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 Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 10:29 am
Paris was neither the cleanest nor the most organized person in the world, but even he was capable of doing household chores—a skill which his boyfriend, pampered as he was, seemed to lack.
Chris’s apartment wasn’t trashed. There weren’t pizza boxes or take out cartons or empty soda cans littering the place, and the kitchen sink was rarely full, though Paris had come to realize over the course of their acquaintance that this was more due to the fact that Chris’s mother dropped by every few days to see that her middle child had everything he could possibly need than it was Chris doing anything to upkeep the place on his own. Left without his mother, Paris was sure the apartment would be in a much different state.
He saw signs of it every once in a while. The spare room where Chris kept an “office” in which to work on some of his schoolwork would occasionally grow a bit cluttered, and if Paris happened to come over a day or two before Momma Gallo’s scheduled visit, he might find a few articles of discarded clothes littering the loft bedroom. Nothing especially disgusting, and rarely anything truly messy, but enough to have him raising his eyebrows and shaking his head in disbelief.
Then there were times when he took up the task of maintaining the neat state of Chris’s apartment—a task that was not entirely without its benefits, as it allowed him the chance to further snoop through Chris’s things.
“Why did you even bother moving out if Momma comes over to do everything for you? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to stay at home?” Paris asked. He sat on Chris’s bed with his legs crossed the way his kindergarten teacher always made her students sit on the floor during story time, folding a basket of Chris’s laundry, which he’d just pulled out of the drier.
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 6:25 pm
"Hmm?" was the response Paris got. Chris was laying on his stomach at the end of the bed, laptop in front of him and something playing on YouTube while he absently tossed a ball down the stairs for Annabel to fetch and bring back to him. It took him a few moments to realize that Paris had actually asked him a question for him to glance over the pile of clothes and laundry basket.
"Peter was driving me crazy. I couldn't concentrate there... It wasn't very conducive to studying," was his excuse, shrugging lightly. It wasn't as if he asked his mother or Paris to do his laundry or cooking or shopping for him. They just happened to do it and he wasn't going to complain. It wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself! He could always go out to eat, or buy new clothes, or whatever else was necessary.
And it wasn't as if he completely neglected things. He took care of Anna, had excellent grades, and volunteered every weekend he could. He just happened to suck at cleaning up after himself. So what? Why should he bother when people would do it for him? Besides, he'd told Paris that he didn't have to do it, but he was doing it anyway.
Chris glanced back down at Annabel when she brought her ball back up, before taking it from her and tossing it towards the stairs again. She bounded after it, and Chris's attention was brought back to the screen in front of him. "Have you seen this panda video?? With the baby?"
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 7:06 pm
“Christopher, do I look like the kind of person who sits around all day watching random videos on Youtube?” Paris asked, folding up a pair of khakis and setting them off into their respective pile.
He reached back into the laundry basket and pulled out a pair of Chris’s underwear, frowning at it as he shook it out straight and proceeded to fold it. “You need sexier underwear,” he declared. “I will never understand why so many people think boxers are sexy. They’re not flattering at all.”
Paris made a dissatisfied face and placed the offending undergarments on top of a different pile. He was surrounded on all sides by Chris’s clothes—pants, shirts, underwear, and socks. As nice as Chris dressed, and as expensive as each article of clothing seemed to be, Paris thought it was a bit of a sad sight. It all seemed rather bland. There was plenty of color, but hardly any other deviation. He decided, after a short moment of deliberation, that Chris’s wardrobe was boring.
“Actually, you need sexier clothes period,” he corrected himself. “Do you even own any jeans?”
His hand grabbed a pink polo shirt next. He paused to stare at it after he’d shaken it out.
At least his boyfriend realized pink could be a very flattering color on some men.
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 8:09 pm
He shrugged lightly again, staring at the screen. He didn't see why Paris was complaining, anyway. He'd seemed more than happy to do his laundry and cook him dinner and whatever else he needed. It wasn't like it was hurting anything, either. But nope! Paris just wanted an excuse to complain about the clothes he wore.
"I'm sorry I don't have sexy clothes," he grumbled, rolling his eyes and shaking his head lightly. "I like boxers. And yes I own jeans... They're in the closet." Just because he never wore them didn't mean he never wore them! Although he thought that khakis were just... easier... He liked looking at least somewhat professional, and khakis and polos seemed to be just enough 'casual' and 'business' to work for him. It was either that or slacks, button down shirts, and ties.
Somehow he thought that would be a little too much for a college student who worked part time at an art store.
"The pants need to be ironed, you know," added as a friendly reminder. What?? He didn't know if Paris knew that or not! He supposed he could just leave them for his mother to do when she came over, but since Paris had been so enthusiastic about his laundry before... who knew...
