5022

Rating: PG

Fandom: EDM/OC

Ships: Joel & Eilidh

Warnings: PTSD, references to plane crashes

Joel’s still a bit shaky well after the landing. Even as he approaches Eilidh’s doorstep, his legs wobble, despite reminding himself he’s on solid ground now- his head remains a few thousand feet in the air, at least. It takes a long minute for Eilidh to answer the door, and while his leg jiggles in anticipation, he lights a cigarette to calm his nerves. A long drag of his cancer stick later, he feels no calmer than before.

The door, painted a bright cherry red, finally opens. Behind it stands a girlish figure- what would be one if not for the beginnings of a mustache, not quite long enough to be worth trimming back down yet- with long pastel-pink hair. He’s wearing little in the way of clothes, comfy shorts and a tank-top that shows too much cleavage. Her voice is baritone and flat when she addresses Joel, but he’s relieved just to hear it.

“If you’re going to stay in my flat, you bastard, you’re not smoking inside.” 

“Alright, alright, sorry.” Joel looks for a quick place to snub out his fag, but upon finding nothing particular to snub it against, he says, “Take me to the balcony of shame.” 

Eilidh rolls his eyes and grabs Joel’s suitcase from him, leaving it by the doorway before leading Joel inside. He shuts the door behind him and follows the faux-Playboy through the flat; as they pass by the guest room, Joel swears he hears someone inside, but he doesn’t say anything until they’re on the balcony. Sitting on one of the plastic chairs, he questions, “Thought you said you wouldn’t have anyone over.”

“Just my brother, he’s going over to his girlfriend’s house later. He’ll be out of your hair.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “When’d he move in?”

“Few months ago. Just needed to get away from Mum and Stepdad, that’s all.” Eilidh shrugs and pokes his head indoors to shout back, “Miami, be a pet and tidy up your room before you go!”

The response is muffled: “I’m working on it!”

Eilidh smiles and rolls her eyes, before closing the glass door and joining Joel in the chair next to him. “I would have cleaned up and had him gone by now if you’d given me a wee bit more notice.” 

Joel stares, unfocused, at the busy streets of Edinburgh below. He shifts in his seat just a little. He swears the smoke from his cigarette smells like something more than nicotine.

Eilidh pokes at him playfully. “What happened to make you want to crash here, anyway? You’re a shy little bastard, I know you were itching to hole up in a hotel room until the show.”

The word crash makes Joel’s heart drop into his stomach. He sucks on his cigarette as he tries to find words. He really, really doesn’t want to get into it. 

“Complications,” he answers, simply. It’s not a lie until he adds, “With the hotel. You know how it is.”

Eilidh nods. Internally, Joel can tell she knows it’s only half an answer, but she still says, “You’re lucky I like you, then.”

“Aww.” Joel gives Eilidh a sly grin, even though it’s kind of a facade. “I knew you’d come around to me one day, eyelid.”

Eilidh huffs and shoves at him, nearly pushing his chair over. “Don’t fuckin’ test my patience, you bastard. I’ll hate you again by tomorrow.”