The Plan - Fletcher/Jones - Standalone
Title: The Plan
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones
Genre: Fluff, Kid!McFly.
Summary: Inside, though, he wished that he, and everyone else for that matter, would just stop throwing insults at him, because underneath the layer of fat and roundness was a little boy who just really wanted a friend.
A/N: Since it's the break and all, I decided to finish up on all my working standalones, and here's one of them. This was actually a dream I had. Most of it's in here, but the rest I improvised.
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
“Oi, Fatso! Want ‘nother cookie?” taunted the scrawny little brunette with a wide grin of malice, tossing his head importantly to the people gathered behind him. Tom’s heart quickened at the remark, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was that spoke.
It was obviously Danny Jones with his incomprehensible accent.
Recently, he had taken quite a liking to making fun of Tom, always teasing him whenever he got the chance. Tom usually just let everything slide off his shoulders, having no intention to confront someone who was backed by almost half the class. Inside, though, he wished that he, and everyone else for that matter, would just stop throwing insults at him, because underneath the layer of fat and roundness was a little boy who just really wanted a friend.
They called him many names: “Whale-boy,” “Elephant-baby,” “Piglet,” “Snorlax,” and much, much more. The school’s favorite, however, was “Fatso.” Having been called these names repeatedly, Tom tried to ignore them to the best of his abilities, creating an invisible wall meant to ward off the insults from ever reaching his heart. But they always seemed to find their way through, and he would find himself crying in the bathroom during lunchtime after feeling their respective blows.
It wasn’t his fault he was fat; his mother was relentless, always feeding him no matter how much he protested. Once, he managed to skip a whole day’s meal, but that was only because he was working in the school play, and he threw away every single one of his mother’s packed lunches when she left. The luxury of those moments was extremely rare, and he had to tough it out whenever his mother pressed a plateful of food in his hands, urging him to eat more because she wanted him to be a “big, strong boy” when he grows up. Her feeding habits undoubtedly accomplished the “big” part, but with the “strong,” it was the exact opposite. With the accumulation of weight in his body, he always felt weak, he always found himself breathing harder than was necessary, he always felt like passing out whenever he would attempt to at least run a mile to get thinner. He just wished his mother would stop with her obsession, but he could never find it in himself to tell her so.
“While you’re under my roof, you will follow whatever I say,” said his mother the first time he tried to pass up a meal, and he never tried to defy her anymore all the subsequent times that followed.
“Oi, Fatso! Ah’m talkin’ to you!” Danny declared, and this time he sounded closer. Tom managed to turn around and shake his head, his eyes totally averting Danny’s and focusing it instead on a neglected bag resting against a desk some ways off, although in his mind, he wanted to throw himself on the brunette and unleash the fury he held back inside. He quickly turned back as the people around him laughed cruelly, and Tom could feel tears trying to push their way out of his eyes.
He didn’t know how children could be so evil. Surely, they’ve been ridiculed at least once in their lives, and that they’ve felt the pain he was experiencing as they stood there, laughing their hearts out at the fat boy who was crying on his desk.
His display of emotion caused an uproar in the classroom: sniggers and cackles intermingled with “ohh”s and “aww”s, and Tom felt his tears drip one after another on the back of his hands. He wanted to run out of the class and lock himself in his bedroom away from the horrible children, but something prevented him from doing so.
It was as he was staring at his wet hands that he realized he’d had enough.
He whirled around in his seat and hurled himself on Danny, who was dumbstruck by Tom’s sudden and first ever demonstration of brutality. They landed on a desk immediately behind Tom’s, and Tom wasted no time in exacting blow upon blow across Danny’s face, his newfound strength surprising even him. A widespread “Fight! Fight! Fight!” ensued among the students, all of them rooting for Danny.
Danny recovered, however, and flipped Tom to his back on the floor, reciprocating the larger boy’s actions two-fold. In an attempt to protect his face, Tom jammed his palm against Danny’s nose, who at once relented with his punches to nurse the afflicted area. Tom took this time to push the brunette off him, but as he stood up to make his escape, he felt something grasp his ankle, and not a second later, he was yanked back down on his stomach, letting out a cry of pain upon impact. He tried to kick the hand off, hitting Danny on the chest as he did so, but the grip persisted, and the more he tried, the more it tightened.
