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“Room assignments!” Professor Stonehearst called over the crowd of assembled students in the hotel lobby. “Eight: Weems and Ottinger. Eleven: Frump and y/l/n. Thirteen: Addams and Night. Sixteen…”
—
Stonehearst had been given permission to take a small cohort on a school trip for the weekend to visit the Vermont Institute of Natural Sciences in Quechee. The town was only about an hour and a half away from the school, but you were having a tour of the Institute's trails and a few talks from its staff on the Saturday, followed by a visit to the gorge and free time in the state park on the Sunday. Something about outreach and showing a friendly, approachable outcast presence within the state's natural sites, the headteacher had said. You were excited to go along, partly for the excuse to get away from Nevermore for the weekend, but mostly to be able to explore a new place with your friends. Less exciting was the knowledge that you'd invariably be followed around by Isaac Night. You'd be sticking with your good friend Morticia Frump, who never went anywhere without Gomez Addams, who was good friends with Isaac. Even with Gomez and Morticia's doting relationship doing the heavy lifting every time the group interacted, you still found the other boy hard work. He was charming, in a way, but there was a coldness to him which only Gomez ever seemed to be able to break through. With you it was always clipped remarks and vaguely condescending stares. He didn't seem to like you all that much, and that was fine. You weren't exactly his biggest fan either.
You'd sat with Larissa Weems for the drive over, allowing the lovebirds to cosy up together across the aisle. Isaac was barely to be seen, just a mass of dark curls leaned up against the wall in the back corner. When you finally arrived, you were bundled off the bus by the hoard of students pushing to be first through the doors, forcing you to meet up with your friends on the pathway outside. You waved to Morticia as she stepped off, linking arms with Gomez and guiding him across to you.
“Ah, y/n!” he greeted warmly. You smiled back, before a familiar lanky figure appeared like a shadow behind him and your face fell a little. “You don't mind if Isaac joins us, do you?” Gomez asked, oblivious to the daggers being stared over his head.
“Of course not,” you replied, trying to prevent your tone from giving away the fact you wanted to say the exact opposite. “Isaac.” The nod you gave him was curt, laced with contempt which you hoped he picked up on.
“Y/n,” he said with equal venom. Oh good. This was going to be such a fun weekend.
It had been a long day.
The Institute had been fascinating, a mixture of nature trails and wildlife enclosures, and you’d enjoyed exploring it. However, the experience had been somewhat dampened by the inescapable presence of the tall thundercloud of a boy who steadfastly refused to allow you a moment of solitude. Gomez and Morticia were all over each other, as expected, leaving you to try and engage with Isaac or be left without conversation. You had to admit, he was as good a test of your wit as he was your nerves. Every interaction devolved into sarcastic remarks or an argument over the scientific background of whatever specimen you were observing. You wondered why he even bothered sticking with the group, since it was clear it was you or nothing, yet every time you turned to look at something new he was there, eyes burning into the back of your skull and so close you nearly fell over him once or twice. By the time you made it back to the hotel and heard the room assignments, you were ready to finally make him Gomez’s responsibility again.
The hotel was a seedy little place, with peeling wallpaper and faded carpet that smelled faintly of damp. You suspected it wasn’t often frequented by the normie tourists, instead neglected by the owners who would happily take outcast money but drew the line at using it to make the place more welcoming. Couldn’t have you all thinking it was a nice town to take root in, you supposed. As you collected your key from the professor, you turned to see Morticia giving you an impossibly sweet smile. Something was up. She wanted something.
“Y/n, my dear, would you be at all willing to trade rooms with Gomez?”
You blinked at the implication. Not only did you not want to have to think about that, but switching with him would mean… “And share with Isaac?” You shuddered involuntarily.
“Oh come now, it won't be that bad. You know what shoddy establishments these hotels are. It'll be two cheap beds at other ends of the room, and you won't have to listen to me whine about being separated from my beloved for hours.”
