Shitty’s always been a tomorrow thing. She’ll tell him how she feels tomorrow. She’ll kiss him tomorrow. She’ll grow up and deal with these feelings tomorrow.
Well, it’s tomorrow. It’s about as tomorrow as it can get before tomorrow becomes too late becomes never. Shitty just kissed the ice and now she’s sitting on the roof of faber, wrapped up in a coat and if she closes her eyes, the weather feels almost like fall.
But it’s not. It’s May 2015 and Shitty graduates in six fucking days.
She tries to focus on the party, if it can be called that. She’s having fun. She loves her friends and this is enough. This will never be enough. She turns to her best friend. “Hey, Shits?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever think there are things you should’ve done...like, yesterday?”
OOOH BABY SIT DOWN. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY CHILDREN.
2. Big spoon/Little spoon?
Shitty is little spoon 9.5/10 times. He’s so big and gangly HE IS NINE INCHES TALLER THAN HER YALL. and basically an octopus when he sleeps so Lardo get smothered in her sleep if she’s the little spoon. So they jetpack. The .5 comes when Lardo is having a bad week. They will start out with her being little spoon but end up switching positions in their sleep.
4. Favorite non-sexual activity?
This one is hard, because they’re like goddamn rabbits, most things tend to end in sex. Even if that was not the goal of the activity. Horny bastards. But smoking together and watching cartoons, is one of their favorite things to do. It’s how they became friends.
9. Who worries the most?
Shitty does. It comes with the whole being a child of divorce thing. He is constantly worried that he’s going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and Lardo is going to grow tired of him. Just like his parents did.
30. one headcanon about this OTP that mends it
When they get married Shitty takes Lardo’s last name “Because fuck the patriarchy and fuck the Knight family name. ”
Lardo would never admit it, not to anyone, but she secretly loved working at Annie’s. Pocket change aside, she loved the atmosphere, the camaraderie between herself and the other baristas, even the rough-and-tumble pace of rush hours and exam weeks. She loved coming home from work at the end of the day smelling like coffee beans and spices and fresh-baked goods. She loved when she got opening shifts, so that she could decorate the board outside and the chalk menus on the inside. Whether it’s the standard rainbows and violets and pride flags that are never far from Samwell’s aesthetic or something more seasonal or relevant to current events or whatever, she enjoyed the occasional return to what she loved about art in the first place: making pretty or spooky or eye-catching things that made herself and others happy.
One of the best parts of working at Annie’s, though, was definitely all the creep-tastic people-watching and eavesdropping she got to do. She loved when the tall, solemn jock (Jack, he always said, just loud enough to hear over the noise in the cafe, always leaving a sizeable tip in the Wellie-themed tip jar) came in with the little blond spitfire (Bitty, he always added with a sunny smile that could probably melt even Samwell’s snowdrifts) who was not-so-subtly in love with his friend. (The other baristas had bets about when they’d get together, but Lardo saved her money, planning instead to spend the ten bucks on getting them a cupcake or something when they finally figured it out. She remembered when Jack came in alone. He never smiled that much before. Or, you know. At all.) She loved when the tall black Canadian (Ransom - nickname?) came in with the even taller white loudmouth (Holster - hopefully a nickname too?) and practically finished each other’s sentences. No one knew if they were dating. No one - well, Lardo, at least - cared. They always seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to her. She loved when her fellow barista Farmer’s boyfriend Chowder came in with his friends. She’d actually had a class with Nursey (her last history requirement and his first), so she knew enough to only ever entrust his drink to Dex and to stay well out of their arguments. She wasn’t sure if they were dating, either. It was Samwell. Who ever knew?
She particularly loved when this one guy came in like clockwork at nine every weekday, three every weekend. She knew, objectively speaking, he wasn’t exactly a looker. He had the hair of an eighties rock artist who got lost in a series of back alleys, a pervert moustache, and the kind of lanky, tall frame that screamed “fuckboy” to her well-trained eyes. By all rights, she should at least dislike him on looks alone.
