A/N: So wowee holiday season is cray-cray, but I finally found a time to update for you guys. I'm practically santa

I am so flustered by the reviews. You guys say such lovely wonderful things that make my review-whore heart explode. Now here's another dumb chapter from this dumb gay story:


There's noise filling Loki's ears, the sound of chairs scraping on the floor and gleeful laughter and voices. People are grabbing him, hugging him, talking to him. He doesn't know what's going on. It's all blur. But there's one thing that is coherent in his mind:

Rage. Absolute, seething, boiling rage.

He blindly reaches for Stark, grabbing his suit jacket and tugging fiercely. He mumbles something along the lines of getting some air, but it might've come out as, "Follow me now."

He drags Stark deliriously through the restaurant until he comes to the outside dining area, then pulls him further. Passed the patio, passed the shrubbery until they're both standing at the very end of the gardens, deserted because of the cold. He finally lets go and Stark faces him.

"Ok, I fucked up—"

Loki slaps him, hard.

Stark screeches when the palm makes contact with the bruise on his jaw and it's the most satisfying thing Loki's heard all night. Stark rubs his face, then straightens up again.

"Ok, I deserved that—"

Loki slaps him again. Stark hisses and keens over, curses, and takes a little longer to recover this time.

"And that one—"

Loki raises his arm to abuse further but Stark grabs his wrist. "Well I sure as hell don't deserve that one!"

"Engaged?!" Loki rages. "What the fuck, Stark!"

"I know, I got angry, I panicked, I didn't know what to do—"

"What to do? Oh, I don't know, maybe just calm yourself down like a normal adult?!"

"We'll figure this out."

"We'll'? Fuck you. I didn't sign up for this. This is your problem. Now pay me and leave me alone."

"Please," Stark begs, desperate. He takes a step forward and Loki pointedly takes one back. "Please, I'll work it out, I swear. I need you, just for a little while longer."

"No."

"I'll give you more money."

"No, I don't want any more of your money, I want to go home." Loki turns and starts walking back. "I'll return this stupid suit to you sometime this week."

"I'll pay off your student loans."

Loki stops. He doesn't look at Stark, but his head pivots slightly. "You'll what?" his tone is clipped and cold.

"Student loans. You've mentioned you were struggling with them. I'll pay them off."

And suddenly Loki feels helplessness and an all new rage, because fuck, he can't deny that offer and Stark knows it. Manipulative psycho.

The cold air is burning the tip of his nose. He turns to face Stark head on, angry tears in his eyes. "How long is this going to go on for, Stark? Until we're standing at the fucking altar? Until we're sitting in our beachside home in Florida with a bunch of gaybies running around?"

Tony's still holdidg his face, slightly swaying, and Loki starts to wonder why he even bothers arguing with a man so off his face. "I'll work it out," he says, not comforting in the slightest. "It won't go that far—"

"It wasn't supposed to go this far!"

"It won't go any further. I just need a little more of your time. Please. I'll get us out of this. I'll fix it. I'll fix it."

Loki shakes his head and they stand in silence for a long while. Loki avoids looking at him. He looks at the perfectly trimmed grass instead, trying to clear his head and breathe out his anger steadily. Slowly, slowly accepting his new circumstances. It's going to be a long time before he can find any of this funny, that's for sure.

Suddenly Stark tries to speak again. "So you'll—?"

"Just take me home, Stark," Loki says in a defeated tone. Stark's lips tighten and he nods.

Telling the dinner party that they have to leave prematurely proves tedious. Everyone wants to know the details (big surprise) and congratulate more. But the more Loki hears the words 'wedding' and 'husband' the more bile rises up in his throat. So, after having to pry Maria off of them and shower them all with promises to call as soon as possible, they leave.

They sit in the back of the town car, both too deflated to muster any tension. Loki looks miserably out the window and when it grows bright and his reflection glares back at him, he can see the start of dark, heavy rings under his eyes.

The drive to his apartment is slow and silent. When the car does finally come to a stop, Loki pushes the door open quickly and grabs his messenger bag. He looks over his shoulder. Stark is bundled in the corner, his jacket wrapped around his front, looking like he's just drifted out of sleep, eyes red and hazy. "I'll contact you," Loki says, and then gets out and shuts the door.

