Work Text:
** 11:24 P.M. **
"Okay but seriously, I don't think this is a good idea."
"Chester, this is our job. We help people." Parker said rather condescendingly.
"Dude, one of us always gets hurt. And it's normally me!"
Parker, who was driving, entered the driveway of their client's house, sighing and turning to Chester, who was sharpening an extra pair of sunglasses like a blade. What a freak. He glared at him for a moment, clearly unamused. "Come on, let's go."
Chester obliged, following Parker to the front door. He rung the doorbell and turned on the camera before a young woman answered. She only opened the door a crack, but Parker could tell something wasn't right.
"Excuse me, are you Melissa?" Parker asked, and the girl nodded. Without a word, she opened the door and stepped aside. The boys exchanged a glance.
As Chester entered, he slowly realized how strange the house was. It was apparent in the moonlight that all of the furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust. He coughed, wishing they'd brought a gas mask or something. On top of the loose dust, this chick smelled weird. Like... metallic, in a way.
They all sat down at the table as Parker began the interrogation. He laid manilla folders on the old wood, each stocked to the brim with papers and pictures.
"Melissa, I'll start with the most pressing issue." Parker said, voice like molasses. He opened up the fattest folder to a picture that Melissa had included in the email.
"This... does not look like you." Parker said. He was right; Chester never payed much attention to the pictures their clients included -- he always felt it was quite shallow that Parker insisted upon only visiting the houses of hot women.
The picture in question included Melissa in a bikini at the beach, looking much more vibrant than she was now. Now she just looked... dull, and a little gray.
"Melissa, why did you photoshop your pictures so much? Are you... insecure?" Parker stood up and pulled a rose out of his back pocket, which had been slightly squashed from his ass. He offered it to the girl, one eyebrow quirked up.
The girl just sat there, slumped against the wall as if she didn't have any bones. Chester zoomed in past the matted hair hanging in front of her face; her mouth was slightly open and a fly crawled in. "Parker," Chester whispered, "I don't think she's okay."
Parker ignored him as the girl's arm raised and a strangely gray hand appeared from inside her sleeve. The hand, which had fingers as long as pencils, gently grabbed the rose before accidentally dropping it.
Parker considered that to be a win.
"Dude, look at her! She has barely moved since we got here, her hair's all matted, and that doesn't look like her hand! Jesus Christ-"
"Hey!" Parker snapped. "This beautiful girl is already really insecure about her looks. Why would you say something like that to her?" Parker slowly and smugly crossed his arms before deciding to wink at the girl. Who had not blinked since they arrived.
Chester was flabbergasted. "Parker, look at her face! She looks like a corpse."
"Chester," Parker said sternly, "You're not showing respect to me, you're not showing respect to my friend Melissa, and frankly, the words you use to refer to women... disgust me." Parker glared at Chester, taking a breath, before turning back to their client. "Now, about that stalker..."
** 12:49 A.M. **
After setting up cameras around the house, the boys retired to the room they'd be staying in.
As soon as they entered the room, Chester grinned. Oh no... they had to share a bed... how tragic...
Parker, indifferent, pulled back the covers on the side furthest from the door. Chester followed suit, turning out the lights.
"Goodnight Parker." Chester whispered, exchanging his sunglasses for another pair -- his special 'sleepy time' pair.
"Night."
** 12:50 A.M. **
"Chester, stop. No footsies tonight." Parker mumbled, and Chester sighed as he scooted away from his friend.
"Whatever." Chester sighed.
** 12:53 A.M. **
"I'm sorry for saying Melissa looked like a corpse. I guess I was just... jealous." Chester whispered. Parker remained silent.
Chester felt his eyes water as he turned away from his friend. He began to quietly mutter, "like a small boat... on the ocean..." He took a trembling breath as he hugged himself lightly. "Sending big waves... into motion..." Chester continued singing in a shaky high-pitched voice. He was always insecure about being a Soprano.
"Like how a single word... can make a heart open." Chester glanced over his shoulder, hoping that all the fan fiction he'd written would come true: Parker would hear his friend's angelic voice and declare his love.
(Chester tried not to think about the only fan fiction which he'd regrettably published... he didn't want to be reminded of that godforsaken tag: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. At least, not right now. He'd save those thoughts for when he was alone, if you catch my drift.)
Alas, Parker was asleep. He was drooling. Chester scowled. "I might only have one match... but I can make an explosion."
** 02:14 A.M. **
Chester suddenly awoke to a strange feeling on his back. At first, he smiled and assumed it was Parker. That was before he felt the sleeping Parker in his arms. They were wet with drool. It wasn't his.
"Huh...?" Chester groaned, switching out his sunglasses again as he reached to flick on the lamp. But it was too late.
"PARKER!" Chester shouted as he was dragged out of the room by the scruff of his neck like a cat. His limbs were flailing awkwardly in a desperate attempt to stop himself.
Parker shot up, barely catching a glimpse of Chester's feet as he was taken into the hallway. Deep down, he regretted telling Chester 'no' to footsie.
What if that was the last time?
No, he couldn't afford to think like that. Not when Chester needed him.
Parker ran to follow his friend, who still wouldn't stop screaming. "We get it, Chester -- It's okay. You can shut up now." Parker yelled through cupped hands between ugly pants and breaths.
Chester shut up.
Finally, Parker had reached his friend and saw what was happening to him. Chester looked terrified; Parker had that aloof look he always did.
There, holding Chester by his neck, was... Melissa. Only... it wasn't Melissa. An absurdly tall, shadowy mass with glowing white eyes sprouted out of Melissa's chest. Then, it removed Melissa's rotting corpse as one would a jacket, tossing it to the side.
It was in that moment that Chester had a stroke of genius. He pulled out the sunglasses he was sharpening earlier and quickly jabbed the creature, causing it to screech in an unholy manner and drop him.
Parker took this opportunity to grab Chester's hand and lift him up as they madly dashed to Parker's car.
Parker stepped on the gas and sped back home, not daring to check the rear view mirror.
"Thanks." Chester said breathlessly.
"No problem."
And for a moment, it almost looked like Parker was smiling.