And yet.
There was just something about him that always drew her eyes back to him. She decided it was an artist’s instinct, wondering how the fact to capture the train wreck that was his mop of hair on paper or canvas, when she realized she was thinking just as much about his eyes, and his hands, and his mouth, and so she reconsidered.
So much of it was in the way he moved, she thought. For as much as he looked like the worst kind of Call of Duty douche canoe, he moved like a five-year-old, constantly bouncing from Point A to Point B, then practically vibrating as if he was just dying to get to Point C, and so on. But it was also in his eyes, which never dipped below her chin, or the chins of any of the other baristas on duty. They were good eyes, if a bit plain, but full of light, the kind that she had never been able to translate to the canvas.
And then he came in one day, completely out of schedule, talking animatedly with Jack (before Bitty ever started to come by), and she knew he could not be the asshat she imagined him as. Jack wasn’t smiling, not by a long shot, but Lardo saw in a glance that wasn’t because he wasn’t happy.
By some stroke of fate, though, the entire year she’d been working at Annie’s (excluding the semester she’d spent abroad), she had never worked the cashier the same time as he’d come in, and not for lack of trying. After that fateful unscheduled visit, she’d tried to get her hand in, but she didn’t do the whole cashier thing much anyway, usually mixing drinks because she was the best with proportions (funnily enough, she saw it as similar to mixing paint) and her math skills were not exactly the strongest. Still, she did it sometimes, but never when the guy came in, until one day toward the end of the winter semester of her junior year, when he comes in like clockwork, shaking the snow from his head and glancing around like always, as if he’d never seen the place before.
“What can I get for you today?” Lardo asked politely, trying to keep to her normal levels of monotone so the excitement didn’t get through. She’d heard him speak before, of course - his voice was loud, and he never really made a point to lower it - but she’d never gotten to speak to him herself.
“So that’s what your voice sounds like,” Ugly Hair grinned. “I didn’t know if Jack was lying to me when he said you had one.”
“I’m surprised Jack mentioned me,” she replied truthfully. She knew he was considerate, from the way he’d sometimes pay for Bitty’s drink when the blond was low on cash to the way he always tipped well, but there was a difference between generosity and noticing a barista’s speaking habits. “I take it you’ll want your usual?”
“Of course he mentions you,” Ugly Hair said. “You’re the only barista here other than Farmer who hasn’t tried to hit on him while he was trying to get his coffee. And yeah, medium mocha latte and a croissant. You’re his favorite barista in the history of ever.”
Lardo smiled as Ugly Hair paid. “He’s a favorite of mine around here, too. He has kind eyes, and he’s always polite. And I’m happy he’s finally found someone to make him smile now and again.”
“Who, Bitty? Yeah, the little dude just seems to bring out the best in everybody, I think. He’s really good for Jack, who’s been around so many people who are only interested in the worst.” Ugly Hair scratched his chin and smiled at her. “So am I getting my drink?”
“Oh, yeah.” Lardo cringed and grabbed a medium cup. She was by herself behind the counter at the moment, since it was the between-meal slump, and it always threw off her groove to do everything herself. “Sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Let’s go with...The Dread Pirate Roberts, this time,” Ugly Hair decided, and Lardo shot back a grin.
“Aw, your Buttercup waiting for you somewhere?” she asked, scrawling the chosen name on the cup and going to make his drink. She was glad there wasn’t anyone else in the store to pay attention to; this was the most engaging conversation she’d had all week.
“Naw, I just like the idea of being a pirate,” he said. “You got a name yourself?”
“Larissa, but my friends call me Lardo,” she answered, tilting her head at the frown that took over his face.
