suedescripture:

I am almost positive I had posted some variant of this like five years ago, but I can’t find it in my tags. From Rent Control, the one with all the tropes.

“So? It’s great, right?” he says with a stupid grin on the corner of the driveway.

“Oh yeah, it’s a dream,” Zach says sarcastically, “Except, you know, that extra special bit where you decided we were getting married? What the fuck was that?”

“What?” Chris opens his palms to the air in confusion, “It’s legal now, right?”

“Missing the point entirely, that’s great,” Zach throws his hands up. “Did you forget the part where I don’t even know your last name?”

“Pine,” Chris offers, “Like the tree. I mean I could take your name, if you want? Or maybe we hyphenate? What is yours?”

“Quinto. Just… Oh my god! Why did you do that? We can never go back in there!” Zach grabs the handle of his suitcase and stalks off down the sidewalk.

“What? Wait, why?” Chris follows, grabbing his arm, “Why not?”

“Engaged?” Zach pulls away and spins on him, “That’s your angle? Are you certifiable? Why did you tell her that?”

“I dunno, it seemed like a good idea?” Chris’ eyes are wide and earnest, “Come on, Zach, this place is amazing! I just thought… if they think we’re a couple, it’s not weird to have two dudes in one bed, right?”

“Of course, because we couldn’t just, like, tell them the truth?” Zach reels, “Now we have to pretend to play Happy House Husbands because you decided it was a good idea? Did you even think that through for half a second?”

Chris blinks, chewing his lip like an adorable five-year-old, “Wait… what about it isn’t good, though?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Chris,” Zach sighs heavily, “The whole part where one day soon, I’m going to want to get laid, and I assume you will too. I mean, I figured there’d be a whole sock-on-the-doorknob deal, like college.”

Chris thinks about this and shrugs, “So we’ll get laid elsewhere. It’s doable.”

“And what about convincing the pair of surf hippie biker daddies in there of our impending nuptials? The ones with the master bedroom we didn’t see but I’m relatively sure has a set or two of eyebolts in the walls, maybe a mirror above the bed?” Zach challenges. “You’re obviously new to the lifestyle, but us gay guys? We like to fuck. Daily. Twice on Sundays.” He continues off along the walk.

It’s a second before Chris is beside him again, “Okay, yeah, you’re right. I didn’t think it through. But I still think we could play it.”

Zach rolls his eyes and shakes his head, stopping on the corner of the sidewalk to face him, “I thought I was the actor here.”

Chris shrugs and smiles, “Everyone’s an actor here. It’s LA.” He huffs, taking Zach’s hand again. “Come on, please? It’s month-to-month, so If it doesn’t work out, at least we’ll both have some time to figure something else out, right? With a roof over our heads, and a real bed, in a clean, awesome, beautiful house with decent people. And a basketball hoop over the garage. And a jacuzzi. Dude, a jacuzzi! Please, give it a chance? Give me a chance?”

He has Zach’s hand sandwiched between both of his own, eyes doing this pleading puppy dog thing like he’s used this trick on grandmas and teachers and maybe police to get out of all sorts of pissing on the carpet, and if Zach was actually dating this adorable shithead, it might work on him too. Besides that, he has a point. Zach has nowhere else to go, and the place really is nice. He exhales, dropping his eyes to their combined grip and softly conceding, “Okay. We’ll try it.”

Then the asshole smiles enormously and raises Zach’s hand to press two kisses in quick succession to the heel of Zach’s thumb, making his heart do a little flip. Chris’ lips are as soft and pillowy as they look, shit. Zach raises an eyebrow as Chris nuzzles at his hand a little, flicking those pool blue eyes up at him and murmuring, “Shut up, I’m practicing.”