Take A Chance On Me ☆ [Mamma Mia - Bill Anderson X Reader]

☆8☆

You peer up, barely able to see. The rain is pelting down, each drop that hits your face stinging more than the last. On instinct you dive into the house, but that doesn't help at all from all the holes in the roof. The rain falls on you mercilessly until you remember that you packed a raincoat for emergencies in one of your cases, until then you realise you don't know where the Hell you put your cases before you decided to explore this cockamamy house and sing a silly little song. You know, Donna is probably doing just fine in this weather, and has found a nice warm place in her house that doesn't have as many holes in the ceiling as this one does! Of course the Greek gods will look down on her in guidance!

You run throughout the house, shivering in your vest top and shorts, losing your flats in the broken planks of wood. You can't find your stuff. Okay. You can't find your stuff! Great, just great!

You look outside from your spot getting rained on. Okay, so let's get this clear: you've lost your sister, you've lost all of your possessions apart from the probably now damaged camera swinging on your neck and the hairband in your now soaked hair and the soaked clothes on your back, and you're probably going to get pneumonia.

Gah! Why doesn't life like you?!
"Curse you, life!" you yell up into the sky, even shaking your fist, probably looking insane to anyone who isn't watching because they're safe at home in their own beds because they dont have insane twin sisters who put them up to this kind of crap.

Right. Time for a decision. You have decided, as of late, as in right now, to just run and find the closest shelter, whether that be a stranger's house or a local bus stop.
Peering out from under the broken veranda, you take your chances and run for it.

You scream out loud as you trip on stones, the painkillers definitely worn off. The rain plasters your hair to your skull, in some parts slick as a weasel and in other parts huge as a parade float attached to your head. Why is your hair so goddamn annoying!
"Curse you, Mum, for this irritating hair!" you call to the sky once more, and slide on some mud for your penance, screaming as you end up on your bum sliding down a hill to somewhere. You feel your hairband slip out and your enormous tangled hair gets dragged through the mud and plastered to your head. Great! Just great!

"What the Hell?!" you shout to whoever up there is listening, and hoping they're getting a good laugh out of it because you're sure as Hell not, and your bum abruptly gets hauled upwards and you can feel familiar arms round you.

You peer up, barely able to see through the rain and mud and general hatred for your life right now, and just about see Bill helping you. You squint around - you're at the pier.
"Storms aren't good with boats!" he shouts loud enough to hear over the loud wind, "I had to come back to shore, and you need help! Come on!"
"Okay!" you reply blindly, and he pulls you up fully and partially carries you over all the rest of the mud until you get to his boat.

Bill stops just as the two of you get to the dock of his boat, and looks up at the clouds. You do the same, and even you know from the looks of them that the storm has barely begun.
You feel Bill throw you over onto the boat so he won't slip with you in his arms, see him jump over onto the deck himself, and feel his warm yet shivering arms around you hauling your body into the living space.

He lets you down onto the bed covered in stuff, and roots around in the pile to find a thick towel to pull over your shoulders. He kneels down in front of you and examines your legs delicately, especially the one that was hurt before, and then your arms and your head.
"I'm fine," you say, teeth chattering a little, "I'm just cold."
"Okay," he replies, a little in his own head as he begins to search around for something til he holds up a can of something and a small tin kettle.
"Hot chocolate? Or, how we say it where I come from, hot cocoa?"
You smile gratefully. "Hot chocolate would be lovely. Thank you Bill."

He offers a small smile in response and sets to finding a small stove to heat water on, and despite your head telling you that you need to go find your sister, your gut tells you that this bed - or, the part of it not covered in crap - is so warm and cosy. You lower yourself down, using random things on it as a pillow, and feel something hard and plastic dig into your stomach.

"Huh?" you say, mind a little blurry from the wooziness of the fall and the cold, and Bill looks back to you.
"What is it?"
"Just - oh no," you hold up your camera, which has been dragged quite literally through the mud and is hanging from your neck probably dead as a doorknob. Bill stops making the cup of hot chocolate and goes to look at it, gently taking the strap off over your neck and taking it apart into separate bits.
"Can ya save it Doc?" you mumble dramatically, in the same way Donna would if she were here, and you hear him say, "I don't know, but if we give it a chance to dry out we can try it tomorrow. Why have you always had this, both times I've seen you, even through a storm?"

You shrug, feeling a little light-headed still. "It makes me feel happy; I like taking pictures, to remember feeling like this..."
Through your almost closed eyes you can see Bill giving you that small smile again, and you hear yourself sleepily say, "You can take a photo of you if you want, then I can remember you. Now where's my hot chocolate?"

Bill laughs through his nose again, and says, "Okay." He gets up, lays out the camera parts on a hand towel, then finishes up the hot chocolate. He comes over again, gently sits you up, and hands you the mug.
"For you, my mysterious Mud Woman."

You smile giddily, feeling sleepy. Bill looks at you weirdly as you slurp noisily then say to yourself, "That sounded loud."
"I really think you need to go to sleep, Y/N," he says, sounding concerned, "I checked and it doesn't seem like you have a concussion, but I'm gonna sleep on the floor next to the bed just in case. I definitely would not like to know what you sister would do to me if I accidentally let you die."

You shrug sloppily in between gulps and say, "She wouldn't even notice, don't worry. She might just have sex with you, just cuz I'm gone so she doesn't have to feel guilty about it."
He gives you a weird look again.
"...What?"
You shrug again, and finish off the hot chocolate. "She's the big sister - even though I came out twenty minutes before her, she's the big sister. She wouldn't mind. She'd be more mad if she died - well, she wouldn't be mad cuz she'd be dead, and she wouldn't have any emotions anyway... how do you know all this medical stuff?"

He blinks, taking in all this random information, then processes the question. "My parents paid for me to go to medical school, because I didn't know what I wanted to do. But I knew I didn't want to go to medical school and I know I don't want to be a doctor, so as soon as I graduated I was out of there."

"Wait," you push the mug into his chest, and his fingers close around it over your hand, "So... you're a doctor, but you don't want to be a doctor?"
Bill nods, looking conflicted. "I have a degree, so I could be a doctor if I wanted to be, but I don't - I'm travelling to find myself. Y/N, why are you travelling?"

But you're too far gone. Your hand slips from the mug, your eyes droop, your head follows suit until it finds a soft thing on the bed. You're vaguely aware of someone standing up and moving around, and you feel a blanket being tossed over your body. You can faintly hear a storm, and remember the question he asked.

"Bill?" you mumble without opening your eyes, and in an instant you can hear him next to you.
"Yeah?"
"I'm travelling because... because... because my sister is making me find out why I'm not the sensible one though I should be..."

And you might've said something after that, but after that sentence everything fades away and you're dreaming of Donna and rain droplets bigger than your face and tall lean blonde men with piercing blue eyes and a small smile that looks like it's not forced at all...