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 8:27 pm
Paris shot Chris another look. “Yes, dear, I’ll be sure to get right on that,” he said, climbing off of the bed with Chris’s pink polo still in his hands.
He didn’t really mind washing, folding, and ironing Chris’s clothes. It wasn’t as if he didn’t do similar things at home, what with his father being just as helpless as Chris seemed to be when it came to cooking and cleaning—and that was a bit of a frightening thought, that his father and his boyfriend actually had a similarity between them. In certain ways he found it sort of endearing that someone who looked so tall and strong, who took such good care of other people, hardly knew how to take care of himself.
He just didn’t think a little effort would hurt. Chris, however, seemed content right where he was.
Paris shook his head and crossed over to the closet. He needed to get hangers for Chris’s shirts anyway. Opening it, he flipped on the light and peered around inside, grabbing the first hanger he could find and slipping it through the shirt’s collar. His gaze was met with more of the same—more khakis, more polos, with a few button downs and sweaters thrown into the mix. Once he’d hung up the pink polo, Paris began riffling through everything, finally finding a pair of jeans hidden in the very back.
“Chris, these still have the tags on them!” he said, pulling them off the hanger to take them back out into the bedroom, brandishing them at Chris. “Your mother buys you designer jeans and you can’t even be assed to wear them?”
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 8:48 pm
Chris didn't see the look, and while he was pretty sure he was getting a look, he pretended he had no idea, his eyes still glued to the screen as he clicked through various links and articles of the world's news.
He didn't think anything would come from Paris getting up to check the closet, but he was certainly wrong and was faced with an exasperated young man with a fist full of denim.
"Huh? No they don't," he denied, taking hold of the edge of his laptop to shut it and sit up on the bed. Upon further inspection though... apparently he did leave the tags on. "Oh... uh... I don't really like jeans.. They're too heavy," he complained, sliding off the bed to take a few steps towards the door for the bathroom, and out of Paris's reach. He picked up the brush laying on the counter, peeking into the bathroom just enough to be able to see that his hair was still all in place, casually brushing the now almost-too-long bangs out of his eyes.
"And who said my mom bought them for me? Maybe I bought them... or were a gift from... My grandparents or someone..." He was stalling... he was good with stalling... he was a pitcher, after all. He had to stall sometimes.
Honestly... he just didn't really like jeans and tee-shirts, so... he never wore them. Simple as that.
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 9:14 pm
“I don’t like jeans either, but that doesn’t mean I never wear them!” Paris said.
He didn’t have much to say to argue the point. Chris was right, to a degree. Jeans were stiff and restricting and all around uncomfortable, but Paris still wore them. Even if they didn’t feel nice, sometimes they still looked nice.
Paris frowned at Chris. He remained where he’d stopped after exiting the closet, following Chris with his eyes before moving toward the bathroom to join him. “It’s great that you look nice all the time,” he told him, “but it wouldn’t kill you to change it up every once in a while. I mean, you have, like, the same shirt in twenty different colors, and you can only wear so many different pairs of khakis before they all start looking the same. I’m pretty sure you have the most predictable wardrobe out of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
He almost said “except my dad,” but he was already disturbed enough at the thought that his father and Chris were similarly helpless without adding anything more onto it.
“Put these on,” Paris said, brandishing the jeans at him again. “I want to see how they look. And don’t think about arguing,” he added, eyeing him in warning. “I’ve just spent the afternoon doing your laundry. You can at least do this for me.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 3:21 am
"You put them on," he childishly sputtered, frowning when Paris approached him with the article of clothing. "Why do I have to put them on?? I'm already wearing pants and I'm comfortable," he grumbled, although he wasn't sure how much he liked the look Paris was giving him. His eyes narrowed slightly as his expression turned pout-ish, before placing the brush down a little harder then necessary on the bathroom counter.
"They probably don't even fit any more. I have no idea when I got those." Well, obviously, since he still had the tag on them. He supposed he could get some loose fit jeans, or something two sizes too big so he had to wear a belt to hold them up... or just let them fall down. That was the style these days, wasn't it? Since Paris was so sure about wanting to see him in jeans, why not have them just down around his ankles?
Chris grumbled as he reached down to unlatch his belt and take the garment from Paris... and then backed into the bathroom, shutting the door before Paris could argue.
"No!" he whined, frowning at the inside of the bathroom door and keeping it closed with his foot. "I get to at least see it first." Oh god, was he being too prissy about this?? They were just jeans. Why the hell couldn't he just pull them on right then and there??
Either way, he still changed in the bathroom, pulling the denim up around his waist and made a face as he opened the door. "They feel too tight..." he'd much prefer khakis...
