Strike fic prompts! 44 or 45??
HOW MUCH OF THAT DID YOU HEAR?
(a/n I didnât actually use this exact piece of dialogue, more the concept. so basically I failed⌠still.)
Considering that he was, notoriously, the eldest son of a decorated rock star, it shocked Robin a little to hear Cormoran sing and realise it was, in fact, the first display of musicality she had ever witnessed from him. The second shock was how bad he was at it.
In his defense, she thought, stuffing knuckles into her mouth before she could laugh out loud, he did think he was alone. Maybe he wasnât performing at his best.
Robin was returning from a visit to her parentsâ a few hours earlier than intended, having got an earlier train. She was standing outside their flat now, with her weekend carpet bag and a wicked grin. He really was quite awful.
The song was (probably) Wild West Hero by ELO, but Robin was prepared to stake no money on that claim whatsoever as she heard Cormoran utterly butcher it. His deep bass voice not suited for the appropriate key, he seemed to have picked two of his own at random and switched between them intermittently.
If he had been her neighbour rather than her partner (and if she hadnât been moderately fond of him) Robin might have seriously considered calling the police, a thought which pushed her perilously close to howling with laughter. Then he attempted a high note and she knew the battle was well and truly lost.
Dropping her bag, she covered her face in a last ditch effort to at least smother the laughter bubbling irresistibly out of her. It was no good. The singing stopped.
Suddenly the only noise was her giggling, and heavy footsteps.
Cormoran opened the door with none of his usual happiness at seeing her after a weekend away.
Their eyes met. His unamused, hers brimming with glee.
âBack early, I see,â he said pointedly, raising his heavy brows at her, daring her to mention it. Robin bit her lip hard and tried to stop smiling.
âEarly train.â She managed to force the words out of her mouth with only the slightest tremble.
Wordlessly, Cormoran picked up her bag, and carried it in. Robin followed, unravelling her scarf from around her neck, shooting glances at Cormoran.
She really shouldnât laughâŚ
âCan I just sayâŚâ she began, and he turned to her, raising his brows again. It came out in a breathless blurt. âCan I just say, your dad really needs to look out because thereâs a new kid on the block and if you can play guitar like you sing-â She sped up as Cormoran closed the distance between them, mock-threatening.
âI bloody hate you, you know that?â he muttered unromantically.
Robin laughed around her words, hands on his shoulders, bracing him away so she could keep mocking him. He bore it well, rolling his eyes and wearily shaking his head, hands on her waist.
They leaned slowly closer together, Robin drawing parallels between him and Freddie Mercury, Cormoran begging her to return to Yorkshire and stay there, until they shut each other up.
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