Warning ⚠️: mostly fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors
Word count:~500
A/N: The story idea and concept are classic and predictable; your girl just couldn’t help but write something inspired by this picture. Also, it’s three weeks late; better late than never? And this is my first story in 2024? 🙈 P.S. Should I write a longer and maybe some more steamy story with this picture? 🤪
——//
In the heart of Paris, in a hotel room with a balcony overlooking the city that served as the backdrop for a love story as it was unfolding in the early hours of dawn. You lay nestled in the warmth of the bed beside your boyfriend as your fingers intertwined with his. As the first tendrils of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Shawn stirred awake, his eyes blinking open to the soft glow of morning.
He savoured the moment's stillness a little while before gently extricating himself from the embrace, slipping out of bed, and heading to the bathroom. The cool floor beneath his bare feet offers a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the bed. He was going to return to bed, but instead, he made his way to the balcony, drawn by the promise of a tranquil morning amidst the bustling city below.
As he leaned against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view before him, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the Parisian skyline bathed in the soft hues of dawn. The Eiffel Tower stood tall and majestic in the distance, a precious sight. Lost in thought, he reached for a cigarette, the flame casting a flickering glow on his face as he took a contemplative drag.
Unbeknownst to him, you had stirred awake in his absence, your gaze lingering on the spot where he had once laid.
There you were, quietly making your way to the balcony, and you found him lost in reverie with the smoke curling around him like a halo in the morning light. With a soft throat clearing, you announced your presence, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.
"Good morning, stranger," You greeted, voice laced with amusement as you wrapped your arms around him from behind.
A little startled, he turned to find you standing before him, a radiant smile lighting up her features as he leaned in for a kiss.
"Good morning, ma chÃrie," He greeted back before discarding his cigarette and nestling closer. It didn’t take long for his eyes to linger around you, and eventually falling upon the shirt you were wearing, a mischievous twinkle lighting up his gaze, “I believe that’s my shirt.”
"Oh yeah, I hope you don't mind," You began, fingers tracing the fabric of the shirt, "I may have borrowed this from you,” You continued slyly as your lips curled into a grin as he took in the sight of you wearing his shirt, the fabric draping over your frame in a way that seemed almost too perfect.
"Shirt stealer," he remarked, his voice tinged with sincerity as he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Moments later, as the sun continued its ascent, casting a golden glow over the city, you both remained on the balcony, lost in each other's embrace and the beauty of the Parisian sunrise.
"By the way, I'm never returning this shirt,” You added, breaking the silence with a mischievous grin.
In response, Shawn just chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection, “Thank you for letting me know," he replied, pulling you closer than before, “But It looks better on you anyway."
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Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️
Warning ⚠️: Mostly fluff, one or two mentions of smut, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.
Word count:~2.4k
A/N: The following fic is a “friends with hidden romantic feelings” situation and it is the result of the author spending countless amount of late night hours with this one guy, where they were just two people keeping each other company while completing their own assignments and exchanging stories about life before romantic feelings emerged along the way. Oops that was kinda TMI (my bad lol), anyway do let me know your thoughts and opinions, so sorry for this story being random 🙈
//
Coming back from any long hours of interview sessions or live performances always felt strange for Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. It was an exhilarating and exhausting experience that made transitioning from a stadium full of people, sleeping in hotel rooms or tour buses and performing for millions of fans to feeling the peace and quiet of his own home always take some time for him to adjust.
His therapist had suggested that he should find something to make him unwind after long hours spent existing under a microscope and flashes of cameras capturing each and every move he makes like a hawk watching its prey.
Everyone but him has formed some routine to unwind. For example, Connor would always want to eat pizza and binge-watch some new Netflix releases, Brian and Meghan were always quick to turn themselves into a pair of bunnies by doing something frisky under the sheets, and you on the other hand, would much rather be soaking long hours under a bathtub full of warm temperature water.
“Think of it as another form of self-care or relaxation technique.”
“You have to say that you’ve done it at least once or twice. Nothing to be ashamed about if you admit that you don’t hate it that much, Mendes,” Connor added.
“Guys, please, I simply don't like the idea of feeling like a boiling asparagus stick.”
“You will not feel like a boiling vegetable.”
“You know, Mrs. I cannot function without baths. I really can't picture myself in a bathtub full of warm water, especially regarding relaxation purposes.”
“Aww, look, someone is turning into Mr. Grumpy,” You said, a sly smile creeping onto your lips, “You know what can help you feel better?”
“Y/n,” he warned, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence by implying that the only thing that can cure me is a bath, I swear to G—.”
“Oh, enough with the weird bullshit reasons, Mendes!” Connor interrupted from the living room, “I’d bet you don’t want to admit to us that you feel scared with the idea of soaking long hours in the warm water, huh?”
You and Connor found yourselves letting out a huge laugh at the thought of him avoiding these baths because he feels scared of the water like a kitten, “I am not a baby,” Was the only thing Shawn said, accompanied by an annoyed eye roll.
“Hear that? Yeah, that’s the voice of somebody who needs nothing more than a relaxing bath to unwind his entire day,” you said in a baby voice, mocking the singer.
“Okay, perhaps I’ll make an exception. If ever I am in a bathtub, it will only be because my girl will be joining me,” He said with a charming smile, secretly loving how the way your face would immediately react to his statements or flirtatious remarks with a fluster written and visible all across your face.
It was as if one, two, or three seconds snapped like the hand of Big Ben or the one at the Grand Central station clock that never comes late, as you always found yourself taking a few short moments to digest each and every word and sentence coming from him and try to reply to something, anything but only for it to come out as a stutter.
“Would you look at that? Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new fast-track record. Only one sentence and I have the girl lost for words. I wonder where Mrs. Independent, I need no man exterior you claim to have?” Shawn said, throwing you a wink, playfully swiping his thumb across your cheek, and closing the distance between, getting dangerously close to where you were standing.
“Oh, shut up, Mendes!” You composed yourself and moved his hand away, “You and I both know I would rather do a whole list of other things than get in that tub with you.”
You said your last sentence so sarcastically, casually as such of every other interaction you exchanged together before grabbing your favourite ice cream out of the freezer and heading to your room.
The thing that some, if not most, people still cannot wrap their heads around is the fact that It’s been the definition of years, maybe even ever, since you both fully understood the true meaning of friendships that you and Shawn have been friends.
The best of friends that could go as far as the ability to exchange millions of sarcastic sentences, have never-ending conversations about nothing and everything that ranges from philosophical things to something as far as topics about the actual difference between sex for male compared to females for hours on end if time wasn’t a constraint, secretly craving the company from the other person whenever apart, exchange of daily text messages across multiple social media platforms, then having the once every blue moon bickering like an old married couple over the stupidest stuff according to your close group of friends, and all that with an undeniable sexual tension visible for anyone to question the true nature of your relationship and a huge dash of endless back-and-forth flirtatious acts or words exchanged.
