DbD-Sideblog

Tiffany hated going to bed angry. And for good reason, too! On one hand, because her mother had told her, to never do so. On the other hand, because it always ended with her tossing and turning and having a horrible time falling asleep. Going to bed angry just lead to stress, and stress lead to sleepless nights.

It had started heavily snowing approximately half an hour later. Tiffany had believed that the weather at least would get Chucky to return home, because she knew for a fact that his thin coat was not in the least suitable for the Chicago winter, but her expectations hadn’t been met. Which in turn had made her even more angry, and maybe a little worried. Okay, a lot worried, but especially angry. Why couldn’t that asshole take care of himself?

Still, sometimes she didn’t have a choice. On days like today for example, when she and Chucky had spent all day at each other’s throat, which had culminated in a heated fight, only for him to rush out of their shared apartment, instead of clearing the air like the adult he supposedly was.

Still, she hadn’t been able to stay awake for much longer, because one of them had to get up early in the morning to get to work. After all, the apartment didn’t pay for itself, and they hadn’t gotten around to deal with that particular problem yet. Funnily enough – even though it wasn’t funny in the slightest – that was exactly what their fight had been about. Because Tiffany definitely wouldn’t be mad, if Chucky actually decided to get a job himself, instead of spending his days doing who knew what! He, obviously, had a different opinion on the matter. Asshole.

So, she had gone to bed, curled up on her side, and tried to find her way into dreams. She hadn’t succeeded. And the more she had tossed and turned, the more her anger had dissolved and made room for the worry that had been at the back of her mind, ever since it had started to snow.

Tiffany turned onto her side again. Her first glance went towards the red digital alarm clock on her side table. 02:13 am. Great. Perfect even. That meant that not only did she have to get up in less than five hours, but also that Chucky had been gone for eight hours. Eight fucking hours. The young woman curled up tighter, while she let her eyes wander from the alarm towards the window. The warm lamp of a streetlight further below painted the façade of the apartment building across the street in a soft hue and thick snowflakes danced in front of the darkened windows, as they drifted towards the street below.

At least it wasn’t storming.

Tiffany watched as the three on the alarm clock turned into a four, and she was about to close her eyes and try to catch at least a little more sleep, when she heard a familiar sound. A key, being turned in the front door.

Tiffany felt herself relax a little bit, as the door was opened and closed, softly. Shortly after, something wet hit the ground with a soft thud. Of course, he had opted to drop his coat on the floor instead of hanging it up. She would yell at him about that in the morning. But not tonight. Nuh-uh! No, sir! Because if Chucky could stay away for eight hours, she could easily ignore him for the rest of the night. Oh, yes. That would show him.

Tiffany listened intently, as Chucky stepped into their tiny bathroom. The water was turned on, then shortly thereafter turned off again, and finally Chucky stepped into the bedroom. Tiffany made sure to not move an inch. She even closed her eyes, even though she was turned away from the door and Chucky couldn’t see her face anyway. But it was for the emphasis. Best, he believed she was already asleep.

Chucky lifted the blanket a bit, and Tiffany felt the mattress dip a little as he settled in behind her. Instead of her boyfriend, it could have just as likely been a corpse that slid into bed and all thoughts of ignoring him washed away in an instant.

“Fuck!” She hissed, as one of his hands brushed her arm. “You’re freezing.” Now that she paid attention to it, Tiffany realized that Chucky was not only freezing cold, but he was also shivering slightly, even though he would probably deny that fact if she put any attention to it.

“It’s cold outside,” was his deadpan answer, and Tiffany rolled her eyes. His voice was slurred, only a little, and not in the way it was when he had one too many drinks. The young woman couldn’t smell any booze on him at all. Tiffany could feel him bury his face in the back of her head. Was he tired? Served him right!

“It’s two AM!” Tiffany said accusingly. She didn’t get an apology, and to be quite honest, she didn’t expect one. She just wanted him to know that she was not pleased in the slightest.

“I was at a friend's place for the most part.” Chucky explained, sneaking one of his arms around her waist to pull her body closer to his.

“Eddie?” Tiffany asked. Chucky shook his head. Tiffany could feel it, because some of his hair, glided over his neck as he did so. It was wet. Probably from the snow. Wet and cold.

“John.”

“Ah.”

She turned around in his arms, ignoring the protesting sound he made at her movement and slotting her head underneath his chin.

With that, their conversation seemed to come to a full stop. On one hand, because Tiffany didn’t know how to continue and on the other, because Chucky had apparently decided that he would sleep now. His arms were still wrapped around her, and she had to admit, that it felt nice. Very nice even. But there was still something that didn’t let her fall asleep. Still, something that was nagging at the back of her mind.

