#flywrites

“Sure Chris. Now get lost, I have company coming.” You laugh, walking back into the kitchen only to find him sitting on your counter waiting for you.

“What do you want now?” you sigh, moving past him and pulling the things out of the fridge to start making dinner.

“You know exactly what I - Are you cooking?” Chris asks from his spot on the counter, stopping short, Friday has always been takeout night.

“Do you have a date?” He stares at you in disbelief, betrayal playing slightly at his features as he looks at you.

“I mean, I have a guy coming over for dinner, and I think-”

“But-” You look up at Chris, perched on the counter, and freeze, taking in the look on his face.

“Chris, what-” You take a step towards him, only to find him on the other side of the kitchen from you, standing in the doorway to the living room, facing away from you. You stop, taken aback that he’s running from you, when usually he’s the exact opposite, taking any opportunity to crowd your space.

“Chris?” You take another step towards him only for him to vanish entirely. You quickly look around the house before figuring he really had left. You sigh, shaking your head, thinking about his strange behavior as you go back to your cooking.

Dinner went well. Your date brought flowers and a bottle of wine, and you enjoyed listening to him talk about a book he had just finished.

And then things start to fall apart. The light in the dining room refuses to stop flickering. The speakers start blasting static until you whine about it hurting your ears, at which point it abruptly stops. By this point, your date has started to panic, and you have started to fume, absolutely furious with Chris for whatever tantrum he's deciding to throw now of all times. You try salvaging things, moving into the living room, hoping for a reprieve, only to find the TV turned on and flashing “GET OUT” repeatedly.

Your date promptly bolts from the house, the door slamming shut behind him, and the lock sliding into place, all the electronics abruptly turning off.

“Christopher! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You fume in the absolute silence that suddenly seems thick in the air.

“Chris, get your ass in here so I can yell at you properly!” After another moment of silence Chris appears in front of you, the height difference leaving him looking down at you in such close quarters.

His hair is a mess, clearly having been running his hands through it, his pupils blown wide. His breath falls heavy on your face.

“You called?” His voice is shockingly soft given his appearance, and your breath catches in your throat as you fight the urge to reach out to touch him, knowing your hand would meet with empty air.

“What the fuck was that about?” You finally ask.

“I don’t share.” His lips hover over yours, torturously close, before pulling back. “You’re mine.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly before opening your eyes again, looking up to meet his.

“You can’t be mad at me for trying to find someone I can actually be with, someone I can touch, who can kiss me goodnight and make pancakes with me on the weekends and hold me during scary movies. Someone who can hold my hands when they're cold, and push the cart at the grocery store.” He paces circles around you while you rant, which normally would make your heart race, and cause you to stumble over your words, but right now you’re simply too frustrated to play this game with him. “I deserve that!”

He pauses for a moment when your voice breaks, his face suddenly soft again, “You do deserve that. I could be that. I want to be that for you.”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten Chris,” You sigh, shaking your head, “but you need my soul to gain an actual body again.” He stops directly behind you, completely in your blind spot, and you bite your lips, fighting not to squirm.

“Need a deal, not a soul.” His lips just at the shell of your ear makes you shiver despite your efforts, as your heart lurches in your chest and your mind races out of control. “Your soul’s just the most… traditional option.” He corrects. You stare blankly ahead, thinking through the new information, asking yourself if you’re actually considering this.

“Say it again.” You blurt, even though you’ve really only half thought it through. His eyebrows draw together in confusion as he comes to stand in front of you, his head tilting to the side as he considers you, and then he inhales sharply, his mouth falling open slightly as understanding dawns. His voice comes out as a whisper when he responds.

“You’re mine.” He stares at you, licks his lips, stares at you for another moment, “Be mine.” His condition, his only condition.

Your eyes meet his, lips curving into a smile. “Deal.”

After a few minutes of indulging in a good pout, perhaps even a slight mope, you pull yourself out of bed. As your brain finally starts to wake up a little, you realize you seem to have slept in your clothes from the night before and you can't seem to think of why you would have done that. In fact, now that you're actually thinking about it, you don't remember going to bed at all.