Loki airs his way into his twin share apartment, mechanically walking by the tiny kitchen and adjourned living room, chucking his bag over a chair and then walking into the cold, while-tiled bathroom. He strips off his clothes and leans over to a hot pink CD player, pressing play, and when David Bowie's'Lady Stardust' begins to ring off the walls everything finally slows down and he can exhale, long and hard. He can relax. After the dinner he feels like a wind-up toy that's been used one too many times and he rolls his shoulders, trying to untie the knots in his neck. It doesn't work.

In the shower he clears his head, breathing in the scented steam and scrubbing the evening from his skin. He's halfway through his second cycle of conditioner and mango body scrub when he realises he's probably over reacted. Because honestly, what's changed? Well, lots, thanks to Stark's ever engagingly big mouth, but Loki is still in the same position he was in: someone hired to a paying client. And boy was Stark paying. Loki allows himself to smile against the spray for no more than a few seconds before returning to bitterness. He's probably more happy than upset about the situation but he's not going to let Stark know that. No, Stark made it personal and Loki wants his control back.

So he makes a note to turn off his phone for a day or two just to let Stark stew in it. And if that makes him such a short-tempered petty creature, then it is Odin who has made him so.

He steps out of the shower and stares at himself in the mirror. Gawkily tall, lanky, stupid looking, dark-haired, sunken faced, girl-boy looking, joints-sticking-out-at-all-the-wrong-angles girly freak

He pinches his hips. Stretches the skin of his face back. Claws at the tiny curve of his belly. Pushes his butt in.

He opens a draw and takes out Darcy's makeup kit and puts some on just to see how it looks. Then he puts some more on. Adds more mascara. He likes the way it fills his face out and makes his eyes seem less hollow. Makes him pretty.

David Bowie's still playing.

David Bowie. A guy who wore makeup and danced weirdly and had girlish hair and gained the respect of everyone in the mid-70s. He's not a freak, really. Is he?

Loki doesn't know. He wipes the makeup off and stops the CD player, feeling stupid.

He walks into his room and chucks his two thousand dollar suit in the corner, pulling on a week old shirt and boxers. All his posters along his wall watch him as he does so: Star Wars, Clark Gable, Michael Fassbender shirtless, Titanic, George Clooney, Wicked, Alfred Hitchcock, Marilyn Monroe, Natalie Portman with short hair

He flops down on the bed and stares up. Audrey Hepburn stares back at him, cigarette holder smartly between her teeth, eyes twinkling with mischief. The poster is creased from when he'd hastily folded it and the corners are completely torn off, but he still finds no fault in the picture, those smooth skinny arms and that little black dress.

What would you do, Audrey?

Probably go for breakfast at Tiffany's.

Mmm.

Exhausted, Loki closes his eyes and falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes up he hears moaning.

His head pounds, though it's nowhere near as bad as the hangover he woke up with the day before. Wincing, he sits up and rubs his forehead. Disgustingly explicit sex noises continue to float in from the other bedroom on the opposite end of the apartment, to his delight. Darcy must be back, then.

He stands and stretches and looks out the window. Late morning, which means he's due at Olive Garden in five hours.

He's making himself a cheap, boring, tasteless cup of coffee when Darcy emerges, looking rumpled and tired, dressed in miss-matched daggy clothes with her wild hair teased and frizzy and her make up smudged. She pauses when she sees him. "Oh, hey man."

He gives a short wave. She scans him up and down and grins at his loose boxers and ruffled hair. "Oooooo," she teases, springing forwards so she's leaning over the kitchen cabinets. "Someone looks sexaaaaaay. You go on a date? You get some ass?"

"No."

Darcy scoffs, shoulders slumping. "Man, no-one gets ass in this apartment. This is a no ass zone."

"You sounded like you were getting your fair share," Loki says, pouring his coffee.

"Oh, that was porn. I totally didn't know you were here."

Loki looks at her, holding his mug. "It's 11 in the morning."

"Hey I don't judge your shitty life. Man, when are you going to get some guys over? The only reason I rented that room out to you is because I thought you would be a dick magnet and I'd get to sneak in on some hot homo sex. But you're not. You just walk around listening to your weird gay music and do your hair a lot. You're a boring gay. I got stuck with the sad gay."

Loki stands there. "Thanks, Darcy."

She gives a supportive thumbs up.

