Words: 3354
Pairings: Blake/Carl (onesided)
Authors Note: So, while I'm sick in bed I've been rewatching this cartoon, and this pairing really caught my eye. Well, this and a whole lot of other things. So, while I'm coughing up my lungs and sneezing so hard I keep giving myself nosebleeds, I decided to write this. It's based on the episode "Dare I, Darren" and you'll probably get more out of it if you've watched that. In fact, around half of this is stuff that actually happened in it.
I don't mean to brag, but the idea behind this is actually rather cute. X3 However, my writing doesn't do it justice so yeah. Whoever you are reading this, once you finish reading this story go and write your own and TELL ME. Please!
Darkness was all there was.
Blake Gripling was asleep, though he was not dreaming. He was simply lying under a dark blue blanket, his face pointed towards the ceiling. His blonde hair and fair skin almost gave him the appearance of an angel, though he was clearly one that wasn't immune to illness. Being in hospital wasn't fun, especially when there were so many other things that he could be doing. Of course, he made the most of it with violins and being fed ice-cream. He couldn't ask for a better butler than Winston - the man cared enough to make sure his every whim was attended to, often before he even thought it – and was glad that his family had let the man stay with him for his last few days in hospital.
The best thing about being here came when he found out that Carl's mother was working here. He asked her questions about him, and advice on how to befriend him, and she answered, all with a promise not to tell Carl; he believed she called it the nurses honour, or something daft like that. He had found out so many wonderful things, like how Carl was excited to come to the sleepover that Blake invited him to not long before. It was wonderful to hear of how the boy had tried to bargain with Ms. Foutley after getting grounded, and he planned to try to become friends with the boy again as soon as he got out of this place.
After ten or so minutes of dreamless sleep, Blake felt as if he was being shaken by someone. He could of sworn he heard a familiar voice to accompany it, and tried to force himself into conciousness as quickly as he could. All of a sudden, a hand was on his cheek, and he wondered if this was just a dream; surely Carl wouldn't come to visit him and wake him up in such a loving manner. Would he? Forcing his eyes open, the seven and a half year old realised that he wasn't dreaming; the pain was a pretty good tip off, but the splash of purple and the annoying voice of Carl's friend assured him that if he was asleep he was having a nightmare.
Woodsey spoke, though Blake had no clue what he was saying, as his words seemed to blur together into one big mess of sound. He presumed that it must have been a greeting, though he didn't really care. Falling back to sleep seemed good, at least until a familiar brown sleeved arm pulled the hand from his cheek. He wasn't sure if he should believe it was really who he though it was, just because of some clothing, so his eyes darted towards where the boys face should be. His heart nearly burst from happiness when he realised that it really was Carl, and even more so when he realised that the weight on his bed was also him. Completely forgetting his condition for just a few seconds, he sat up, smiling as largely as he could in his weak state.
"Ca-" before Blake could finish the boy's name, Carl's finger was pressed on his mouth and he was being shh'd. He continued to smile, following the movement of the finger as the other boy got off the bed. By this point, he had totally forgotten his rude awakening at the hands (or rather, hand) of the boy in the purple hooded sweatshirt.
"Don't say anything, you need your strength." Carl said, and though the words seemed caring, Blake couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed at the removal of the boys finger. He wondered if it was odd that such a small thing meant that much to him, but he supposed that anything to do with Carl was weird. None the less, he nodded in agreement, both for the other boys sake and his own.
"So they took out your tonsils, huh?" Woodsey asked, reminding Blake that he was there. The blonde wished that he had stayed silent, and the fact he turned over, towards Carl, showed that clearly. As he moved he let a groan escape, trying to make it seem as though he was unable to answer. He couldn't help but notice that the red head seemed worried, and fought to keep his smile from appearing once more.
"You need to borrow a mason jar? You know, to keep your tonsils in?" Carl asked. Suddenly, Blake realised his mistake in not asking to keep his tonsils, and wished that Ms. Foutley had reminded him of her sons abnormal obsession with severed body parts; sure, they were kind of cool, but Carl seemed to gaining a small collection. His own tonsils would have been a nice thing to have though, even if it weren't for the red head.