“Well if it's two cheap little beds, how will you two manage?” you raised an eyebrow, trying desperately to call her bluff.
She raised an eyebrow right back, a wicked grin toying at the corner of her mouth. “I'm not opposed to rearranging the furniture, but besides, it's never stopped us in the dorms.”
You mimed holding back your nausea, glancing in the taller boy's direction for any hint of similar protest. If it was two against two, you might not have to go through with this. To your surprise, he was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, almost shrugging when you caught his eye, and if you didn't know better you'd say he looked almost amused by your floundering.
“Please?” Morticia pleaded.
“Cara mia, if she doesn't want to…” Gomez began, placing his hand tenderly on her elbow, but looking hopefully at you out of the corner of his eye.
You huffed in defeat. “Fine, but you owe me.”
“Breakfast is on me, darling!” Morticia grinned fully, hoisting her bag and dragging Gomez excitedly down the hall. You grabbed your own bag while Isaac unlocked room thirteen. The door swung open into the darkness, and he gestured with mock grandiose.
“After you, roomie.” He couldn't have sounded more sarcastic if he tried.
You shuffled past him into the narrow entryway and felt around for a light switch. It clicked softly beneath your fingers and the bulb flickered to life.
Oh no.
You felt Isaac's looming figure appear behind you as you stared, bewildered, into the room. There had to be some mistake. The space was dingy, barely furnished. There was no sofa, not even so much as an armchair, just a rickety stool at a desk affixed to the wall and a small double bed, with a door to the bathroom off to your right.
“Well, isn't this quaint?” Isaac murmured over your shoulder, voice close enough to make you jump. You turned to him, face stony yet flushed.
“This is ridiculous. I'm going to go and ask-”
“Ah ah ah,” he stopped you, one hand on your shoulder and the other wagging a finger. “All that's going to do is let Stonehearst know that you're responsible for allowing the mixing of rooms, and I dread to think how much trouble that would land you in.”
“Land us in, you mean.”
He pulled a smug face that immediately made you want to smack it off him. “If I recall, you're the one who agreed to this, not me.”
“Well you didn't disagree!”
“Keep your voice down!” he hissed suddenly, manoeuvring you further into the room and masking your protests by loudly closing the door behind him. “The fact is we're stuck with this, so might as well get on with it. Now if you don't mind, I call dibs on the shower.”
You waved him away, pulling out your book and sinking onto the pathetic excuse for a stool to get some peace and quiet. The sound of horribly low-pressure water sputtering to life gave you the small amount of relief that at least you'd be left alone for the next ten minutes or so.
Eventually the rushing water stopped, and you braced yourself for the frosty return of your unwitting roommate. It took almost as long as the shower had for him to finally emerge, and when he finally did you weren't sure whether your eyes were going to fall out or retreat back into your skull. His curls were roughly slicked back and dripping onto the towel he'd draped round his neck. Beneath the towel was nothing but his pale torso, tense and glistening with a wet sheen across his muscles. The only mercy was the blood red pyjama trousers he was sporting. You quickly looked away, the image seared into your brain. You tried to shake it, but the more you did the more your mind seemed to latch on, wandering across his bare skin, up to the hand running through his hair and down…
“Don't you have a shirt to go with those?” You gestured vaguely at his trousers.
“Excuse you,” he replied, affronted, “I'm letting my metalwork air dry, or do you want me to seize up?”
“Maybe I do,” you muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact as you raked through your bag to find your own pyjamas. Oh great. Of course this would be the one trip you packed a vest and shorts set and not anything more substantial. You'd barely pulled them out when there was a knock at the door.