It was apparent to perhaps even the whole world that for the two of you to had the very ability to share a friendship like that, and the miracle for two people to establish this type of bond was rather beautiful and bizarre yet strange at the same time. It came as no surprise that when confronted individually, none of you dared to make any vast gestures that make romantic feelings evoke even more than they already have, as both your heads are imprinted with the belief of the other not feeling the same way, or hate the idea of ruining this friendship over the possibility of one person wanting to confess their true feelings suppressed over the lifelong friendship and establishing something romantically together.
It was then a couple of weeks later when you all found yourselves in the same spot, just coming back from Shawn’s live perfomance over a few cities. But this time, it was all packed into a tight schedule that made the singer and the entire crew exhausted to the bone. It was difficult for Shawn, as it seemed like he was pulled into different directions simultaneously with no time to catch his breath. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since the last show wrapped up, and everyone gave him some much-needed personal space during the flight back. Exhaustion was clinging deep into his body and flooding his mind to the point where he just wanted to shut his brain off and forget about everything; so much that he found himself walking past everyone and heading straight to his room without thinking twice.
You knew how exhausted he must’ve felt, so before you reached his bedroom, you gently grabbed his arm, “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, please,” He said.
“I just wanted to tell you that I am aware that the past couple of days were nothing but a hectic blur, so I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you want to talk about anything or just sit silently. I’m always here for you, no matter the time or moment you need me.”
Those were the last few words you said before letting his hand go, once again giving him the space he needed, and you knew that exhaustion had already taken over his body as soon as he lay on the bed and closed his eyes.
You didn’t know that even a few short hours later, he was still tossing and turning under the sheets, unable to shut his eyes or mind off and get some much-needed rest, although his mind and body felt exhausted.
His head turned around and looked at the clock, 23:01 it displayed. For a while, he sat on his bed, checking his phone for updates about anything before exiting the room to distract his mind. The corridor was dark, with only one light source coming from your bedroom door. The singer paced a couple of times outside your door, debating whether he should knock but thinking whether your nocturnal companion was still keeping you awake or had you already fallen asleep, exhaustion taking over before you could gain the energy to turn off the lights.
However, before thinking further, he found his hand knocking on the door. To his surprise, a light knock was enough to open the door, “Y/n? Are you awake?” His voice lowers into a whisper while peeking his head into your room, only for his gaze to fall into an empty bed. You were nowhere to be found until he heard the light sound of your Spotify playlist coming from the bathroom. You were there, and he knew that his next steps were risky or, more accurately, invading your personal space. But part of him didn’t care. Selfishly, he just desperately could really use your company.
And so he took a couple of steps until he was at the bathroom door, with each step he could hear his own heart beating faster and the sounds of the faucet as it hit the bathtub and your favourite singers on the speaker only made him even more nervous, second-guessing his decision.
“Shawn?” You say from behind the cracked door.
“Um, yeah, it’s me. How did you know?” He responded nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as his mind was still second-guessing and debating whether his decision was actually a good idea.
“Who else has a nocturnal side that they cannot kill?” You said, trying to hold back your laughter.
“You know me so well.”
“You can come in if you want, or it’s okay too if you feel more comfortable, we can just keep talking through the door.”
The singer finally decided to interact with you appropriately as he found himself opening the bathroom door and stepping inside. The sight of you greeted him in the tub. The room was illuminated with the soft glow of your favourite candles, the scent of essential oils that were for therapeutic purposes, white puffy bubbles all across the tub of water, and the sound of your favourite playlist.
Tonight was the first time he truly ever took the time to notice it.
“Sorry, I just- well, I know this is- I wanted to - I don’t know who else -” he was stumbling, couldn’t form the proper set of sentences at the mere sight of you. You looked beautiful yet angelic. It was apparent to him that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, but right now, even as your hair wasn’t done, or any makeup didn’t cover your face, or you weren’t wearing any dresses that perfectly hugged around your body; that he found himself more mesmerised by how your existence was enough to make him feel all sorts of comfort that no therapy sessions, lavish parties or meditation could genuinely give him.
“It’s okay. You know we don’t have to talk,” You say, “Care to join me?”
It felt like gravity was pushing him to decide instead of his brain controlling his movements as he already found himself stripping out of his clothes. Meanwhile, you found yourself with your head facing the wall, feeling sudden shyness at the sight of your opposite-gender friend removing all his clothing from head to toe in front of you.
“You don’t have to look away, you know. I bet it’s not your first time encountering the male anatomy, and I am getting inside the water with you.”
“I know, but this- this isn’t like that,” You said, still choosing to look away, “We are not doing anything to satisfy a pang of hunger. This is something else. I don’t want to ruin this moment by looking into it as if it is something that-“
“Yeah, just something that should be fulfilled at a more appropriate time,” Was all your friend could reply before carefully stepping into the tub, trying to keep his balance. Once he settled up, he scooted closer to your side, not too close to minimise any possible distance, but enough for the two of you to be situated in front of each other.
As he sinks deeper into the lukewarm water, you are glad to see how a deep sigh of relief escapes his lips, with a tired gaze his eyes rolling from all the exhaustion, his body relaxing, shoulders casually leaning into the walls of the tub, and sight of feeling at ease, comfort, and gush of smile was written all across his face.
“Is it the bubbles that finally persuaded you?”
“Perhaps that or maybe the whole idea that I actually feel more relaxed in a way I never thought possible and not feel like an actual boiling vegetable stick is finally winning me over,” he said, and you both laughed at that.
Then, moments later, as the conversations drift to more illogical ones and the laughters died down, you again faced him, “I’m sorry, I can only offer my companion.”
“Are you kidding me?” He smiled, “This is the best thing that anyone has ever done for me all year long.”
More minutes passed by, as none of you seem to remember how long you two lay there. But, when the two of you started to yawn more and more, you decided to get out of the water, “Mendes, face the wall. I need some privacy while I get out of here.”
“You’re telling me you still need privacy? I thought we moved past that. Y/n, we have been naked in here the whole time!” He shook his head and laughed as he turned to the wall, ears perking up to the sounds of water gently splashing as you got out of the tub, and his eyes could not help shoot you a side-eye glance through the mirror.
“Prying eyes,” You said with a smile as your eyes locked through the mirror, wrapping the towel on your body, “You can look now.”
“Pass me one of the towels, too?” he said as he stood up from the tub. Your eyes were wide open at the sight of him standing tall in nothing but his birthday suit. You could hear your heartbeat increasing and butterflies fluttering across your stomach before your hands moved quickly to pass him the towel and turned to face the door, clearly feeling the sudden shyness again at the current situation you found yourself in, “Prying eyes,” Was all he said back, with a signature boyish grin and million dollar smile that you knew was already written all over his lips.
“This was actually fun, we should do it again,” He said, pressing his lips to your temple before hands gathering his clothes and walking out of the room.
What have both of you started?
//
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Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️
May I request a blurb where reader x shawn watch the sunrise together ♥️
Sunrise
Shawn Mendes x female reader
Word Count: ~275
Warning ⚠️: fluff,maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.
