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booshslashhavenTitle: Anamnesia: A Love Story
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thickets, art by ftw302
Fandom: Sweet ... with complications.
Pairing: Pete/Stitch
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some fluff, some angst, some brain hurtiness
Word Count: 1818 (this chapter), 15000 (entire thing)
Disclaimer: Neither Sweet nor anything else mentioned in this fic belong to me.
Summary: Pete and Stitch meet a mysterious stall vendor and get more than they bargained for.
Part One: Wonders and Amusements
2. All of These Things Are Real
"I love animals. They're genius. Look at that tapir! Doesn't he look like he's trying to tell us something?"
"Pete, don't feed the animals candy floss!"
"This is great. Why haven't we come here before, Stitch?"
Stitch wasn't sure why they were here now. He felt faintly foolish, but at least no one else knew what a fool he was besides himself. The nearest zoo had turned out to in fact be the London Zoo, right nearby in Regent's Park. Pete, despite his initial confusion over Stitch's sudden interest, had taken to the idea with enthusiasm. Two days after Stitch had spoken to the street vendor, their day off, they'd headed to the zoo.
And there was another weird thing: the street vendor was gone. The day before when they'd arrived at the market to open their stall, the spot where he'd always been – he'd always already been there when they arrived and was still there when they left – was curiously empty. No one seemed to know what had happened to them.
Pete tipped the bag of candy floss upside down to catch the last bits of it in his mouth, then crumpled it up and shoved it in his pocket. He reached out and took Stitch's hand; his palm was sticky with sugar. "This really is genius, Stitch," he said with a meaningful smile. "Thanks." He kissed him quickly on the cheek.
"Er, you're welcome," Stitch said quickly, flushing. He wasn't much for public displays of affection. Which wasn't easy when you were with Pete. It wasn't even before they ...
"Suppose it's about time we did this," Pete continued cheerfully.
"Did what?"
"Gone on a proper date, right?"
"... Oh. Oh!" He hadn't really considered that Pete would figure this was a date. Though, in retrospect ... well ... he supposed it was. Lord. What a cheesy place to go on a date.
"Ha! Stitch! This giraffe's called Eustace!"
At least Pete was enjoying himself. "There's nothing wrong with Eustace. It's a good, traditional name."
"You're just glad there's someone around with a sillier name than you've got."
"Oi," Stitch said, and cuffed Pete gently on the ear. Pete laughed at him, and Stitch was suddenly struck by just how beautiful he was. Well, he'd always thought Pete was ... beautiful. That was half the problem with his life. Right now though, he looked almost incandescent. He found it hard to believe that he was capable of making Pete this happy, just from doing something silly like taking him to the zoo, something he hadn't even planned with Pete's happiness in mind. And why hadn't he? Who cared about batty tramps who sold rusting children's toys and who'd probably suffered one too many LSD trips? His and Pete's ... relationship (how odd it was to even think of it that way) was still so vulnerable, it needed to be treated with care, and moments like these, where for once he seemed to be doing something right, ought to be treasured.
With a deliberate intensity, he took Pete by the shoulders and kissed him. Pete was so dumbstruck – Stitch hadn't once ever kissed him in public – that for a minute he didn't respond at all; then, with a muffled laugh, he pushed back, taking control of the kiss within minutes, until Stitch felt his entire face and neck blush so crimson it burned. Finally Pete broke the kiss, briefly pecking Stitch on the corner of his mouth. "Nice."
"Hm," Stitch said, suddenly feeling very awkward, and yet simultaneously exhilarated, like he'd just won a marathon.
Pete ran his hands over Stitch's shoulders, then down the buttons of his shirt, and slipped his arms around his waist and gave him a quick squeeze. "Very nice, Stitch."
A warm feeling settled in Stitch's chest, something like accomplishment. Pete's faintly flushed, grinning face was the most fascinating thing in the world. With another burst of bravery, he leaned down and placed a kiss squarely on the bridge of Pete's crooked nose, something he'd always wanted to do ever since he had decided years ago, in an overly romantic moment, that it was the most charming nose in the universe.
