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“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ marry someone?”
Jack stands in the doorway, looking between the two of them with raised eyebrows and the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. He has to admit, watching Chase hide his face in his pillow and grumble incoherent curses while Anti paces around the living room, his hands pulling at his hair and little green sparks dancing across his skin, the scene is as amusing as it is ridiculous.
Leave it to his roommates to get themselves into trouble when he’s not around.
“You’re asking the blackout drunk how you can ‘accidentally’ do something?” Anti shoots back at him, absently biting down on his thumb to keep from shouting.
“Oh, I’m aware Chase has done some stupid shite while piss-drunk,” Jack says, shrugging his shoulders in that flippant way that he knows will only make Anti’s temper flare more. “You, on the other hand…”
“I am not a stupid drunk!”
“So, you did mean to marry him?”
“I—no! I just—it—why would you—I don’t remember—”
Jack’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, his smile spreading wider.
Anti’s face tints red, “I’m going to strangle you and hang your corpse out for the birds if you don’t take this even a tad bit seriously.”
Jack barks out a laugh. “I don’t have to take any of it seriously, actually. It’s not my mess.”
“Well, you don’t have to act like the tail end of a rat’s arse, now, do you—”
“Both of you knock it off,” Chase finally lifts his head up enough to be heard, glaring at them both with red-rimmed eyes. “Jack, either go record or leave until we have this shit figured out. Anti, sit your ass down and put a cork in it before I give you a real reason to bitch. I’m hungover an’ miserable to boot, I am not in the mood for your whining.”
Anti snarls at him, “I am not whining!”
“Ah, my apologies—you’re blowing a helluva lot of hot air for nothing. Now, sit.”
He gets nothing but a grimace in response, but the taller man does sit down, so he decides it’s a win.
Jack hovers a moment longer, expression torn between amusement and mild concern, before he looks to Chase, saying, “If one of you wind up dead, warn me not to come back to the apartment.”
Chase gives him a thumbs up, followed closely by Anti muttering a hoarse “no promises” under his breath.
That settled, giving the two a quick nod and a wave, Jack walks out of the apartment—leaving the remaining two men on their own.
They wait a moment, two, before Chase throws his pillow at Anti, smacking him across the face with it.
“Wh—hey—”
“How”—smack—“dare”—smack—“you”—smack—“use”—smack—“my drinking habits”—smack—“as a cover for the fact we’re married, you”—smack—“fucking”—smack—“bastard!”
Anti raises his arms over his head to shield himself from the other’s assault, confused shouts melting into giggles. “I—babe, hey, stop—stop it, ow—I get it, I get it, fuck’s sake, show some mercy—”
“I will not!” Still, Chase lowers his pillow, dropping it next to the couch. He lies back with a groan, running his hands down his face. “Why the hell couldn’t you just tell him the truth?”
“Oh, and tell him what? ‘Hey, Jack, I know we’ve been friends since we were in diapers, but we’ve been dating for years and just didn’t tell you because we don’t trust you and thought you’d hate us. Also, we didn’t invite you to our wedding. Sorry-not-sorry!’”
“We didn’t invite anyone to the wedding! It was a private matter! And now he thinks we want to undo it when we don’t, which means he’s going to be even more confused when he comes back and realizes that we’re not ‘fixing’ the mess you put us in!”
“Uh, I wasn’t the one who proposed,” Anti reminds him. “Besides, I panicked. The hell do you want, huh?”
Chase stares at him. “A husband that doesn’t bury us six-feet-under the morning after our marriage.”
“…Well, I’d argue that, because you wanted to marry an impulsive wreck, that’s kind of your fault. You get what you ask for.”
Chase throws his hands up in the air. Rolling over so that his back is facing the other, he says, “Tell him.”
“I—”
“Tell him the truth.” he glares over his shoulder, “Also, you better tell him I got drunk after the ceremony—I will not have Jack believing I am ‘a stupid drunk.’”
Anti hesitates.
“Your words.”
“I fucking know that—” he stops. Breathes. “…Fine. Fine, I’ll—I’ll talk to him, or whatever. Alright? We good?”
“So long as you don’t lie to everyone else about it, yes.” A pause. Chase yawns, readjusting himself on the couch. “…I’m sleeping.”
“On the couch?”
“Yes.”
“That’s hardly comfortable.”
“Neither’s your dick, but I think I made it clear I’ll sit on that.”
Anti rolls his eyes. With a sigh, hissing when the thrumming at his temples worsens, he stands, making his way to the door. “I’ll be back,” he announces.
“You better be,” Chase calls back. Then, quieter, he adds, “Love you.”
Anti’s expression softens. Biting the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his smile from forming, he slips his coat on, reaching for the doorknob. “Yeah,” he murmurs as he pulls it open, “Love you too.”