You're Such a Loser!

[Text]: Hey, Jimbo. Guess who?

[Text]: Wanna break into an abandoned building with me?

[Text]: You know, I’d ask literally anyone else but apparently they’re all busy or “have morals” or whatever.

[Text]: So whadda ya say, buddy? For old times sake?

[Text]: Hey, Jimbo. Guess who?

[Text]: Wanna break into an abandoned building with me?

[Text]: You know, I’d ask literally anyone else but apparently they’re all busy or “have morals” or whatever.

[Text]: So whadda ya say, buddy? For old times sake?

[ text ]: im not a pussy for not wanting to go somewhere with you

[ text ]: i have more important things to do than to break into some shitty building with you and do god knows what

[ text ]: like breaking into shitty buildings with my friends and doing weird shit

[Text]: We all know you’re just going to sit around your dorm doing fuck-all while your friends are all off fucking your boyfriend without you.

[ text ]: but im glad you ‘know me so well’

[ text ]: if i go with you will you just shut the fuck up? youre ruining my good mood

[Text]: Hey, Jimbo. Guess who?

[Text]: Wanna break into an abandoned building with me?

[Text]: You know, I’d ask literally anyone else but apparently they’re all busy or “have morals” or whatever.

[Text]: So whadda ya say, buddy? For old times sake?

[ text ]: im not a pussy for not wanting to go somewhere with you

[ text ]: i have more important things to do than to break into some shitty building with you and do god knows what

[ text ]: like breaking into shitty buildings with my friends and doing weird shit

[Text]: Hey, Jimbo. Guess who?

[Text]: Wanna break into an abandoned building with me?

[Text]: You know, I’d ask literally anyone else but apparently they’re all busy or “have morals” or whatever.

[Text]: So whadda ya say, buddy? For old times sake?

[ text ]: havent i told you to piss off like 80 times

[Text]: We’re friends.

[Text]: Friends break into abandoned buildings with friends, it’s what they do.

[ text ]: and you were definitely not one of them

[Text]: Hey, Jimbo. Guess who?

[Text]: Wanna break into an abandoned building with me?

[Text]: You know, I’d ask literally anyone else but apparently they’re all busy or “have morals” or whatever.

[Text]: So whadda ya say, buddy? For old times sake?

[ text ]: havent i told you to piss off like 80 times

Shopping is always a task that is to be cautiously handled. Everything down to the last detail must be planned, guidelines set for prices and budget set for each and every trip, especially when the very idea of a shopping trip elates Vance beyond compare. Time in the store must be planned meticulously and executed just so. 

Jimmy Hopkins is anything but meticulous. 

Antsy fingers curl loosely around his own, Vance a bundle of words and motions and ideas and everything under the sun. As normal, Jimmy is quiet, nods, agrees with Vance’s more tame ideas and gives each wild one a shrug, perhaps even an enabling ‘maybe’. He isn’t quite sure how else to handle it, and this has worked for far too long. He is comfortable, and as long as Vance is happy, albeit overly so, he is as well. They walk to one of Vance’s preferred stores, the redhead having begged Jimmy to go. Just to look, he’d insisted, just to look. 

 It doesn’t seem like just looking when they leave with at least a couple hundred bucks worth of Jimmy’s paychecks down the drain. Jimmy totes bags along, full of things he knows neither of them will ever use. Everything from various knick knacks, china, foods, gifts, anything Vance considers cute, nifty, usable. Anything Vance took up with itching palms and eager fingers, turning to Jimmy with hopeful eyes as he would simply ask, “Please, baby?” and Hopkins is butter for it every time. He is a bad influence, all of the time. Vance gets his way in times like this, because Jimmy has gone soft for him and would do anything in the world to keep that bright smile upon freckled face. 

He carries those bags all the way back to Vance’s own home, greeted by empty space. He isn’t sure where the Medicis are, but he knows well they’ll be back. They’ll fill the home with that welcoming atmosphere that Jimmy loves, but never seems to adjust to. 

To Vance’s room they go, Jimmy prohibiting Vance from carrying a single thing. He has always been this way, insisting on doing so much that sometimes even he questions his own overzealousness to please. They go through what they’ve bought, splurged unholy amounts upon. Separating in piles by usefulness, by color, however Vance finds it appropriate to categorize them as he chatters away about each thing he sees. He acknowledges some items with surprise, having forgotten he’d even picked them up. Jimmy knows well he’ll forget about half the things he’s bought, giving him ample time, never ending even, to return things once they have been neglected. It is a pattern he cannot seem to break. 

Vance picks up a can opener, fiddling with the packaging and becoming anxious. A moment of observation proves he cannot open the packaging and it seems to frustrate him. He smiles, shrugging off the struggle of the simple task with a gentle huff, meant to be a laugh, but Jimmy knows this kind of change all too well. 

 "C'mere.“ 

Casually, larger hands plant on either side of Vance, pulling him up and over into Jimmy’s lap. Forearms rest atop the Greaser’s hips while Jimmy reaches around him, chin resting on Vance’s shoulder while he takes a look at this packaging himself. Quickly, he pecks a kiss to the corner of Vance’s jaw, drawing a light laugh from him while they both inspect the way the opener is sealed. He finds some way to tear it open, awarding Vance with the can opener, with the neon green handles. A cheap little utensil he’d insisted he purchase, because, well, "It’s real neat, an’ it’s on sale, Jimmy.”

Now, Vance lets the can opener roll from palm to palm, recounting the story of how, one time, he dropped a can opener r i g h t on his toe, and it hurt, but it was okay because it was kinda old anyway, and he’s glad that he has the new one because the one that hurt his foot is still downstairs, and…

 Jimmy laces his own fingers together, effectively clasping Vance close to him as he shuts his eyes, nuzzling his boyfriend quietly. Another kiss, this time to Vance’s cheek. 

 "You alright? You’re awful talkative.“ "Oh, am I? Shit, sorry. I’ll shut up.” “Nah, I like hearin’ you get excited over can openers." 

 They share a chuckle, Vance’s more of a delighted, almost relaxed giggle at the reassurance. He seems less antsy and Jimmy wonders what he’s done to help. Slowly, he rocks the both of them back and forth, clutching his boy closer to him. Vance holds the can opener up again, lightly tapping Jimmy’s forehead with the handle and grinning. 

"You look tired, baby.” “Yeah, well, I’m kinda perpetually tired.” “Lookit you 'n your big words, Shakespeare even when 'e’s tired." 

Jimmy snorts. 

"Yeah, yeah. Put that thing down so I can turn you around." 

Vance complies, all too easily settling the can opener to the side as he already begins to shift himself around eagerly. Before too long he’s facing Jimmy, legs wrapped around his waist and hands fiddling with the material of his shirt. He seems distracted, but remains in good spirits, and Jimmy leans his head forward to press his forehead to Vance’s. Their noses ghost over one another’s as they sit in silence for a short time. Comfortable. Though, Jimmy shifts again, kissing Vance on the mouth before scooting himself along so that he may cross his own legs, wrap his own arms around the other again. 

As little as he’d like admitting it, he craves this contact and admiration from Vance, always has since the minute they’d started dating. He loves it. So as Vance leans in to rest his forehead on Jimmy’s shoulder, he’s happy.