Chapter Text
“What the…?” Street stared at the contents of the drawer with a disbelieving look. He fumbled, his fingers grazing the different materials, some soft, others coarser, looking for the gray sweater she had asked him to retrieve for her. He frowned when he finally grabbed the three garments that seemed to match her description and placed them atop of the dresser. He shook his head and did his best to keep his features serious, adding a little frown for good measure. “Chris?”
“What?” He heard her voice coming from the living room. “Can’t you find it?”
“Could you come over for a moment?” Even without seeing her, he could imagine the eye roll and her probable pout. “Please?”
“Come on, it can’t be that hard….” Her tone was her usual sarcastic one, with a tinge of fondness. Sure enough, when she materialized next to him, her arms crossed in front of her, she looked as adorable as he had thought. He schooled his expression and raised a questioning eyebrow as he pointed at the offending drawer. “What? I had to come in here to stare at my drawer… yeah, so I see my shirts… I suppose they’re not sorted by color like yours but still….”
“Your shirts?” He wondered disbelievingly, his tone insisting on the first word. She had cheek to smirk as she finally understood why he had summoned her over… of course…. “Those are my shirts, almost… all of them….”
“Well, I guess I probably mixed up some of those after laundry….” She shrugged nonchalantly, with a serious glare as if daring him to contradict her, and that brought a grin to his lips.
“You’re not serious…?” He countered her. “That’s your explanation… a laundry mix up?”
“What are you implying?” She wondered cheekily, her face again perfectly serious.
“I’m not implying anything, you’re stealing my stuff….” She huffed at his comment and shook her head. “There are more of my shirts in your drawer than there are in mine… and… this one is the one I wore last weekend and I remember very well I put it away in my drawer before leaving the next morning. That one wasn’t in the hamper. It’s not clean….”
She looked at the dark blue top and bit the inside of her lower lip. When no explanation came from Chris, he sighed melodramatically. Closing the drawer, he opened his to check the contents, noticing only a few shirts were still in it, and mostly those he brought over for the weekend.
“Care to explain?” Street pushed, his eyes not leaving her face.
“What is there to explain? My apartment, my dresser, my stuff….” She brashly answered, her eyes finally meeting his.
“You said that drawer was mine.” He reminded her, his head tilting as he was making his point. “This implied I had control and ownership over its content.”
“Exactly.” She pointed a finger at his stuff. “This is all yours….”
“I thought it was also implied my clothes wouldn’t magically move from my drawer to yours, because it has to be magic, Chris… you wouldn’t do that on purpose….”
“Of course not….” She admitted with a pretty pout.
“Good.” When he opened her drawer again and grabbed a few of his tops, her hand was immediately on his.
“What are you doing?” She wondered, a frown on her face. When he didn’t answer but simply placed his shirts back in his drawer, she vehemently shook her head. “No, that is not acceptable. Put them back in their place.”
“They’re in their place… see… my drawer, my shirts….” He answered with a bright smile, his words a copy of her earlier statement.
“And who says those are your clothes?” Chris challenged him with a frown. “I happen to like those Henleys and t-shirts myself. Just because they’re men’s garments doesn’t mean they have to be yours.”
“Yes, I concede that, but those are mine… without any doubt….” When she glared at him, he unfolded another top and brought it to his nose. “This one still smells like my cologne. I wore that one… not sure when, but it’s clearly not freshly washed….”
“So? I could wear your cologne… it’s a nice scent, I chose it for you.” She pushed, her features serious as she dared him once again. “You said it yourself, you don’t remember when you last wore it… yours is probably at your place, that’s mine.”
“That’s mine… look at this pick, here at the shoulder… my backpack left that mark.” He placed the shirt in front of her face to prove his point. “You’re stealing….”
“I’m not stealing… I might be borrowing….” When he raised a disbelieving eyebrow, she huffed. “Long term… Didn’t you tell me that what was yours was mine and I could help myself with your stuff?”
“Yes, I said that, but I also thought my clothes would make it back to my drawer and not yours… like really borrowing, not taking over ownership….”
“Wow, you’re more proprietary than I thought… what does it matter anyway?”
“It doesn’t, it’s just a little unnerving. I keep wondering what is happening to my stuff… Do you realize how many of my things are in your drawer? I started thinking I was losing my stuff or that someone was actually stealing it… which is not actually wrong….”
“That’s not stealing….” She repeated more forcefully.
“Yeah, you’re borrowing, I get it, but just put it back in my drawer once you’re done….” He added as he placed his shirts back in her drawer. “Those are still mine, but I’ll humor you and put them in your part of the dresser. But let’s be clear, I didn’t give them to you… it’s not like I haven’t given you enough of my clothes….”
“This is only semantics… you realize that, of course.” She pushed ignoring his last comment, and he frowned immediately. “Your stuff… like you own it… and I don’t….”
“I own it, I purchased every single one of those… Okay, so maybe you did buy a couple of those, but they were gifts… for me to wear….”
“Yeah because you look good in them… but that’s not the point….”
“Then what is the point?” He insisted, trying to understand without much success her train of thought.
“The point is, your ass belongs to me… there’s no yours or mine… all is mine….” She pushed away from the wall she was leaning against and made her way back to the living room. It seemed the conversation was over. “And bring the gray sweater I requested earlier, when you’re done putting everything back in their place.”
“But… I can’t believe you actually said that….” He looked at the piece of furniture disbelievingly.
“Better believe it… and now come back, I was promised cuddling on the couch.”
He chuckled and shook his head. He retrieved the desired garment and made his way back to her. Now that was a statement he liked to hear, not that he would admit it out loud just now.