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 12:06 pm
“You are such a baby!” Paris called through the bathroom door. He didn’t really see what the point was in hiding behind it, considering how often they’d forgone clothes recently. “Seriously, how old are you again?”
He didn’t try breaking in, though he did roll his eyes. He didn’t care if Chris saw it or not. That wasn’t the point. Actually, there really wasn’t much of a point in it at all, except that he didn’t always understand where Chris’s mini tantrums came from. He sure picked the weirdest things to be a**l about.
Shaking his head to himself, Paris went back to the bed to return to Chris’s laundry. He left the pants out for the time being, since he would have to iron those, but he could at least put the shirts away. There was only a handful left. He grabbed them all and took them to the closet with him, where he slipped them all onto hangers. Chris socks and unsexy underwear he shoved into a chest of drawers, however tempted he was to just do away with the underwear entirely and buy him a whole new set.
He scoffed at the last pair of boxers—and if Chris insisted on wearing them, couldn’t they at least be less plain?—and turned to watch as Chris exited the bathroom, sweeping his eyes over him appreciatively. “They are not too tight,” he insisted, marching over to his boyfriend before he could duck back into the bathroom. Paris grabbed him by the belt-loops to hold him in place. “They fit. What, would you rather have your crotch down to your knees? Sagging jeans don’t look nearly as nice as a pair of jeans that fit. Look at how great your a** looks in these!”
As if to prove his point, Paris slid his arms around Chris and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “You should wear these sometime. I think they look nice.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 1:47 pm
"To be honest, I don't really spend much time looking at my own a**," he admitted with deadpan sarcasm, although he didn't pull away when he was latched onto. He didn't really have anywhere to put his hands though, now that Paris had his arms around him... so he just rested them against his shoulders, absently playing with the blond hair that length, even pulled back.
"Why do you care, anyway? I mean... You've never said anything before about what I wear. I thought you liked how I dress, but now suddenly it's unsexy and boring?" he wondered, although he managed to hold back a childish pout. Barely.
"I just... don't think they're that comfortable. I'm used to the way I dress now. I mean, I guess I can wear them to class, but then if I get uncomfortable I'll be distracted the whole time." He paused for a moment, looking down at Paris with a mock-critical eye. "You don't hear me commenting on how you dress, do you?" Ah ha! He had a perfect defense as to why Paris should leave him be about his choice of clothes.
Of couse... if they really did look good on him...
Chris glanced down at himself, and over his shoulder as if to look at his own butt. "Wow..." he teased.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 3:52 pm
Paris snorted. Then he removed one of his hands from Chris’s pocket to grab his face and turn it back around.
“It’s not that I have a problem with the way you dress,” he told him. “It’s just that it’s predictable. ‘What should I wear today?’” he wondered, attempting to lower his voice into a decent impression of Chris’s. “‘A polo, a polo, a polo, or a polo? Hmmm, I guess I’ll pick a polo!’”
He let go of Chris’s face and raised both arms to cinch them around Chris’s neck. Smiling, he hung against his boyfriend, letting his feet leave the floor and trusting Chris to be able to handle the sudden added weight. There were a few advantages to dating taller and stronger men, he decided.
“You’re very handsome,” Paris continued, “but you’re not just handsome. You’re sexy, too. Except you never really dress like you believe it. The most you ever show off is your arms, and that’s only when you happen to be wearing short sleeves. Or if you wear shorts, then I get to see your calves, but that’s about it. There’s nothing wrong with flaunting the things you have, you know. There’s a difference between trashy flaunting and classy flaunting. I would know. I’ve dressed both ways.”
Pulling himself up, Paris grabbed a quick kiss—partly because he wanted one, and partly because he intended it to be ameliorating for Chris. “I think you’re more confident in your decisions and who you are as a person than you are in the way you look, and I don’t know where that comes from because I think you’re probably the hottest guy I’ve ever been with.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 9:34 pm
"You're very beautiful," he commented back, faltering only slightly under the surprise weight Paris put around his neck by holding on, but it just took him a couple moments to get his barrings. "Adorable too, if not slightly obnoxious- why are you hanging on me??"
Regardless, Chris wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, a term he was still getting used to, and lifted him up the best he could without squeezing too tightly. He didn't want to hurt Paris... just not have his neck strained!
The kiss did help, although he grimaced at the comments about his wardrobe, deciding it was better to just... not comment, lest he encourage Paris to continue. "You're required to say I'm hot, and I really don't care all that much about how I look." A lie, and he knew right away that Paris was well aware that it was a lie. "I mean, I care," he quickly corrected, glancing up and away from any glares or looks, leaning back to rest against the doorframe while Paris insisted on hanging around his neck. "I just don't think I should..." he mumbled, realizing that he probably appeared to be trying too hard to seem modest or... who knew what. And that wasn't the case at all.
