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Who the hell has the shamelessness to bang on someone’s door in the actual dead of night? You don’t really know, but they are annoying enough to get you to pry yourself out of the safety of your bed to answer. Groggily, you swing the door wide open, not really caring about the burglar or murderer who’s probably behind it, because they’re gonna get the full brunt of your tired passive aggressiveness. Turns out you were right in your criminal theories, ‘cept for one thing of course. It’s your criminal.
“Oh, god dammit Stan.” He’s leaning against your doorframe, nearly falling right over on you as it moves. Luckily you’re strong enough to drag him in. “You do know it’s late, right?” You ask, though your initial annoyance is completely absent from your question. You’re too busy relishing in both the relief and excitement of him being here. That doesn’t really change the main point though, you haven’t seen him for a week and he comes back like this.
What makes it even more baffling and concerning is that he doesn’t come around to your house often. Actually now that you think about it, he’s never been to more than your front yard. Yet here he is, completely wrecked.
He looks like a total mess. There’s pronounced bags under his eyes and that mask he likes so much is lopsided. Maybe he’s even a little tipsy judging by the way he’s swaying. It’s not helping that he’s basically putty in your hands. Literally. Like, he’s hard to pick up and drag long distances without dropping.
You debate whether to push him to the couch and call it a night, but knowing him, he’d somehow manage to flop off and hit his head on the coffee table. “‘It’s dark.” He mumbles, leaning further into your shoulder.
“Yep, that’s what happens when you knock on my door in the middle of the night.” You help him in the room. “Are you fine sleeping here?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re ‘real nice?” Yes actually, him. Every time he gets all sentimental.
“...That a yes or no?” You question, trying not to sound too bewildered. His soft side never ceases to catch you off guard.
Slowly, he nods, then looks up. “Nice bed..” he comments. “Maybe we could…” He snickers. “No, no, I’m kidding…you’re pretty though-“ he abruptly leans into you, almost going completely slack on your shoulder.
“Hey, hey! Earth to boyfriend, I can’t lift you all by myself!” You’re good, but not that good.
“Boyfriend…yeah…” He says it fondly, seemingly coming back to life enough to pull his own weight. “Sorry babe” Wow. Okay. Either this isn’t Stan, or he’s jacked up enough to use pet names with a straight face.
With less struggle than before, you’re able to push him on the bed. “Up to taking off your mask?” You ask, unsure if he’ll accidentally smother himself in his sleep. That would suck.
Stan waves his hand dismissively, using the other to blindly reach for the end of his mask. He misses a few times, but eventually succeeds in the removal, casting it aside along with his gloves. There’s no noticeable bruises, but you’re unsure if that rules out a concussion. You’re not a doctor.
You lean over to lightly cup his face... his eyes seem fine. You wonder if you should prepare for his inevitable hangover he’s bound to have. “How much did you drink?”
He makes a disgusted face. “Y’Know I…I hate that stuff.”
“I do, but you’re kindaaa…”' you gesture with both of your hands at him.
“No…huh uh, m’just real…” he stops, then pulls his arm up to his eyes, devolving into a giggling fit. “Tired.” He laughs about it some more.
Sleep deprivation then. That would explain his appearance, and the distinct lack of alcohol on his breath every time he yawned. “How..long were you awake for?”
“Since uh…Sunday night? We took naps though.”
“It’s Tuesday.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Broken sleep isn’t the same as the real thing either.”
Silently, as if having a moment of clarity, he turns on the bed, opening his arms out to you. “C’mere, c’mere.” God he’s ridiculous. You crawl into bed next to him, allowing him to pull you into a tight embrace. He sighs, falling back into silence.
Being extremely tired yourself, you don’t want to break it. But…you gotta make sure he’s fine. “Wanna tell me why you were passed out on my porch?”
“Shhhush..” Stan brings his finger up to your cheek, apparently missing your lips. “I’m sleeping.“
“Sure sounds like it.” You roll your eyes and pull his hand back. Luckily for him, you’re too tired to scrutinize what he says fully. Him being here alive and not in jail is good enough. Things were getting pretty extreme since election year came around. “At least tell me if you’re okay? Where’s your brother?”
“Hideout.” He answers, though there’s a very noticeable halt. You’re unsure if that’s from his current state or not. Also because they have like, at least 15 hideouts.
“Well that narrows it down, sure. And you’re here because…”
“Wanted to be with you…” He pulls you closer and rests his head in the crook of your neck, falling into a calm silence.
“You better not be dead.” You sigh, maneuvering your face to give him a kiss. He mutters something you can barely make out, then kisses the side of your neck. You meant to ask more, you really did, but it’s hard to keep your eyes from closing when you were already tired to begin with. You’ll ask right now, you just gotta rest your eyes for a sec, just for a minute.
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You wake up. Dammit, you fell asleep, didn’t you? Groaning, you look at your alarm clock. 3 am. Only 2 hours. Gross.
It’s about right then you notice Stan isn’t holding you anymore. That whole thing better not have been an anxious induced dream. Quickly, you turn your attention to where you last left him. Luckily for your sanity’s sake, he’s still there. He’s not asleep either, instead staring at you intently.
“What’d I say about broken sleep?” You grin softly, but he’s still staring. “Feeling a little better, or are you staring at me just because?”