“Mr Night? Mr Addams?” Stonehearst's unmistakable voice called from the hallway. You froze. How the hell were you meant to explain you being in the same room as a shirtless Isaac? The boy reacted much quicker, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you towards the bathroom. A yelp of surprise and indignation formed in your throat, but he clamped a hand over your mouth and gave you a warning glare. As you stumbled back onto the tiled floor, observing with bemusement that the hotel couldn't spring for two beds but had given you a full-sized bath, he raised his right hand and sent your bag slamming into your chest with enough force to leave you winded. He stared pointedly at the shower above the bath, miming turning the handle. Immediately you nodded, starting the water and slamming the door in his face. Outside, you heard him open the main door and greet your professor in as calm and measured a tone as he could muster.
“I'm afraid Gomez has just gone into the shower. Did you need to see him?”
“No, but he'd better get on with it.” That was Stonehearst. “Lights out in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes sir.” The door clicked shut, and you slumped against the wall in relief. Maybe a shower was what you needed to calm yourself down right now.
You emerged ten minutes later, hair wrapped in a towel and face flushed. Whether that was from the heat of the shower or the outfit you were having to go out in, you couldn't say. Isaac was still shirtless as he lay down the middle of the bed, writing in his journal, and he glanced up as you gingerly stepped out. Something indiscernible passed over his expression, almost a hint of the amusement he'd shown before but this time with a darker edge. His eyes were sharp, unforgiving.
“I do have a pyjama shirt, by the way,” he said casually. “I can wear it if it bothers you, or it's there if you… want to borrow it.” He cast his unreadable gaze up and down your form as he gestured to the pile of matching red fabric at the foot of the bed.
“Now who's the prude?” you teased, but you slipped the shirt over your vest all the same. The fabric was silky smooth, static hugging it to your skin despite how big it was - it almost covered your shorts. You shot Isaac a look, feeling a little silly wearing his pyjamas instead of him, but he appraised your new appearance and cocked his eyebrows in something close to approval. The scent of pine and sandalwood surrounded you, and you resisted the urge to breathe it in. “Not that it matters anyway, I'll sleep in the bath.”
“Don't be daft.” The words came out of him a little too quickly, and he sighed in exasperation. “It's still wet in there. I'm not looking after you if you get hypothermia.” He was exaggerating of course, but the point still stood.
“Well I'm not going on the floor.”
“I'm not telling you to go on the floor.”
You blinked, waiting for him to make any other point than the one you thought, but he rolled his eyes and shuffled over to one side of the bed.
“You're joking, right?”
“Look, you've got approximately two minutes until the professor comes to check whether there's any light coming through that rather large gap under the door, so you can either pray he's not already on patrol and try to interrupt whatever lover boy and cara mia are up to, or you can get over yourself.”
You chewed your lip. He was right, annoyingly. You didn't have much choice. Relenting, you climbed into the bed, as close to the edge as you could.
“See, that wasn't so hard.” You could just roll over and push him out of bed. It was certainly tempting. “Well, good night.” He raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist the switch by the door clicked and the light above sputtered off.
“Good night,” you murmured into the darkness.
—
You weren't sure what time it was when you awoke, but the room was still dark, only lit by the dim glow of a street light spilling in around the edges of the curtain. For a moment you were disoriented, then you suddenly remembered who was asleep next to you in the bed. The gentle ticking from within his chest had lulled you into the deepest sleep you'd had in a long time, and now it served as a reminder of his sleeping form, much closer than it had been before. The smell of pine was stronger here, with a hint of bergamot and something citrus. You realised with jarring clarity that you had both rolled closer in the night, and now your hand lay across his chest while his arm snaked under your head. His skin was warm and soft beneath the pads of your fingers. You were warm too, uncharacteristically so. Almost uncomfortably so, in fact. Horror pooled in your stomach as you realised the hotel had, for some unknown reason, decided to turn the heating on. You'd already mostly kicked off your side of the sheet, but it was still not enough. Ever so carefully, you sat up, and with no small amount of regret you peeled off Isaac’s shirt and dropped it silently to the floor. As you lay back down, you found yourself wondering whether to return your hand to its original position. No. That was mad. Wasn't it? But it had been so comfortable, and you couldn't deny you liked being able to feel the steady movements of the clockwork vibrating against your fingertips. Hesitantly, you lowered your hand until it brushed against Isaac’s skin. You let out a soft gasp as he stirred slightly, afraid you'd woken him. Instead, he let out a satisfied hum and the hand beneath your head came up to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you close. You dared not even breathe, but as your head came to rest against his side the rhythmic ticking echoed through you, easing the rise and fall of your chest into a slow pattern, and you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.
