everything's fucked// james cook

part 18: muppet

A beeping noise interrupted my sleep, and I groaned. There's no way I'm going to school today. 

I heard another groan from next to me, and I rolled over to see Cook, a pillow over his face.

"Turn off that bloody alarm!" he shouted, his voice muffled by the pillow. 

I smashed my hand down on my alarm clock, hoping, praying, that it would shut up. The gods answered, and it turned off. I moaned, and turned back towards Cook, closing my eyes.

"We don't have to go to school today, do we?" I said, snuggling deeper into my covers.

"Nope," he said, reaching out under the covers for me, and pulling me flush against him. 

"G'morning, love," he said, taking the pillow off his head and sleepily smiling at me. He looked perfect and innocent, and utterly angelic with the morning light streaming in from the windows.

"Pretty," I murmured, which made him smile.

He kissed me, then pulled back to rest his forehead against mine. 

I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and his body against mine.

"Wait," I said, opening my eyes suddenly. "How did we get back?" 

"Who cares, babes?" Cook said, kissing my neck, his hands on my arse.

My eyes grew wide, and I realized. 

"Fuck, fuck, James, did we go through the front door?" I hissed frantically.

"Uhh," he sat in silence, as if he was trying to remember why that was a problem.

"My dad?" I reminded him.

I heard my dad walking up the stairs, the old treads creaking with every step. 

"Fuck, get under the bed!" I frantically whispered.

Cook dove off my bed, and I searched for my clothes, eventually just pulling a shirt and Cook's boxers from off the floor, putting them on, and jumping into bed.

"Vivian?" my dad said, knocking on my door. 

"Yeah, Dad?" I said, trying to sound sleepy. "I just woke up."

"Come down for breakfast when you're ready for school," he said. "And tell your friend he can join us."

Fuck, he definitely saw us. 

♕⋆♕⋆♕

"Hey, Dad," I said awkwardly, coming down the stairs with Cook trailing behind me. 

"Good morning, Vivian," he nodded. "Vivian's friend."

He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea and reading the newspaper, a plate full of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I wasn't sure what to do. 

Behind me, Cook whispered in my ear, "Vi, I got this, parents love me."

I highly, highly doubt that. 

"No, James, no," I pulled on his arm, trying to hold him back, but Cook walked over to my dad, sticking out his right hand for my dad to shake. 

"Hello, sir. I'm James Cook, and thank you for having me at your beautiful home. I enjoy the company of your daughter very much," which he said with a slight smirk, "and it's great to meet you."

Shit. 

I walked over to intervene, but before I could, my dad brought down his newspaper to look at Cook. He sighed, then said, "Put your hand down, young man, and go get some breakfast."