“What the f**k?” exploded the deep voice of my human tackling-machine. I then heard a similar ruckus to my left.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry! Wait, Tink? Is that you?” exclaimed a gentle voice next to me.
“Well, well, well. Nice to see you again, mister, but if you were that keen to get on top of me you should have at least asked me out to dinner first, you cheeky scoundrel,” Tink replied.
The other voice laughed shyly. "If you’re being serious, then that, I can do."
"Oh, really? Then it's definitely a date, mister," Tink confirmed, with excitement in his voice.
Too disorientated to make sense of what the hell was happening, I decided to just give in to the sleep that was looming, and it all began to go temptingly dark. I could hear bits of talking around me, most prominently Tink giggling and using his ‘fuck me’ voice.
OMG. I’ve died and gone to Fruit-Fly hell!
A string of seriously pissed-off grunts and curses brought me back to my own situation with a bang, as the human dumbbell lifted itself off my oxygen-deprived body.
“Shit. In future watch where you're go– Tash? Tash, is that you? Shit!” said my personal bulldozer, as I felt rough fingers fumble across my face.
“Tink, isn’t it?” the bulldozer asked someone beside me.
“Yeah,” Tink answered excitedly.
“It's Tash, I think she’s hurt.”
I felt body heat appear near my left ear, and smelled the familiar scent of ‘Fantasy’ perfume by Britney Spears. Tink.
“Wilbur? Wil, babe, are you okay? Talk to me!”
I could hear Tink begin to flap. Oh no, this was no time for a fairy meltdown.
“Calm down, sweetie, she’ll be fine. Check her head, buddy,” I heard the gentle voice from before instruct.
I felt the surprisingly cautious hands again from the bulldozer, this time on my head, and light breath falling on my face. I could smell him. Mmm… delicious.
I began to come around, eyesight re-focusing, shapes becoming sharper, sounds becoming clearer until–“Oww!”
Someone had just pushed something painful at the back of my head. My eyes began to water profusely.
“Tash? Can you see me? Can you hear me? Does it hurt? Fuck, there’s a huge bump… aww man, it’s bleeding,” the unbelievable-smelling person said. I tried to sit up to see who it was. I felt a hand grasp mine and a second hand push my chest back to stop any movement.
“Wil, it’s Tink. Talk to me, please.”
“Tin–”, Pathetic cough, “Tink? Wha-what’s going on?” I struggled to speak.
“We had a little accident. We crashed into some… joggers,” he said, sounding sheepish.
“My head. It hurts.” I whined.
“Hold still, Tash,” the deep voice said. “Just wait until you come around a bit more.”
“Who- who are you?” I could only hear his gruff voice. He was too close to make out a face.
I heard a small laugh and felt warm breath against my cheek. “You’ll find out in a few minutes, just stay awake, okay?” he urged.
“Mmm,” I felt something being put under my head, something warm and soft like a pillow. It smelt like my bulldozer. Wait, my bulldozer? It was woodsy, musky, and just… lovely, it reminded me of home somehow.
Fingers kept stroking my hand – Tink. I could feel it was him, but another finger was running repeatedly down my cheek and brushing away my hair, it was lulling me to relax.
“What were you doing on skates in this weather?” the voice asked harshly.
I went to answer but Tink jumped in, “I bought them for a surprise. We were only trying them out." I realised the question had been directed at him in the first place so I settled back into the pillow.
“Fucking hell, look at what’s happened! What were you doing when we crashed into you? Do either of you have any common sense? Any at all? Jesus-”
“We were dancing! Sor-ry, Dad. Is that a crime? Anyway for your information, it was a simple two-step swing that we had already completed several times before!”
He huffed, and, knowing Tink, he would have dramatically looked away and crossed his arms.
I chuckled to myself at Tink defending the roller skate dancing. What was he like? Feeling a little better, I broke the strained silence, eyes still closed. “At least we hadn’t progressed to the death-defying ‘head banger’,” I muttered dryly.
Hands stilled and voices came at me simultaneously.
I opened my eyes one lid at a time, my vision coming back to me quicker now. But I was still unconscious and dreaming. I had to be as I saw... I saw, well, a vision.
“Tud–, Tudor? Tudor North?” Was it really him? Tudor North? Moody, Tudor bloody North!
Giving a slow, disbelieving head-shake and that devastating lopsided smirk, he replied. “We need to stop meeting like this, Tash. How are you feeling?”
“Ugh! Like crap. My head is hurting… a lot,” I moaned.
My stomach started to flutter at his intense green gaze.
“Yeah, you really whacked it when we fell.”
“We?” I asked in confusion.
“Yes, we. When you took me out… with your dancing… on skates… in winter… on black ice. Yep," he pretended to think deeply. "I think that about sums the situation up," he said, a bit snippily.