You wake the next morning tangled in the blankets of your bed just like every morning. You sit up, looking for Chris, wondering if the night before could have been just a dream. You flop back onto your mattress when you don't see him, glaring at your ceiling in your disappointment at waking up alone again.

You eventually wander toward the kitchen, in search of breakfast, and more importantly caffeine. You make it through the living room and are about to cross into the kitchen, when you freeze, backtracking as your brain catches up with your eyes.

Chris is asleep on your couch. While the couch is perfectly comfortable for you to lay on, Chris is taller than you by no small margin, leaving him almost comically squished onto the cushions. You stifle your laugh, thinking how sore he's going to be when he wakes up, and wondering why he didn't join you in the bed.

You turn and head back toward the kitchen, starting coffee, and taking stock of your breakfast options (you really should go grocery shopping soon). You settle for toast and spread, and a mug of coffee for yourself and the same for Chris, though you leave both his toast and coffee plain for now, not sure how he prefers them, or if he even knows himself.

You leave the food set out on the table and go to wake Chris. You kneel next to the couch, shaking your head again at how uncomfortable he looks. You reach out and brush a few strands of hair away from his face, quietly calling his name. His hand flies up to grab your wrist, his eyes snapping open. After a second he processes that it's just you and he relaxes, releasing your wrist, a smile sliding onto his face. You start to apologize but he shakes his head, waving it away. “Good morning.” He whispers into the space between you, his voice gravely from sleep, and you find yourself again wishing he was there when you woke up, though breakfast would have likely been much later in the day if he had been.

“I made breakfast.” You whisper back, “Well. I half made breakfast. I have no clue what you like to eat. So right now it's plain toast and black coffee.”

He laughs and unfolds himself from the couch, groaning as he stretches, his back making a truly impressive series of pops that you're certain would have made you lightheaded.

As he sets about fixing his breakfast to his tastes (you can't quite decide if he knows exactly what he wants or if he's just picking things at random), you sit and sip your coffee, feet propped up onto one of the spare chairs. After he finally seems finished and also sits, your curiosity finally gets the better of you, and you ask why he slept on the couch when he would have been much more comfortable in the bed.

He finishes chewing his bite of toast before responding, “You fell asleep, and I knew you'd be more comfortable in your bed. I didn't want to assume I would be welcome.”

-She’s been dating this guy and is like stupid in love with him.

-Chris has just been waiting for it to flop, because to him it’s obvious that the guy is all wrong for her, but he’s doing his best to be supportive.

-The guy is very aware of how close she and Chris are and he does not like that shit at all and decides to make it clear to Chris that she’s gonna choose him when it comes down to it so he needs to get lost.

-He does this big proposal at a party and it’s super impersonal feeling and everyone is staring and she hates it, hates all the attention he’s called to them and she can’t breathe and she just runs off and Chris goes after her shaking his head cause ‘That guy really is a fucking idiot. Has he listened to her at all the entire time they've been together?’

-And he catches up with her and she's crying and they end up sitting together and she's just sitting with her head on his shoulder and they're looking out at the big pond on the property and she knows she's probably ruining her dress but she can't bring herself to care because she almost never gets to just spend time with Chris anymore and she’s missed this.

-“I know it’s silly. It's just-”she breaks off not quite sure how to explain.

-“It's wrong. It's not anything you would ever want. He should know that. He should know you better than that. I mean a big party in front of everyone? That's like the opposite of what you’d want.”

-You look up at him curiously “Well if you are such an expert what would you do?”

-The question seems to catch him off guard for a moment, but he comes up with an answer far too quickly to have never thought about it. 

-“That park with all the lilacs that you like to go read at during the summer. I’d do it there. A picnic lunch with little sandwiches, cut into triangles, obviously." He pauses at this, smiling for a moment at a memory of you lecturing him on the superior sandwich shape. “It would be just the two of us. And I would get so distracted just enjoying the day with you that I would completely forget to ask you until we were on the way back to the car in the pitch black after watching the sun set.” 