Pete swatted him away, wiping at his face gleefully, and then his attention was drawn away to a spot behind Stitch. "Oi, what you lot lookin' at?"
Stitch spun around, and was greeted by the sight of three children of around seven or eight years of age, watching them with unabashed curiosity. Just as he hysterically began to figure out what he'd say the police when he was arrested for public indecency, Pete rooted around in his pockets and pulled out a handful of change.
"Here," he said, doling it out to the kids. "Go buy yourselves some sweets, you little brats."
The kids dispersed with nary a word. Pete grabbed Stitch, still in a mild state of shocked, looped their arms together, and pulled him off in the direction of the ape enclosure. "Breathe, Stitch."
"Huh," Stitch huffed, and squeezed Pete's arm. He felt like a precariously tethered balloon.
"Oh, wait a minute," Pete said suddenly, and peered back in the direction where the kids had run to, where the food stalls were. "Hm. Just a minute, I'll be right back."
Stitch recovered enough to look properly scandalized. "Pete, you just had candy floss!" You'd think the purpose of going to the zoo was to eat vats of sugar.
"Yeah, but I'd kill for a Slush Puppie right now! Hold on, I'll get you a Cornetto! You like the vanilla ones, don't you, Stitch? Well boring!" Pete ran off without waiting for his reply.
Stitch shook his head and sat down on a nearby bench, cupping his chin in his hands. His face still felt a bit red. Maybe he ought to grow a beard, it might cover his blushes in the future. He had a feeling Pete would provoke that reaction in him frequently.
"Oh. Finally, you here. Take your sweet time about it, didn't you?"
Stitch sat straight up. He'd heard the most peculiar voice; it couldn't be addressed to him, could it? It sounded very close though, didn't it? He looked around but he didn't see any.
"Over here, silly bastard." This time the voice accompanied by a distinct rustling noise. It was coming from the ape enclosure.
"Uhhh ..." Stitch said eloquently, and then, a glossy, furry dark head poked out from between some palm fronds.
"Get over here," the gorilla said.
Stitch decided not to.
"Come on, time is limited. This urgent."
"Is insanity contagious?" Stitch wondered aloud. Had he caught some communicable disease from the street vendor? Was this what it was like to be him?
"Look, you don't come over here now, I pretend you throw rocks and sticks at me through bars. Other gorillas back me up."
Stitch eyed him warily. "That's impossible ... because gorillas can't talk!"
"That don't matter. Nobody believe creepy-looking character like you anyway. Now come here."
A gorilla is speaking to me. And he just told me I look creepy. Stitch found himself standing and walking over to the cage. Maybe this was a hallucination, brought on by too much kissing.
"Right. I have message for you. Important, so listen."
"Should I take notes?" Stitch asked, and with exaggerated movements patted his pockets. "Shit, I didn't bring a pen."
"No matter, it easy to remember. Ready? Here it is: This reality is fragile. There, think I got that right."
"Ah," Stitch said, "you're right, that is fairly simple to remember. I mean, it's not exactly the Sermon on the Mount."
The gorilla's shoulders shook; it took a second for Stitch to realize he was laughing. "Ahhh ... it don't matter what you called here, Harold, you still village idiot." And with that, the great beast turned away and disappeared into the enclosure.
Stitch remained standing staring at the spot the gorilla had been, trying to determine if he'd really been there in the first place. Stitch had always thought his mind to be a fairly mundane place, and so was the world. Though once in awhile, bizarre things did crop up. Like Poppy. Hm. He hadn't really thought of it that way. Which is strange, he considered, because there's no such thing as invisible, imaginary girls, is there? Anymore than there are talking gorillas.
"Stitch, check it out! It's a flavor called Tiger's Blood. It's like, strawberry and coconut. Don't know what that's got to do with tigers. You all right? Here's your Cornetto."
