Glass: Reader Requests

Common Room II

I was asked a while back to make a second part of the Sherlock & Margaux university AU. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get to it.
This chapter continues straight on from part 1 so if it's been a while, it may be worth re-reading that first! It's a long one guys and there'll be a third part coming in a couple of days. Hope you enjoy 🤍🤎

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Margaux could feel the uncertainty on his lips as she kissed him. The way his lashes fluttered against her cheek as his eyes flickered open, just for a second, as if he were lost without the ability to see her, to assess her.

She felt the urge to giggle. Not because it was funny, but because she couldn't quite believe it was happening at all. Just hours ago they had been angry, barely able to look each other in the eye as their short-lived friendship seemed to crumble before it had even been built. Yet now she was here, not daring to utter a sound as she laced her fingers into the back of his hair.

"Shall we move to the bed?" she asked quietly.

Sherlock paused for a moment before giving a gentle nod, allowing her to take his hand and lead him across the room.

They lay down together on her small single bed, their lips meeting again, this time with an eagerness that took them both by surprise. Margaux was leading, slipping the coat off his shoulders and trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck as she threw it to the ground. But she stopped when she felt his body become tense, looking up at him breathlessly through the darkness.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"I've..." He sighed. "I've never..."

"You've never done this before?"

He shook his head, inhaling and exhaling slowly to quell the embarrassment.

"That's okay," she reassured him. "If you're uncomfortable then-"

"No, it's not that. It's-" He pressed his lips together and let out a huff. "I don't-"

"It's okay," she said, her eyes darting across his face before moving away from him. "You're not ready, it's fine."

"It's not that I'm not- I just..." he trailed off, grumbling in frustration as he sat up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I don't know."

Their eyes met as he turned to look at her, the room silent besides the slight creak of the bed frame as he rose to his feet.

"You don't have to go," she said. "You could stay, I mean, I would like it if you stayed."

"Stayed for what?"

"We could just talk..."

"About what?"

"Nothing, and everything." She shrugged. "It's what people do, they chat."

He chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he'd ever just 'chatted' to anyone before. Surely in his twenty years of life there must have been moments of small talk, pointless conversation, but he couldn't think of any. Whenever he spoke, there was purpose in his words, usually falling on the bored or confused ears of whoever he was talking to.