“They don’t sound like good friends to me,” he muttered, and she turned it over in her head for a second before getting it.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing to do with my weight or anything,” she reassured him. “Although I wouldn’t care if it was, seeing as I am the smallest person I know, and all. Freshman year I had to make a sculpture out of an item of food. Most people chose cereal or whatever, but I made a vivisected pig out of lard. It was pretty extra, so I kind of got a rep out of it.” She was not prepared for the full-bodied laugh that accompanied her story. It shook his entire body, and his face scrunched up in a way that should absolutely not have been endearing.
“Man, that’s insane,” he giggled. “I love it.”
“Thanks,” she answered, handing over his drink and bagged croissant. “Have a good day, Captain Roberts.”
“As you wish, Lardo.”
It became a kind of habit. Every day, if she happened to be working at the same time, he would order and then come talk to her until his drink was out. Politics, art, Marvel vs. DC, literally everything and anything that came to mind. Every day, when she asked for his name, he gave her a different fictional character to put on his cup.
On one hand, she was kind of impressed. He never repeated one, not once in all the time she’d asked; she wondered if he had a list. But on the other hand, she was pissed off. Why didn’t he want her to know his name? Was it really bad, or did he just not want her to ask him out (which she did not do, ever™), or what?
Anyway, with finals and the utter shit art majors have to go through around that time, she didn’t really see him until right before she went home for Christmas Break, and she was completely unprepared when she did. It wasn’t at his usual time, and he came in with all her favorites. Jack and Bitty and Ransom and Holster and Chowder and Nursey and Dex all kind of mobbed Annie’s that Friday afternoon at around five, the once-Captain Roberts (and, most recently, Captain Jack Sparrow) in the midst of the probably buzzed crew. She shot Farmer and March smug smiles as she continued her lazy sweep up of the dining areas. (She’d had to deal with the entire LAX crew, only barely sober enough to stand, just an hour ago. By herself. Fuck the LAX crew.)
As was usual, though, once former Captain Jack Sparrow shouted his order over the noise, he staggered his way in her direction.
“Hey, Lardo,” he slurred, but only slightly.
“What have you been drinking?” she asked, fighting the smile she could feel in her chest. She’s only been gifted with this idiot while drunk once, and it was awesome. He literally did not shut up about how pretty she was the entire time. She didn’t need it, but it was nice to be appreciated. Especially when said appreciation never once approached how “hot” or “sexy” she was. Only “pretty”. She didn’t get a lot of that anymore.
“Tub juice,” he burped.
“Sounds disgusting. I wish I had some,” she sighed, sweeping more straw paper up. “Especially after the week I’ve had.”
“Well, when do you get off?” he asked. “We got more we can save for you.”
“Actually, I’m off in about ten,” she answered, ordering the bubbles in her stomach to settle the fuck down. “If you don’t mind waiting.”
“Course not,” he grinned, giving her a tipsy hug, that, despite her instinctual reaction to flinch away, was actually quite nice. Warm and comforting. “Guys, you mind if Lardo comes back to the Haus with us?” Lardo blinked, not sure where the confusion started. Did he live with those other guys? Since when? And why did the way he said “house” sound different?
When he got pretty much unanimous “hell yeahs”, he grinned back at her. “So it’s settled.”
“Does this mean I get to know your actual name now? Or do I just keep calling your Batman for the rest of time?” she half-joked, half-demanded. She knew his drunk ass would only get one half of it, and she wasn’t particular on which half he picked up;
“Oh! You don’t know my name! Sorry, I always give the barista on duty some kind of crap fake name because I hate my real name and I figured I didn’t want to force any barista who didn’t like swearing into writing my nickname. It’s kind of habit. But yeah, my friends call me Shitty.”
“Shitty.” She stared at him, wondering if the alcohol had messed with his brain.
“Yeah.” He grinned, and she was suddenly thrown back to when she first saw him, ugly hair, ugly beard, ugly fuckboy posture. She grinned back.
Pairing: Shitty/Lardo
Rating: G
Summary: At first Lardo doesn’t notice it, not really. She’s busy with getting Shitty’s - no, her room - set up in the Haus and she doesn’t think about it too much. There’s things to do, things to buy and a lot of catching up with Bitty and the other boys, so no, she doesn’t notice it. But the moment she does it hits her like a brick. She hasn’t talked to Shitty in almost a week.
