Author's Note: Hola lovely readers, I'm back again with another Terrornuckel multichapter. Fools is still a work in progress, but I figured you all needed something light and fluffy considering that story is so angsty. Anyway, this is written with my partner in crime, AngelZ of DarKness, and we are both on tumblr so you can follow us over there. Send in requests if you have them, and I hope you all enjoy this fanfic.
Brock's bags were packed and leaned up against the wall in the tiny living room as he rushed around the house, phone pressed to his ear, listening to Nogla's blurred voice as he tried to remember if he was forgetting anything important. He stopped for a moment, free hand rubbing the back of his neck as he exhaled. Moving was overwhelming to say the least, and albeit so, Brock didn't really have a choice at the moment. His career was thriving, and he had to produce something worth reading fast, or his writing success would be gone just as fast as it had come.
His small house was nearly empty as he had packed his most important things to bring with him on his travels. He had to keep reminding himself that this trip was important; it was for research, for information. Nogla still blabbered loudly in his ear, but finally shut up when Brock interrupted him. "Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you?" He inquired, as he picked his laptop up from the kitchen table and shoved it down into his suitcase. He couldn't forget that, it was the most important thing he needed. What writer could go without their laptop?
Immediately, he could hear Nogla scoffing on the other line. "Of course it's okay!" His Irish accent was loud, obnoxious. "It'll be just like college! The good old days!" He chuckled awkwardly, while Brock sighed in annoyance on the other line. "Just relax... I'll be here waiting at the airport to pick you up. You'll love Ireland." He concluded.
"I'm excited to see you man," Brock paused to look at his house once more. He would be back as soon as he finished writing the book but for some reason, in the back of his mind, he felt like this was going to be a final goodbye to this place. "At least in college, I wasn't ten hours away from my home." He pointed out. Picking up his suitcase, he headed towards the front door. "I'm heading to the airport now." He said, bidding his place one last goodbye. He was sure he'd like Ireland, but he still couldn't help but to feel anxious.
"Hopefully after four years, you can still recognize me. I have a beard now," The Irishman chuckled. "Have a safe trip. Get a lot of sleep, the day is going to be long."
Brock stepped out and looked up at the rising sun, "I'm sure I'll be able to recognize you. You better be at the airport too, serious Nogla." He warned and then sighed. He was just nervous was all, his life in america was going on hold for a bit. He just hoped he didn't get homesick.
"I will be!" The younger man replied.
He rolled his eyes, "Goodbye." Ending the phone call with his old friend, Brock got in the waiting taxi and headed towards the airport.
It was a short one, and Brock couldn't help but to feel just a bit nostalgic as he took in all the Utah surroundings just one last time before he went on his way. When the airport came into view, his anxiety grew even more if that were possible. Flying had never been something that he enjoyed, and it always made him sick afterward, which was not something he was looking forward to. Nonetheless though, he paid the cab driver, and with his luggage in tow, he entered the big building and found his departing flight gate.
It was always a nuisance, flying and what not. And airport security was just a huge hassle these days, but Brock tried to remain positive about this. Ireland was a great place, he'd see new places, meet new people, and reacquaint himself with his college roommate whom he hadn't seen in a long time. All in all, the good outweighed the bad, and despite his anxiety, Brock was excited. But after what felt like forever, he was finally able to get through his flight gate and board the plane, settling into his seat quite comfortably, and trying to mentally prepare himself for this extremely long flight.
An extremely long flight it was. But the couple of martinis he had drank during the trip had made it a tad bit more enjoyable. Even the older man that had been sitting next to him had been able to keep up a great conversation. Getting his luggage, he found himself looking around. He had no idea where Nogla would be, but the other did say he would be here, and he hoped he would keep true to his word. Walking around, his head moved back and forth until finally he spotted him at the front of the airport, and Brock heard him call out his name as well. "Brock!" Nogla nearly yelled. Smiling widely, Brock headed over to see the Irishman holding up a sign. White Utah Boy.
"Seriously?"
Nogla was wearing a matching smile and held his arms open, "Well come on in, it's been quite a while hasn't it?" He questioned.
Brock chuckled and hugged the other, "How have you been? I figured if you were still the same guy I knew in college, you would have slept through my arrival." He pointed out, his hand slapping down on Nogla's shoulder.
The younger man scoffed, almost playfully. "Brock, please, I am a changed man now."
"I'm sure you are." Brock retorted. "Nice sign, by the way." He rolled his eyes.
"I figured you'd like that." Nogla said simply.