At four he's at Olive Garden, trying to keep his eyes from twitching as some elderly women dressed head to toe in salmon pink pronounces everything on the menu as an incoherent drawl. When he corrects her she spews something racist, so he nibbles a little bit on her salad and uses his spit to clean the edges of her plate. His co-worker, a ratty teen called Clint Barton, says to spit in her drink. "That always teaches my customers a lesson." Loki retaliates by saying how all that's earned Barton is three warnings from their boss and a no tips, and that he's hardly a super hero. What he doesn't say is the main reason he wouldn't is because ew.

On the way home he does some shopping, picking up lettuce, milk, instant noodles and razors for Darcy. On the way to the register, he stops in front of a magazine rack.

'HEIR TO STARK INDUSTRIES' NEW BOY-TOY?'

Loki's heart skips a beat as he picks up the magazine and looks at the candid shots of him and Stark outside the Per Se and one grainier one of them in the little garden where they had their fight.

Oh. That's why Maria thought it was crazy that they'd never been spotted by the paparazzi. He spends two minutes in the open with Tony and suddenly he's front page news. He smiles a small, nervous smile and adds it to his basket. Street cred.

When he gets home he practises some scripts for class. He's the lead, obviously, and he has to memorize seventy pages of talking, which he has, obviously. Darcy tries to join, offers to be the other role, and even though Loki already knows the outcome he indulges her and gives her the lines. After ten minutes of "No, not like that", "No, you have to stand there", "No, say it with passion" and "No, Darcy, the play does not have a sex scene", she gives up and takes the role of the audience. After another ten minutes of loud 'ooo'ing and 'ahh'ing after every line he speaks, he banishes her to her room. Loud moaning soon follows. Spiteful woman.

It's on the subway the next morning when he finally decides to turn his phone on. He's tired and is squished between a fat man in a bowling shirt and a dark guy who's clearly just finished chain smoking and Loki is done being petty.

When the phone lights up he very quickly realizes turning it off in the first place had been a mistake.

Twenty missed calls from Stark.

Five missed calls from Thor.

One missed call from his mother.

He swallows.

He hasn't talked to his mother in a year. His family must know if his mother is calling him, know of the ridiculous situation he's in. He hates to imagine what they're thinking of him right now, engaged to a billionaire. Sluttish, lazy, disappointment of the family.

Loki shakes his head, frowning at the screen. What do they matter? They don't. He made sure of that when he left that vengeful house.

He juggles on who is the most approachable and finally decides on Thor. He calls him and presses the phone to his ear, hoping the idiot won't let his naturally booming voice drift through the entire cart.

He half hopes he won't answer— his brother is studying social sciences on a football scholarship in Illinois and Loki will be surprised if he's even conscious at this hour. It's not that he's scared of talking to his brother. Their conversations don't always disastrous. It's just very rarely do they end pleasant.

He waits two dial tones before Thor picks up.

"Loki?"

"Speaking."

"So you're finally picking up! I thought I would have to catch a plane over to your house to get your attention."

"Well, my attention you now have, Thor, so use it wisely."

Thor scoffs. "Have you seen the news lately?"

He knows what Thor's eventually getting to, so he humours him. "No, actually, I don't find it that invigorating these days."

"Do you know what it's saying about you?"

"I can somewhat imagine."

"It says you're engaged to Tony Stark."

"Does it?"

"I'm literally holding a magazine saying the same thing."

"Mmm, yes, those seem to be selling quite well."

A few seconds of sputters fill the other end. "What—what is going on? What's going— is it true? Are you?"

Loki takes a short breath before shrugging, hoping it expatiates through the call. "Yeah."

More stutters. "What? How is this—how can that be—you didn't even tell me you were dating someone!"

Loki grinds his teeth, humour gone. "I don't need to give you a heads up for everything that goes on in my life, Thor." He tries to keep his tone neutral; other passengers are trying not to stare.

"You're engaged! What are you talking about? Were you just going to get married and wait for us to find out? Mum and dad had to find out from some Howard Stark announcement on an entertainment show!"

Howard Stark announcement. Loki is reminded of how big this mess really is.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Ahhh, there it is. The big Thor Guilt Trip, because it always has to come back around to how this has affected him and how he's feeling.

"Because the reason I moved to New York is so I can have my own life," he bites out, "I don't need your opinions or permission on every decision I make anymore."

"Mum's going to New York to see you."