A/N: I didn’t really edit this, I’m so sorry anon, it took me forever to finish this too and also sorry that it’s short 🥺
You sat down on the cozy blanket as Shawn sat behind you with his arms and legs draped around you, holding you close,” It’s nice here,” He sighed, shaping the words against your skin, and his breath felt hot on your neck.
“Mhmm,” You hummed, cradling yourself more to him.
Together you enjoy the sight of the sun rising as it casts an orange reflection on the water. At the same time, Shawn would occasionally nuzzle his head against your neck and gently kiss along the exposed skin in his reach while trailing along the backside of your ear and leaning down to your shoulder to drag his lips along it gently.
This time you and Shawn were very determined to actually watch the sunrise and not fall asleep like the last time.
You let yourself soak in his kisses and the beauty around you for a moment longer, just watching as the light painted the sky a brand new color before turning to him, “I have a wild idea.”
He sighed, already knowing what you mean and starts shaking his head at the thought of it, “Oh no,no, No!”
“Cmon...,Please!” You pleaded as you stood up, choosing to still slip your dress straps off your shoulders and letting them slide down and pool around your ankles.
“Y/N...” He muttered, looking around him to see if anyone was nearby.
“Baby, relax; we’re in the middle of nowhere,” You drag him closer to the water, “No one will see us,” You grin widely again before silencing his further protests with a kiss on his lips, “I promise that.”
Shawn let himself melt into the kiss before agreeing to strip out of his clothes and join you for a swim.
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Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️
hii not sure if ur taking requests but i wanted to ask if u could write an enemies to lovers fic where shawn sees the reader cry and tries to comfort her? thank uuu<3
p.s. i love ur writing sm ur one of my fav shawn accs on here🫶🏼
A/n: thank you for sending this in, I love me a enemies to lovers trope, even though it's sometimes hard to write Shawn as the "enemy" lmao let me know what you think <3 also so sorry for not writing about the reader crying, but he comforts her in another way so I hope that's still okay!!
Ski equipment? Check.
Toiletry bag? Check.
Thermal underwear? Check.
You mentally tick off your packing list while loading your friend's car for the annual ski trip in the mountains. The snow trip between Christmas and New Years' has become a beloved tradition and you looked forward to spending a few days in the mountains with your friends, skiing, spending some quality time, and unwinding. It could be so perfect if it weren't for a certain person joining.
Your nemesis. The bane of your existence. Your worst enemy.
Shawn.
"Does he really need to come, too?" you groan, pushing a weekender into the Jeep's trunk, and Stella sighs, giving you a warning look.
"Could you just make an effort, please? Can you try and get along with him for the sake of everyone's sanity?"
You puff your cheeks before climbing into the backseat. "It's not my fault that he-"
"Please, I don't want to hear it," your best friend cuts you off, connecting her phone to Apple CarPlay. "It's always something. He can just breathe in your direction and you're annoyed."
"Correct," you respond drily, fastening your seat belt. Ever since Stella started dating Jon, his best friend would tag along to your outings. Whether it was dinner or lunch, an evening at the bar, going out to concerts ,or monthly movie nights, Shawn would tag along. Ruining your mood. Irritating you. And driving you completely nuts.
"Cut him some slack. He's on a busy schedule. Spending time with his friends is important for him," Stella says in a soft voice and you close your eyes to breathe through your nose.
"I don't care about his schedule. Or that he is a celebrity. I just want to enjoy my free time without hearing this... agitating... noise. All the time. Because he is loud and annoying and-" you stop yourself before you can get too mad and Stella gives you a pointed look over her shoulder.
"Please, just try to not kill each other, okay?"
"Can't make any promises," you mutter under your breath, mentally planning to make Shawn's death look like a ski accident. Those things happen, right?
It's not that you haven't made an effort. You have tried to be nice. You have tried to like him. But it was just not possible. Maybe you started off on the wrong foot, maybe you were just too different. But there were differences in opinions, tastes, in points of view that made the distance between you and Jon's best friend look like an ocean. You stare out of the window as Jon starts the engine, taking in the snowy streets.
"Is Shawn going to meet us at the cottage?" Stella asks and only the mention of his name makes the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You would have to calm yourself down or one of you would truly not survive this trip.
"Yeah," Jon replies, reaching out to hold Stella's hand while driving. "He'll meet us there. He's flying in from L.A."
You press your lips together and try to think of something nice. Something that doesn't include a 6'3'' Canadian with curly brown hair and a chiseled jawline. You could hate him and admit that he was hot. Those things weren't mutually exclusive. But every tiny hint of attraction you have felt towards him had been eliminated the second you got into your first argument. You avoid going down memory lane and adjust your seat belt. You knew how to behave and you would try for the sake of your friends. If this trip would turn into a nightmare it would sure as hell not be your fault.
So you make conversation with Jon and Stella and promise to yourself to not pick a fight as soon as you would lay eyes on the spawn of Satan, err, Shawn.
***
The cottage is beautiful and idyllic, perched on the top of the mountain. As a part of the ski resort, it was rented out throughout the ski season and you were lucky that you were able to make a reservation, obviously ignoring the fact that Shawn had made a call to secure the cottage during the most sought out week.
You carry your suitcase after you into the wooden house and take in the cozy living room. There is a small kitchen with a wooden dining table, a fireplace, and two comfortable-looking couches. You were starting to sweat in your thick cable knit turtle neck jumper while carrying your suitcase into one of the bedrooms. The view is stunning, overlooking the snowy mountains in the distance and a forest with its barren trees. After unpacking a few of your things, you make your way back to the living room area, just in time for the VIP guest to arrive. You almost roll your eyes at the black Tesla Shawn is driving and cross your arms in front of your chest as he enters the cottage, wearing a Cashmere jumper and black pants, looking like he fell out of a Hilfiger ad for the Holidays.
"Hey, man, how you're doing," Shawn grins, giving Jon a brotherly hug before greeting Stella just as warmly. As soon as his gaze lands on you, he gives you a small curt nod and you nod back, not giving him the courtesy of a smile.
"We just started unpacking," Stella says, gesturing around. "Have you guys picked your rooms yet?"
"Yes, I'm in the last room on the right," you explain with a shrug and Stella frowns, looking at the hallway and then at her phone, as if she was realizing something. You know your friend well enough to know that something was up.
"Hold up," Stella mumbles, checking the reservation on her phone. "Are there only two bedrooms?"
Shawn looks around, swiftly making his way down the narrow corridor. He peeks into the room you have occupied and then into the other free bedroom that holds another double bed. "Yup, two bedrooms with double beds, that's it," he states, coming back into the living room while Stella is pacing around, reading the reservation E-Mail.
"There must've been a mistake. I booked three rooms. One for Jon and me and two separate bedrooms for the two of you. Obviously," she adds, which makes Shawn let out a snort.
Yeah, as if you would share a room with him.
He glares at you and you roll your eyes in annoyance.
