Work Text:
The phone rings no more than twice. Your name—well, not really your name, but Cherry, shows up on his phone over a picture of your smiling face against the backdrop of your hello kitty bedsheets, messy hair laid around you like a halo. Sleepover night. It's his favourite picture of you; he's got it everywhere.
Anyway, Diller hasn't called anything but Cherry since he first landed on the nickname. Says it's like Cherry's a part of you that only he gets. And his phone never rings more than twice when that name shows up on his call log. His Cherry.
"Yes, Cherry?" he asks. There's a smile in his voice, always is when he's talking to you. He's got his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, midway through taking off his sneakers. Just in home from a run around the block.
"Diller." It's a little whimper of a sound. Your voice sounds so small. It makes his spine stiffen.
"Cherry? Hey, what's wrong?" Phone on his left shoulder, he wraps his arm around his chest to switch to his right hand and sits up straight, shoes halfway off.
"Dill." It's a not an answer, not even really much of a reply, just another desperate little cry for him.
"Cherry, talk to me. What's wrong? Where are you? Are you safe? Do you need me to come pick you up?" He's already pressing his phone between his ear and his right shoulder, lacing his shoes back up.
"Spider." Your voice is trembling now.
He pauses. "Huh?"
A big intake of breath over the tinny line, the occasional crack of shitty service. "There's a spider in my room."
He almost laughs. Almost, because Diller doesn't laugh at you, not when you're obviously scared shitless. "You called me because there's a spider in your room?" he clarifies. There's just no way.
"Mhm." A whine and a shuffle like you're moving around. "Can you come kill it?"
"I live ten minutes away—"
"Please?" You're begging now, he can't not go.
He tightens his shoelaces with a double knot and pulls his keys out of his back pocket. "I'll be there in 5." Looks like he's running.
"Thank you. I'll give you the best head, I swear," you say.
He actually laughs this time.
Another thing: Diller knocks thrice. Slow, fast, fast. Dash, dot, dot. Morse code for the letter D. His grandfather taught him Morse code on their first fishing trip together when he was 9, in case they were ever lost at sea, and it's been his personalized knocking pattern ever since.
You know his knock by heart and let him in without even checking who it is (even though you should still check, he keeps reminding you that you should still check), instantly yacking him in front of you. You simultaneously hide behind him and push him to your room.
"Uh, Cherry—"
"It's above my bed," you say. "Corner of the wall."
"Cherry—"
You push him all the way into your room before hiding behind the wall just outside, peeking your head in. "Kill it," you whimper.
Alas, Diller is weak for you, and the sound tugs at his heart. He sighs, untying a shoe as he glances up at the top corner of your wall, just above your bed. It's a lot smaller than he was expecting, given all your fuss about it. He was imaging a tarantula or something, but it's you, so of course it's barely the size of a quarter. "Cherry, you know it's not that big, right?" he asks over his shoulder.
"Just kill it!"
A little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He loves how dramatic you are, it's endearing. "All right, all right, I'm killing it . . ." He hops up onto your bed after kicking off his other shoe (you'd kill him if he dares to get shoes on your bed), an eye on the spider at all times, and stretches his spine. He can sense you watching from the doorway, probably feeling it creepy-crawl all over you—your words, verbatim, every time you see a spider. He blinks at the spider, you swear it blinks back.
"Will you kill Steve already?" you urge.
"You named it?" Diller laughs.
"Yes, now kill it."
God, you're so ridiculous. He's pretty sure he fucking loves you.
"Killing it." He raises the shoe in his hand—then smashes it down against Steve. Steve collapses onto your bed, you squeak and take another step back into the hallway. "It's dead," Diller announces, and picks it up with his bare hand.
"Ugh, gross," you whine. When he goes to toss the corpse into your little metal bin, you exclaim in protest. "Throw it out the window! I don't want it in here." He sighs but does as you say. "Is it gone?"
He turns around to face you. You look so small like that, cowering behind the wall. He shows you his open palms, empty. "Yes, Cherry, it's gone."
You break out into a grin at that, running into the room. You jump into his arms and he just barely has the reaction time to catch. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," you babble peppering kisses all over his face.
He chuckles, squeezing your thighs. "I can't believe a tiny ass spider does you in."
"Don't be mean." You pout at him, bottom lip jutting out, and he kisses it. He tosses you onto your bed and you pull him in. "Now I believe I promised you head."