#same

Popcorn Fiction // KreidBanejad

@yagottabelieve wanted Mika and Kreids forgetting about their hockey woes for the night, cuddling and watching scary movies, and you know what? I wanted that too.

Mika gives his hair another little shake, a few more flakes of colored hair spray that refused to be brushed out falling loose. He combs his fingers back through his hair a few times until it’s behaving itself enough to be tugged into a bun, no longer needing to be on display for the party.

“Where’s my nice, loose, comfy sweats?” Chris calls from the closet amidst the scraping sound of scooting hangers.

“Our nice, loose, comfy sweats are in the second dresser drawer,” Mika corrects, doing nothing to keep the smugness out of his voice. “Popcorn? Butter?”

“Thanks, yes, and I love you,” Chris calls back.

The dogs follow Chris to the couch while Mika futzes around in the kitchen, still pleasantly buzzed. The party was a blast, he’s glad to have gone, but winding up having a relatively normal, quiet rest of the evening sounds too perfect. He hears Binks rumble an argument once the popcorn starts popping, and has himself a private giggle as Chris gives the pup a nudge and tells him to behave. Mika has to stifle another smug grin and snicker to himself. A low whine is maintained until the microwave dings, and even then, the remaining popping kernels are on thin ice. In the living room, he hears the various hums and boops of Chris tabbing through TV options to get their movie pulled up.

“Still the movie with the witch?” Mika calls as he dresses the popcorn.

“If you’re sure you’re still fine with it, that was my plan. You know, the really cool thing about this movie was the marketing. It was the first movie to really do the whole viral, web-based promotional material thing. They put out these interviews with fake cops that looked like local news segments, asking about missing students, they listed all the actors as being either missing or dead, and it was this whole thing where nobody was sure if it was fake or not. I remember my school being split, probably three-to-one in favor of it being real.”

“And what side were you on?” Mika prompts, stepping over Chewie to take his spot on the couch, wedged against Chris, bowl of popcorn cradled in one arm, a couple of cans of beer in the other hand. Chris snatches the beer first, then steals a peck to Mika’s cheek.

“Oh, I thought it was real for SURE. I was like… 8? 9? Zero media literacy skills. It was on the internet, so I believed it, and let me tell ya, I. Was scared. Shitless.” He snags a piece of popcorn and eats it, maintaining cheeky eye contact, chewing with a smirk.

“It’s really that scary?” Mika tries to sound cool about it, but Chris knows him too well for that to matter.

“I mean, I guess it depends on your tastes, but if you do get too scared, I can always hold your hand.”

What had been a playful look on Mika’s face fades into something a bit more apprehensive, but he still cracks open his beer and settles against Chris’ side, refusing to be deterred. “You’d better hold my hand anyway, smartass.”

Chris barks a laugh and hits play, then drops the remote and hauls his arm around Mika’s shoulders. “I’ll keep you safe from witches and stick figures, älskling.”

“Stick figures-?”

“Shh, it’s starting,” Chris snickers, pressing a kiss to Mika’s temple.

Mika waffles back and forth between unimpressed skepticism and genuine unease, one hand almost mechanical in how he absently nibbles on popcorn, while the other hangs on to Chris’ hand with varying intensities of grip.

“You were how old when you watched this?” Mika hisses after watching a terrified young woman and her nostrils weep right into the camera.

“Oh, way too young,” Chris agrees in a whisper, delighted at feeling a bit jittery in a mirror of Mika’s mounting stress.

“Oh shit- they’re all- you said they were all missing or dead, right-?”

“It was just the marketing, älskling-”

“No, I meant the movie, so everyone dies??”

“You can always watch and find out,” Chris teases gently, eyes on Mika, even as Mika’s eyes haven’t strayed from the TV once. In response, all he gets is a snug squeeze of the hand.

The price Chris has to pay for having a good laugh over Mika getting spooked is being tasked with making sure every window is locked with the blinds drawn, trading hoodies, letting the dogs out on his own, and bringing a couple of water bottles back to the bedroom, where Mika has burrowed deep under the comforter, scowling at his phone while he waits for him. He pokes his head into the bedroom door with due sheepishness, checking for forgiveness. In return, Mika’s head pokes up to shoot him a dark glare with dark eyes from under dark brows.

“Am I still in trouble?” Chris checks, making an admirable, if losing, effort not to smile.

“Yes. Until breakfast. At least.”

If pressed, Mika would admit that he’s absolutely making a show of it all- that he had fun, and he’d do it again, and that Chris had every right to laugh when he’d grabbed Mika’s knee suddenly at a particularly tense scene and Mika had yelped- but the way their week is gone, it’s so nice and so necessary to be afraid of something a little less painful than a shutout. He can’t help but lean in, pulling Chris’ focus away from the game for a night.

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americaismyname28

5 years ago