The dim, sickly light of the street light was replaced by the warm glow of the morning and faint birdsong drifting in from a tree outside. The heating had been turned off again during the night; you didn’t remember pulling the duvet back over yourself, but it was draped loosely over your hips. You were still warm, perhaps from the body which was pressed close behind you. Your brain was stirring slowly, unbothered by the fact that your personal space was being shared so intimately: legs tangled together, your arm draped over his where it wrapped around your waist, his fingers twitching lightly against the soft flesh of your stomach where your vest had ridden up, the slow breaths of sleep brushing against your hair as his face nuzzled into the top of your head. You ought to wake him, or leave, or do anything except stay wrapped up like this, but you were warm and comfortable and you couldn’t deny that maybe it had all been building up to this. All the silent glances, the competitive energy, the snarky back-and-forth that was just a hint too playful to be true hatred. The way, as much as you always acted like it was such an inconvenience to have him tag along, you secretly waited for Gomez to ask if he could join in. The disappointment when you didn’t see his face in the crowd, knowing the day would be a little less interesting without him there. Yes, it was always going to work out like this. Maybe not exactly like this, the circumstances were certainly a surprise, but you could think of worse ways for it to have gone.
As the light of day grew stronger you lay restfully, enjoying the comfort and the gentle ticking, until you felt Isaac stirring behind you. He groaned into your hair, instinctively pulling you closer as he roused himself. You tensed, waiting for the realisation. The fingers against your stomach stilled, hovering above your skin, and you knew he was listening to see if you were awake.
“Morning,” you mumbled.
“Hmm, morning,” he replied after a moment. The weight of sleep was thick in his throat, leaving his voice coarse and deep. Something tightened in your chest at the sound. “Sorry, I didn’t…” His hand began to retreat, in fact his whole body started to pull away, but he hesitated. You could practically hear the cogs turning in his mind, louder than the ones in his chest. “You could have moved, you know.”
“I know.”
“Well then, why didn’t you?”
“Oh come on, Isaac,” you rolled over to face him, a difficult feat considering your leg was still wrapped round his. “You’re the genius here, you do the maths.”
His deep brown eyes studied you, flecks of gold appearing in the sunlight as they roved across your face, searching for any hint that you were messing with him. Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his free hand to cup your cheek. When you didn’t pull away, he brought you to him and pressed his lips to yours. They were surprisingly soft, their touch gentle, and they retreated all too soon. Those lips broke into a smirk when you chased them, and your stomach erupted with butterflies when you realised that first kiss had been Isaac’s way of an experiment. Ever the scientist, you thought, but you didn’t care. You’d proven his theory, and now there was nothing stopping you from leaning in and deepening the kiss. He met you with thinly veiled delight and completely unveiled passion. One of his arms was still pinned under your shoulder, and as you moved to set him free he rolled onto his back. You squeaked in surprise, a noise he absorbed into his own chuckle as he unhooked his leg from yours until you were straddled across his hips, his hands coming to your waist and pulling you to him. To think that last night you’d been so horrified at his lack of a shirt, whereas now you relished the free access to his smooth, toned chest. Your fingers danced across his skin, noting with pleasure the way his breath hitched beneath your touch, and when you skirted round the cool metalwork at his core you were rewarded by the sharp, sweet nip of his teeth against your lower lip. One of his hands skimmed down from your waist to your thigh, nails digging into the tender flesh. When you gasped, his tongue flicked against yours, pulled tight by the smile he pressed into the kiss. He tasted like coffee, syrupy sweet.