Stitch took the ice cream from him. The cold firmness through the dry paper surrounding the cone made him feel strangely safe, as did Pete's concerned face. His lips were stained red from the Slush Puppie. Stitch thought he understood why it was called Tiger's Blood.
"Hey!" Pete said, and laid a hand against Stitch's sweaty cheek. "Something is wrong! Are you sick?"
With a shudder, Stitch pulled himself together. He pushed Pete's hand from his forehead. "No worries, little man. I'm fine." He pulled the wrapper from the ice cream cone and tasted it – familiar, boring vanilla – and thought, all of these things are real.
"Did you just call me little man? Who are you, my granddad?"
"Shut up, Pete."
This reality is fragile.
#
He woke up late that night (or early the next morning) to Pete pulling at his arm. There was a panicky feel to the gesture.
"What's wrong?" he asked. In the darkness the whites of Pete's eyes were very bright.
"Had a nightmare," Pete said, his voice shaky. This got Stitch's attention. For all of Pete's frequent bouts of childishness, he'd never woken Stitch up complaining of bad dreams. In fact, Pete slept deeply and easily through the night ordinarily (Stitch knew this mainly due to his own frequent insomnia; he'd spent a lot of time watching Pete sleep over the past few months) and claimed he rarely remembered his dreams.
"It was weird, Stitch. I was in a ... cavern, or something, and I kept seeing all these shapes on the walls, shadows, right, and I wanted to get away but I couldn't move. Then everything went really white and bright and I was falling, and I knew you were there, I could hear you, but I couldn't see you."
Stitch brushed Pete's fringe away from his warm forehead. "That sounds more weird than scary."
"Yeah, I know. But it disturbed the shit out of me anyway." Pete pressed his face against Stitch's arm and breathed in deeply. "Oi, Stitch?" he mumbled.
"What?"
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Stitch declined to point out that they were, in fact, sleeping in the same bed already. "Sure."
"Thanks," Pete said, and wriggled over until there wasn't any space left between them at all.
"Better?"
"Much better. Cheers, Stitch."
"Good night, Pete."
to be continued
Author:
thickets, art by ftw302Fandom: Sweet ... with complications.
Pairing: Pete/Stitch
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some fluff, some angst, some brain hurtiness
Word Count: 1818 (this chapter), 15000 (entire thing)
Disclaimer: Neither Sweet nor anything else mentioned in this fic belong to me.
Summary: Pete and Stitch meet a mysterious stall vendor and get more than they bargained for.
Part One: Wonders and Amusements
2. All of These Things Are Real
"I love animals. They're genius. Look at that tapir! Doesn't he look like he's trying to tell us something?"
"Pete, don't feed the animals candy floss!"
"This is great. Why haven't we come here before, Stitch?"
Stitch wasn't sure why they were here now. He felt faintly foolish, but at least no one else knew what a fool he was besides himself. The nearest zoo had turned out to in fact be the London Zoo, right nearby in Regent's Park. Pete, despite his initial confusion over Stitch's sudden interest, had taken to the idea with enthusiasm. Two days after Stitch had spoken to the street vendor, their day off, they'd headed to the zoo.
And there was another weird thing: the street vendor was gone. The day before when they'd arrived at the market to open their stall, the spot where he'd always been – he'd always already been there when they arrived and was still there when they left – was curiously empty. No one seemed to know what had happened to them.
Pete tipped the bag of candy floss upside down to catch the last bits of it in his mouth, then crumpled it up and shoved it in his pocket. He reached out and took Stitch's hand; his palm was sticky with sugar. "This really is genius, Stitch," he said with a meaningful smile. "Thanks." He kissed him quickly on the cheek.
"Er, you're welcome," Stitch said quickly, flushing. He wasn't much for public displays of affection. Which wasn't easy when you were with Pete. It wasn't even before they ...
"Suppose it's about time we did this," Pete continued cheerfully.
"Did what?"
"Gone on a proper date, right?"
"... Oh. Oh!" He hadn't really considered that Pete would figure this was a date. Though, in retrospect ... well ... he supposed it was. Lord. What a cheesy place to go on a date.