-And he wraps an arm around her shoulder as she cries harder.

"Well," you started, taking another sip of your drink. "I'm single now, so not particularly well, no." You downed the rest of your drink and poured yourself another as he stared at you. 

"What happened?" Ricky asked you cautiously, as if he was afraid of what you might say. 

"He asked me to move in with him." You shook your head, another sip of your drink disappearing. 

"I don't understand. How is that a bad thing? He wants to be with you all the time, wants to see you in the mornings, and last thing at night before he goes to bed. How is that a bad thing?" 

"I told him no. I don't want to move in with him. I want to stay here, with you, as long as you'll let me," You take another drink as he continues to stare, like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. "and he didn't particularly like that. He wanted me to pick him over you and he said as much. Which, why he ever thought that was gonna happen, I have no idea." Ricky continues to just stare at you as you rant, seeming to have lost control of your tongue. 

"I mean he's fun and he likes the same shitty movies I do, but, fuck, I'm in love with you and-" you slap your hand over your mouth, your glass clattering onto the counter as your brain finally seems to catch up with what you’re saying. You blink in shock at the man next to you, matching the look of surprise on his face. You squeak out an apology, sliding your stool back with a screech before fleeing from the room. Ricky just sits there in shock for a moment, processing what on earth had just happened. Ricky reaches out for your glass, downing the last couple sips before following you through the house. 

He finds you curled up in the big chair in the office, burrowed under a blanket you'd clearly snagged from the couch on your way past. He hesitated for a moment at the sight of your slightly puffy eyes and reddened face. 

"Yeah, I'm an idiot, I know. If you came to remind me you don't need to. He told me at dinner and then I think I made it quite clear in the kitchen. And I know it's silly. I should have just-" He came to sit next to you, perching on the arm of the chair. 

"I'm glad you're not leaving. I want you here just as much as you want to be here." Ricky brushed a hand over your cheek, wiping away a few stray tears. "You aren't an idiot, you just surprised me. I have thought about it before but I didn't think you were interested, and I’d rather have you here however I can. I decided I’d rather just be selfish and keep you as a friend rather than risk scaring you away for more." Ricky brushed the hair back from your face as he spoke, his hand coming to rest under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. 

"You mean..." you looked at the man sitting next to you, your lips parted in a seeming mix of disbelief and awe at the realization. 

Just as you started to relax, the rain on the window just beginning to lull you into sleep, another massive roll of thunder shook through the apartment, urging you to your feet. There was no way you would fall asleep like this. You pulled your blanket around your shoulders, padding out into the hall, the hardwood cold on your bare feet, making you pull your blanket closer around you.

You found what you were hoping for halfway down the hall, Vinny’s door left half open, an invitation for you or Ricky to come crawl into bed with him, should you want to; Vinny was always open to cuddles. You sighed as your cold toes met the soft carpet of his room, easily finding your way to the edge of the bed even in the darkness between the lightning lighting up the room. A loud crash of thunder startled you at the edge of the bed, making you squeak out in surprise, causing Vinny to stir on the bed, looking up at you huddled up in your blanket looking like you wanted to disappear.

He reached out for you and guided you into the bed with him, your blanket falling on the floor where you had been standing as you slid under the covers with him, your head resting on his chest as he runs a hand through your hair, the other coming up to hold the hand resting on his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He starts to hum a tune, a lullaby only half remembered, the vibration of it in his chest starting to soothe you into sleep, his heartbeat against your ear distracting you from the thunder outside the window.

Just as you were about to slip off into sleep, the door brushed open again, Ricky wandering over and crawling into the bed with the two of you, his chest pressed against your back as you lay on Vinny, his arm going over the both of you.

“I came to check on you when the storm woke me, but I see Vinny is already taking good care of you.” He leans over to press a kiss to your cheek, doing the same to Vinny before laying down and closing his eyes. You smile, the storm beginning to calm to the patter of drops on the window, and reach down for his hand, bringing it to rest with your’s and Vinny’s.