Loki's stomach drops. "What?" Suddenly his mouth is very dry.

"You weren't answering any of us so she bought a ticket and is going over there to see you."

Trust his mother to get ignored once and then immediately take a plane trip up the country from Florida to see him.

This changes things. Things are moving too fast around him and he needs to take control of it, quickly.

"Um." He tries to talk, fails, and swallows.

"She's happy," Thor assures, as if feeling his distress. "I think she wants to organize your engagement party."

Among other things, Loki knows, like chastise him on keeping secrets like she always does. He swears his family is obsessed with putting everything on the table for everyone to examine and scrutinize, no putting things behind your back, no hiding, no secrets, no fucking privacy.

"Are you going to have an engagement party?"

And Thor's still fucking talking and Loki tightens his hold on the phone. "I don't know, Thor," he manages.

"Or a bachelor party?"

"I don't know, Thor."

"Hm," Thor muses, sounding disappointed. "I think you should."

Of course Thor's worried about the parties. He wants to be invited to them.

He throws his hand up, a useless gesture, but almost hitting the fat man next to him in the face makes it slightly worth it. "Then I will," he says, trying to stress the roll of his eyes in his voice. "I'll have a bachelor party and an engagement party and invite you to them, then apologise profusely to you all for being so sneaky. Will that make you happy?"

"Very," Thor says cheerfully.

"Goodbye, Thor."

"Call mum."

"Yeah."

He hangs up. He looks down at his phone and opens his messages, pulling up the unread ones from Frigga.

'Hello sweetie, heard about the engagement, very exciting! Have bought my ticket, will be over there by tomorrow morning.
Xxxx Mum'

Tomorrow. They need a plan of action by tomorrow.

He send a text to Stark to meet him after class.

Class goes relatively boring. When he walks into the student theater he can tell they'd all been chatting about him. For acting majors, playing coy seems to be out of their professional range. He pities them.

The semester is almost over and the entire creative block has been working towards a play that they will perform in an actual theater on some street that's not exactly Broadway, but the closest thing they'll ever get to it. Well, all of them except for Loki. The art students have done the backgrounds and the stage design students have done all the props and the music students are trying to come up with a sound that's at least appealing.

He waits backstage with the other actors as they set everything up for rehearsal.

"Hey Loki fuck you."

Loki responds to his name and turns around. Some random kid with boring hair stands behind him, flocked by the other nobodies, trying to look daunting.

"Apparently you're dating Tony Stark," he says. "At least we're all working hard to get where we want and don't have to whore ourselves out to get a little fame."

Hurt shows on Loki's face as his hands come to rest over his heart. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry that I'm the one that has to bare your lashes when you become pent up with your own failure, I'd truly love to indulge you, but I now have to go and carry this pathetic group as the star of this show while you play a fucking bystander."

They murmur as he checks his phone. Stark's texted that he's waiting outside. "Send my stand-in when you start," he says to the assistant director without even looking at her, and walks out.

It's cold again today and the sky is a horrible grey, as if it knows it's a Monday and has to get through another week. Loki's boots click as he makes his way to the small concrete courtyard. No students are out, all either in class or hiding in more warmer places. Loki tightens his thick scarf around his neck.

Stark's standing there with his sunglasses on, dressed in an expensive looking burgundy jacket, holding a bouquet of pink flowers. They walk until the meet in the middle.

"Hi," Tony starts, awkwardly. Loki doesn't answer. He then lifts the flowers, clearing his throat. "Yeah, uh, I bought these in case, you know, any pap was around."

Loki slowly takes them, the plastic crinkling and whining. "Mm. Smart."

A small moment passes. Loki stares at him. Stark stares at the flowers. He suddenly jolts, scratching the back of his neck.

"Also, you know, they're really pretty and I wanted to apologise for what I did. Because I fucked up. Like, really, really badly. I don't think I've fucked up more, actually." He finally looks up at him.

Loki stares, wanting to accept the apology, but decides not to. He looks at the bruise on Stark's jaw and notices it's gotten smaller and less angry.

"How did you get that bruise, Stark?"

"Hm? You punched me, remember?"

"Why?"

Stark swallows. "Because I…leaned forward and you didn't like it."

So he made a pass at him. Loki's not surprised, so he just nods. "Ok."

More silence, but it's needed.