(Lardo & Shitty don’t talk for weeks, Lardo is angry about it and drives to Harvard to confront him. She’s got a lot of things to say but when she arrives nothing is like she expected it to be.)
A special thanks to Emma for reading through this in the middle of the night & clearing out all my mistakes. You are a gem and I love you very much. Thank you for doing such a wonderful job. <3
At first Lardo doesn’t notice it, not really. She’s busy with getting Shitty’s - no, her room - set up in the Haus and she doesn’t think about it too much. There’s things to do, things to buy and a lot of catching up with Bitty and the other boys, so no, she doesn’t notice it. But the moment she does it hits her like a brick. She hasn’t talked to Shitty in almost a week. His last text message is from almost ten days ago and she answered it but never got anything back from him. It’s weird. She sends him a quick text, asking how he’s doing, if he’s already at Harvard.
He’s just busy, like you, she thinks, staring at the text, sent two days ago; he still hasn’t answered her and even though she knows she’s probably right, it doesn’t make it hurt any less. They are best friends, they are supposed to talk to each other.
I hope we’re not falling apart already, her mind continues to worry, but she doesn’t say it out loud. If you say things out loud, they become real and Lardo really doesn’t want that thought to become real. But the days go by and her phone stays quiet except for a few calls from her family and some little texts from Bitty, asking if she needs anything from Stop & Shop. She doesn’t. She doesn’t need anything but a sign from Shitty that he’s still alive.
She doesn’t cry the night she realizes it’s been two weeks, that he probably isn’t going to answer, but she doesn’t sleep either. The room feels very small all of a sudden, stuffed with memories she’s trying to ignore and feelings that have never been spoken about. She hates it, everything is wrong. She rips the wallpaper off because it reminds her too much of Shitty and leaves it like that when she finally gets too tired to stand. The next day she goes to the hairdresser and decides to shave half of her head, just because she can.
She needs a change.
It’s almost three weeks since they last talked when Lardo finally snaps. She’s sent Shitty a few messages, asking how he is, asking him to answer her, asking if he’s still alive...nothing.
She kind of hates him for doing this to her. It’s not like he’s obligated to talk to her but they spent almost all summer together. She went to lunch with his horrible family, she was his +1 to his father’s birthday, she cut his hair, she showed him her favourite places in Boston, she…she fell for him and she’d thought he’d fallen for her too. He had promised to call her, to not leave her behind, to stay her best friend. He told her he needed her. She hates him for lying even if she knows he probably didn’t lie, that there is an explanation for all of this. That he still loves her just the same. She knows Shitty, she knows him better than anyone but she doesn’t understand this at all. She needs to understand.
So she gets up and calls Jack; the middle of the night, she knows it’s ridiculous to even think about him driving her to Harvard at this time, that he needs to sleep. She is convinced he will say ‘no’.
He doesn’t, even though she knows it’s not fair to ask Jack to do something crazy like this; and yet, for some reason, he tells her to pack her bag and to be ready in an hour.
Lardo throws everything she can find into her bag, not even caring what she packs and races down the stairs. The whole Haus is asleep, no one sees her, and she writes herself a note, reminding herself to text Bitty in the morning, not wanting anyone to worry about her being gone when they wake.
The drive to Harvard is quiet. Jack doesn’t ask her why she needs to be driven there right this second, doesn’t say anything about her bedhead, her pyjama-clad body or her lack of shoes. He just nods at her, turns the music on quietly and drives until they’re on the campus where he stops the car.
“You go ahead and go in. Come get me once you’ve told him whatever you wanna tell him, eh?” Jack says. Lardo nods.
“It won’t take too long,” she promises.