“Let me go!” Tom cried, his hand latching on the edge of a desk. He tried to pull himself up, but Danny tugged him back down, this time his face hitting the floor. Lifting his head up, he felt something warm dripping from his nostrils, and he didn’t need to reach a hand there to figure out what it was: blood. That was when the reality of the situation dawned on him; he was going to get beat up, and there was absolutely no one to help him.
He felt Danny scrambling on his back, his knees painfully pressing on his spine, and he felt his fingers twining themselves in his hair. A forceful tug, and Tom heard his neck crack as the brunette pulled his head back. Tom tried to wriggle out of this predicament, but Danny’s grip was too strong, and the only thing it did was exacerbate the situation. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to admit defeat, and in one final desperate attempt at liberation, he reached up a hand to Danny’s hair and yanked his head down the same way he did. This made the brunette loosen his grip, and Tom was finally granted his freedom, shrugging the boy off his back and crawling on all fours towards the door.
He stopped, however, when he saw a pair of trouser-clad legs barring his path.
He slowly looked up, wiping the blood trickling down the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, and found himself staring at his teacher’s eyes. Anger was evident in his face; his eyebrows were furrowed in irritation and his eyes were slightly squinted, the deep lines around them heavily pronounced.
“Headmaster’s office,” said Mr. Collins crossly, helping Tom to his feet by grabbing the front of his bloodstained shirt and motioning for Danny to come over. The brunette hung his head as he lifted himself up, using a desk nearby for support, and he eyed Tom harshly as he passed him by. The elder grabbed the two boys by the collar to let them know they were in disgrace, and led them out of the classroom, the students flooding out into the hall curiously when they turned the corner.
This was the first time Tom had ever gotten in trouble, and he dreaded how his mother would react upon receiving the inevitable notification. Desperately, he wished it would be like: “No dinner for a week!” or something to that effect. He would like that very much, to be quite honest; at least it would help immensely with his weight struggle. Still, he knew he would be severely punished-reprimanded at the least-and he shivered at the thought of his mother yelling at him. He never did like it when she yelled at him.
Mr. Collins ordered them to sit on the bench beside the door leading to the Headmaster’s office, where he slipped inside once the two were settled as comfortably as they could considering the penalty that would undoubtedly be carried out.
The boys sat on opposite sides of the bench, the gap enough to accommodate three people, both looking intently at the empty wall opposite them. Tom was keeping himself busy with applying pressure on his nose with his sleeve while Danny sulked with his arms crossed over his chest. Neither said anything for a while.
Tearing his gaze from the insufferably boring wall, Danny looked around, trying to determine if anyone was roaming the halls. Finding none, he inched closer to Tom.
“Sorry ‘bout your nose,” he admitted to the blonde once he was only centimeters away, who kept his focus to the wall. “Didn’t know you’d fall tha’ way.”
“S’alright,” responded Tom, who finally lifted his eyes to Danny’s, his lips forming a smile obscured by his hand. Danny smiled back and tapped his fingers over to clasp Tom’s free hand, both their hearts beating quickly. To Tom, this was irksome, for with every beat, his nose pumped more blood into his sleeve, and he could already feel the warm liquid seeping through the fabric and down his forearm. He nonetheless returned the action, and the feeling of Danny’s hand in his created an explosion of butterflies rampantly fluttering in his stomach, and he tingled at the sensation. Danny felt this, and he tightened his grip in response.
“Felt real, though. I really did think you were going to beat me up.”
“Nah, Ah’ll never do tha’ to you,” said the brunette as he glanced back at the wall, and feeling like he should say something else, he quickly added, “I think it’s a small price to pay, jus’ to get this moment. It’s wha’ we planned, after all.”
“It hurts,” said Tom all of a sudden, and Danny snapped his head to gape at him, puzzlement plastered on his face.
“Ah’m sorry,” Danny quickly apologized. “I tried to hold back on my punches. Really, I did.” Tom shook his head in disagreement, his smile now a ghost of its former self.
“No, it’s not that. I’m talking about being called fat. It hurts, y’know. I already know I’m fat, but I don’t need anyone calling me that as an insult.”