"Hey, but the couch could work. Look, it's a pull-out sofa," Jon exclaims, pushing down on the cushions and pulling out the sofa bed. "This way one of you guys can sleep here and Stel and I take the master bedroom."
Shawn exhales in defeat. "Sucks being single," he mutters under his breath and Jon playfully boxes his upper arm.
"Come on bro, the sofa doesn't look too bad."
"Now, who said I am going to sleep on the sofa?" Shawn responds, diverting his gaze to you. "Y/n could take the sofa and I get the other bedroom."
"No way," you protest immediately. "First come, first serve. I've already unpacked." You give your opponent a hard stare and Shawn clenches his jaw.
"What? Do you want to play rock, paper, scissors over who gets the bedroom?" you mock with a sarcastic half-laugh and Shawn tilts his chin up.
"Yeah, why not? I don't get why you would get the bedroom when I just got off a flight and am much taller than you which would make sleeping on the sofa bed extremely uncomfortable." He towers over you and you refuse to look up. You shoot Stella a look that says 'I told you so.'
He was acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum over not getting his will. "Oh, I'm so sorry, the diva had a long flight," you throw your hands up. "This is ridiculous."
"One round," he challenges you. "Whoever wins, gets the spare bedroom."
"Please, guys, no fighting," Stella pleads, standing next to you and you gesture at Shawn and his stupidly broad chest and round shoulders that look defined in his stupid cashmere sweater.
"He wants to play rock paper scissors over the bedroom," you point out.
"You brought it up first!" Shawn retorts and Stella lets out an annoyed groan.
"Okay, fine," you sigh as if you were talking to a three-year-old. "One round."
You clench your hand into a fist and Shawn does the same, albeit his fist is much bigger than yours and looks ridiculously large in comparison to your small fist. You shake your fists three times and form a scissor with your hand. Shawn draws up the exact same shape.
"Tie," he mutters. "Repeat."
You almost roll your eyes but stop yourself, clenching your fist again. This time you leave your hand in a fist, forming a "rock" while Shawn forms the scissor again. You can't help but notice how long his fingers are, pointer and middle finger adorned with pretty golden rings and you blink, bumping your fist against his hand. "Rock beats scissors," you smile smugly and as if your touch has burned him he retrieves his hand, flexing it.
"Fine," he grumbles. "But if I have back pain and neck strain it's going to be your fault."
"I can live with that," you reply with a triumphant grin. "Sleep well. On the sofa-bed."
He gives you another annoyed stare and you grab your remaining bags and head into the bedroom. The grin never leaves your face.
Shawn 0 - 1 You.
***
The next day is spent on the slopes, skiing down the steep hill and riding the ski lift to do it all over again. It's a beautiful sunny day and even though it is icy cold, you feel warm enough in your ski suit and thermal underwear. You try to ignore Shawn who is showing off his athletic skills on skis and the snowboard. And you just roll your eyes at him or ignore him completely every time he tries to challenge you to race him. You would just stay away from him as much as you could and maybe then, the trip would be just fine. Maybe then it would work.
After spending all afternoon in the snow you make your way back to the cottage to shower and get ready for Après-Ski in town. You opt for a knitted wool dress and tights and keep your hair up in a sleek bun while Stella goes all out in a sequined top and flare pants as if it was New Year's Eve already. The boys stay in cozy jumpers and you reluctantly follow Shawn's lead to the waiting car. Stella, ever the organized Holiday planner, has reserved a table for four at The Longhorn Saloon, a popular Après-Ski location known for its party atmosphere. Located right at the base of the gondolas, you can already hear the loud music pumping as you approach the entrance. You take your seats at one of the small tables and order the nachos the place is well known for. Shawn orders a round of beer for everyone and you let your gaze wander over the party crowd. There was a group of men celebrating what looked like a bachelor's party, another group of blonde, tall guys that looked like finance bros, downing shots at the bar, and then mixed groups of people having fun and partying after another day in the snow.
The conversation is light and easy, as you go from one random topic to another, talking about mutual friends and sharing anecdotes when Jon brings up a friend that has done someone else wrong and your table starts to debate the question if you can be friends with someone who has been mean to others. "I think there are boundaries to loyalty," Stella explains, dipping a nacho into the delicious melted Cheddar cheese. "I would consider myself a loyal friend but if my friend does someone else wrong, they might do the same to me. I don't think that's someone I would want to be friends with."
"I don't know," Shawn says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning back in his leather seat. "If the person has never done me wrong, then I don't think I would stop being friends with them just because of experiences other people had." He shrugs. "I don't know, it depends though."
Of course, the worst take of the evening had to come from him. You shake your head after taking a sip of your drink.
"I don't agree."
"Of course, you don't," he says calmly, lips forming a smile. "You'd rather die than agree with me."
"Yes, but that's only because your opinions are always wrong and your takes are the worst I've ever heard."
Stella and Jon exchange a look that could be translated to "here we go again" as you and Shawn lean forward, mirroring each other.
"Like, say, Stella is having an issue with another friend. Would you stop being friends with her just because of that other thing that has nothing to do with you?" Shawn asks, resting his forearms on the table and you do the same, leaning in. As you lean forward you catch a whiff of his perfume and freeze for a second. His scent is heavenly. It's musky and masculine, with a bit of wood and amber in there and you have to stop yourself from embarrassingly inhaling the scent over the table.
"Depends on what the other thing is. If Stella was badmouthing the other person or making remarks that really hurt that person or sabotaging them, then I would definitely reconsider why I'm friends with someone who acts so awful."
"Hey, I'm right here," Stella interjects, raising a hand. "Bad example, you guys."
But neither you nor Shawn acknowledges her remark and Shawn leans back again, raising his eyebrows. "I disagree with you," he says calmly. "But that's okay. The wiser gives way."
"Right," you laugh sarcastically. "The wiser," you chuckle into your drink. "I'm going to get another drink at the bar. You guys want something?" You turn to Jon and Stella demonstratively and they shake their heads. "No we're good," Jon says, holding up his glass and you get up, making your way to the bar. One of the finance bros is eyeing you up, obviously checking you out and you order a stronger drink, leaning up against the bar.
From where Shawn is sitting he can see the blonde guy chatting you up and after a bit of conversation, you are touching his arm, laughing at something he said. For some weird, inexplicable reason it makes Shawn's stomach turn and jaw clench tight.
"Stop staring, man," Jon mutters under his breath as Stella gets up to use the restroom.
"I'm not staring," Shawn mutters, grumpily rotating his beer glass in his hands.
"You are. And it's obvious. Let her have a good time," Jon sighs.
"Yeah, with an absolute douchebag... but maybe it fits," Shawn mumbles before taking a big gulp, eyes back on you and the blonde guy as soon as the glass hits the table.
Jon chuckles, nacho in hand. "Oh God, you're actually attracted to her, right?"
"No," Shawn is quick to respond, panic in his voice. "I mean...," he reconsiders. "I can think she's hot and hate her. These things can co-exist."
