rabidchild67:

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?”