“Oh, Tom. Y’know I didn’t mean-”
“I know.” Tom knew this as a fact-it was all part of the plan. Nevertheless, it had the same impact as all the other times he’d been insulted, even if it did come from Danny, which he knew were nothing more than playful banters meant to act as pretense. Once again, they were silent, and both boys wondered what could be taking Mr. Collins this long to inform the Headmaster about their little “altercation.”
“I like you just the way you are,” said Danny, determined to break the silence, and Tom felt delight washing through his body. “I don’t care if you’re skinny or not. You’re still the Tom I love.” Tom’s nose seemed to have stopped bleeding for a while now, and he brought his hand down to reveal his smile of gratitude. Danny laughed at how blotches of blood littered the area all over his mouth, and he brought his own sleeve up to Tom’s face to wipe them away. This didn’t do much, for the blood had already dried, but Tom still enjoyed the consideration.
Then, as if gravity had suddenly pressed itself behind his head, Tom leaned in close to Danny and placed a kiss on his lips. It was a quick peck, nothing too major, but it felt as though it had been one. A jolt of pleasure in the form of electrical impulses surged throughout his body down to his fingertips, and he felt a spark flash between their hands, letting him know that Danny felt the same.
“All of this jus’ for one kiss?” asked Danny playfully when they pulled back, and Tom shook his head at the comment, his smile widening. “Tha’ hardly seems fair. You kicked me real good on my chest.” He rubbed the area he was indicating and Tom could only giggle his reply.
“Of course not,” said Tom finally after calming down, though the remnants of the chuckle persisted in his voice. “You’ll get more once we get out of here.” Danny’s eyes widened at the statement, and Tom only smiled slyly at his expression, inclining his head to the exit.
“Wha’? Skip school? Tha’ wasn’t part of the plan. We’ll get in loads more trouble,” Danny said, the latter in an unnecessarily hushed tone, with an incredulous smile.
“We’ll worry ‘bout that tomorrow. D’you want more or not?”
Tom didn’t wait for an answer, and he quickly pulled Danny to his feet, already breaking into a run. Danny caught up a second later, soft, delightful laughs echoing faintly in the halls, and they pushed through the doors and into the warm sunshine hand in hand just as Mr. Collins emerged from the office holding a stack of papers the two troublemakers were supposed to fill out.
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones
Genre: Fluff, Kid!McFly.
Summary: Inside, though, he wished that he, and everyone else for that matter, would just stop throwing insults at him, because underneath the layer of fat and roundness was a little boy who just really wanted a friend.
A/N: Since it's the break and all, I decided to finish up on all my working standalones, and here's one of them. This was actually a dream I had. Most of it's in here, but the rest I improvised.
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
“Oi, Fatso! Want ‘nother cookie?” taunted the scrawny little brunette with a wide grin of malice, tossing his head importantly to the people gathered behind him. Tom’s heart quickened at the remark, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was that spoke.
It was obviously Danny Jones with his incomprehensible accent.
Recently, he had taken quite a liking to making fun of Tom, always teasing him whenever he got the chance. Tom usually just let everything slide off his shoulders, having no intention to confront someone who was backed by almost half the class. Inside, though, he wished that he, and everyone else for that matter, would just stop throwing insults at him, because underneath the layer of fat and roundness was a little boy who just really wanted a friend.
They called him many names: “Whale-boy,” “Elephant-baby,” “Piglet,” “Snorlax,” and much, much more. The school’s favorite, however, was “Fatso.” Having been called these names repeatedly, Tom tried to ignore them to the best of his abilities, creating an invisible wall meant to ward off the insults from ever reaching his heart. But they always seemed to find their way through, and he would find himself crying in the bathroom during lunchtime after feeling their respective blows.
It wasn’t his fault he was fat; his mother was relentless, always feeding him no matter how much he protested. Once, he managed to skip a whole day’s meal, but that was only because he was working in the school play, and he threw away every single one of his mother’s packed lunches when she left. The luxury of those moments was extremely rare, and he had to tough it out whenever his mother pressed a plateful of food in his hands, urging him to eat more because she wanted him to be a “big, strong boy” when he grows up. Her feeding habits undoubtedly accomplished the “big” part, but with the “strong,” it was the exact opposite. With the accumulation of weight in his body, he always felt weak, he always found himself breathing harder than was necessary, he always felt like passing out whenever he would attempt to at least run a mile to get thinner. He just wished his mother would stop with her obsession, but he could never find it in himself to tell her so.