Jon shakes his head, laughing. "So, you think she's hot?"
"Well, yeah... I mean, she is attractive, obviously. But, my God, does she get on my nerves. All that self-righteousness and moral superiority complex. She's a pain in the ass," he groans, reluctantly looking away and stopping to bore his gaze into your back.
"Maybe you should hook up. Just once," Jon laughs. "Get it out of your system, you know. All this tension... it has to go somewhere."
"No, never," Shawn shakes his head. "That's never going to happen."
"Alright," Jon puts his hands up in defeat. "Then go on being miserable and frustrated... I'm just saying... one night might just loosen things up," he smirks and Shawn punches his arm.
"Cut it."
Jon just laughs, shaking his head and you can feel a hard gaze on you but when you turn around, you only see Shawn sitting next to Jon at the table, as he is looking down at his phone.
***
The small dancefloor is quickly filling up and Stella and Jon have gotten lost in the crowd, dancing to the loud ABBA song that is blasting through the speakers. The DJ is playing a bunch of throwback songs, 90s music, and remixes and while you loved to dance, you'd rather go home than join the party crowd with Shawn in tow.
"Are you having fun?" Shawn asks, leaning against the wall in the back of the room, standing next to you.
"No." You clutch your drink and take a big gulp.
"Yeah, me neither."
"Oh, I thought you were having a ball, I saw you laughing with Jon earlier."
Shawn snorts, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, Jon was having a ball. He was joking at my expense."
A petite brunette passes you and you can't help but notice the flirtatious look she is giving Shawn, even tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Shawn gives her a polite smile and she blushes, looking over her shoulder as she goes on walking.
You stare up at the ceiling in annoyance. If you had to watch Shawn picking up girls at the Après-Ski you might as well rinse your eyes with Clorox. For some reason, picturing Shawn in love with a girl made you feel physically sick. You catch a glimpse of Stella throwing her hands up to ABBA's "Dancing Queen" and wrapping her arms around Jon's neck and you wonder what it must be like to be so happy in love.
You sigh, melancholia taking over as you rest your head up against the wall, watching everyone else have the time of their lives. Shawn seems almost as miserable, hands tucked into the pockets of his Calvin Klein jeans.
The pretty brunette keeps looking at him, probably trying to figure out if you were a possible threat and you take a step sideways, distancing yourself from Shawn, thus indicating that the road was clear. But before the girl can reach your side, Shawn turns towards you, leaning in to yell into your ear over the blaring music. You can barely understand him so he grabs the side of your head, his hand moving to the back of your head where he keeps it to speak into your ear, suggesting to get an Uber. You only watch the brunette turn away in disappointment, obviously thinking the two of you were an item. You temporarily feel sorry for her but then again, it's Shawn. Maybe she dodged a bullet there.
You agree to take an Uber back to the cottage and shoot Stella a text that you were leaving. Shawn moves through the crowd effortlessly, towering over everyone and you watch him slide his black American Express through the little machine, paying the bill. A single chocolate brown curl falls into his forehead and you catch yourself admiring his perfect features for a split second too long. You shake your head and grab your jacket and cross-body bag to make your way outside into the icy cold night, taking a deep breath that almost stings your lungs.
The drive back to the house goes by in silence, with occasional short conversations between you and the Uber driver. "They're saying that a snowstorm is approaching," the Uber driver tells you, turning around in his seat as you have arrived. "So, be careful out there," the bearded guy says and you nod.
"Yeah, I've seen the warning in the weather app. Hope it's not too bad."
"Take care, guys," the driver waves you off.
"You too," Shawn says before thanking him and closing the door.
You make your way up to the front door and you fumble with the keys as your hands are freezing. "It's too freaking cold," you say with chattering teeth, finally turning the key in the lock.
Shawn follows you inside, closing the door and you head towards your room, checking your phone. Stella has responded to your text with a thumbs up- emoji and you look around the room, pondering how to warm up. You could use the sauna and shower before bed. Or you could dip into the warm jacuzzi outside and relax before a good night's sleep. You're a bit dizzy from all the white wine but you manage to rummage in your weekend bag to retrieve a black string bikini that you've packed because Stella had been so excited about the whirlpool that came with the house.
You are quick to change into the bikini, throwing a fluffy bathrobe over it and heading onto the terrace. But it's when you reach the jacuzzi that you are about to do a U-turn. Sitting in the hot, bubbly water, his back to you, arms outstretched, was your nemesis.
"Oh, fuck," you mutter under your breath.
It wasn't low enough for him to not hear it and Shawn turns his head, his gaze meeting yours.
"Nevermind," you say, waving it off. "I'm just gonna use the sauna." You turn around on your heels, ready to dart in the opposite direction when you hear him call out your name. You freeze, slowly turning around.
"Come in, I don't mind," he says, waving his hand as if he wanted to say 'come here'.
You hesitate, nibbling on your bottom lip. The jacuzzi looks inviting, though, and you already have your bikini on. Why would you have to give up on the whirlpool just because Shawn was in there? You had just the same right to use the jacuzzi as he had. So you step closer, sensing the warmth of the bubbling water as you approach it. You open your bathrobe, place it on a nearby stool, and climb into the jacuzzi, ignoring Shawn's gaze that was traveling over your bikini-clad body. He moves to the side and you sit down on the bench, positioning yourself in front of one of the massage nozzles. You tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him and sigh softly as the hot water engulfs you.
Shawn is still fixating on you, sitting across from you, arms still resting against the edge of the whirlpool. From where you are sitting you can see that he is wearing black swimming trunks and the water droplets on his fair skin make him look ethereal. You hate to admit that he looked good. You try to not stare at his defined pecs or chest hair so you look down, hoping that your bikini top stayed in place during the water massage. You sit in silence, not one of you saying a word and you slowly look up, watching him watch you.
You clear your throat and before you can get a word out he beats you to it. "Why do you hate me so much?"
You blink, caught off-guard. You stare at his wet chest, trying your brain to work to the wine-induced fuzz.
"It's gonna be hard to just come up with one reason."
He laughs, exposing pearly-white, straight teeth to you and your heart makes an irrational jumpy beat at the sound of his laugh.
"No, for real, what's your problem?" he asks, brows furrowing a little. "Because I've tried to be friendly. It's just... no matter what I do... it seems like I'm not doing anything right."
"Well," you exhale, "I just think we don't get along. Period. We're always fighting and we can't help it. We're just different. You know how you sometimes meet people and the chemistry is just... off," you try to explain, the hot water sloshing around you. "I think that's the case with us."
Shawn nods slowly. A small, sad smile forms on his lips. He sighs as if he was wrestling with himself about what to say next. "Maybe we just got off on the wrong foot. What if we started over?"
"I think it's too late for that now," you say in a tired voice, leaning back against the wall of the jacuzzi.
"You barely know me," he replies quietly.
"Oh, I've seen enough," you respond drily and he bites his lip in frustration, looking away.