It won’t, she tells herself, because she knows what she wants to say. She has a speech prepared, short but effective. She’s gonna tell him exactly what she thinks of his lying, unresponsive, rank ass and his stupid moustache and the fact that he thinks he can just leave her behind like the dirty socks he left in his drawers at the Haus. She still doesn’t know if they were supposed to be some kind of gift to her or not; when she asked Shitty he hadn’t answered. It makes her even more furious. What is she supposed to do with those socks?
She needs to know if she can still call him; but, most of all, she needs to know what to do with these damn stupid feelings, nagging at her like piranhas, hungry for blood.
She storms up the stairs, knowing what room Shitty’s in; he told her when he got his email from Harvard during the summer. They’d been sitting at the pool, their feet hanging into the water, her fingers tangled in his hair. Room 24, Grays Hall. He had sent her a map back then, already setting a mark on where he’d be.
So you can find me without getting lost, he’d said. Lardo remembers laughing about it. She never gets lost, he knows it.
Climbing up the steps to the building, Lardo quickly looks at the floor plan before running off. There’s a bunch of guys sitting on the stairs as she makes her way up; they look her up and down, one even whistling at her. She throws him a dirty look. At any other time, she’d have gone off at him but right now she wants to save her anger for Shitty, so she lets it go.
Once she’s arrived on the second floor, she turns to her left and looks at the numbers on the doors.
20, 21, 22, 23...24.
She knocks on the door.
Her heart beats in her chest and she knows it’s not just from running up the stairs. She’s nervous; nervous because, up until now, she’s never been in a situation where she’d wanted to scream at Shitty. Sure, they’ve had little fights before, but nothing major. This though, this is major and she has no idea how to deal with it. She just hopes she gets out everything she wants to say before losing her courage.
Knocking on the door again, she looks at the clock. It’s almost 2 am but she knows Shitty isn’t sleeping. He’s a night owl; always had been and always will be.
There’s a rumble from inside and a voice mumbles something that sounds like ‘I’m coming brah.’ Lardo knows it’s Shitty, it has to be, but once the door opens she’s not so sure anymore.
Lardo gasps. It’s Shitty but it’s also...not. Not the Shitty she remembers, anyway.
His hair has grown out; it looks horrible, strands standing off anywhere, rumpled. His eyes are red and swollen, like he’s been crying and Lardo’s heart clenches. She hopes to every god she knows that Shitty hasn’t been crying. She stares at him a little longer and it hits her: his moustache is ruffled and undone. It looks like he hasn’t taken care of it for days, he hasn’t shaved either.
He looks like a disaster.
She gasps again when she sees his eyes widen, feeling her own doing the same as she opens her mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. She can’t say any of the things she prepared, not while he looks like he hasn’t slept for days.
“Lardo,” he whispers, and for a moment she thinks he’s gonna faint. He just stares at her, like she’s a ghost. His fingers are wiggling at his sides, his feet are shuffling restlessly, like he wants to step closer but he doesn’t do anything.
“Oh Shitty,” Lardo breathes, walking forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as good as she can given the height difference. She puts her head on his shoulders and his arms wrap around her body like a cocoon, tight and safe.
For a second, she has to fight the urge to step back, his hygiene alone painting Lardo a good picture of how bad he’s doing. Shitty’s always looked like the type to go unshowered but it’s a fact that he cares very, very deeply for his skin and hair-care routine. He has it all figured out, even when he’s shitfaced and schwasted. Shitty Knight never ever smells of anything except clean, fresh laundry detergent and sandalwood.
Except now, he does.
“I’m sorry...I didn’t know you were coming round. I would have cleaned up,” he says into her hair. She shrugs in his arms.
“I didn’t even know I was coming,” she answers truthfully, heart clenching as Shitty begins to sob loudly. Some of the guys from the stairs look over at them with curious looks, but Lardo doesn’t care, stroking Shitty’s hair.
“I hate it, Lardo. I fucking hate this place. I hate these douche bros on the stairs because they are racist, misogynistic assholes. And god, the teachers are douchebags as well. I miss all of you guys so much but especially...you. I miss you so much, Lardo.”