"You were great last night." Loki swings his head up. Stark's taken off the glasses. "At the dinner. You were really, really great. I'm an idiot, but you powered through it. It was pretty fucking fantastic, actually. Are you the head of your class?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because you're amazing." Loki's face grows hot and his chest swells, a horrible habit that happens whenever he gets a compliment. He blames it on his unyielding vanity.

When Loki doesn't reply Tony cranes his head around the courtyard, examining the high buildings. "Nice school," he comments.

The swelling in his chest stops immediately. "I've already said I'll help you, Stark."

Stark seems surprised. "What? No, I didn't—I wasn't saying— that wasn't me talking about payments, I swear," he says earnestly enough. He gives a tiny smile. "But it does help for you to say that."

Loki sighs. "Alright. We need to move forward. Are you going to let me help you?"

Tony's face lights up. "Yes, yes, of course, god, yes."

"Good." Loki stands a little taller. "I have memorized over one hundred romance novels and classic fairy tales, fifty romance plays and have watched over three hundred romantic comedies and dramas, most of which are considered the best in the genre, so we are going to orchestrate the most believable break up of all time and to do it you are going to have to follow every single thing that I say and worship every piece of advice I give you."

"Done."

Loki's smile is razor sharp. "Good. I finish class in an hour. There's a café somewhere in this campus you can sit in while you wait." He turns and walks back to the theatre, making sure the flowers he's holding are a bit too noticeable.

Tony has fucked up bad.

When he stands at the dinner table and the word 'engaged' comes out of his mouth, he still thinks it was a good idea for exactly three seconds. Because in those three seconds, Howard looks defeated. It's the first time in Tony's life he's ever seen that man physically shocked, with eyes blown wide and his mouth open like a Japanese fish.

And then those three seconds end and Howard collects himself and suddenly looks challenged, like it's all in good fun.

Maria seems crazed with the amount of emotion rushing through her brain and she cries out happily, running around the table to congratulate the two boys. By now Howard has stood and is smiling like a shark, clapping for the good news like everyone else. He looks in those cold grey eyes and sees the challenge set—

Let's see how long you're going to drag this out, Anthony.

When feels the tugging at his jacket Tony suddenly remembers that Loki is an actual person with a real life and real problems and not his personal blow up doll that he can inflate whenever he wants to screw with people. Loki is swift to drill that into his head with the palm of his hand. Multiple times.

He was certain Loki wasn't going to help him, student loans be damned. Tony was cooped up in his apartment, breaking down from stress as his phone went off every few minutes with a call from his mother and Loki not answering even a text from him. Howard had gone and done some massive announcement on some cheap entertainment show, sharp-toothed grin getting covered by three different angles, and Tony was having a heart attack.

He was ready to give up—he had the speech written down of how he was going to tell his family that it was all a lie.

Then Loki came to his rescue and he lied again, because those flowers are so much more than making face for the paparazzi.

Tony sits on an uncomfortable metal chair in the small campus café, sipping on an overpriced shitty coffee. He's had four students already come up to him in excited chatter and he blames it on the ridiculous blazer he's wearing. It just oozes 'important person' which, of course, is why he bought it in the first place.

He's been waiting for forty minutes now and he's tempted to sneak into the theater next door just to see what Loki's up to, because god those kids are making a racket. Dramatic music, screaming, thumping on the ground, the whole shebang.

He walks over to the large double doors and peeks his head in. He barely gets a glimpse of a gigantic stage before he's promptly shooed away. He pouts and returns to his seat and continues to wait.

It's another half an hour before people start pouring out the auditorium in a loud stream filled with critiques and compliments. He can spot the actors by their thin, all-black clothing and by the way they sneer at him. All of them. He awkwardly sits there and takes it, dumbfounded, until Loki bounds through the door, hair pulled up and face thick with stage makeup. He's grinning like a maniac and when he sees Tony he runs and flings his arms around him, straddling his hips.

"Hello darling!"

The acting students look even more appalled, completely turning their noses up as they leave the building and suddenly Tony's mind clicks.

Ohhhhhhh.

Oh you vain little shit.

Only when all the acting students leave does Loki take some of his weight off him, heaving out a breath and digging into his bag to pull out some makeup wipes. "Cows," he mutters. He's still on Tony's lap, so he just nods in agreement.

"Totally."

Loki silently cleans his face and when most of the concealer is gone he stuffs the wipe away and huffs.