"Ha! Stitch! This giraffe's called Eustace!"
At least Pete was enjoying himself. "There's nothing wrong with Eustace. It's a good, traditional name."
"You're just glad there's someone around with a sillier name than you've got."
"Oi," Stitch said, and cuffed Pete gently on the ear. Pete laughed at him, and Stitch was suddenly struck by just how beautiful he was. Well, he'd always thought Pete was ... beautiful. That was half the problem with his life. Right now though, he looked almost incandescent. He found it hard to believe that he was capable of making Pete this happy, just from doing something silly like taking him to the zoo, something he hadn't even planned with Pete's happiness in mind. And why hadn't he? Who cared about batty tramps who sold rusting children's toys and who'd probably suffered one too many LSD trips? His and Pete's ... relationship (how odd it was to even think of it that way) was still so vulnerable, it needed to be treated with care, and moments like these, where for once he seemed to be doing something right, ought to be treasured.
With a deliberate intensity, he took Pete by the shoulders and kissed him. Pete was so dumbstruck – Stitch hadn't once ever kissed him in public – that for a minute he didn't respond at all; then, with a muffled laugh, he pushed back, taking control of the kiss within minutes, until Stitch felt his entire face and neck blush so crimson it burned. Finally Pete broke the kiss, briefly pecking Stitch on the corner of his mouth. "Nice."
"Hm," Stitch said, suddenly feeling very awkward, and yet simultaneously exhilarated, like he'd just won a marathon.
Pete ran his hands over Stitch's shoulders, then down the buttons of his shirt, and slipped his arms around his waist and gave him a quick squeeze. "Very nice, Stitch."
A warm feeling settled in Stitch's chest, something like accomplishment. Pete's faintly flushed, grinning face was the most fascinating thing in the world. With another burst of bravery, he leaned down and placed a kiss squarely on the bridge of Pete's crooked nose, something he'd always wanted to do ever since he had decided years ago, in an overly romantic moment, that it was the most charming nose in the universe.
Pete swatted him away, wiping at his face gleefully, and then his attention was drawn away to a spot behind Stitch. "Oi, what you lot lookin' at?"
Stitch spun around, and was greeted by the sight of three children of around seven or eight years of age, watching them with unabashed curiosity. Just as he hysterically began to figure out what he'd say the police when he was arrested for public indecency, Pete rooted around in his pockets and pulled out a handful of change.
"Here," he said, doling it out to the kids. "Go buy yourselves some sweets, you little brats."
The kids dispersed with nary a word. Pete grabbed Stitch, still in a mild state of shocked, looped their arms together, and pulled him off in the direction of the ape enclosure. "Breathe, Stitch."
"Huh," Stitch huffed, and squeezed Pete's arm. He felt like a precariously tethered balloon.
"Oh, wait a minute," Pete said suddenly, and peered back in the direction where the kids had run to, where the food stalls were. "Hm. Just a minute, I'll be right back."
Stitch recovered enough to look properly scandalized. "Pete, you just had candy floss!" You'd think the purpose of going to the zoo was to eat vats of sugar.
"Yeah, but I'd kill for a Slush Puppie right now! Hold on, I'll get you a Cornetto! You like the vanilla ones, don't you, Stitch? Well boring!" Pete ran off without waiting for his reply.
Stitch shook his head and sat down on a nearby bench, cupping his chin in his hands. His face still felt a bit red. Maybe he ought to grow a beard, it might cover his blushes in the future. He had a feeling Pete would provoke that reaction in him frequently.
"Oh. Finally, you here. Take your sweet time about it, didn't you?"
Stitch sat straight up. He'd heard the most peculiar voice; it couldn't be addressed to him, could it? It sounded very close though, didn't it? He looked around but he didn't see any.
"Over here, silly bastard." This time the voice accompanied by a distinct rustling noise. It was coming from the ape enclosure.