"Ooooh!" Blake's eyes were wide, though he didn't move at all. He noticed that Carl looked slightly surprised at the noise, and presumed that the boy thought that he was crazy for not asking for them already. If that's what the nine year old was thinking, he really couldn't blame him, especially considering that he was thinking something similar.
"Blake, you did keep 'em, didn't you?" Carl sounded incredulous, and Blake couldn't blame it. He was mentally hitting himself for forgetting something like this. A hand flew to his mouth as he thought about his tonsils, alone, and wishing that they were still in his throat. Sure, they were making him sick, but they were still his, and he couldn't bare the thought of them all sad and lonely.
"Uh-uh" he responded, feeling unable to use proper words. He removed his hand from his mouth, deciding that even if his tonsils were out there alone, they'd get over it. Nothing he could do now, anyway. Maybe he and Winston could search for them when he was feeling better, or maybe – he couldn't get his hopes up – Carl would agree to look with him.
"So, you mean you're lying a pile of trash somewhere? Creepy." Hoodsey chimed in, causing Blake to feel rather sorry for his tonsils once again. Apart from make him horribly sick once in a while they never did anything all that egregious, did they? He wished he could of remembered to ask for them, and he tried to voice his concerns.
"Don't worry, my mum works here, I'll pull some strings, see if we can't get 'em back for you." Carl told him, strolling over to the end of his bed. Blake fought against his will to smile once again, seeming to frown slightly this time. In actual fact, he couldn't be happier than he was now; Carl was going to help him get his tonsils back and it was clear that Ms. Foutley hadn't told him about all the questions he had asked.
"That sure is nice of you, Carl! Why, it seems like you'd do just about anything for Blake!" the boy in the purple hoodie chirped, motioning to Blake as he said his name. The blonde, still struggling not to smile, closed his eyes as he wondered if that were true. He pictured the two of them in his limousine, drinking root beer as they went to see some sort of show, and wondered why that hadn't happened yet if Carl cared as much about him as it was implied lately. He opened his eyes again and looked at Hoodsey, silently begging for an answer.
"Well, we should get going, you need your rest. Bless you, son." Carl said, once again seeming thoughtful, even if he was a little weird at the end. As he and his friend started to leave, Blake let himself grin. Carl Foutley coming to visit him seemed to make this the best day of his life, even if he was a hospital and a part of his body was gone. He wished the boy had come sooner and stayed longer, though, since the short amount of time seemed to make him feel much better already. He forced his grin to fade – though he couldn't get rid of it – when Carl turned around, though he was sure the other boy had seen it.
"Oh, say, I almost forgot, you don't suppose Hoodsey and I could borrow your new high powered telescope this weekend? We have a big science project due, and what with you in the hospital and all..." as Carl spoke, Blake's heart dropped. This visit wasn't about him. Of course it wasn't about him. It was a visit for Carl to get what he wanted. Blake mentally hit himself again, wishing that he had seen through the scheme. It hurt that the boy he was so interested in was just using him, and it hurt even more that he knew if the boy had just left then came back later with the request that he would of agreed in a heartbeat; he wouldn't of even realised. He struggled to sit himself up, all traces of his grin gone. Obviously a lot of effort was going into the movement, but with his anger it seemed worth it.
"No! No! No! A million times no, I say! Absolutely not!" Blake tried to yell, his arms shaking as he did so. After his yelling, he let out a small cough and collapsed, his energy gone just from that. It was something that he needed to do though, since no matter how wonderful Carl was, he wasn't going to let the boy use him, or his telescope. He was still awake, something that Winston could, luckily, tell when he ran over to make sure he was alright, and before he knew it, he was being fed some strawberry ice-cream.
Within seconds, the two boys were gone. Blake frowned and closed his mouth, trying to signal to Winston to stop. He didn't want to be spoon fed at the moment, and he was grateful that his butler caught on to that fairly quickly, bending down to hug him instead. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't hug back, so he simply tried to bury his head in the man's shoulder. Winston was the only one that knew just how much Carl meant to Blake, and both of them believed that he was the only one that would really understand it; crushes on boys just weren't normal for a male Gripling.