"Well. Shall we?" He climbs off Tony's lap and leads the way out the door. Tony nods slowly.

"Totally."

They ride his town car back to Loki's apartment (it turns out Loki hates any form of public transportation) and Tony finds himself excited to see where Loki lives. In the past he'd just imagined Loki living in a dressing room with lights and stars and roses all over the door. So he's a little disappointed to say the least when Loki leads the way into the tiniest apartment Tony's ever seen. He didn't think they came in this size. And apparently two people live here! At least Loki said his roommate was out for the day. But god, how do they fit their beds in?

Not everyone sleeps on a king-size mattress with silk sheets, Tony.

The kitchen is a dirty white with bursts of colourful plastic kitchenware hanging from the cabinets. The lounge room's blue two-seater sofa is worn and scratchy and the mat it sits on in even more so. A giant bookcase filled with movies stands to the side, whilst other small tables hold incense sticks and dirty plates and random CD albums.

'It's cute', he wants to say, but Loki would know that's bitch talk for 'people live here?', so he stays quiet.

Loki fusses around, putting his bag away and cleaning up some of the scripts that are strewn across the coffee table. Tony feels his heart swell a little when he sees him carefully place the pink flowers into a vase on the kitchen counter. Then he quickly chucks a loose, purple knitted sweater over his head and beckons Tony to sit down on the couch. He does, and winces at the stiffness of the cushions.

"Ok," he says, placing his hands on his knees as he looks up to Loki, "what's the plan?"

"My mum is coming to visit us tomorrow."

Tony, quick as a jack rabbit, take out his phone and checks the messages from Maria. His eyebrows raise. "Ah. Yeah. It appears our families have made contact."

Loki makes some noise of irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She'll want to organize everything, the wedding, the clothes, the food…"

"What about your dad?"

"No," Loki says sharply, holding his finger out, "do not even mention my father. He is uninvited."

Tony stares for a few beats, waiting. "Uninvited...to what? The con? The wedding?"

"Just…" Loki seems even more irritated. "To anywhere within my immediate vicinity."

Well that's not fair, Tony thinks. He still has to be around his shitty father. Loki's dad can't be as bad as Howard, can he?

"...Ok," he says eventually. "So how are we going to convince both of our families and a good portion of American TV that we, a happy, recently engaged couple, are on the verge of breaking things off?"

Loki thinks not for ten seconds. "The engagement party would be a great place to start."

"Engagement party?"

"Mm," Loki nods, "my mother wants to throw me one. My brother, too."

Shit, yeah, Tony almost forgot Loki had a big scary older brother. Another person he's not too keen to meet.

"So you're saying we ruin our own engagement party?"

Loki smiles. "That sounds like fun. Let's do it."

"I'm not good at acting."

"You act like an idiot all the time."

"Ouch."

Loki wanders over to the movie-filled book shelf and, with elegant precision like he knows exactly where everything is, slides out several DVDs. "Then we start cramming now." He lays down the collection on the coffee table and Tony looks down to the likes of Titanic, Love Actually, What Maisie Knew, The Great Gatsby and Breakfast at Tiffany's.

"You want me to watch all of these?" Tony asks miserably, looking up at Loki.

"The fact that you say that with even a hint of unhappiness in your voice disgusts me. These are brilliant films depicting love and heart break and you are going to observe and learn."

He slips Love Actually into the DVD player and clicks the TV on. Then he bundles up on the couch, dragging a blanket, pillow and Tony towards him. Tony muffles from behind the thick quilt, sending a very pointed look to Loki. "And how exactly is this going to—?"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh," Loki presses his finger to his lips, eyes glued to the screen. "It's starting. No more noise."

Tony huffs and stares at the TV as the movie logos flash across the screen.

Fine, he'll watch these stupid films, but not because Loki told him to, but because the poor kid looks like he's just been granted the best day of his life just because someone is sitting down and watching movies with him. So Tony relaxes against Loki's fuzzy shoulder and listens to Hugh Grant narrate how love, actually, is everywhere.


A/N: so gay smh

unfortunately, this is the last chapter I'd had written, so this has finally caught up to my AO3 account (*cough* it's you_know_its_actually_funny for those who are curious *cough*). I'm about 5 pages into chapter 6 and hope to finish it before New Years, but then again, I hope for a lot of things

where my david bowie hoes at amiright