“While you’re under my roof, you will follow whatever I say,” said his mother the first time he tried to pass up a meal, and he never tried to defy her anymore all the subsequent times that followed.
“Oi, Fatso! Ah’m talkin’ to you!” Danny declared, and this time he sounded closer. Tom managed to turn around and shake his head, his eyes totally averting Danny’s and focusing it instead on a neglected bag resting against a desk some ways off, although in his mind, he wanted to throw himself on the brunette and unleash the fury he held back inside. He quickly turned back as the people around him laughed cruelly, and Tom could feel tears trying to push their way out of his eyes.
He didn’t know how children could be so evil. Surely, they’ve been ridiculed at least once in their lives, and that they’ve felt the pain he was experiencing as they stood there, laughing their hearts out at the fat boy who was crying on his desk.
His display of emotion caused an uproar in the classroom: sniggers and cackles intermingled with “ohh”s and “aww”s, and Tom felt his tears drip one after another on the back of his hands. He wanted to run out of the class and lock himself in his bedroom away from the horrible children, but something prevented him from doing so.
It was as he was staring at his wet hands that he realized he’d had enough.
He whirled around in his seat and hurled himself on Danny, who was dumbstruck by Tom’s sudden and first ever demonstration of brutality. They landed on a desk immediately behind Tom’s, and Tom wasted no time in exacting blow upon blow across Danny’s face, his newfound strength surprising even him. A widespread “Fight! Fight! Fight!” ensued among the students, all of them rooting for Danny.
Danny recovered, however, and flipped Tom to his back on the floor, reciprocating the larger boy’s actions two-fold. In an attempt to protect his face, Tom jammed his palm against Danny’s nose, who at once relented with his punches to nurse the afflicted area. Tom took this time to push the brunette off him, but as he stood up to make his escape, he felt something grasp his ankle, and not a second later, he was yanked back down on his stomach, letting out a cry of pain upon impact. He tried to kick the hand off, hitting Danny on the chest as he did so, but the grip persisted, and the more he tried, the more it tightened.
“Let me go!” Tom cried, his hand latching on the edge of a desk. He tried to pull himself up, but Danny tugged him back down, this time his face hitting the floor. Lifting his head up, he felt something warm dripping from his nostrils, and he didn’t need to reach a hand there to figure out what it was: blood. That was when the reality of the situation dawned on him; he was going to get beat up, and there was absolutely no one to help him.
He felt Danny scrambling on his back, his knees painfully pressing on his spine, and he felt his fingers twining themselves in his hair. A forceful tug, and Tom heard his neck crack as the brunette pulled his head back. Tom tried to wriggle out of this predicament, but Danny’s grip was too strong, and the only thing it did was exacerbate the situation. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to admit defeat, and in one final desperate attempt at liberation, he reached up a hand to Danny’s hair and yanked his head down the same way he did. This made the brunette loosen his grip, and Tom was finally granted his freedom, shrugging the boy off his back and crawling on all fours towards the door.
He stopped, however, when he saw a pair of trouser-clad legs barring his path.
He slowly looked up, wiping the blood trickling down the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, and found himself staring at his teacher’s eyes. Anger was evident in his face; his eyebrows were furrowed in irritation and his eyes were slightly squinted, the deep lines around them heavily pronounced.
“Headmaster’s office,” said Mr. Collins crossly, helping Tom to his feet by grabbing the front of his bloodstained shirt and motioning for Danny to come over. The brunette hung his head as he lifted himself up, using a desk nearby for support, and he eyed Tom harshly as he passed him by. The elder grabbed the two boys by the collar to let them know they were in disgrace, and led them out of the classroom, the students flooding out into the hall curiously when they turned the corner.
This was the first time Tom had ever gotten in trouble, and he dreaded how his mother would react upon receiving the inevitable notification. Desperately, he wished it would be like: “No dinner for a week!” or something to that effect. He would like that very much, to be quite honest; at least it would help immensely with his weight struggle. Still, he knew he would be severely punished-reprimanded at the least-and he shivered at the thought of his mother yelling at him. He never did like it when she yelled at him.
