Summary: Fox chills out with an old favourite.
Date First Posted: 10-12-2004
Date Revised: 27-05-2011
Notes: I used to love these books as a kid. If Padma was educated in England, he definitely would've been aware of Enid Blyton, and he kept some books for his kids. Collin has no idea.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also Archived At: LJ
By the time Collin had finished brushing his teeth and changing into his special sleeping sweatpants, Fox was already in bed. He lay on his side, lamp on the night table on, a mask of concentration on his handsome face as he read.
Collin ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the mint gel and butted his knees against the foot of the bed. Fox looked up briefly before his eyes were drawn back to the pages of the book. The blond crawled up on his hands and knees over the mattress, pulling the covers back to slip beneath them.
"Shove," he said, coaxing Fox to move over on the small bed. Fox shuffled over slightly, giving Collin enough room to lie down. He lay still for a moment, getting settled. There was no movement next to him. Collin glared at the lamplight and propped his head up on one hand.
"What are you reading?"
"Old book I found at the 'rents."
Collin squinted at the bright purple cover. "'Hurrah for the Circus'?"
Fox properly looked up from the pages. "Enid Blyton. It's a classic, man."
"Never heard of it," he sniffed.
"You're just culturally stunted like that."
Collin raised a fair eyebrow. "This coming from the man who thought the Marx brothers were Groucho, Harpo, Zeppo, Chico and Karl?"
"That was an honest mistake. I didn't do modern history anyway. Ask me the date Alexander kicked Darius' ass at Issus."
"What year was the battle of Issus?"
"Getting back to the point, this is a cool book."
"And just what makes this book so fantastic, pray tell?"
Fox lowered the book to Collin's eye line, finger pointing to an ink illustration on one of the pages. There was a young girl with short, dark, tousled hair. "That," Fox said with a wistful smile, "is Lotta."
Collin studied his competition. "Fox," he replied slowly, "Lotta looks like she's about eleven years old."
"I know, I know," Fox sighed, "but I always thought she'd be hell on wheels when she grew up."
Collin snorted derisively and made himself more comfortable in bed. "You have a thing for troublemakers, cartoons, bad girls and..." The blond took another look at the page. "Circus freaks, apparently."
"So I've realized," Fox glanced at Collin pointedly.
Eyes growing wide at the insult, Collin clawed his way back onto his elbow. "You are a constant pain in my ass."
"This is true."
Collin's lips curled up in a wicked half-smile. He reached out and pried the book from Fox's hand, his arm going over his friend's shoulder. "I'd like to see Lotta do this," he whispered against Fox's lips and kissed him. Fox responded, half-rolling Collin onto his back.
When Collin finally let the book fall from his hands, it fell off the mattress and tumbled down, getting wedged and forgotten between the nightstand and bed.