"You know... I really liked you in the beginning," he starts, nervously running a hand through his curls that are void of any product and you narrow your eyes at him. "I... I even wanted to make a move but you rejected me instantly."
You gasp at his confession, shaking your head. "What are you talking about? You never made a move, we got into an argument the first night we met and we haven't stopped fighting ever since. If it wasn't for Stella dating Jon, we would never see each other again."
Shawn looks pained, and you start to feel bad about your words but then you remember all the times you felt ridiculed by him or hurt by his words, so you give him an icy glare.
"Y/n, come on, you know I was into you," he sighs and you stare at him in shock.
"Excuse me? No, I didn't?"
"You were so quick to shut it down, there wasn't even time for us to get to know each other. You didn't even give me a chance," he whispers, breath coming out in puffs and you feel sick. What the hell was going on?
"How much did you drink?" you breathe out, voice strained. "You don't know what you're saying."
He was never into you, it couldn't be.
"This is absurd," you whisper, trying to get up but the water is so nice and warm and his gaze is captivating, mesmerizing.
It takes all of your willpower to get up, trying to reach the small silver ladder but before you can grip the handrails, you feel a strong grip around your elbow. "Y/n, wait."
You stumble, almost slipping on the wet surface, and land in Shawn's lap, straddling his thighs while he grips you, his minty breath hitting your face. You have never been this close to him and you can barely breathe, holding onto him. It feels like time and space are freezing into place, the world stopping to spin and you blink, trying to get your body to move. You can see his long dark eyelashes and the tiny shadows they are casting on his cheeks. The tension can be felt, can be cut with a damn butterknife.
"I'm sorry," you mumble.
"Careful," he whispers and he is so close you can feel his breath on your lips. You exhale shakily and only now notice his hands that are gripping your wrists. He lets go as soon as he senses you staring at his hands and you get up, climbing out of the jacuzzi. You grab your robe and rush back to the cottage, putting the robe on while walking. Your head was spinning, breath coming out in quick puffs. It was impossible, there was no way your sworn enemy used to have some sort of attraction to you at one point in time. You shake your head. There was just no way.
He must have had too much to drink.
You quickly open the door into the living room, making a beeline towards the bathroom to take a hot shower. You needed to watch his gaze from you, his touch. You shampoo your hair and massage the body wash into your skin. Every part of your skin tingled where he had touched you. Your elbow, your waist, your wrists. It was as if he was still touching you, holding you down, voice thick with urgency as he was begging you to stay.
You rinse off the foam and turn the water to cold. You needed to come back to your senses, needed to sober up and forget about what he said. You hate feeling so confused and unsure of yourself. The cold shower seems to help and you step outside to dry yourself with a large towel. After blow-drying your hair and applying a moisturizing night cream, you pad back into your bedroom to put on fuzzy pajamas, crawling underneath the covers. You check your phone for more messages from Stella but your lock screen is blank except for the time and today's date.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to not reply to the conversation with Shawn in your head. With your phone plugged in to charge overnight, you pull the covers up and turn to the side, trying to fall asleep. You can hear the shower turning on and you try your hardest to not imagine Shawn showering. Don't try to imagine hunky, muscular Shawn standing underneath the shower, rubbing shower gel into his abs.
You silently scold yourself for your thoughts, as if you had committed the greatest sin. You had to admit to yourself that there was something about him because why was the thought of him - naked and wet - making you clench your thighs and press them together underneath the duvet? You groan, shoving your face into the pillow and you hear footsteps approaching and then stopping. You almost forget how to breathe, looking at the closed door. But then you hear the footsteps fade away and you exhale again. He's gone. You imagine his tall frame having to squeeze into the narrow sofa bed and you almost have to laugh. You lay still in bed, waiting for sleep to come but as much as you toss and turn, you lay awake, thinking about Shawn's words and every one of your interactions that have led to this.
Finally, you give up and push the covers aside to slide into your slippers. Maybe a glass of water or hot cocoa could help. You step into the dark living room area, trying to not make a sound while grabbing a mug from the shelf.
"Can't sleep either?" a deep voice cuts through the darkness and you gasp, turning around just to bump into a hard wall of muscle. Shawn was standing in front of you, holding a glass of water that he must have wanted to put back into the sink.
"Y-yeah," you stammer. "Fuck, you've scared me."
Shawn chuckles softly, looking down at you. "Shh, Jon and Stella just came back and went to sleep," he whispers. "And sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Or maybe I'm not sorry, who knows."
You almost laugh in relief, as you were back to your old ways, gone the awkward tension and lingering touches from before.
"Why can't you sleep?" he asks, voice low and you lean against the kitchen island.
"Our conversation earlier," you confess. There was no use in beating around the bush or making up lies. He knew his confession unsettled you. "I can't stop thinking about what you said," you whisper. "I had no idea that you used to be into me at one point."
Shawn exhales shakily, he is standing right in front of you, caging you in.
"I meant it. Every single word." His breath is fanning over your face and you swallow thickly, slowly looking up at him. His hands move, almost in slow motion, from the countertop to your hips.
"I'm still into you," he mumbles. "I'm so into you it hurts," he whispers into your ear, his lips touching the shell of your ear and you instantly wonder if this was a prank. Was he really going to prank you like this?He's pressing into you, his hips pressing into your lower belly and you almost forget how to breathe.
"But... how? We hate each other."
"I could never hate you," he whispers. "I know we have this constant banter going on but is it weird that it turns me on?" he almost growls against your neck and you grab his t-shirt, bunching up the white cotton fabric while his hands wander down and underneath your pajama top. His warm hands slide underneath, gently caressing your skin.
"You drive me fucking insane," he breathes. "And I can't fucking stop thinking about kissing you. Slamming you against a wall and shutting your pretty mouth up. Putting you in your place. It consumes me."
God.
You try to assess the situation you're in. You're pressed up against your insanely hot, gorgeous, and very attractive enemy- the guy you hate. But why is your heart beating so fast and why do you want nothing more than him to slam you into a wall and have at it? Images of angry hate-sex flash through your mind and you shut your eyes at the image of Shawn holding you up against a wall, your legs wrapped around his waist...
"If you want me to stop, tell me to stop," he rasps, greedy hands gripping you tightly, pressing you against him and you shake your head no, a small gasp escaping your lips as he squeezes your sides while you wrap your arms around his neck, fingering the baby curls at the nape of his neck.
Shawn dips his head and you think there are constellations of galaxies exploding behind your eyes when he speaks again. "Can I kiss you?"
You nod and before you can say anything he clasps your face into his hands and slams his lips against yours. His lips are surprisingly soft and you whimper into his mouth as his kiss is frantic, heated, angry. He kisses you passionately as if all the fighting and all the arguments have led to this. He kisses as if all his frustrations needed this one release. His lips move effortlessly and he nips and bites at your bottom lip before your teeth clash against his and he is breathless, fisting your pajama top and then gripping your waist to press you into his body.