Mr. Collins ordered them to sit on the bench beside the door leading to the Headmaster’s office, where he slipped inside once the two were settled as comfortably as they could considering the penalty that would undoubtedly be carried out.
The boys sat on opposite sides of the bench, the gap enough to accommodate three people, both looking intently at the empty wall opposite them. Tom was keeping himself busy with applying pressure on his nose with his sleeve while Danny sulked with his arms crossed over his chest. Neither said anything for a while.
Tearing his gaze from the insufferably boring wall, Danny looked around, trying to determine if anyone was roaming the halls. Finding none, he inched closer to Tom.
“Sorry ‘bout your nose,” he admitted to the blonde once he was only centimeters away, who kept his focus to the wall. “Didn’t know you’d fall tha’ way.”
“S’alright,” responded Tom, who finally lifted his eyes to Danny’s, his lips forming a smile obscured by his hand. Danny smiled back and tapped his fingers over to clasp Tom’s free hand, both their hearts beating quickly. To Tom, this was irksome, for with every beat, his nose pumped more blood into his sleeve, and he could already feel the warm liquid seeping through the fabric and down his forearm. He nonetheless returned the action, and the feeling of Danny’s hand in his created an explosion of butterflies rampantly fluttering in his stomach, and he tingled at the sensation. Danny felt this, and he tightened his grip in response.
“Felt real, though. I really did think you were going to beat me up.”
“Nah, Ah’ll never do tha’ to you,” said the brunette as he glanced back at the wall, and feeling like he should say something else, he quickly added, “I think it’s a small price to pay, jus’ to get this moment. It’s wha’ we planned, after all.”
“It hurts,” said Tom all of a sudden, and Danny snapped his head to gape at him, puzzlement plastered on his face.
“Ah’m sorry,” Danny quickly apologized. “I tried to hold back on my punches. Really, I did.” Tom shook his head in disagreement, his smile now a ghost of its former self.
“No, it’s not that. I’m talking about being called fat. It hurts, y’know. I already know I’m fat, but I don’t need anyone calling me that as an insult.”
“Oh, Tom. Y’know I didn’t mean-”
“I know.” Tom knew this as a fact-it was all part of the plan. Nevertheless, it had the same impact as all the other times he’d been insulted, even if it did come from Danny, which he knew were nothing more than playful banters meant to act as pretense. Once again, they were silent, and both boys wondered what could be taking Mr. Collins this long to inform the Headmaster about their little “altercation.”
“I like you just the way you are,” said Danny, determined to break the silence, and Tom felt delight washing through his body. “I don’t care if you’re skinny or not. You’re still the Tom I love.” Tom’s nose seemed to have stopped bleeding for a while now, and he brought his hand down to reveal his smile of gratitude. Danny laughed at how blotches of blood littered the area all over his mouth, and he brought his own sleeve up to Tom’s face to wipe them away. This didn’t do much, for the blood had already dried, but Tom still enjoyed the consideration.
Then, as if gravity had suddenly pressed itself behind his head, Tom leaned in close to Danny and placed a kiss on his lips. It was a quick peck, nothing too major, but it felt as though it had been one. A jolt of pleasure in the form of electrical impulses surged throughout his body down to his fingertips, and he felt a spark flash between their hands, letting him know that Danny felt the same.
“All of this jus’ for one kiss?” asked Danny playfully when they pulled back, and Tom shook his head at the comment, his smile widening. “Tha’ hardly seems fair. You kicked me real good on my chest.” He rubbed the area he was indicating and Tom could only giggle his reply.
“Of course not,” said Tom finally after calming down, though the remnants of the chuckle persisted in his voice. “You’ll get more once we get out of here.” Danny’s eyes widened at the statement, and Tom only smiled slyly at his expression, inclining his head to the exit.
“Wha’? Skip school? Tha’ wasn’t part of the plan. We’ll get in loads more trouble,” Danny said, the latter in an unnecessarily hushed tone, with an incredulous smile.
“We’ll worry ‘bout that tomorrow. D’you want more or not?”
Tom didn’t wait for an answer, and he quickly pulled Danny to his feet, already breaking into a run. Danny caught up a second later, soft, delightful laughs echoing faintly in the halls, and they pushed through the doors and into the warm sunshine hand in hand just as Mr. Collins emerged from the office holding a stack of papers the two troublemakers were supposed to fill out.