"What about you? There has to be some things you're not all that confident in," he pointed out, and while he didn't go into details about what those things might be, he did glance down to see if Paris would respond. "You're an amazing dancer, but I feel as though... you always seem to be lonely... even when you're around others..." He breached the topic warily, not sure if he wanted to test what cords could and/or shouldn't be struck.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 9:55 pm
“Caring about it's okay,” Paris told him. “Worrying about it's unnecessary. There’s a difference. Obviously you make the effort to look nice, and that’s fine. You care to look nice. But you don’t have any reason to worry. You’re gorgeous.”
He hung there for a little bit longer, happy to have Chris’s arms around him, but once the questioning was returned to him Paris lowered himself back down, loosening his arms around Chris’s neck until his feet were once again on the floor. He refrained from sliding his arms away entirely, as his hands came to rest on Chris’s shoulders, and he stood as close as he had been since he’d first approached, staring up at Chris with somewhat of a sad smile.
“You already know what I’m not confident in,” he insisted. “I’m not that confident in being Ganymede.”
There was more than that. He had other concerns. Paris wasn’t completely impervious to worry. In fact, he worried quite a bit. Probably more than he seemed to. He had plenty more going on in his head than he what he chose to share with other people. He always had. Of course, Chris wasn’t just any other person. He was sure Chris knew him better than anyone else did—better than his parents, better than Ladon. There wasn’t anyone else he thought he could open himself to the way he opened himself to Chris.
“Emotional things, too, I guess,” he answered. He leaned forward to rest his head on Chris’s shoulder. He told himself he just felt like doing it, though it was more likely that he was seeking comfort and endeavoring to hide his face. “Sometimes I’m afraid that I don’t mean as much to the people who mean the most to me.”
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Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2012 1:45 pm
Chris rolled his eyes at Paris's continued flattery, although he didn't say anything about it. There was nothing wrong with the compliments! It just made him feel a bit awkward and self-conscious, although why he did, he had no idea.
Instead, he was more concerned with the topic he had brought up, letting out a little sigh as Paris lowered himself to the floor. "You're fine as Ganymede," he insisted, keeping his arms around him for the time being, fingers pressing gently against his back in the attempt at a massage. "There are plenty of others who are less experienced and have no idea what to do. You at least have a good head on your shoulders and can think things through."
Of course, he also knew that Paris was still concerned about how he'd started out. While he hadn't fully understood the confrontation between Ganymede and Castor at the Surrounding, he did know that it had been a rather rough start. But everyone had to start somewhere, and he thought that Paris could have done a lot worse.
Personally, Chris thought that everything else they'd done had made up for a rather rocky beginning, at least where Paris was concerned. He went on patrols, showed up when called on, organized others to help as well. It was more than he could say for a lot of others.
What Paris said next, though, threw him off momentarily, wondering why he would think that way. "You mean a lot to me," he offered, placing a hand against Paris's head as he leaned against his shoulder. "Seriously, though... If you didn't... I wouldn't be as happy as I am. I like having you around, and not just because you cook and clean for me, either," he added, hoping that some light teasing would soften the mood, but he wasn't joking enough to throw the conversation off.
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Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2012 7:26 pm
Paris was never really sure how to think about the amount of faith Chris placed in his as Ganymede. Sometimes he didn’t think he deserved it, because what could anyone say he’d ever done? Other times he viewed it more as validation. If someone like Chris thought he was worthy of that sort of faith, then he must have been doing something right. He must have, at some point, made a good enough impression on him to earn it.
He relaxed slightly under the fingers that massaged his back, leaning a bit more heavily against Chris. He was wary about what Chris’s response to his last comment would be, but it wasn’t anything more or less than he’d come to expect. He knew Chris wanted him, he knew Chris cared about him, he knew Chris wanted to protect him, and he knew Chris needed him—maybe not as much or as deeply as Paris needed Chris, but it was enough for Paris. He didn’t doubt what had somehow grown between them, though he wondered sometimes how long it would remain there.
“There’s also the fact that I’m fantastic in bed,” Paris said, lifting his head to grin at him. The mood was instantly less tense. “And I put up with your whining. Not many people can say they do that, but then not many people know about your whining, do they?”
Paris pushed himself onto his tip-toes for another kiss. “You make me happy,” he told him. “I never want to leave when I’m over here, but I have to because I have stuff to do or I have to check on Dad. But I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to, except then you might get sick of me. So maybe it’s better like this. Either way, I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”
He felt so light and free.
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