"Fuck," he whispers incredulously at to how good the kiss felt. The darkness engulfs you and you stand on your tippy toes, going in for the second kiss. He presses his lips on yours, fiercely and with a force that pulls the air out of your lungs. He kisses you as if he wanted to breathe you in.
"Goddamn," he chuckles to himself and you touch your lips, which are already swelling from kissing and the biting and nibbling.
"I- I should get back into my room," you whisper, head spinning. You feel so dizzy your legs might give in.
He nods, his hair falling into his face and you take a step backward. You don't know what to make of this. Shawn didn't kiss you once, he kissed you twice and with all the fervor there could be. Your legs still feel wobbly as you climb back into bed, forcing your eyes shut. This was fucking insane.
***
"You guys missed the best part last night. There was a happy hour and karaoke!" Stella tells you over breakfast and you stare into your coffee mug, trying hard to not make eye contact with Shawn. Awkward was an understatement for what was going on between the two of you. He is avoiding you and you are both acting weird around each other. You can barely look at him after what happened last night.
"Sounds great," Shawn says, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as if he was reading the newspaper.
Stella sighs happily, putting each hand on yours and Shawn's. "I'm just so glad you two are getting along. I was really worried before this trip."
You give her a tortured smile and Shawn barely looks up from his phone. "Well, we can be civil," Shawn mutters and you bite your lip at the same spot he bit last night in the kitchen.
He glances at you and heat reaches your cheeks. You look away.
"Stella and I are going to drive down into town to get some groceries. They're saying that a snowstorm might hit us soon and we should be prepared, just in case we get stuck here," Jon says over his coffee and Stella nods in agreement.
"Yeah, do you guys need anything?" she looks between you and Shawn and you both shake your heads.
"Um, maybe more wine?" you suggest. You would need something more to drink to cope with this situation. Stella laughs. "Alright, then, we'll get going. You guys should hit the slopes."
"Mhmm," Shawn hums, putting his phone away and he practically storms off, leaving you wondering and confused at the kitchen table.
"Is he okay?" Stella frowns, pointing in the direction Shawn just left and you shrug.
"Why would I know," you whisper and Stella shrugs, gesturing for Jon to get going.
***
"They're still not here. I hope nothing happened," you say, nervously checking your phone. The weather app shows multiple warnings and news channels are urging people to stay inside as the arctic winds and freezing temperatures are causing chaos in traffic and at the airports. After a round of skiing, you and Shawn went back inside and he stayed silent, glued to his phone and occasionally talking to people on the phone you didn't know.
"They should be here soon, maybe they had to drive further away to get everything. The grocery store in town seemed pretty small," Shawn responds, his back turned to you. He has finally put his phone aside to start the fireplace and the fire crackles warmly, casting a cozy glow upon the living room. You scoot closer, warming your hands and staring into the flickering flames.
Silence falls upon you. Again. If he wanted to be awkward about last night and not talk about it, fine - you wouldn't bring it up either. Eventually, Shawn gets up and walks away without saying a word and you close your eyes briefly as you exhale, wondering why you still feel so unsure of what to think. His behavior was not only irritating, but it was also making you feel all sorts of things - a little upset, a little angry, but most of all confused.
You sigh, picking up your phone that has started buzzing on the sofa. Stella's contact name appears on the screen and you feel relief upon finally hearing from her.
"Hello?" you speak into the phone and Stella's voice comes out rushed and breathy.
"Hey, so we're not going to make it back up to the cottage today."
"What do you mean?"
"They've blocked the road. Because of the snowstorm. They're not letting anyone in or out of the city centre. Apparently, there's a tree that fell over or whatever. And we won't make it back up. Jon and I are looking for a hotel for the night."
You feel like you're running out of air. "What- how... oh no, Stella, don't do this to me. Don't leave me here with him."
"Girl, there's nothing I can do. They're saying it's a safety hazard. Hold on, we're asking this hotel if they have availability for tonight."
You hear shuffling on the other line and you pace around the room, feeling panic in your chest and throat. You can already feel the tears starting to sting as you blink rapidly. This was the worst-case scenario. Jon and Stella usually were buffers between you and Shawn. Without them, you'd be left to your own devices. Alone with him. Talk about a real safety hazard.
"Y/n, are you there? Okay, okay, so, we have to stay in town, there's no other option," Stella explains in a rushed tone, background noises making it hard to hear. "Oh, excuse me," Stella says to another person and you press your lips together. "I'm so sorry. Let's just hope they're unblocking the road tomorrow. A police officer told us that they're expecting the storm to hit tonight, so maybe we can drive up tomorrow. I know this sucks."
"Yeah, it's...," you take a deep breath, "that's really bad, Stel," you gulp, "but don't worry, we'll be fine. You'll be fine. We hopefully reunite tomorrow. Take care, okay?"
"You, too."
The line goes dead immediately after you hear Stella's voice and you stare at your phone screen. Well... shit.
You look around the empty living room and decide to check the fridge. There were still some groceries and drinks that would help you survive even if you'd be cut out from the outside world. Outside, snowflakes are swirling in the cold air and the sky looks cloudy and gloomy. Now, where the hell was the other annoying houseguest?
You frown, looking out of the window and decide to put on your big puffer jacket to go look for Shawn as you need to tell him about the current happenings. You step outside and walk around the house. No trace of a tall, curly-haired guy that gets on your nerves - and has the audacity to kiss you in the middle of the night. You stop yourself from thinking about it again, when you see him, coming out of the sauna, looking broody. He's in a bathrobe, one towel slung around his shoulder and you yell his name until he notices you.
"Where have you been?" you angrily shout at him and he gives you a confused look.
"I just got out of the sauna," he responds casually and you hate how glowy and rosy his skin looks. It looks so soft, you crave to touch it. You cross your arms in front of your chest before your hands do something stupid. Like, reaching out for his face, for example.
"What's going on?" he asks, noticing the distressed look on your face.
"They're blocking the streets because of the snowstorm. Jon and Stella won't make it back up and they have to stay in town for the night," you tell him breathlessly.
He stares at you and you can't read his facial expression. He runs a hand through his sweaty curls. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath and walks toward the cottage. "I'll be in the shower. If you come angrily searching for me again," he yells over his shoulder and all you want is to give him the finger but you breathe through your nose and count to three and go back inside. You would just avoid him and not speak to him and this too shall pass.
***
The evening goes by in silence. You are both on your phones, a news channel blabbering in the background while you keep up with meteorological forecasts and local news stories. It's an uneventful evening and when you start to feel sleepy, you get up from the couch, feeling gracious enough to wish Shawn a good night. He's sitting on a lounge chair, quietly strumming his guitar that he apparently brings everywhere, in case 'inspiration strikes', as he calls it and he seems so entranced with his guitar playing, that you're not sure he even heard you.
"Good night," you mumble and you hesitate near the doorframe, lingering to hear him strum the guitar. It's a beautiful sound, you have to admit.
"Good night," he says, finally looking up from the strings and you swallow, pondering if you should say something.