Fairly soon, Blake was in tears. He was too weak to sob, so the tears simply ran down his face and onto Winston's shoulder. He wondered if the man minded if his suit got wet, though it seemed as if he was okay with. The butler petted him softly on the back, trying to comfort him. The youngest Gripling was his favourite, he'd admit that, and to see him in such a way was horrible. He struggled to find words to comfort the young boy, and wished that there was something more he could do; he had the feeling that Courtney would be better at reassuring someone about boy trouble than he was, though he knew that telling her of this would probably be a mistake.
"Master Blake, I'm certain that you mean more to Master Carl than borrowing a telescope would." Winston eventually spoke. In the man's head the words were comforting, though in practice they just made the young boy cry harder. Being ignored or insulted or shot down by someone you like all of the time wasn't easy, and it seemed as if Blake had finally had a minor break down over it. He wished he were stronger, older, and had a crush on anyone else, though he couldn't change the fact that he wasn't and didn't, just like the fact that his tonsils were out there somewhere without him. He supposed that Carl had no intention of asking Ms. Foutley to find the tonsils for him, which really didn't help his situation.
Suddenly, the door flew open. Blake and Winston flew apart as Ms. Foutley entered, the former pretending to be asleep, though his tears continued to flow. The nurse looked from one to the other, obviously she had seen what was happening less than a second before, as she wiped her hands on a white towel. She frowned slightly.
"Am I, uh, walking in on something?" Lois asked, he voice heavy with confusion and disapproval. Through his tears, Blake couldn't help but let out a small laugh. It was obvious to him that the woman thought there was something going on between he and the butler. Winston also seemed to find this amusing, as he being to giggle as well.
"Ms. Foutley, I assure you that nothing that you're thinking was occurring. Master Blake was simply unhappy and I was attempting to comfort him." Winston explained, stepping over to the bed and putting a hand on Blake's shoulder. Lois stared at the two, seeming not to trust the explanation, before frowning. She looked around the room, seeming to be searching something. Neither Blake nor Winston had a clue as to what she was looking for, but luckily she answered their unasked question before long.
"Has Carl been here? He begged me to let him come in today to see you, and I don't want to think that he's changed him mind and is off looking for another eyeball." she explained, continuing to look around. She wasn't too busy looking to notice the blonde boy's face crumple, though, and guilt could instantly be seen on her face. She looked over at Winston, hoping that the butler would tell her what was going on, and why her words seemed so distressing to the boy.
"Ms. Foutley, you see, Master Carl and his friend were here not long ago, and he accidentally upset Master Blake." Winston explained, causing Blake to glare at him. He offered the boy a sheepish smile, as Lois appeared to look guilty. She walked over to the young boys bed and stood beside it, touching her hand to the young boys face, as she struggled to find words.
"What did he do? I'll be sure to talk to him about it." Ms. Foutley asked, looking down at Blake. The sick boy blushed furiously at the suggestion and forced a laugh, as he tried to think of a way to brush it off. It would take a lot of explaining, and even then he didn't want any of it be anything that got back to Carl. He wasn't even sure that Carl's mother was someone he could talk to about this with, and even if she was it wasn't exactly like he could talk anyway. He looked over at Winston, hoping that the man would explain for him.
"Oh, no, Ms. Foutley, I'm certain that Master Blake would prefer it if you didn't say a word. Master Carl simply asked to borrow a telescope." Winston replied, trying to brush the subject off just as Blake would of, and doing just as well as he would of as well. The blonde nodded vigorously – well, as vigorously as he could, which was really more like his head was twitching – in agreement. Blake realised that Lois was confused by the response, and flashed her a sheepish smile.