“Sweetface,” she started, fully aware that this could easily end in another fight. “I was serious earlier.” She could feel Chucky grow a little more stiff next to her.

“It would really help, if you got a job.”

For a second Chucky didn’t say anything. Then, finally.

“We can kill more rich people.”

Tiffany sighed. Of course that would be his solution. “We can’t always steal from the people we kill. One of these days they’ll trace that back to us. And killing rich people is way more risky!” She was right. They both knew, she was right. But there was no way he would admit to that.

He ended up surprising her. Not because he actually agreed with her, the day that would happen would be a cold day in hell, but because he changed the subject so abruptly, that for a moment Tiffany didn’t know how to react.

“We should get a Christmas tree.”

“What?”

“A Christmas tree,” he repeated, as if that was the most normal thing to say out of nowhere. “You like that sort of stuff, right?”

Tiffany blinked a few times. “I mean, yeah, but …”

“Then let’s get one. Tomorrow. I can come by after your shift is finished, and you can pick one out.”

Tiffany felt a smile spread across her face. That ass. Sure, on one hand his sudden change of subject was a way to get Tiffany to stop talking about jobs, but she knew that for Chucky this was also a way of saying ‘I can’t give you a certain thing you want, so I am giving you something else you want instead’ and while for most people that was little more than a consolation, she knew Chucky well enough that this was one of the many ways in which he told her, that he loved her. Even if other people couldn’t understand that.

“Only if you help me decorate it,” Tiffany teased, imagining how frustrated her boyfriend would grow, if heactually had to deal with the lights, let alone the tinsel.

Chucky groaned, and pulled her a little closer again, instead of answering.

Tiffany knew that he wouldn’t help her decorate. And he wouldn’t get a real job either. Maybe that was for the best. Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine him behind a counter or at an office job anyway. That just wasn’t what he was made for. And, if she was honest with herself, that wasn’t what she would want him to be either.

She had fallen for him because he was free, and a genius in his own right and not ready to be tied down to anything – well, anything except for her maybe – and she would not want to change that about him.

Tiffany sight contently, nuzzling a face a little deeper into his sweater. The soft material comfortable and familiar against her chin. Wait… the feeling was very familiar.

“Sweetface … are you wearing my sweater?”

Tiffany hated going to bed angry. And for good reason, too! On one hand, because her mother had told her, to never do so. On the other hand, because it always ended with her tossing and turning and having a horrible time falling asleep. Going to bed angry just lead to stress, and stress lead to sleepless nights.

It had started heavily snowing approximately half an hour later. Tiffany had believed that the weather at least would get Chucky to return home, because she knew for a fact that his thin coat was not in the least suitable for the Chicago winter, but her expectations hadn’t been met. Which in turn had made her even more angry, and maybe a little worried. Okay, a lot worried, but especially angry. Why couldn’t that asshole take care of himself?

Still, sometimes she didn’t have a choice. On days like today for example, when she and Chucky had spent all day at each other’s throat, which had culminated in a heated fight, only for him to rush out of their shared apartment, instead of clearing the air like the adult he supposedly was.

Still, she hadn’t been able to stay awake for much longer, because one of them had to get up early in the morning to get to work. After all, the apartment didn’t pay for itself, and they hadn’t gotten around to deal with that particular problem yet. Funnily enough – even though it wasn’t funny in the slightest – that was exactly what their fight had been about. Because Tiffany definitely wouldn’t be mad, if Chucky actually decided to get a job himself, instead of spending his days doing who knew what! He, obviously, had a different opinion on the matter. Asshole.

So, she had gone to bed, curled up on her side, and tried to find her way into dreams. She hadn’t succeeded. And the more she had tossed and turned, the more her anger had dissolved and made room for the worry that had been at the back of her mind, ever since it had started to snow.

Tiffany turned onto her side again. Her first glance went towards the red digital alarm clock on her side table. 02:13 am. Great. Perfect even. That meant that not only did she have to get up in less than five hours, but also that Chucky had been gone for eight hours. Eight fucking hours. The young woman curled up tighter, while she let her eyes wander from the alarm towards the window. The warm lamp of a streetlight further below painted the façade of the apartment building across the street in a soft hue and thick snowflakes danced in front of the darkened windows, as they drifted towards the street below.

At least it wasn’t storming.

Tiffany watched as the three on the alarm clock turned into a four, and she was about to close her eyes and try to catch at least a little more sleep, when she heard a familiar sound. A key, being turned in the front door.