"Still the same asshole I see." Brock muttered jokingly and all Nogla could do was laugh at his american friend as he led him out of the airport and to his small car parked out front. They climbed inside, and Brock had to admit, he was liking the looks of Ireland already. The weather was fair, the people looked friendly enough, and overall, he just couldn't wait to experience it all. Nogla started the car and pulled away from the airport as Brock attempted to strike up a conversation with his old friend. "So really, what have you been up to?" He asked.
"Working, mostly." Nogla answered immediately as he drove.
"Oh yeah?" Brock inquired.
The younger man nodded in return, "Bar tending." He then snorted a laugh. "College didn't turn out to do shite for me, but I'm glad you're getting something out of it… Being a writer and all."
"It's not that big of a deal," Brock attempted to say.
"You're probably tired, huh?"
"After that ten hour flight, yes." Brock answered simply. "The jet lag is real."
Nogla chuckled, "The bed in my spare bedroom is kind of firm so I hope that's alright."
"That's fine, as long as it's not a plane seat, it will work." He assured.
The Irishman nodded as they headed to his little house. He turned on the radio, it playing songs Brock had never heard before. "Tomorrow I can show you the best of Dublin, we can head to the a pub to celebrate your arrival tomorrow too." He started to explained. "Maybe later you can tell me about this book you're writing too."
Brock nodded, "Not much to say but of course man."
Moments later, they were pulling into a driveway in front of a small house. Nogla helped Brock with his luggage as he led him inside, ready and willing to give him a tour. "Welcome to my home!" The younger man almost yelled as he shut the door behind them. The house was one story, tiny, but it was homey, and Brock liked the looks of it already. The living room and kitchen were connected, a small dining table separating them if only slightly, and a short hallway led to the bedrooms and bathroom. "Your room is right there," Nogla pointed as he briefly showed Brock around the house.
The older man nodded, "Thank you." He said. "I don't mean to be rude, but I think I'm gonna head to bed now." He headed into the room, standing in the doorway for a moment. "I'll see you when I wake up."
Nogla bid him farewell, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"Gotcha." Brock replied, before shutting his door, and falling face first into the bed. The smell of something delicious was strong enough to wake him from his rest hours later, his stomach growling was as loud as his alarm clock. Groaning, he rolled on his back and cracked his eyes open. The room was coated in darkness, how much time had passed? Feeling around lazily, he located his phone. Squinting at the bright screen, he saw it was nine at night. Groaning, he sat up and ran his hand through his messy hair. He felt much better after getting all of that sleep. Standing, he made his way out of the bedroom and followed the smell until he reached the kitchen. Seeing Nogla leaning over the stove, he smiled slightly. "You learned to cook?"
Nogla jumped slightly and turned to frown at the other. "Gave me a heart attack!" He turned back and nodded. "I decided to cook for you before I headed to work. Soup my mum used to make me as a wee child."
"Well it smells great." Brock commented as he took a seat at the small table.
"How'd you sleep?" The Irishman questioned.
"Pretty good," The older man answered with a nod. "My sleep schedule might be a little messed up, but I'll be alright..." He trailed off, mostly talking to himself. He then looked up at Nogla who was still busy cooking away. "You're going to be gone all night, aren't you?"
He merely nodded, "Pub doesn't close until about three in the mornin'." Brock frowned at his answer. He knew Nogla had to go to work, but he didn't like the idea of him being home alone in this new place by himself. It was completely foreign to him, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do to keep his time occupied. However, it was as if Nogla could read his mind when he spoke again, "You'll be alright. You can get some writing done, yeah?"
"Yeah." Brock agreed.
Nogla smiled as he poured Brock a bowl, "Eat as much as you want, just save me at least one bowl." He told him as he carried the bowl over to the table. "Do whatever you want, there are no rules here except girls. I don't want to hear any of that." He added with a small groan.
Brock found himself laughing, "I really doubt that will be a problem." He wasn't even the tad bit interested in women, Nogla hadn't said anything about men though. "Have a fun night at work." He called out, seeing Nogla throwing on his coat.
The Irishman smiled, "If I return with a black eye, you know it was." He explained, his smile stretching. Brock chuckled and listened to the door shut. Now he really was alone. Taking a bite of the soup, a sigh blew passed his lips. This soup was really good. Nogla sure was different than he was in college, but maybe that was a good thing. He was definitely more mature and a better cook. With a small smile, Brock shook his head thinking about his tall friend. Ireland wouldn't be so bad, hell, he was already starting to like it here.
Author's Note: To be continued...?