"Uhhh ..." Stitch said eloquently, and then, a glossy, furry dark head poked out from between some palm fronds.
"Get over here," the gorilla said.
Stitch decided not to.
"Come on, time is limited. This urgent."
"Is insanity contagious?" Stitch wondered aloud. Had he caught some communicable disease from the street vendor? Was this what it was like to be him?
"Look, you don't come over here now, I pretend you throw rocks and sticks at me through bars. Other gorillas back me up."
Stitch eyed him warily. "That's impossible ... because gorillas can't talk!"
"That don't matter. Nobody believe creepy-looking character like you anyway. Now come here."
A gorilla is speaking to me. And he just told me I look creepy. Stitch found himself standing and walking over to the cage. Maybe this was a hallucination, brought on by too much kissing.
"Right. I have message for you. Important, so listen."
"Should I take notes?" Stitch asked, and with exaggerated movements patted his pockets. "Shit, I didn't bring a pen."
"No matter, it easy to remember. Ready? Here it is: This reality is fragile. There, think I got that right."
"Ah," Stitch said, "you're right, that is fairly simple to remember. I mean, it's not exactly the Sermon on the Mount."
The gorilla's shoulders shook; it took a second for Stitch to realize he was laughing. "Ahhh ... it don't matter what you called here, Harold, you still village idiot." And with that, the great beast turned away and disappeared into the enclosure.
Stitch remained standing staring at the spot the gorilla had been, trying to determine if he'd really been there in the first place. Stitch had always thought his mind to be a fairly mundane place, and so was the world. Though once in awhile, bizarre things did crop up. Like Poppy. Hm. He hadn't really thought of it that way. Which is strange, he considered, because there's no such thing as invisible, imaginary girls, is there? Anymore than there are talking gorillas.
"Stitch, check it out! It's a flavor called Tiger's Blood. It's like, strawberry and coconut. Don't know what that's got to do with tigers. You all right? Here's your Cornetto."
Stitch took the ice cream from him. The cold firmness through the dry paper surrounding the cone made him feel strangely safe, as did Pete's concerned face. His lips were stained red from the Slush Puppie. Stitch thought he understood why it was called Tiger's Blood.
"Hey!" Pete said, and laid a hand against Stitch's sweaty cheek. "Something is wrong! Are you sick?"
With a shudder, Stitch pulled himself together. He pushed Pete's hand from his forehead. "No worries, little man. I'm fine." He pulled the wrapper from the ice cream cone and tasted it – familiar, boring vanilla – and thought, all of these things are real.
"Did you just call me little man? Who are you, my granddad?"
"Shut up, Pete."
This reality is fragile.
He woke up late that night (or early the next morning) to Pete pulling at his arm. There was a panicky feel to the gesture.
"What's wrong?" he asked. In the darkness the whites of Pete's eyes were very bright.
"Had a nightmare," Pete said, his voice shaky. This got Stitch's attention. For all of Pete's frequent bouts of childishness, he'd never woken Stitch up complaining of bad dreams. In fact, Pete slept deeply and easily through the night ordinarily (Stitch knew this mainly due to his own frequent insomnia; he'd spent a lot of time watching Pete sleep over the past few months) and claimed he rarely remembered his dreams.
"It was weird, Stitch. I was in a ... cavern, or something, and I kept seeing all these shapes on the walls, shadows, right, and I wanted to get away but I couldn't move. Then everything went really white and bright and I was falling, and I knew you were there, I could hear you, but I couldn't see you."
Stitch brushed Pete's fringe away from his warm forehead. "That sounds more weird than scary."
"Yeah, I know. But it disturbed the shit out of me anyway." Pete pressed his face against Stitch's arm and breathed in deeply. "Oi, Stitch?" he mumbled.
"What?"
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Stitch declined to point out that they were, in fact, sleeping in the same bed already. "Sure."
"Thanks," Pete said, and wriggled over until there wasn't any space left between them at all.
"Better?"
"Much better. Cheers, Stitch."
"Good night, Pete."
to be continued
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