"Why did you kiss me last night?" you blurt out, hating yourself immediately for it and Shawn avoids your gaze, staring straight ahead.
"I'm sorry about that, just forget about it," he mutters and you feel weirdly betrayed. First, he confessed he used to have feelings for you, then he kisses you in the middle of the night in the kitchen, and then he doesn't talk to you and tells you to forget about it?
You groan in irritation and walk off, running two hands through your hair. There might be a snowstorm outside but the inner turmoil inside of you was none the better as feelings of hurt and confusion collide. Under the covers, you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep and hope this trip comes to an end very soon.
***
When you wake up the next morning, you know something is not right. Your throat feels sore, your nose is stuffy and you feel weirdly hot and cold at the same time. A scratchy cough makes you sit up in bed and you close your eyes. Great. Feeling extremely under the weather and getting sick was just what you needed. You lay back down, trying to get some more sleep but your sore throat and stuffy nose won't let you fall back to sleep so you just lay in bed and look out of the window at all the masses of snow outside.
You finally manage to doze off again, when a knock on your bedroom door wakes you up.
"Yeah?" you rasp weakly and after a beat of silence, you see a head of curly brown hair peek inside.
"Hey, are you up?"
You nod and Shawn seems hesitant to come in. "Just wanted to say that Jon called. They'll drive up this afternoon - hey, are you okay?"
He comes closer, a worried expression on his handsome face and you sink further into your pillow. "You're so pale."
"I... I think I'm getting sick," you cough out and Shawn sits down on the edge of your bed and you are too weak to flinch or shoo him away so you let him sit and look at you.
You feel the weight of his warm, large hand on your forehead. "I think you have a fever," Shawn says, worry lacing his voice and you shrug, trying to get up.
"I'll be fine," you sigh but before you can get up, a wave of dizziness hits you and you have to hold on to Shawn's shoulder.
"Whoa, you stay in bed," he orders, softly pushing you back into the covers, and tucking you in. "I'll make you a cup of tea. And I'll tell Jon and Stella to make a pit stop at the pharmacy."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" you say in your throaty voice and he just gives you a pointed look as his lips form a line.
"Voice rest for you," he says with a pointed finger. "I might be enjoying that a little too much," he smirks and then adds, "just kidding."
You roll your eyes at him and watch him leave your room. He comes back shortly after with a big tea mug and places it on the nightstand. "I added a teacup of honey. Helps with the throat," he explains and you wonder how soft his tone has become all of a sudden.
"God, you're shivering," he says after assessing you and it's only then that you realize that your teeth have been chattering. One second you felt hot, the other you were cold and your hands and feet feel like ice cubes.
Shawn sits down on the bed again and you feel a little weird about his presence, his tall frame taking up so much of the bed but you let him squeeze in and you scoot over.
"You'll just get sick, too," you protest weakly but the warmth of his body, paired with the scent of his cozy sweater is too nice to push away so you let him scoop you into half a hug and maybe it's a fever dream, maybe it's a complete delusion, but for a moment you do not feel the need to fight back. You slump against the side of his body and let him warm you up.
"You should try to drink your tea," he whispers into the crown of your hair and you nod weekly as he passes you the hot cup. You take a sip. And then another one. And then you lean back into the pillows and pass out.
You are not sure how many hours have passed when you open your eyes again, but Shawn is still in your bed, still holding you close to his body and you have stopped shivering. There's a bead of sweat on your forehead and you slowly lift your head to look at Shawn's face. He looks completely peaceful, eyes shut and you wonder if he has fallen asleep when he blinks slowly.
"How are you feeling?" he mumbles and you try to ignore your erratic heartbeat.
"Kinda shitty, to be honest."
You still feel like you're at the deep end of a fever dream when he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, every touch shooting little electric sparks through you.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I actually did mean what I said to you in the kitchen. Last night."
"I can't do this right now," you mumble, shaking your head and he nods, softly pulling you closer to his chest. And maybe it's because he thinks you're back asleep again, maybe it's your fever talking, but you hear his voice, while your cheek is resting against his chest.
"I meant it, I meant it when I said that I'm into you. I love when we fight. It makes me feel challenged. I love how smart you are and how sassy and it drives me insane, in the best way possible. And I wish things were different. But I don't regret kissing you last night." He pauses and you feel him play with your hair. You stay still, wanting him to go on. "I didn't want to talk about it because I fear you might not feel the same way about me. And I'm so confused. About how I'm feeling. But I can barely think straight when you're around. And I get so fucking jealous when other guys flirt with you which is ridiculous," he chuckles to himself. "But you are so hot when you're angry and it makes me so-," he sighs, "I don't know... I just know you drive me mad and I need to be close to you and I... I want you, and I don't know if you want me too and now you're sick and I shouldn't say these things or even think about...," he stops himself again and your eyes flutter open.
"Don't stop," you whisper, slowly pushing into his chest with one palm and he gently cradles your head, tilting your face up to him.
"Y/n, you're not feeling well, you should get some rest, I-"
"Shh," you whisper, pressing one finger against his bottom lip and he stops talking and just looks you in the eye and your heart keeps beating violently against your chest and he takes your hand and presses it to his chest above where his heart is and you can feel it pound so fast, too.
"I can't do this any longer," he breathes out, "pretend to not be attracted to you when I want you so badly."
"I think... I think I want you, too," you whisper. "You drive me insane. But I... I can't pretend to not be attracted to you."
He exhales, a smile forming on his rosy lips. "If you weren't ill right now...," he growls, one large hand coming up to squeeze your hip and you shiver, not from your cold, but from his touch and you press your forehead against his chest. "If you weren't ill right now, I don't know if I could guarantee anything, being in the same bed," he rasps and you have to giggle into his chest while his long fingers play with your hair. You hate how fucking miserable you feel but even the scratchy throat and the fever can't help but make the butterflies in the pit of your stomach startup.
"I secretly loved to fight with you, I think," you whisper and he grins at you, brown eyes sparkling.
"Yeah, I could tell."
You stare into each other's eyes, wondering how you'd get here and he cups your face, thumb brushing over your heated cheek when your phone rings.
"It's Stella," Shawn says, glancing at the screen and you reach for your phone, picking it up.
"We're on our way up!" Stella shouts happily through your speaker and you gulp, looking at Shawn to see his reaction as he is listening, too.
"That's great," you rasp and before Stella can notice that you're sick, she asks: "I hope you guys haven't murdered each other, yet."
You cuddle up to Shawn, feeling safe and sound in his strong arms and you smile at each other.
"No, not exactly," you answer with a huge grin and Shawn almost fails to hold back his laughter. "I think we might get along better now," you smile into the phone, your eyes not leaving Shawn's and when you hang up, he takes the phone to put it on the nightstand, scooping you up into a hug.
"We're getting along better, huh?"
"Seems like it," you say nonchalantly and he smiles, pinching your cheek.
"Get well soon," he whispers, "I feel like we have to catch up on a few things."
And this time you don't feel any need to fight him on it.
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