When you finally broke apart, breathless, you flopped onto your back and grinned up at the ceiling. Had that really just happened? The feeling of fingers entwining with yours confirmed that it had.
“So,” Isaac said, the smile clear in his voice, “breakfast?”
You bit your lip. “Morticia said breakfast was on her in return for… well, this.”
“I don’t care what Morticia said,” he replied, jokingly stern. “She can buy you lunch, or maybe you’re even now.” You glanced over and he winked. Those butterflies returned to your stomach. “Either way, I’m starving and I’m not waiting for her and Gomez to finally get up in three hours. Besides, I would like to buy you breakfast. We passed a diner on the way here, not far from the park.”
You beamed, placing one more brief kiss on his lips before reluctantly climbing out of bed. “I hope they do pancakes.”
Isaac sat on the edge of the bed, lazily buttoning up a fresh shirt and enjoying the casual intimacy of you flitting around the room to get ready. “I’ll be having words with the chef if they don’t.”
The diner was cute, all neon signs and striped pink & blue furniture and a jukebox quietly playing Elvis in the corner. Mercifully, it seemed everyone else on the trip had either not woken up yet or had already been and gone, as the place was deserted. Still, Isaac guided you to a booth in the far corner. Your face lit up when you spotted the pancake stacks on the menu, and his lit up seeing you so excited. You glanced up to see his eyes crinkling at the corners, the first time you’d seen them do that. A waitress in a sleek pink and white dress and frilly apron approached, offering her welcome and asking if you knew what you would like. Isaac gestured to you to go ahead.
“Um, could I please get the banoffee pancakes and a chocolate milkshake?”
The waitress nodded and turned to Isaac. “Mocha, please, and I’ll go for the berry pancakes. Thanks.”
As she returned a few minutes later with your order, the bell above the front door rang out into the quiet of the diner. You peeked out to see the black-clad figures of Morticia and Gomez. With a squeak, you ducked back into the shelter of the booth, but it was too late. You tried to signal to Isaac, but your friends appeared before he got the message.
“Y/n, Isaac!” Morticia greeted. “What a wonderful... surprise. How did you sleep? It wasn’t too inconvenient having to share for our sake, was it?” There was a gleam in her eye that told you she already knew the answer, and you wondered if perhaps her motive for asking you to switch rooms hadn’t been entirely self-centred.
“Fine, thank you. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“No need,” she replied a little too brightly. It was uncanny. “I’m a Dove, remember darling?”
You almost choked on your milkshake, cheeks burning red as you coughed around the foam stuck in your throat. Isaac bit back a laugh, and you lashed out with your foot under the table.
“Well,” Gomez interrupted, practically dragging Morticia away from the chaos of her own creation, “we’ll leave you to your da- breakfast. See you on the coach back, yes?”
Isaac’s laugh broke free as the two of them walked away, whispering to one another. You glowered. “I’m sorry,” he held his hands up in surrender, leaning in close as his voice dropped to almost a purr, “but you’re just adorable when you get flustered.”
“Shut up,” you blushed again. He pulled a face, and you used the distraction to steal a strawberry from the top of his pancakes.
By the time you returned that afternoon, you had a spring in your step and a pocket full of Polaroid photos - some of him when you thought he wasn’t looking, some he’d insisted on taking of you, radiant against the autumnal hues of the forest, one taken shakily in reverse of the two of you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss into your cheek. Nothing could bother you right now, not even the ripple of hushed comments and intrigued stares from the students in the group who hadn’t already spotted the two of you together in the park. You almost faltered, unfamiliar with this level of attention, but Isaac led you to the back of the coach with your hand in his, his stance proud and daring anyone to say anything to his face. Nobody did, and nobody took the other seats on the back row either. As your eyes grew heavy with exhaustion and contentment, Isaac gently guided you to lay across the seats with your head in his lap. His fingers tangled in your hair, slow and soothing, and between the rumble of the engine below and the tick of the mechanical heart above, you soon drifted away.