"It's the, oww, medication." Blake answered weakly, the words feeling more like razor blades as they came out. He had no idea if it was a believable excuse, or if Ms. Foutley would know what he meant by blaming the medication, but he hoped that it would be the end of this line of questioning. Luckily, she seemed to buy it, and simply nodded sympathetically. He guessed that this was rather weird for her, and she'd be willing to accept almost anything, though.
"Well okay then... You don't want me to talk to Carl about it, right?" the nurse asked, still rather confused by what was going on. Both Blake and Winston nodded in agreement, the latter clasping his hands together eagerly. The blonde watched the woman, hoping that this would be the end of any talk of Carl for the moment. He was relieved when the woman's demeanour changed back to her usual one.
"So, is there anything you need? Some more ice-cream? That violin guy back? A gardener? Anything?" Lois asked, glancing around at the massive amount of flowers that was in the room as she spoke. Winston began to laugh away at the suggestion of a gardener, though soon stopped when he realised that Blake wasn't laughing with him; he may see the boy as family, but he was still one of the people in charge of his pay. The butler began to shake his head, presuming that the young Gripling didn't want anything brought to him, but was soon cut off.
"Violin?" Blake asked, his voice laced with the expectation of not getting it what he was asking for; something rather ridiculous considering that he couldn't remember the last time he didn't get what he wanted. His eyes were locked on Lois as he waited for an answer, unnerving her slightly. She wondered if her son had done worse than what she was hearing, though she quickly decided that if they didn't want to talk about she wouldn't press the subject. She nodded, causing Blake to smile, before ducking out to the nurses lounge to find the violinist.
"Master Blake, would it help to know that they brought gifts?" Winston asked tentatively after a few seconds of awkward silence. Blake looked over at him curiously, silently asking him to elaborate. "They seem to of brought you some turnips, or something of the sort, as well as a card." Winston added, realising what the young boy seemed to be asking. He pointed to each thing when he realised that the young boy was looking around for them.
A quick glance assured Blake that the vegetables he had been given were indeed turnips, and he couldn't help but smile at the way the other boy presented them as if they were flowers. In his mind, they were the most beautiful of all of the flowers he had received, even if they weren't actually flowers. Before he knew it, Winston was handing him a card, made out of a slightly beat up piece of paper. He quickly, though not incorrectly, jumped to the conclusion of the stationary being something he borrowed from his mother or sister, and wondered how much of a mistake it would be to tell Carl that he didn't need to go through all of that trouble to make him a card.
Blake grinned as he read the simple message in the card, rather pleased to see that it was Carl's somewhat sloppy handwriting, and that he had decided to write it himself. He traced his finger over the dried brown sludge – presumably it was pudding – before turning the card over and looking at the back. He began to blush again as he read the message back there. It obviously wasn't written by Carl, but Carl was the brains of the operation and he could only assume that everything that went on the card went through the red head.
Dear Blake,
Some don't know what they got until it's gone,
and me and Carl found out a little too late.
It probably meant nothing, Blake realised, but he was fairly certain that those were lyrics from a song. A love song if he wasn't mistaken. With a grin, he tucked the card under his pillow, both because he didn't want his family to see it, and because he hoped his dreams would involve it. Some say that if you sleep on a book you learn what's in it by dreaming about it, and he didn't think a card should be any different. Just as his blush began to die down, the door opened, revealing Lois and the violinist.
Authors Note:
Ending = Abrupt.
Hmm, so, at this point I guess I should say some stuff, right? Well, this was my first ATBG fanfiction, and I hate how it turned out. I fail at pacing, and the only thing that really worked about this was the idea. Uh, the whole "sleeping on a book" thing is actually something I used to do when I was younger; I slept on the dictionary because I didn't want to not understand people. It's quite possible that I should of slept on a thesaurus instead, I mean really, just look at how many times I used the same words.
THE BEST THING ABOUT THIS STORY is that if you watch the episode (Dare I, Darren?) I'm pretty sure there's actually nothing that happens here that isn't plausible. Hey, I wasn't the only one that realised that the card was gone when they came back, right? Now go write some ATBG fanfiction, preferably Carl/Blake, though anything that has Carl or Blake in it in any way is fine with me. XD