[PRP] O Holy Knight (Chel/Chris)

[DarkHeartedSorrow]

Chris's face twists up into something bitter, angry, and jealous. "Christmas is for family," he spits, in a way that makes it clear that family is Chel and Chris, Chris and Chel, and no one else. There has never been and will never be another definition in Chris's book. "He doesn't deserve to be anywhere near that goddamn category."  

[chiickadee]

"I said you got the mornin'!" Chel rebutted. A weak defense because she knew Chris was right in so many ways.

She collapsed back into the chair and said, "You at least gonna hear me out why?"  

[DarkHeartedSorrow]

He crossed his arms petulantly, bending over on the stool until he looked hunched in on himself. He doesn't want to admit that it hurts, but Chel is letting someone else in on a day that Chris has somehow kept untainted in his mind. Christmas is supposed to be good, but this is making him a little sick to the stomach. "I don't think I want to, but yeah, hit me with it."  

[chiickadee]

Chel looks away from her cousin, because she was never very good at expressing her feelings and it's even harder when she has to look someone in the eye.

"I ..." She's never had to put it into words before. "I really like Jack. Kept thinkin' it was always gonna be this way, started hatin' myself 'cause I was chasin' a limp rabbit." Which wasn't a good argument to tell the cousin who was already biased against him. "But some stuff happened in China and we-" She glanced at Chris and then away again. "Well I don't think he's a limp rabbit no more. I think he does care about me, s'just hard for him to get it out."

She curled up her legs on the chair, wrapping her arms around them like she often did. "He finally took me up on a date he been pushin' back for forever." Even Chel couldn't mask the excitement that came with the statement.

Now she looks at Chris properly. "I really want this Chris." She realizes she's not just explaining, she's asking for permission.  

[DarkHeartedSorrow]

He grits his teeth, because this is absolutely not okay. Every bone in his body screams it's not healthy, not good for Chel. He wants to shake her out of all the s**t she's saying so that she can see it from his perspective. "He could have gotten you tried and killed," he says with feeling. "You have a bomb on your ******** wrist that might as well have his name etched in it." He deliberately doesn't bring up what he considers the vastly more sensitive facts. That this was essentially Jack's fault for his emotionally abusive bullshit. That Jack had led her on and then told her to ******** off with virtually no consequence. That he was being rewarded for his dickitude. He sure as hell thinks it really hard, though.

His nose scrunches in the way it always does when he knows he's making sense, but that won't do any good. It's his "talking to a brick wall" face, honestly. "I don't like him. I won't like him, no matter how many times you ask," he pauses, just long enough to let that sink in. "But I'm not your keeper. You do you," he finished with a sigh.  

[chiickadee]

"I know," Chel said weakly, though to which part she's not sure. All of it maybe.

She wants to argue the bomb is her fault, that if Chris could just listen he might see Jack's good traits too, but the more she thinks over the argument in her head the more it gets jumbled and lost in meaning and translation.

"M'not askin' you to like him." The fact that she even has to say that is somewhat infuriating. Chel knew Chris better than she knew herself- she knows when Chris has his thick skull wrapped around something it's bolted to his brain with platinum metal. "But I still need you to like me."

She reached across the chair and knocked him in the shoulder. "Pretty please?"  

[DarkHeartedSorrow]

He deflates a little and shrugs. This whole thing makes him feel lost, above all else. He tangles one of his legs with hers, kicking her in the ankle lightly. "Of course. You and me, always."  

[chiickadee]

"Bros before hos," Chel recites, drawing an X over her heart. "Not that you have any hos." She gives him that cocksure grin, the one that further asserts her foot in the door.

It's been so long it almost seems like there's no point to arguing and making up, but they continue to do so. "So other than makin' pancakes- no waffles 'cause we don't got an iron ha- what you wanna do for yer special mornin'?"