Behold, proof I actually have a Pinto de Mayo thing in the works:
“Prom’s
going to be so awesome,” Chris says sincerely. He’s been proclaiming variations of this conviction
ever since he told Zach they should totally ask Zoe and Alice because the girls
are best friends, and he and Zach are best friends, and the four of them would
obviously have “the best time ever.”
“Awesome,”
Zach agrees glumly, shoving over his last napkin when Chris drips honey-mustard
sauce right onto the popped collar of his polo shirt.
Let’s keep these Pinto celebrations going all week!
My fic contribution this year will be a four parter! Each part will be a sort of stand alone
but still connected
ficlet based on three words (from the list @rabidchild67 posted). I’ll (hopefully) be posting here throughout the day, then the whole thing will be posted to AO3 tonight or tomorrow.
This ficlet brought to you by the words brunch, pancake, and divorce.
Ahh, just the question Chris had been dreading. Not that he hadn’t been hearing it for the past two weeks, sometimes multiple times a day. His answer was always the same vague non-answer that people expected. No real feeling or explanation. But he and Zach had been friends for years, good friends, and he deserved more than that.
“It’s been… endurable,” he finally said. “Lonely, you know, even though Maria and I hardly saw each other anyway. I’ve been eating a lot of ice cream.”
in the year of our lord 2018 ben whishaw is still very, very valid to me even if he only appears once every two blue moons to play ethereal characters who invariably steal the entire show before immediately retreating back to liminal spaces in Southern Europe with his composer husband
My fic contribution this year will be a four parter! Each part will be a sort of stand alone
but still connected
ficlet based on three words (from the list @rabidchild67 posted). I’ll (hopefully) be posting here throughout the day, then the whole thing will be posted to AO3 tonight or tomorrow.
This ficlet brought to you by the words brunch, pancake, and divorce.
Ahh, just the question Chris had been dreading. Not that he hadn’t been hearing it for the past two weeks, sometimes multiple times a day. His answer was always the same vague non-answer that people expected. No real feeling or explanation. But he and Zach had been friends for years, good friends, and he deserved more than that.
“It’s been… endurable,” he finally said. “Lonely, you know, even though Maria and I hardly saw each other anyway. I’ve been eating a lot of ice cream.”
Zach could tell Chris was trying
to be cool, but the light from the next flash of lightning was bright enough to
illuminate the entire room along with the jump Chris made when the thunder cracked
so loudly it seemed like it had taken the roof off the building.
“Jesus!” Chris muttered,
looking up and ducking his head simultaneously.
Zach tried to project calm and
comfort, but he knew better than to try to touch Chris when he was like this. “It’s
just a storm, we get them practically every day this time of year,” he said. A moment
later, rain pelted the front windows, driven by stiff winds.
“That’s not reassuring. Like,
at all. How can you sit there so calmly in the middle of a thing that causes
tornadoes? Will you be this blithe when we land in Oz? Hmm?”
“You’re bitchy when you’re
scared,” Zach observed with amusement.
“And you’re not getting laid
when you’re smug,” was Chris’s tart reply.
“Come on, babe, it’s just rain
and noise. We don’t get the kind of tornadoes you’re thinking of around here, I
promise you.” Another pair of lightning flashes threw the darkened room into sharp
relief; the loud clap of thunder that accompanied each did not help prove Zach’s
point. Skunk, spooked, made a beeline for Chris on the couch and tried to
burrow inside the space between the cushions and Chris’s back.
“See?” Chris pointed out. “Even
Skunk knows better.” Chris picked the dog up and held him against his chest.
“Don’t misappropriate my dog,
he’ll head for the hills at the slightest sign of trouble, you know,” Zach said,
amused.
“Don’t be insulting.” Another lightning
flash, another flinch. Chris hugged the dog tighter.
Predictably, the storm began to
move on within minutes, the thunder and lightning tapering off as its ferocity
waned. A moment later, the power came back on in the apartment, and Chris visibly
relaxed, though he didn’t let the dog go.
Zach risked a reassuring hand
on Chris’s back and was not rebuffed. “See? All better. Want some tea?” Zach had
some chamomile somewhere, he thought.
Chris nodded. “And cookies. You
got those little almond ones?”
“I’ll have to check.” Zach rose
and went to the kitchen.
