Well, here's a quick one shot based on the events of the Ustream today. If we're being honest, I'm really not very happy Julian was there. I understand that it brought more appeal to donate to Ian's cause (and I admire his determination), but I was really looking forward to just him and Lucy.
Did any of you see the way she looked at him? Because...I swear...damn. If I hadn't thought something wasn't going on, I sure as hell do now. And I know I'm not the only one who thinks that.
By the way, I've tried a new writing style. I'm not exactly sure if I like it though.
DISCLAIMER: I am in no way affiliated with Lucy or Ian. This is written solely for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others. None of this has happened besides the Ustream; at least not that we know of.
Tugging on a black tank top and a flimsy cardigan of the same shade, I stumble out of Ian's bedroom at around eleven. We've clearly overslept, seeing as how Ian's just now digging through the basket of laundry to pick out three shirts for him to give up in the auction we're broadcasting over Ustream today. A smile creeps over my lips as I see him rummaging through the basket, a look of clear frustration on his face. The Ian Harding look of frustration consists of his brow furrowed and blue eyes clouded. He's mumbling to himself as well; God, sometimes he can just be the most adorable man. Well, not just sometimes.
Snaking my arms around his torso, I can feel him jump upwards, shifting my back into her breakfast bar. My back presses against it as he turns around and his expression of surprise turns into a smile much like my own. "Having trouble," I prompt.
Ian holds up two shirts and looks back and forth between them. "I can't decide which one of these will be the final to auction off." His brow furrows once more, looking back and forth between the gray and orange Henley and the eggplant tee shirt. My fingers reach out, feeling over the fabric. The tee shirt is sturdy and from what I can tell, the scent of his cologne is stronger on that one. His Henley still has the vague smell of a cinnamon bun scented candle I once brought to his place back in February during out first Ustream.
"This one's your favorite," I remark, holding up the Henley. I can't count on both my hands how many times I've seen Ian wear the damn thing. I've almost bought him a second one when I've ventured into Urban Outfitters so he can have a replacement just in case his original one wears a hole in the sleeve or something. "I wouldn't get rid of this one. I think you'll be lost without it." I hold back a slight snicker while his handsome face contorts into somewhat of a smirk.
"Good idea, Luce." He leans down and presses a fluttering kiss against my lips. It takes me a moment to fully remember the conversation we had over glasses of wine the previous night. Per his request, I opted to stay the night because of such an early Ustream. After dinner and round of laughter, Ian and I had settled onto his couch. Talking led to one thing and before I knew it, I'd found myself with my body nestled against his with the comforter of his bed covering us. The words "Let's see if this can work" have been ringing in my head with Ian's husky voice as the speaker.
It's safe to say that I'm not sure what he and I are exactly, but I don't understand how I could've neglected what was standing in front of me for quite some time. I almost feel ashamed that it's taken me two relationships and a horrible breakup to realize it. Despite it having been a day, I feel happier; happier than I've been in a long time. And Ian's demeanor has brightened especially too. I vaguely remember him muttering in his sleep that he was finally getting everything he wanted. The smile on my face widens at the memory.
The want for Ian has always been in my system. Hell, we acted upon it for a short time in the beginning of the series, but decided against it for the sake of the show. Still, those fleeting moments never left my mind. It's safe to say the various relationships I've entangled myself in since the start of Pretty Little Liars have served as a distraction. They were good distractions for a bit, but soon, the charade began to grow old. I practically scathed my way out of a relationship with Chris; the man was relentless.
"How are you this morning?"
"Great." Ian's smile widens and it radiates in the blue hue of his eyes. They're light with amusement and happiness; I love seeing him like this. Ian's always so full of life, but there's a difference today. Whether it's the fact that his cause for Lupus has gotten such a fantastic response or the events of last night and us taking things slow, he's especially vibrant today.
"What's go you so happy this morning, Mr. Harding?" Playfulness laces through my voice while he puts down the eggplant colored tee shirt and cups my face in his hands. Blue meets hazel as they often do, but our grins only grow. I had no clue my smile could stretch this far. Something's changed in the matter of a few short hours. It's not the palpable co-star chemistry I'd tricked myself into believing, but something much more real. I crane my head up and kiss Ian softly. That's different too; kissing him when it's not written is even better.
"Well, I'm a little over halfway to my goal of $10,000. And I just so happen to be standing in my living room with a certain person who's made me the happiest man alive in the matter of eight hours."
"Ah, well, she's a very lucky girl…whoever she is." Teasingly, I break away from him and go back to sorting through his laundry and pluck out the shirt's he's chosen. The dark blue one with a frosting stain from last night stands out. "You're giving away this one? With the frosting stain?" A laugh escapes my lips and I shake my head while folding it.
"Every girl wants their very own shirt that I've so generously spoiled."
"Do I get one?"
"You get me. And with getting me, you have the allowance to raid my dresser and pick out any shirt that fits your fancy."
I roll my eyes and make a beeline for his bedroom. The footfalls down the hallway indicate that Ian's not too far behind. I slam the door closed while giggles escape my lips and ransack his drawers with only one shirt in mind; the Henley. He's made it so easy for me to take it. If we're on the road to being together, I think I deserve it. Pounding knocks on the door and a rattling of the locked door knob sound as Ian tries to get in. The Henley's just in my hands when he somehow gets the door open. It swings and hits the wall with a loud slam, causing us both to wince.