Lardo takes a step back, untangles herself from Shitty and looks up at him, her hands on either side of his face. “You didn’t call. You could’ve called me.”
“I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. I really want to do this, I want to become a lawyer and change the world but I didn’t think it would be this fucking bad. I’m sorry.”
Lardo feels her chest clench a bit at the thought. Of course he didn’t want anyone to know, she should have known. Shitty, who always seems so confident; Shitty who is loud, just to cover up his own insecurities. The louder he gets, the more he is trying to hide. She found that out during her first year after he’d gotten a nasty call from his father and had continued to get drunk and very, very loud at a Kegster the moment the call ended. He isn’t drunk now, just insecure. He’s not hiding anymore.
“It’s okay,” Lardo says, stroking his cheek gently before going in to hug him again. “I am here now.”
They stand like that for a few more moments, just holding each other, when one of the stair guys whistles at them. Lardo flips him off.
“I’ve got Jack in the car,” she whispers into Shitty’s ear. His mouth opens in surprise against her shoulder.
“Jack Zimmermann drove you here? In the middle of the night? Are you sure?” he asks. Lardo laughs.
“Yeah. I don’t know why he did it but he did. He’s waiting downstairs.”
Untangling herself, she takes Shitty’s hand. “You wanna go get him?”
“Chyeah!”
They get Jack from the car and then go up to Shitty’s room. Jack doesn’t say anything about the mess or the smell and Shitty starts cleaning up immediately. He tells them which place still delivers pizza at this time of night and then excuses himself because he has some rank flow he has neglected for weeks and needs to take care of right away. Lardo helps him apply his face mask, just like they did back at the Haus and for a few hours it feels like they are still at Samwell.
When Jack leaves in the morning, saying he needs to go back for practice, Lardo decides to stay since it’s Friday anyway. She can still say she’s sick. It’s only the beginning of the semester, after all. She’ll get notes from her friends to read when she comes back. For now, she feels like there’s something, someone more important that needs her attention.
It has taken me ages, I am so sorry Flynn but here we go: Shitty & Lardo, my favourite idiots, with #6 “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” ;)
Pairing: Shitty/LardoRating: TSummary: Lardo kind of hates her birthday this year and it’s not just because she stubbed her toe this morning. But as it turns out, someone’s got a special birthday surprise for her. :)
Lardo dragged her backpack into the Haus, not feeling up to actually carrying it. It wasn’t like there was anything important in there, just some scribbled down lecture notes that she sure wouldn’t need before next week.
She sighed quietly as she toed off her shoes. There were sounds of someone, most probably Bitty, moving things around in the kitchen and Lardo couldn’t help but wishing she could pass the kitchen without him seeing her. As it was, however, she knew that as soon as she stepped foot in direction of the stairs he would, indeed, see her.
“Hey Lardo, you’re back early.”
And there it was. Bitty’s voice, bright and excited like always. Lardo looked up at him, standing in the door leading to the kitchen with flour in his hair and dough stuck to his fingers.
“I was just starting on that pie you like so much, the one with the walnuts and almonds, you know, for your special day” he said, smiling brightly and winking at her.
“Bitty, I told you I don’t need a pie” Lardo huffed and regretted it just a second later when Bitty’s smile fell a bit.
“Well you’re getting one, I would’ve baked one anyway. We don’t need to tell the boys it’s for you if you don’t wanna.”
Lardo picked up her backpack from the floor and hung it over her shoulder.
“No, sorry Bitty, it’s fine. Thank you for doing this. It’s very sweet of you.” She gave him a small smile that she really didn’t feel like if she was honest.
It was October 5th, her birthday but it didn’t feel like a day of celebration to her at all. She’d stubbed her toe getting out of bed this morning, had gotten a D on one of her exams and she hadn’t seen Jack, who’d always patted her shoulder affectionately first thing in the morning, in ages. She missed him terribly. Shitty hadn’t called all day, it was already after 4pm. It sucked. Everything sucked.