Chris and Skunk followed, the
dog wriggling to be let down to get a drink of water. “You know, we don’t get many
thunderstorms in LA,” Chris said, watching him, “not really.”
“I remember.”
“They used to scare the
bejeezus outta me when I was little. My mom would have to put all the lights on
and play the TV at maximum volume so I wouldn’t freak out completely.”
“Not me, I used to go sit on
our front porch swing, to watch the rain.” Zach filled the kettle and put it on
the stove before turning to the cabinet where the mugs were. Chris looked at
him like he was crazy. “Come on, not when it was like this. Most of the time
you get a nice downpour with the occasional thunder rumbling from miles away.
It’s nice on a hot August day, soothing.” He held the mugs he’d fetched against
his chest at the memory. “The wind would blow rain against your face, and it’d
be so refreshing. We didn’t have air conditioning in my Nona’s house when I was
really little, and we used to long for rain on those really hot nights, you
know? Try to catch a breeze through the windows. The rain made sleeping easier.
Anyway, I still like to fall asleep to the rain in the summer.”
“It sounds nice when you put it
that way,” Chris mused. “Not at all like the weather is out to kill us all with
its indiscriminate wrath.”
“That’s it, no more reading
gothic novels before bed. Or ever.”
Chris laughed, mood lightened. “Where
are the cookies?”
Here´s to these two talented actors life ruiners who have brought together the most awesome fandom ever! We love them for better:
and for worse:
We forgive them their questionable grooming choices:
All in the name of their enjoyable performances mating game:
Here´s to their friendship love story that gives us the escape route from the daily grind!
What? Who goes into the water with their clothes on anyway?
But for the most, I want to thank every Pinto bean, writer, artist, manip or gif maker, blogger for keeping the flame alive! I love you all and I wish you the best Pinto de Mayo!
And you two, live long and prosper too get a room already!
Sorry, guys, I’m lame and I don’t think I’m gonna finish this tonight. It’s almost dinnertime here and this thing just keeps ballooning, so I’m going to try to finish it later tonight and edit and post it tomorrow (can PdM last all weekend??), but here’s a snippet in the meantime! This is for a prompt @seepunkrun gave me about Zach house-hunting in LA and Chris “helping”.
At the front door, Chris is already grilling the realtor—a short, blonde woman with a soccer-mom haircut and an incredibly fake-looking smile—about the landscaping. “Did the previous owner have a gardner?”
“I imagine so,” says Linda the Realtor, staring down at the papers in her hand as if they will reveal the secrets of the universe to her—or at least the secret to getting Chris to shut up. “I can get that info for you.”
“It’s fine,” Zach says in a rush to be accomodating. “Let’s see the inside?”
Chris pushes his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head and gives Zach a look but mercifully doesn’t say another word as they step into the entryway.
The house has great curb appeal, but it’s even more charming inside. It’s a true mid-century rancher, and the previous owners renovated but not so much that it’s been stripped of its vintage flair. In many ways, it’s the opposite of the sleek, modern apartment Zach left behind in New York, but to his surprise, he finds that comforting rather than off-putting. Maybe he really needs a change. Maybe this just reminds him of the house he grew up in, except twice the size and missing the brown shag carpeting and avocado fridge.
“Are these floors real wood?” Chris asks as they head down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
“Mhm. Original to the house,” Linda says. She has walked ahead of them, leaving to them to trail side-by-side down the narrow hallway, so close their hands brush, but now she turns and stops by a bedroom door to let them peek inside. “This is the smallest of the three bedrooms. It would make a great office, don’t you think? Or…” She pauses, eyeing Chris up and down and then flicking her eyes to Zach. “Or a nursery?”
A nursery? Zach’s entire body lights up with the pins and needles of mortification. The noise he makes is meant to be noncommittal, but it comes out as more of a croak, and he has to duck quickly in the room to avoid looking at Chris, clocking his reaction. It certainly isn’t the realtor’s fault, after all, that she would assume they’re together. Chris has practically been inviting that exact assumption, what with his enthusiasm and over-investment. And what grown man would bring a friend with him on a home tour? What are they even doing?
This is fabulous! Can’t wait for more!
Okay, Beans, I’m out to RL for a while, but it’s been a glorious celebration! Thanks for all the posts. I completely remember why I love these guys and this fandom.
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