Just as you were considering the possibility of him being asleep still, he blinks, then abruptly engulfs you back into a hug. “So it isn’t a dream.” He mutters, then does something close to a quiet laugh. “Should’ve known, my dreams can’t make you this hot.”
You can now safely assume this is Stan, because only he could flirt so badly. ”I missed you, jerk .” You reach up to mess with his hair. “...Are you sure you didn’t drink anything?” You ask, not that it’s out of the question that he decided to stay awake so long for some ungodly reason, but you’d rather not believe that.
He makes that same face from when you asked last time, though it’s much more muted than before. “You know that crap tastes like motor oil.” Stan sighs, “And I was meanin’ to get to you sooner..” he shifts, expression faltering a little. “Look. You’re, you’re really gonna hate me for this one.”
“Nope, I won’t.” You interrupt, more interested in where exactly he’s been.
“I haven’t even told ya yet.” He groans, covering his eyes with his forearm. “There’s something that happened and…remember Sonya?”
“Yep.” You bite your lip, refraining from making a snarky comment. You’re not really a fan of GNN for a variety of reasons, but you’d have to be living under a rock to not know who she is. Also she’s Stan’s younger sister, so yeah, a little hard to miss that part.
“We ah, found this abandoned cab on the road. There was this tape. ” Stan turns on his back to stare up at the ceiling. “Some crazy guy’s diary. He wants to kill her.” It’s obvious by his tone that he’s far from kidding.
“Damn.” You look at him, keeping your hands at a comfortable distance. He doesn’t really like to be touched when he’s stressed out. “Have you told her yet?”
“She just won’t listen! ‘Says life can’t be feared or something.” He clasps his arms over his stomach. “Mitch is over there tryin’ to convince her again.”
“So that’s where he is right now.” You nod, the hesitation from earlier makes much more sense now.
“Yeah.” He scoffs. “‘Says that Sonya and I argue too much.”
“You, extremely argumentative? No.”
“That’s what I said…wait.” He narrows his eyes. “That’s sarcasm, ain’t it?”
“Noooo.”
He gives you a look, but you can see the cute suppressed half grin threatening to show. He pulls you closer once again. “Surprised he left me alone, though.” He rests his chin on your head. “Y’know, with the whole psycho thing.”
“He probably knows you have someone by now, let’s face it, we aren’t subtle.”
“I’m like, the king of subtlety.” You can hear the smile in his voice without even seeing him. “But if Mitch really knew, he would’ve asked to meet you already” Now his voice is one of annoyed fondness, before quickly dying down back to something serious. “Point is though I gotta find this guy.” He says, quieter than before. “And…I’m gonna have to go away for a while, I don’t want that guy finding you.” He stares off into the distance…of your small room?
“Hmmm…okay. Just make sure to call me? And come back when you’re done with your detective stuff, kay?”
“It’s not detective stuff, that’s lame–” He trails off. “...you’ll wait for me?”
“Yeah, just make sure to be careful, or I’m gonna have to hunt that guy down myself.” No idea how you’ll do it, but you’ll get there when you get there. Hopefully you won’t.
“You…know I’ll be gone for a while while. Right? Whole summer at least.”
“I got that part…You really thought I was gonna give you an ultimatum or something?” You huff, pushing back to get a look at him. “It’s your life. You don’t tell a rock to…stop being a rock? You know I’m bad at metaphors.”
“I don’t get it, this is supposed to be like, way harder.”
“Look, I can't say I won't miss you, but that’s your sister. I can wait for something like that.” You say, despite his still incredulous look. “I mean it.” You frown, kissing his temple. “Besides, it’s like a business trip. But instead of stupid papers or something, it’s tracking a really it’s just a…unstable guy who’s willing to kill people…” So maybe you do have some worries about this. You shake your head. “We’ll talk about that at like, a reasonable time–“
He cuts you off by kissing you then. It’s noticeably longer than the usual ones, way more upfront than normal. Kinda feels like a kiss someone would have before leaving…
Oh. Oh no he doesn’t. Much to his (and partially your) dismay) You turn once he pulls back to catch his breath.
“Why’d that feel like a goodbye kiss? Are you trying to leave once I fall back asleep?”
“It wasn’t that!” He pouts.
“You sure?”
“…"
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Sooooo maybe I was gonna do somethin’ like that, ‘thought it would be the romantic thing to do.”
“Time and a place, babe.” You tease, booping him on the nose with yours. “Plus, you still need your full 8 hours.”
The embarrassed face washes away, and he pulls you into an embrace. “You’re… cool, and nice.” He mumbles. “And I guess you don’t have cooties.”
“Figured that after you kissed me the first time.” You jab, gently wrapping your arms around him as well.
“Geez.” He snorts. “I really thought you were gonna dump me after that.”
“What? And lose my annoying boyfriend that robs gas stations for fun? Never.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘annoyingly hot’”
“Yeah, you’re right.” You agree, deflecting right back at him. You succeed in getting a reaction in the form of a shy look. “I win again.” You whisper in his ear.
“Not fair.” He sighs, burying his head in your neck. “I"m goin back to sleep.” His voice comes out muffled.
You allow yourself to close your eyes, unsure if you’re actually gonna see him tomorrow. Ah well, that’s something future you can worry about, because present you is pretty content with laying here right now.