Chapter Text
The day before the trip ended and everyone had to make their tired way back to London, Stanley had a very, very stupid idea.
He and Narrator were lying side by side on their shared bed, not speaking, just enjoying the comfortable silence, which was broken every so often by a page flicking over from whatever book Narrator was reading and the occasional tap of Stanley’s finger on his phone.
“Narry…”
“Hmm?” Narrator glanced over the frame of his glasses to cast an eye over Stanley’s face. He was smirking — never a good sign.
“What’s going on tomorrow?”
“Well, not a lot, I thought we could maybe—”
“Great ‘cos I have a super cool idea.”
Narrator’s thick eyebrows furrowed down as his eyes crinkled in suspicion. “A… super cool idea?”
Stanley nodded, and shuffled up the bed to show Narrator what was on his phone. The feeling of Stanley’s weight on his arm was comforting, but made a blush spread over Narrator’s cheeks. He doubted he would ever get used to it.
Narrator adjusted his glasses and stared at the website on Stanley’s phone for—
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No way! I am not… that! I am not getting… haunted forever—”
“Oh come onnnn…” Stanley pouted and flopped his head back so it rested on Narrator’s chest. “It’ll be fun.”
“Well, when you get crushed, or cursed or lost,” he snapped his book shut for emphasis, “Don’t call me for help because I will not come pull your scrawny arse out The Catacombs!”
Stanley puffed out a breath which fluttered Narrator’s fringe, who batted him away, muttering about idocracy.
“The kids will love it.”
“I know, but how do we explain to their parents—”
“They’re capable! And if they don’t want to come in, they can just… hang about or something.”
Stanley doubted Narrator’s eyebrows could furrow deeper anymore.. he was wrong. “No, it is not happening.”
“Chicken.”
“Nope, Stanley, I am putting my foot down! My foot, it is down!”
— — ❅ — —
Stanley tried (and failed) to hide the grin on his face as he felt Narrator’s hand grip his shoulder as they descended into the tunnels.
His grin faded when he could barely feel his shoulder anymore, and Narrator’s fingernails were practically poking holes in his shirt.
“This is so unbelievably stupid, Stanley..”
Stanley glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper, “And you're so unbelivably hot, but you don’t hear me complain— OW!?”
Narrator had dug his fingers deep as he bumped into the wall, a squeak escaping his lips.
“You good?”
“Fine!” Stanley noticed that his voice was an octave higher than usual and that the man had gone pale in the warm yellow light.
“We can turn back if your scare—”
“I am not scared, Stanley! Oh, look, the children are.. uhm…” And he hurried forward, his eyes fixed on anything but the walls of skulls.
While Stanley found this amusing — and cute — he did feel bad. Just a little.
The students, on the other hand, seemed to love it, poking at bones and skulls, daring each other to “touch that thing!”
Apart from a shy-looking boy, Tim, who did not seem to be enjoying himself at all. He, like Narrator, had his eyes fixed on the floor, arms tucked under his armpits and was visibly clammy.
Stanley nudged the man by his side, who was mumbling under his breath. “He looks… why don’t you take him back up?”
Narrator glanced at the boy, then back at Stanley. “I am just… regaining my, uhm, breath? I have lots of facts about this place, did you know—”
“Yeah, but…” Stanley thought for a good reason. ”he doesn’t look well. I doubt his parents would be pleased if he got sick, especially in the Catacombs.”
Narrator thought for a moment, torn. “You really don’t mind?”
Stanley shook his head, smiling at the shorter man.
“Well…” Narrator cast his eyes around, then pressed a quick peck to Stanley’s cheek, and hurried over to the nervous boy. After a moment of conversation, the two marched out.
Stanley smiled and touched his cheek carefully.
How could he be so lucky?
It had been about two days since they… well… and while some parts had gone unspoken… Stanley was happy, and Narrator seemed pretty damn happy, too.
It was odd, going from hating someone (sort of) to waking up with your arms around them and pressing a kiss to their forehead.
Not that Stanley minded in the slightest.
— — ❅ — —
When the group finally got out into the light of day, Stanley didn’t sense anything wrong straight away.
About 10 minutes later, he was… less certain everything was fine.
20 minutes… he was downright panicking.
“Excuse me?” He dinged the bell on the front desk, the swarm of students behind him chattering away about how “they’d heard of people vanishing in The Catacombs!” and “I bet it’s some kind of ghost that got them!”
“Can I help you, sir—” (Stanley was just glad the guy spoke English.)
“Yeah, um, have you seen a guy and a kid come out of the Catacombs?”
“… You’ll have to be more specific sir—”
“One, Narrator Tale, is a teacher, uh, he was wearing a brown suit with a yellow tie, had a cane, glasses, kind of mousy-brown blond hair all neat and cute—”
“No, sir, we would have noticed someone as… eccentric as that.”
Stanley turned back to the students. “Can you all just… wait here… I’ll be back soon…” And he took off, sprinting down the stairs and out of sight.
…
“Does he know you should never say that?”
— — ❅ — —
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Catacombs…
“Um. Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think we’re lost?”
“Not at all! The exit is… ah, um… um.. ahha! See? Right here!”
“Oh!”
“You see? Don’t ever say I’m not a good teacher, or that I have a poor sense of direct—”
— — ❅ — —
Stanley ignored the angry outcries as he shoved past other visitors, as he wizzed down the corridors, barely noticing the things around him.
Narrator hadn’t been… right? Right? The Catacombs were not haunted, and he hadn’t been taken by some ghost!
When he heard a rubbly crunch and many workers running through a door marked with ‘do not enter’, Stanley was pretty certain where Narrator had gone.
“Stupid mole-eyed…” Stanley mumbled under his breath as he followed the group down.
The passage was thinner and sloped steadily downwards, unlike the other wider corridors, and had a distinct lack of skulls and bones.
Stanley came to a halt, his face falling as he saw what had caused such a commotion.
The passage had caved in, blocking off the rest of the corridor…
Stanley’s stomach sank.
“S’cuse me? You can’t be down here—”
“My— partners behind there!” Stanley gasped out, trying to struggle past the workers, who exchanged worried looks.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Stanley wiped at the angry tears that had gathered in the corners in his eyes. “He went… I lost him and— and— Narry?!” He yelled out, trying to get past again, to no avail.
“Look, we’ll get him out if you wait—”
“Stanley?” A posh voice came from the other side, muffled and petrified.
“Narry! Yes, it’s me, are you— ok!?”
There was a pause, where Stanley feared the worst, but then “My clothes are filthy, Stanley! This is my nicest jumper!” Another pause, where Stanley let out a relieved laugh. “And my legs are… I lost my cane.”
“Is Tim ok?”
Another voice piped up. “I’m fine. But Na— Mr. Tale isn’t able to stand. The celing collapse made him fall, but I’m ok.”
“Right, uh, Stanley, I have to ask you to leave while we get help. This won’t take too long.”
Stanley considered arguing back, but he just wanted Narry out, and the more he argued, the longer it took to help them.
“Narry?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I… I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll see you soon too, love.”
— — ❅ — —
An hour passed and soon two dusty figures emerged out, the small propping up the other.
As soon as Stanley saw the messy man, he rushed forward and practically scooped Narrator up in a bone-crushing hug.
“Oof— Stan—!
“Are you ok?”
“I’m fine— well. Very annoyed and I will be suing but.. physically… I’m fine.”
Stanley laughed weakly and helped the man out of the dingy corridors. He couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to kiss Narrator better… If that was sappy, then call him a sap.