“Alright, I’ll get back into the kitchen. The pie’s not gonna bake itself now, will it?”
Bitty disappeared in the kitchen again and Lardo wondered if he expected her to come after him. She didn’t feel like it at all.
“Uhm, Bits, I’ll just go upstairs for a bit. I am pretty tired” Lardo said, loud enough so Bitty would be able to hear it in the kitchen.
“Go ahead, Lardo. I’ll call y’all down when the pie’s ready.”
Lardo shrugged. She really didn’t need pie even though she knew that Bitty would have made one for her anyway. He was a baker after all and he liked to take care of people, especially on their birthdays. She remembered Chowder’s birthday last year when he’d asked Bitty not to make a big fuss about it and Bitty had ended up baking two pies (one for the Haus party and one for his friends in the dorm rooms.) Chowder had gotten so red Lardo was sure he was gonna explode but in the end it all turned out pretty fun.
She climbed the stairs quickly, ready to just fall into bed and sleep for hours when she heard someone giggling in her room. Someone that sounded distinctly like…
“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed” she asked as she took in the picture before her.
There he was, Shitty Knight in all his moustachioed glory. Naked as the day he was born on her bed. Reading fucking Cosmo magazine.
“It’s your birthday.” he said with a smile that’s just on the verge of wicked and Lardo’s heart jumps.
His green eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sun that’s coming in through the window and for the first time, or at least the first time she can remember, Lardo is speechless.
The thing was: She was a quiet girl, mostly, not because she didn’t have anything to say but because she thought not everything that went through her mind needed to be said out loud. She only said things she really meant and wanted to say. Right now she couldn’t decide what she wanted to say first, her mind was racing.
It all made sense now. Shitty, who was usually the first to pick her up and spin her around in a bone-crushing hug, hadn’t called all day, or texted, because he was probably busy driving. She’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d forgotten about it. She wouldn’t have been mad, it happens sometimes when people move away from each other and especially if one of them went to fucking Harvard law school.
But there he was. On her bed. Naked. The fact that he was naked probably shouldn’t stand out to her that much but it did. It most definitely did.
“I can leave, if you want to” Shitty said and there was a hint of unsteadiness in his voice as he sat up on the bed, ready to grab his clothes.
Lardo smiled. “No. You stay right where you are.”
She took a few steps into the room, closer to where he was now sitting on her bed. His magazine glided out of his hands and fell to the floor with a ‘thud’. Lardo went to pick it up and put it on her desk before sitting down next to him on the bed.
She’d seen him naked before, it wasn’t a big deal. At least that was what she’d been trying to tell herself for the last five minutes but this felt…strangely different. She’d climbed through Shitty’s window into his room, which was now her room, a dozen times or so only to find him naked in bed or on the floor getting baked. She’d never minded him being naked. She didn’t mind it now. She wanted to look at him.
So she did. She looked at him, at his chest and his legs and then at his face where his eyes were focusing on hers, waiting for…something.
“You should have put a bow on your dick if you wanted to be my present” Lardo said.
“Thought about it but decided it was too much” Shitty grinned back at her.
She nodded with a smile and then put her arms up to wrap them around Shitty’s neck. She moved a bit closer, to make it easier for her to hug him and put her head on his shoulder. It felt like home to be in his arms again, even if it was a bit different with him being naked and all.
“Does this mean I get you for my birthday?”
Shitty’s breath tickled her neck as he huffed out a laugh. “Oh darling, you’ve already got me.”
Lardo lightly kissed the spot between Shitty’s neck and shoulder, right on his collarbone and then put her head back against it. She closed her eyes.
The day had started pretty badly but she knew it was gonna end well. After all not every girl got a naked Shitty Knight all for her own on her 22nd birthday.
And she was happy it was that way because Shitty Knight was her very own birthday present, the best of all.