"Thief," Ian mutters, grabbing me around the waist and dragging me out of the room. I comply, not wanting to fight him. After all, we're just kidding around. What's the point of being a pain in ass if it's playful banter…or playful actions? Either works.
"You basically said what's mine is yours. I wasn't stealing."
"Don't twist my words, Hale," Ian murmurs, the smirk still on his face. He leans towards me and our lips almost brush. Electricity courses through my veins, but in a short moment, I can feel him trying to tempt the shirt from my hands. The fabric is slipping from my fingers, but I grip hard. It jerks Ian for a moment, but he tugs harder, trying to ease it out of my hands.
"I wasn't twisting," I whisper slightly. "You don't understand the capacity of your own words." In a fleeting second, I pull the shirt triumphantly from his hands and raise it above my head as if to celebrate winning a prize. Ian simply rolls his eyes and walks away. Perhaps he'll fight for it later…perhaps he won't. There's not a chance in hell that he'll get it back once I take it home with me. Though Annie might questions as to why I have a men's shirt that smells of my co-stars cologne.
I shouldn't have to hide Ian from Annie though. Sometimes, I feel like she's always known this was going to happen. She's my best friend; of course she'll be supportive.
Ian opens his mouth to retort back when there's a buzz from his intercom. I can't help but furrow my eyebrows. My mind draws a blank as to who's at the door. He hasn't said a word about there being any company and all of the sudden, my mind strikes and resorts to fear. The special guest star?
No, not possible. Ian would've told me if he invited someone else to Ustream along with us. It's not that I have an issue with any of his friends; in fact, I love them. But, I was looking forward to it just being us. As I look over my shoulder, I see Ian buzzing whoever is at the door up. I go to sit on his brown couch and lay the shirt over my lap. My lovely Mr. Harding goes back into the kitchen to finish doing whatever little laundry he has left to do for the day. Minutes go by until there is a knock on the door.
"I'll get it," I saw, to which Ian replies back with a smile of gratitude. Taking small, anxious steps, I pull open his apartment door to be greeted with the British accent and smile of Julian Morris. It takes everything I have inside of me not to let my face fall. Of course. If this is going to get Ian to raise more awareness for his cause, then I'm proud of him. Hell, I'm proud of him regardless. But irritation spreads through me like wildfire. I do my best not to reveal it around Julian though, given our friendship.
"Ian, can I talk to you for a second?"
He pokes his head up from the laundry basket and gives a wave to Julian while the Brit makes himself comfortable. To him, I've probably just arrived early. Little does Julian know that I've been here for hours on end. While we're not seen, I reach my hand out towards him, which Ian gleefully takes. He gives my hand a small squeeze and I gently rest my head on his arm, though frustrated with him.
"I don't mean to be rude, but I thought this was going to be just you and me." My voice is soft and quiet, not wanting to be so loud as to disturb out guest.
"Luce, I…" Ian's at a loss for words. "If I had known you really wanted quality time, I wouldn't have asked. I just thought…"
"Ian, its fine." I try to smile. All traces of amusement are gone from my face, but I force a smile. He can tell I'm faking it though; Ian always can tell. "Besides, you'll get more donations from Wren fans. It's fine. We've been together for how long?"
He nods, but I can still sense a bit of guilt in his eyes. "Seriously, it's fine. Not let's go auction off some shirts." I go up on tip toe and press my lips to his briefly. It's only a matter of minutes before Julian could notice we've been gone from the room for so long.
The Ustream passes by quickly, given that Julian somehow slipped vodka into his glass rather than the generic water. Out of common curtsey, Ian gives the excuse that he has things to, but clearly, decorum won't allow him to let Julian continuing on behaving the way he is in front of a wide viewing audience. Ian's moral compass is just one of the things I love about him. He can be so selfless sometimes. I can't help but watch and read his face while he talks during the Ustream. He's so bright and lively that his personality lights up the whole room and lights up a smile on my own face. Unfortunately, studying him takes away my contribution to conversation.
I've been holding my breath until Julian leaves. Ian helps him out to a cab, not wanting his slightly staggering friend to be stumbling his way home or worse, to a bar. My lips press into a thin line, irritation still clear on my face. It was the Julian show, which is what's bothering me. Ian barely got to really speak about his cause. As the apartment door closes, I'm recounting all the times I had to try and engage Ian's attention towards me, even if it were for a just second. Yes, it sounds selfish, but I missed the simple interaction. I even went so far as to lick my own fork and tap him with it or hover my sunglasses in front of him.
"Don't be upset," Ian speaks softly as he sits down beside me on the couch and wraps an arm over my shoulder. I rest my head in the crook of his neck and sigh.
"I'm not upset," I say, not wanting to cause conflict. It was just an Ustream. I'd give a million of those for a moment of contentment like this; soft voices, a comfortable hold in his arms. "I just wasn't expecting company."
"But you're not mad at me?"
"How could I be mad at you?" A slight chuckle escapes my lips while I close my eyes. The smile is slowly coming back to my face. "Silly boy. You did what you thought would be beneficial to raise more money for your cause. I can't be mad at you for that."
"Thank God. You know, I was petrified since I've just really got you, I'd lose you with something stupid like this."
"Oh, Ian," I say, shaking my head. I deposit myself into his lap and smile, cupping his face in my hands. My fingertips smooth over his cleanly shaven chin, his aftershave wafting through the room and the close space between us. "I'm not going anywhere."