trip to France?"

"Tim!" Daisy shouted, jumping to her feet as well.

"Why are you defending her?" Tim demanded.

"She's my friend!" Daisy reminded him, stepping closer. "Which is more than you're being right now."

Tim held his hands up in the air and shook his head. "Friend?" he demanded. "What kind of friend tells you to get a desk job so people can't tell how 'heavy' you are?"

Daisy let her jaw drop as she stared at her flatmate in horror. "I...No.."

"Better than the boyfriend that says he's gonna move out since Daisy got pregnant," Twist said stiffly.

"I'm not her boyfriend!" he reminded them both as he made tracks for the door. Throwing it open, he let out a stifled shout, finding Marsha waiting in the hall.

"Everything all right down here?" She asked numbly as Tim pushed past her.

Moments after the door slammed shut, it swung back open, Tim again pushing his way past Marsha.

“Why am I leaving?” he demanded. “I live here!” He grabbed Twist by the shoulders, forcefully leading her out of the flat. “Get out!”

Marsha turned slightly, watching as Tim struggled to lead her down the corridor. “Bad time?” she asked. She needed only look at Tim as he walked back into the flat before turning and leaving, herself.

“What was that all about?” Daisy demanded. “Twist is my friend!”

“Yeah, well,” Tim said, locking the door. “She’s not mine.”

Daisy shifted nervously, before getting up from her seat. “I’ll let you be alone, then,” she mumbled, making her way toward her bedroom.

“No, Daisy!” Tim insisted, lightly taking hold of her arm. “Listen, about what Mike said last night...”

“I know,” Daisy said bitterly. “You were right. You’re not responsible.”

Tim sighed, pulling her close to his chest. “Daisy,” he said softly. “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy. Listen, I already told you I’ve no intention of running out on you.”

He could feel her starting to cry against his chest. “Why would you want to stay?” she asked.

“Because that’s what friends do,” Tim said simply. “I just... we don’t need them right now, rubbing our faces in everything. We’ll get through this.”

Daisy did a poor job at holding back a sob. “I don’t want to go through this alone,” she pleaded.

“I said ‘we’,” Tim said. “And we will. We’ll get through this, and everything’ll be just fine. I’m sure if we need to, I can go back to the comic shop to cover any expenses.”

Daisy looked up at Tim, her eyes red and wet. “You’d do that?” she asked.

Tim shrugged. “Of course,” he said. “I told you. We’ll get through this.”

Daisy shrugged. “I want curry,” she announced suddenly.

Tim couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, go get your clothes on, then,” he said, pushing her in the direction of her bedroom. “I don’t care if you are pregnant; I’m not taking you out in your jimjams.”
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened