McFly RPF; Tom/OC
Just doing some spring cleaning on my hard drive. Found a fic I wrote for a friend a while ago involving McFly frontman Tom Fletcher. This is a Tom Fletcher/OC fluff fic, so. You've been warned.
Title: box of orange juice is at fault
Fandom/Pairing: British band McFly; Tom/OC
Author: yesssirrr
Rating: PG-13 just to be sure
Word Count: 4,773
Warning: It's bandom fluff! And probably OOC but whatever.
Summary: It all started with a box of orange juice is what it is.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. So, please, let's use our heads in not suing me for something I'm not even claiming as mine. It's all fiction, all very, very made up.
Author's Notes: I liked how this turned out. It continues on in a fluffy path I know so well. Enjoy it, though, for the three or so people who'll read it. Unbeated, so mistakes are mine, so I claim those.
--
It all started with a simple box of orange juice. Okay, that’s a lie. It actually started with Dougie, one of Tom’s best friends, giving him a brother-to-brother talk about his love life. Or lack thereof. It seemed that the vast majority of the McFly gang was having trouble keeping up with their mojo when their loveless friend is extinguishing it before it even manages a spark. After a dozen or so evenings of walking in the flat with Tom dancing around to their old ABBA records, the guys decided that it was time for some form of intervention. Desperate boys call for desperate measures. It was an idle afternoon on a Thursday and Tom was watching the telly when Dougie came up to him.
“What’s up, mate,” he said as his friend sat beside him.
“Not much. I have to talk to you about some stuff.”
“Go ahead, then.” Tom leant his head toward his friend with his eyes still focused on the program.
“Okay, here goes. The guys and I’ve been talking and well…” he said, trying to form the right words.
“We’re not breaking up the group are we?” he asked with a soft chuckle, still focused on the show.
“Not on your life. But we’ve been talking and we realize that your lack of love life is not doing any wonders for us.”
Tom quirked his head toward his friend, confusion written all over his pretty face. He muted the telly and looked at Dougie expectantly.
“What?”
“You’re crampin’ our style, mate. You sit here all the time. We try to bring girls back here and try to have some ‘alone time’ if you know what I mean, except maybe you don’t, anymore.” Tom only glared at him. Dougie only pressed on. “Anyway, instead of seeing an empty flat, we see you crankin’ dance moves on old records. We’d understand it better if you got home first and had a lady friend with you. But you don’t. You’ve turned into some right old man. Next thing you know, you’d walk around with your robe half open scratching your belly drinking from the box. You’re spiraling down to a loveless life, mate. So you gotta go out there and find yourself a woman. Get shagged. Go on a blind date, something-anything. It’s not healthy to get cooped up around here. You’re paler than usual. Get some sun in you, you know.”
Tom let out a hearty laugh, clapping his friend’s shoulder, too amused at what he heard. He stood up and headed to the kitchen. “Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s just it! We’re not really worried about you. We’re worried about us. I don’t think we should have to suffer just because you’re not getting any,” he said, following Tom to the kitchen. “Just take one for the team, all right? Find somebody, stay over at her place, or rent a hotel room. Anything. We’ll even give you the money to pay for it. Just…keep yourself occupied outside of the flat.” Dougie took a seat on the barstool and pleaded his case some more as the blond rummaged through their nearly empty fridge.
“You have a date tonight, don’t you?” he asked as he stood beside the fridge, eyebrows raised in suspicion.
“Yes! And I would love it if you made yourself scarce. I have a date with this girl Lissa and quite frankly, I think she might be ‘the one’.”
Tom shook the near empty box of orange juice, eyes wanting desperately to roll. “Okay, first, you just said ‘scarce’. Did you accidentally open a dictionary? Second, are you serious? You said that about that Janis girl last week. Not to mention Lily and Catherine and Heather and Julie and…should I keep going?”
“Yeah, yeah. But I have a feeling about her. Stop ruining the potential of my love life. I, at least, have one. Just disappear tonight, okay? And find a woman while you’re at it.”
“Alright. But only until 11.”
“Brilliant!” Dougie broke into a goofy grin hearing his friend’s defeat, temporarily ignoring the last bit of what the other said. He was far too excited at the image of an empty house. The possibilities were endless.
Seeing his friend’s face, Tom knew he was already off in a daze. “Snap out of it, Romeo. I said until 11. Now, it’s quarter after, I’m gonna go to the store and get some food since I’m the only one that seems to be responsible around here. I’ll stop by after groceries then I’ll head over to the studio.”
“Great, and tomorrow, you have to do the same. Harry has his girl coming over.”
“Fine,” he said, as he headed to the front door. “Okay, I’m gonna go get some food. I’ll be back later. When I come back, I need the three of you to print out a sign-up sheet, figure out your dating schedule, so I’d know when not to bust my ABBA moves.”
“Aye, aye!” Dougie replied, saluting his friend goodbye from the kitchen entryway.
“Yeah, yeah,” the blond said before closing the door to their flat. “Bloody idiots.”
--
Pushing the empty cart around the store, Tom headed straight to the refrigerated section, grinning victoriously as he opened the glass door to access the last box of orange juice. Success! he thought, triumphant in his find. “Who knew orange juice would be so popular,” he wondered out loud. The box held firmly in his hand, he settled the item on the cart until his eyes landed on a blonde woman only a couple of steps from him. She wore a square framed glasses and a friendly smile.
“Is that,” she started, eyes momentarily fixed on the item in his cart. “Is that the last box of orange juice?”
Tom stared at the woman before dumbly jerking his head between a nod and a shake. If anything, it was more like a head twitch. He would have to wonder if that would be a medical issue. Maybe the visit to the doctor that weekend would be good. Needless to say, he was incapable of finding his voice. Hopefully, wherever it went, it was having fun, because it was making the situation he was in a little awkward.
“Did you hear me? Hello?” she asked, wondering why the man in front of her had not moved.
Tom drew his breath and attempted at finding his vocal chords only to come up with a grunting response. He wouldn’t be surprised if she thought he was mentally challenged.
“You’re really pretty,” he breathed, getting his voice back from vacation. His eyes suddenly bulged out of its sockets, realizing just what he uttered out loud. First you stare, then you grunt, then you start talking like a fool. Score one for the Fletch…not.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, the kind smile still intact. She heard him, all right.
“I-I mean, that um, you’re uh,” he stammered, realizing how stupid he truly sounded. He sucked breath and hoped that his stupidity left him as he exhaled. He smiled apologetically before he opened his mouth to speak, or try to anyway. “I’m sorry. Can you ask me again?”
She chuckled softly. “Yes. I asked if that was the last box of orange juice,” she said pointing at the item in his cart. He followed her pretty hand; one he thought would feel warm and soft in his, eyes landing on the box of orange juice with a big banner that advertised “With Calcium!”
“I’m afraid so,” he finally said. He smiled, congratulating himself for not making a fool of himself.
“Damn,” she said, showing disappointment, though the smile in her eyes never left. “I really wanted calcium in my orange juice. Now I have to settle for the ones with pulp. Blech,” she said making a face that Tom only considered to be cuter than a button. Whoa, what? “Thank you, anyway.” The blonde started walking, pushing her cart away from him. He only stood rooted at his spot before he turned around. Then Dougie’s words entered his mind, ‘go out there and find yourself a woman.’ He certainly found one.
“Wait!” he yelled, catching the woman’s attention and the other patrons. They all looked at him with confusion etched in their faces before walking away. Better not deal with young men yelling in grocery stores. Security can handle those just fine.
Tom pushed his cart around in a u-turn jogging up to the blonde woman who was still looking at him. Before he realized what he was doing, he held the box in his hand and offered it to her. She tilted her head in confusion.
“I’ll trade you,” he said, smile plastered on his pretty face.
“I don’t have anything to trade you. Unless you want some tofu burgers,” she smiled, directing a head bob toward the tofu burgers. He chuckled.
“I’ll give you this box of orange juice in exchange for a name and a number.” He tried his best to keep himself calm, when he wondered how big a rejection he would take for this one. Scale of one to you should never leave the flat ever again, I’d say about a six.
“Deal,” she said, impressed at his directness, taking the proffered box of orange juice out of his grasp. His smile grew wider as he let the box go. She placed it in her cart, beside the pack of tofu burgers before turning around to face him. She held an outstretched hand and introduced herself. Why not, he’s cute and adorable when he stammers. But he recovered quickly enough. She had to admit, it was pretty clever.
“My name’s Erin. And I’ll do you one better. Join me for coffee…”She waited until he introduced himself.
“Tom.”
“Right. Join me for coffee, Tom?”
“Absolutely.”
The two strolled away from the refrigerated section without so much as a glance back at the store clerk who started refilling the shelf.
--
The visit to the grocery store that should only have lasted twenty minutes became a trip to the grocery store, a trip to the pet store to buy dog food for Erin’s little pup, and a trip to the local café that lasted a total of two hours. But Tom did not mind the interruption in his day. After all, it snagged him a phone number with a woman he met at the grocery store. He knew that people meet at the most random places like the driving ranges and grocery stores and elevators, but he didn’t think that he’d actually be one of those people. He was now a statistic. He smirked at the thought.
Tom was unpacking the contents of the grocery bag when Harry walked in the kitchen.
“What up, mate,” he said as he perused through the groceries and opened the bag of apples, inspecting it, shining it in his shirt before taking a large bite.
“Not much. But guess what happened to me at the store.”
“You got the half-off deal on the apples?”
“No. What? That’s…no, that’s not…I-” before Tom could finish his sentence, Harry was already spurting out different guesses as to what could have happened to his friend at the store.
“You found a bill on the ground. Or you knocked the pile of potatoes and had to clean it up. Or you spilled the milk and had to clean it up with your shirt and you had to wear it because you have some dignity and that’s why it’s so ugly now.”
“No, that’s not-wait, what’s wrong with my shirt?” Harry looked around before his eyes landed on his flatmate and took a big bite of the apple to save himself. Tom shook his head and went back to the original topic.
“No, none of those. You can’t guess anymore, by the way. But I met a girl.”
“Score one for the Fletch,” Harry said as he offered his raised hand for a high five. “What’s her name? D’you get her info? This isn’t gonna be one of those times where you stalk the girl because you didn’t have her name or number.”
“That was one time, okay. Relax. But this girl is great. I was buying orange juice and found the last one, you know with the calcium, and she approached me and was all, “Is that the last box of orange juice with calcium?” and I’m all, “yeah”.” Harry leaned on the island as he continued to munch on the apple listening to Tom’s story of his encounter with some girl. He was just glad he met a girl, at all, because he was really crampin’ their style. Tom kept talking and Harry just nodded.
“Then she got this look on her face and she started walking away but then I decided to make a trade with her and was all, “I’ll trade you this box of orange juice for a name and number. How kickass was that? And I thought about that on the spot, too-”
“Wait,” Harry interjected with a piece of apple still in his mouth. “You mean to tell me we don’t have orange juice?” Tom’s face, one that held excitement and a giddy smile quickly transformed into confusion from Harry’s random outburst.
“What?”
“You gave the girl our orange juice with the calcium?”
“Yeah…”
“Why would you do that?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The orange juice with the calcium. You always get that one. If we have the one with the bloody pulp, I’ll beat you into one.”
“You’re more interested about the damn orange juice?”
Before Harry could reply, however, Tom swatted the back of his head before the blond walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head as he wondered how he could live with such idiots.
Rubbing the back of his head, Harry kept eating the apple muttering to himself his disdain for pulped orange juice.
--
After having a stupid conversation with Harry and a stupider one with Dougie, Tom was set on never talking to his flatmates about anything. That was, until Danny showed up from his room and into the living area with a guitar in hand. He gave Tom a once over before he asked the blond a question.
“So what’s her name?”
Tom, who was reading some sports magazine, looked up from his page. “What?”
“What’s her name?”
“How do you…”
“I’m Danny fuckin’ Jones. Of course I know,” he said with a smug look on his face. Tom laughed and threw the magazine at him.
“Who told you?” Danny shook his head and started strumming the guitar, tuning it.
“Harry. But only because he was complaining about how you got the orange juice with the pulp. So what’s her name?”
“Erin.”
“She pretty?”
“Very.”
“You like her?”
“Yeah.”
“You two going on a date yet?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Do you need the flat to yourself tomorrow? I think there’s a clear spot on the schedule for you,” he said with a wink and a smirk.
Tom took another magazine from the coffee table and threw it at his friend across from him. Danny only laughed in amusement as he yelled in mock fright, “Watch the bloody guitar! It’s new!”
--
Tom expected the night to be one of many. He really liked her and their time at the café was time well spent, so he felt confident that she felt the same about him. He expected the evening to last a really long time, hopefully even up to the wee hours of the night. But his date didn’t even last an hour. And now, all he wanted to do was forget it entirely. Except for the part where it was the only thing that would circle his mind for the last week.
It was 6:30 p.m. and he was already on his way to her place. He was teeming with excitement as he took a taxi and waited to arrive at her doorstep. He had taken a bouquet of tulips from a nearby flower shop and hoped that it was enough. He may be romantic through his songs, but he was a pure nervous wreck when it came in real life. Promptly at 6:45, he was knocking on her door, waiting for her to open it. He waited by her doorstep, looking around nervously holding the bouquet of flowers. He knew it was clichéd, but his mother taught him in being a gentleman. One of those things was to always bring flowers to a “lady friend” as she had succinctly called it when she was teaching him at the ripe old age of 13.
There were muffled sounds coming from behind the door and Tom’s posture stiffened. He never really felt a pull to the girls he’d dated before so he was curious why Erin was having such an effect on him. The door swung open and Erin smiled causing him to mirror the gesture. Before he lost his nerve, he pulled his attention away from her smile long enough to show the bouquet of tulips that he held in his hands. He offered it to her and she accepted it, thanking him kindly. She finally invited him in.
“I’m sorry it’s messy. I’m in and out of this place, I forget to clean up sometimes,” she said as she walked to the kitchen to put the tulips in a vase.
“No need to apologize, I live with three guys. I’ve more than given up on anything clean. I just settle for anything that is remotely uncluttered.” He could hear her laugh all the way from the kitchen and thought that it was a good sign.
“Anyway, make yourself comfortable. I have to finish getting ready and then we can head out.”
“It’s whatever. Take your time, I’m free for the whole night.”
Tom looked around Erin’s apartment and looked at the knick knacks and little trinkets that were all over the place. There were photographs on the mantle and the wall; magazines and journals strewn around the coffee table and some on the couch. The place looked lived-in and he felt it was homey. He liked it.
After circling her living area, he finally took a spot on her sofa and picked up a magazine, idly looking through the pages to pass the time when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up, somewhat confused and waited to see if Erin heard the door. The knocking continued but there was no sign of her.
“Hey, Erin, there’s someone at your door,” he yelled in hopes that she at least heard him. She poked her head out of a room.
“What? Did you say something?”
“Yeah, someone’s at your door.” Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ before she emerged from the room and towards the door.
Erin opened the door and, even over her shoulder all the way from the living room, he could see there was a small throng of girls that were standing by her doorstep. He was confused at first until the realization dawned on him. As far as he knew then, there was no other escape route but through the throng of girls that blocked it. And he hadn’t gotten the tour of the apartment yet, so he didn’t know of any back doors. In his head, he was already planning an exit strategy. It’s not that he didn’t like the girls that chased him down, but that was more a ‘group’ thing. He really only wanted to hang out with Erin and just.
All the while, the woman in question was standing by her door looking alternately at the gaggle of giggling girls that were standing in front of her and the boy she really liked stand ghost white with an unreadable expression etched on his face.
From their non-official date at the café, he told her that he really liked his privacy and lived very low-key. That’s why at the grocery store, he could go about without much trouble. He told her this, hoping that she’d be able to be part of this low-key routine that he had. He was short of making her swear on her grandmother’s death bed to keep all of it under wraps because there had been one too many times where it jeopardized his own health when it came to the fangirls that squeed endlessly about them. He loved them all, but it got to the point where he would appreciate some form of normalcy.
But she had to tell her best friend and she knew that her best friend would not be able to keep her mouth shut. She knew that it was a gamble but she’d been trying to earn her spot back in her circle of friends after dropping from the face of the planet because of a past relationship. It was a big gamble and by the look on Tom’s ashen face, she knew that she’d lost that gamble quick. And before 24 hours even lapsed, more than a solid double dozen of girls knew about Tom Fletcher’s appearance in Erin Sanderson’s apartment.
“Look, this isn’t what it-…I made my best friend prom-”she tried explaining, but it fell on deaf ears.
Erin tried to stop the throng of girls to enter her tiny apartment, but it was no use when the girls pushed her to the side. There were some squirming, but after only seconds, it seemed half of England was in her apartment. Tom stood in shock because he trusted her well enough to accept what he said. Never again, he decided.
Tom only saw glimpses of Erin as the throng of girls and women alike were fawning over him. He was no god and however flattering it was, he didn’t want it. He tried to start moving away when the women only pulled on him. He was getting attacked and mauled and he really was getting claustrophobic.
Finally, after what seemed to last an eternity, infinity, and forever, he was able to pull out of their grips.
“STOP!” he bellowed and for a moment, the women stopped what they were doing and looked at him. “I, uh, I have to get out of here,” he said and began walking when he felt a strong presence behind him. It was the female species trying to lunge at him. “Stay…” he said slowly. They stopped in their tracks.
He walked in front of Erin and tried saying something. He could see that she looked ashamed and embarrassed, but most of all sorry. But he just got so upset that he couldn’t even say anything, just give her a gaze that pretty much ended anything that had potential between them; as if saying, “No, thanks. I’d rather be alone.” Erin didn’t move.
Before he could leave, he heard a small sound escape from her lips. It sounded oddly like an “I’m sorry” but he chose to ignore it and walked out.
Tom went home that night, rudely interrupting a date that Dougie and Lissa had, getting yelled at for not being considerate of the schedule that he proposed. He only slammed the door shut in their faces and went to sleep. Or tried to.
He’d be trying for a week.
Eventually, he’d given up and decided to go back to what he was doing before. His flat mates can just get the hell over it. He did.
--
It was an idle Thursday afternoon and Tom was seated comfortably watching the telly. He was focused on the program when he heard Dougie greet him.
“What’s up, mate,” he said, eyes lingering on the set.
“Nothin’. Just wanted to talk to you about some stuff.”
Tom opened his mouth to reply but only closed it slowly, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. He muted the telly and looked at his friend who was sitting by him.
“Are we disbanding?”
“What? Are you drugged?”
“Do you have a date tonight and need me out of the flat?” His friend only looked at him with furrowed brows.
“No…that’s tomorrow night.”
Tom paused before turning his attention to the program. “Okay, then what is it?”
“We’re out of orange juice.”
“What?” Tom asked, his turn at being confused.
“I said we’re out of orange juice.”
“Then go buy some.”
“But you always buy it. We’re also out on eggs and cheese. And those funny chocolate bars you get.”
“You ate them all?!” Dougie only smiled sheepishly. “I’m not in the mood to buy any orange juice.” Fat lot of good that did me, he thought.
“Lissa and I are meeting soon. I don’t want her to miss me.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have a date.”
“It’s not a date. It’s just us hanging out. Like friends.”
“Friends don’t normally snog each other senseless,” Tom commented.
“She’s a special friend, okay? Anyway, she’s comin’ over soon and we don’t have food.”
“Fine. But you’re picking up the tab for this one.”
“Great! I’ll be back.” Dougie stood up and made his way toward the stairs. Just then, the doorbell rang. “Can you get that, Tom? That might be Lissa now.” Shaking his head, Tom tossed the remote control on the couch before standing up. Unbeknownst to the blond, his friend stopped at the bottom steps of the stairs, watching him.
The bell rang again. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said. Dougie walked back down quietly from the stairs and to the kitchen entryway, keeping an eye on his friend by the door.
“C’mon in, Dougie’ll be down in a minute,” Tom said opening the door without so much as looking at the guest.
“I-I’m not here for Dougie.”
The voice was unmistakable. Tom stopped mid step, eyes widening, though he didn’t notice his best friend by the kitchen. He slowly turned around, jaw dropping a little as his widened eyes drank the sight of the woman before him. He began moving his mouth to say something, but only a surprised breath escaped. Dougie, who watched the entire thing, held his goofy grin. He walked forward and greeted the woman.
“Hello, Erin. Sorry I’ll miss this party, but I have to meet my ‘special friend’ soon. Perhaps another time?” he said before squeezing through the doorway. Erin only smiled gratefully. He clapped his friend’s shoulder. Tom stared, shock plastered on his pretty face.
“Okay, mate. Write her down for the schedule, okay?” he said, winking, before he stepped out of the flat, walking out of the way.
Tom, finally regained composure and the ability to shut his jaw, found his voice.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked, looking at her. She was standing nervously on their welcome mat, holding a box of orange juice with a pink bow on the top.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Look, we’re not together, you don’t owe me anything.”
“I know, but what I did was selfish and wrong. And I shouldn’t have done it.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have, but you did anyway.”
Erin sighed, expecting this type of reaction. “I’m sorry, Tom. Really, I am. Can we try this again? What I did was stupid and you don’t have to give me a second chance, but I really like you. And I’d like you even more if you did.”
Tom looked at her for a moment, figuring out what to do. His gaze made her more nervous as she stood there trying her hardest to meet his eyes. She stood firm, though emotions were going on overdrive inside. After what felt like three skipped heartbeats, Tom smiled. Truth be told, he really liked her, too. What the hell, second chances are for lovers. Virginia be damned. Or whatever those silly Americans mean.
“Hi, I’m Tom and I really like you, too. What’s that you got there, miss?” he said with a smile, eyeing the box of juice. She looked at him with a mirroring expression on her lips, playing along.
“Hi, I’m Erin. And this here is the last box of orange juice the grocer had.”
“Oh, man. And I was on my way to buy some. We don’t have any.”
“I’ll trade you.” Tom’s smile only grew wider.
“What do you have in mind? We don’t have tofu burgers here. We eat the real thing.” The two of them shared a small laugh.
“I offer you this box of orange juice if you give me another chance.” She held up the box in her hand.
“Is it made with Calcium?”
“Yes.”
“And there’s no pulp?”
“None whatsoever.”
Tom stepped back to open the door further, motioning her to come inside.
“Deal.”