Tiffany felt herself relax a little bit, as the door was opened and closed, softly. Shortly after, something wet hit the ground with a soft thud. Of course, he had opted to drop his coat on the floor instead of hanging it up. She would yell at him about that in the morning. But not tonight. Nuh-uh! No, sir! Because if Chucky could stay away for eight hours, she could easily ignore him for the rest of the night. Oh, yes. That would show him.

Tiffany listened intently, as Chucky stepped into their tiny bathroom. The water was turned on, then shortly thereafter turned off again, and finally Chucky stepped into the bedroom. Tiffany made sure to not move an inch. She even closed her eyes, even though she was turned away from the door and Chucky couldn’t see her face anyway. But it was for the emphasis. Best, he believed she was already asleep.

Chucky lifted the blanket a bit, and Tiffany felt the mattress dip a little as he settled in behind her. Instead of her boyfriend, it could have just as likely been a corpse that slid into bed and all thoughts of ignoring him washed away in an instant.

“Fuck!” She hissed, as one of his hands brushed her arm. “You’re freezing.” Now that she paid attention to it, Tiffany realized that Chucky was not only freezing cold, but he was also shivering slightly, even though he would probably deny that fact if she put any attention to it.

“It’s cold outside,” was his deadpan answer, and Tiffany rolled her eyes. His voice was slurred, only a little, and not in the way it was when he had one too many drinks. The young woman couldn’t smell any booze on him at all. Tiffany could feel him bury his face in the back of her head. Was he tired? Served him right!

“It’s two AM!” Tiffany said accusingly. She didn’t get an apology, and to be quite honest, she didn’t expect one. She just wanted him to know that she was not pleased in the slightest.

“I was at a friend's place for the most part.” Chucky explained, sneaking one of his arms around her waist to pull her body closer to his.

“Eddie?” Tiffany asked. Chucky shook his head. Tiffany could feel it, because some of his hair, glided over his neck as he did so. It was wet. Probably from the snow. Wet and cold.

“John.”

“Ah.”

She turned around in his arms, ignoring the protesting sound he made at her movement and slotting her head underneath his chin.

With that, their conversation seemed to come to a full stop. On one hand, because Tiffany didn’t know how to continue and on the other, because Chucky had apparently decided that he would sleep now. His arms were still wrapped around her, and she had to admit, that it felt nice. Very nice even. But there was still something that didn’t let her fall asleep. Still, something that was nagging at the back of her mind.

“Sweetface,” she started, fully aware that this could easily end in another fight. “I was serious earlier.” She could feel Chucky grow a little more stiff next to her.

“It would really help, if you got a job.”

For a second Chucky didn’t say anything. Then, finally.

“We can kill more rich people.”

Tiffany sighed. Of course that would be his solution. “We can’t always steal from the people we kill. One of these days they’ll trace that back to us. And killing rich people is way more risky!” She was right. They both knew, she was right. But there was no way he would admit to that.

He ended up surprising her. Not because he actually agreed with her, the day that would happen would be a cold day in hell, but because he changed the subject so abruptly, that for a moment Tiffany didn’t know how to react.

“We should get a Christmas tree.”

“What?”

“A Christmas tree,” he repeated, as if that was the most normal thing to say out of nowhere. “You like that sort of stuff, right?”

Tiffany blinked a few times. “I mean, yeah, but …”

“Then let’s get one. Tomorrow. I can come by after your shift is finished, and you can pick one out.”

Tiffany felt a smile spread across her face. That ass. Sure, on one hand his sudden change of subject was a way to get Tiffany to stop talking about jobs, but she knew that for Chucky this was also a way of saying ‘I can’t give you a certain thing you want, so I am giving you something else you want instead’ and while for most people that was little more than a consolation, she knew Chucky well enough that this was one of the many ways in which he told her, that he loved her. Even if other people couldn’t understand that.

“Only if you help me decorate it,” Tiffany teased, imagining how frustrated her boyfriend would grow, if heactually had to deal with the lights, let alone the tinsel.

Chucky groaned, and pulled her a little closer again, instead of answering.

Tiffany knew that he wouldn’t help her decorate. And he wouldn’t get a real job either. Maybe that was for the best. Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine him behind a counter or at an office job anyway. That just wasn’t what he was made for. And, if she was honest with herself, that wasn’t what she would want him to be either.

She had fallen for him because he was free, and a genius in his own right and not ready to be tied down to anything – well, anything except for her maybe – and she would not want to change that about him.

Tiffany sight contently, nuzzling a face a little deeper into his sweater. The soft material comfortable and familiar against her chin. Wait… the feeling was very familiar.

“Sweetface … are you wearing my sweater?”