Work Text:
“Where’d you hide it, boy? Where’s the remote, Spoon?”
A small gray head pops up at the name, tail lazily swaying back and forth as he trots over to the couch for some attention. Though the only response you get to your question is a big wet kiss across your face.
“Kisses won’t get you out of trouble, mister.” You struggle to frown, cold damp nose insistently pressing into your cheek. Finally, you relent, smiling while you scratch behind his ears, oh yes— that’s the spot! Little bursts of joy fill your mind, joined by the thud thud thud of vigorous tail wagging against plush pillows.
‘I know someone else who needs to hear that.’
“That’s not funny.” You whine, sour look back on your face as you urge Spoon to move out of the way. The wall of gray fur between you and the kitchen makes it difficult to turn and glare at Chen, but somehow, you manage; Watching him approach both of you with two steaming cups of… something in his hands.
“I didn’t say anything.” He counters, expression blank, but the amusement in his mind says otherwise. You were definitely meant to hear that.
“You thought it though.” You mumble, shifting back against the couch to get more comfortable. Failing miserably. “Besides, Ricardo isn’t even here to defend himself.”
“He hardly needs defending.” Not from that.
There’s a soft clink , ceramic on wood, a sound you’re getting too used to hearing. You know the cup on the coffee table is meant for you without either of you uttering a word. It’s not like there’s anyone else here to claim it. Still too hot though, if the steam slowly drifting towards the ceiling is anything to go off of.
You readily snatch it up anyway, and tentatively peer inside. Huh, coffee. With a dash of that hazelnut creamer you like too, if your nose isn’t deceiving you. When did you let that secret slip out? You hadn’t even asked for a drink in the first place. Are you becoming that predictable already?
“Have you decided which movie you want tonight?” Chen interrupts your thoughts, looking over the tapes spread out across the coffee table.
“Have you found the remote?” You retort, cradling the warm cup in your hands, a single eyebrow raised while you wait for an answer.
“Not yet.” He admits, glancing back at you. “It might be easier if I use the controls on the television for now.”
“You’re just going to give up then?” You call out, stopping him in his tracks before he can take more than a step towards the tv. The look he shoots back at you makes you sit up a little straighter, hands clenching tightly around your coffee. “Just like that?”
“It’s not worth the effort.”
“So I’m not worth the effort now?” Your mouth goes hard, shoulders raised up like an angry cat; Ready for a fight.
“You know that’s not what I mean.” His voice is stern, but his expression soon softens after that, lips turning slightly downward into a frown. Not in the mood for a fight then; It’s something much worse.
Pity.
“Are you all right?” A gentle question that cuts deeper than any insult could.
“What do you think?” You spit out, mustering every last ounce of anger boiling inside of you to stare daggers at him. You hate this; These feelings of sympathy being forced upon you. You don’t want any of it. Not from anyone, but especially not from him .
Though it seems your dirty looks and insults aren’t having the desired effect, and no amount of barbs you throw will get him to budge. You hate how stubborn he can be. Even worse than Ortega sometimes.
So instead you stand down. Loosen your shoulders as you look away. Sip on your coffee and focus on the burning liquid scalding your throat. Raise up your shields and close in on yourself.
Wasn’t movie night supposed to make you feel better? Forget about the outside world for a couple of hours? Quick, better think of a distraction before he starts asking more questions you don’t want to hear.
“He makes it better.” You nod your head towards Spoon, whose tail starts to wag as soon as he notices you looking at him.
“He usually does.” Chen agrees, smiling when Spoon walks over to him for some attention. A few scratches on his head before Chen turns his concentration back to you.
“Are you comfortable?”
‘No’ You want to say, but you bite back the comment. “A blanket might be nice.” Another layer never hurts. The curtains are closed, but it’s still too open here. Too many entrances. Not enough exits.
What are you even doing here? This is enemy territory— The Marshal’s home —The last place you should ever let your guard down. The last place you should be showing any weaknesses. The last place you should feel safe.
And yet… aren’t you tired of running? Having to trade in mask after mask, hoping the next one will stick this time? Don’t you remember how well that turned out in the past?
Shifting down deeper into the couch cushions, you wrap your stolen, no, borrowed jacket tighter around yourself, smirking a bit at the earlier memory. It isn’t the first time you've taken Chen’s clothing, and both of you know it won't be the last. You think by now he’s realized it’s a fruitless endeavor to try and stop you from raiding his closet; You’re just going to take whatever you want regardless. That’s what you promised yourself, isn’t it? That this time you’d take whatever you liked, consequences be damned?
Except… the consequences this time turned out to be a fond smile and being assigned the not so daunting task of choosing tonight’s movie. As if he wasn’t all that annoyed by your antics. As if he trusted you to make the right decision. As if he wanted you here.
As if he wanted you here.
You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about that.
You don’t even notice Chen left the room until he returns again, so focused on your own inner turmoil that he startles you with his sudden presence.
Fuck, you’re getting too rusty. Or maybe too comfortable? Is there even a difference between the two?
You set your coffee down as nonchalantly as you can and grab the nearest vhs tape, turning it over in your hands, pretending to read the synopsis on the back.
If Chen sees through the act then he doesn’t comment on it. Just sets the remote down within easy reaching distance. Wait, the remote?
“So, you found it.” You almost whisper, picking it up to verify it for yourself. Clicking the power on, you feel more than see the familiar fuzz of the screen echoing throughout the room.
“I did. Eventually.” He says, unfurling the blanket in his hands to lay on top of you. “It was inside the closet. Somehow.”
The edges of your mouth quirk up into a smile as you pull the blanket higher. “That the only thing in there?”
“Yes.” He lets out an exasperated sigh, as if he knew you were going to comment on that. “We’re both too old for anything else.”
“You and Spoon? Or you and I?”
“Yes.” He answers, turning his attention to the tape still in your hand.
“A dog movie?” The small upturn of his lips makes you scoff, cross your arms and lean back against the couch.
“It’s for Spoon.” You defend yourself. “He told me he wanted a movie with dogs this time.”
“Sure he did.”
___
The vhs slides in shortly after that, and so does Chen, fitting perfectly on your left side. Always your left side. Does he still think you’d be bothered by the mechanical arm? Maybe.
His walls are thick, but they’re getting thinner; Shields slowly showing their cracks as his body and mind both start to relax.
It’s not so hard to see that he thinks you might feel safer this way. His body between you and the front door, the first line of defense. His left arm is more than capable of packing a punch; Even better than the other one currently resting on the back of the couch.
Either way, Spoon snuggling in on your right side definitely makes you feel a little better. A little warmer too.
“Thank you,” You mumble, scooting in closer to rest your head against his shoulder. “For looking. Even if you stopped.”
You’re both well aware that you aren’t talking about the remote any longer.
“You’re welcome.” He replies. Hesitating, then ever so slowly, his arm goes around you. He’s not nervous, no. With his mind this open you can feel exactly what he’s thinking. He’s unsure if his touch is wanted or not. If it would be a comfort, or just another restraint holding you down. It’s not exactly a surprise, you’ve run away from him before, but not this time. This time you shift your body even closer, comforted by the fact that you know he’d pull away if you asked.
“Next time, I won’t stop.” He continues, the promise sealed with a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “You have my word.”
“I don’t believe you.” Even if you can feel he’s telling the truth. Can feel that he’ll do everything within his power to help you. As if you need the help. Or want it. Or even deserve it.
“Then I hope I never have to prove you wrong.”