I always thought I’d write about Pitchiner being forced by Pitch into a pair of high-waisted pants (because waists, yes) before writing about him in a corset, yet here we are. (No corsets yet, but soon, very soon. [Look, I gave something a title! Also, multi-chapter, woo, I have no idea how long this will be.])
Pitchiner glanced back up at the clock, sighed and took another sip of his beer before looking up at the clock again as if he could somehow make time go by faster by glaring it into submission.
"You seem very out of spirits tonight," Proto commented lightly as he came to stand beside him in the kitchen, Pitchiner tensed a fraction but immediately relaxed, a sign that he was either starting to get used to Proto’s presence or he’d had enough alcohol to mellow him out a little.
"Does your mood have anything to do with how Pitch hasn’t come home yet?"
Pitchiner grit his teeth together and turned just enough to send Proto a warning look which Proto completely disregarded and pleasantly charged onward.
"I saw him when he was leaving this afternoon, he seemed to be in an awful hurry to get away. I wonder why?"
Pitchiner mumbled something under his breath and finished the last of his can before grabbing another one from the fridge.
"You’ll have to speak up Kozmotis. Now tell your dear half-cousin-in-law Proto what’s going on."
"We had our first fight," he grunted sullenly.
Proto hummed under his breath. “You fight every day.”
"Our first big fight.”
"Ah, that’s why you’re sneakily waiting in the kitchen, so that once you hear Pitch come in and close the door behind him you can sneak up on him from the side and catch him unawares before he slips away again." Proto nodded to himself. "Not a terrible idea, but I would suggest you moving your pity party to the living room. Unless you turn all the lights off he’ll see your shadow being cast and know you’re waiting for him."
"I don’t even know what I did wrong! We were just pissing each other off as usual and then all of a sudden he gets all huffy and storms away!" Pitchiner frowns at the clock again and crosses his arms testily. "He hasn’t even texted me to tell me that he’s safe or anything, thoughtless bastard."
"Pitch has always been a bit snappish, you’ll just have to wait it out."
"It’s been hours. He’s never been mad at me for this long before.”
"There, there." Proto patted Pitchiner’s shoulder and rose an eyebrow when the lacrosse player leaned into the touch instead of going completely taut like he normally did. Interesting. Just how much had he drunk so far?
"What if he stays mad at me?"
"You’ll just have to find a way to make it up to him."
"Oh, I’m sure I can think of a way or two to get back on his good side," Proto responded airily, "but first I think it would be best for you to go to bed."
"No, I’m going to stay up until Pitch gets back."
"So that you can drunkenly harass him and irritate him more? I don’t believe that will help your cause."
Pitchiner glared up at him weakly.
"Look, go to the living room and lay on the couch, when Pitch comes in if you’re still awake you’ll be able to hear him, and if you happen to fall asleep you can begin your grovelling in the morning with breakfast in bed."
"Fine, but only because Pitch will probably be tired when he gets back and will need his beauty sleep. Not because you suggested it."
"Of course. I wouldn’t dream to think otherwise."
Proto guides him out of the kitchen and sets him down on the couch. When he comes back with a spare blanket Pitchiner is already dead to the world.
He chuckles under his breath while he makes his way to the front door. He opens it just a crack, plucks a single hair from his crown and shuts it in between the door and doorframe before heading to his room.
Normally he’d stay up later to work on his experiments, it’s much more fun to conduct tests under the cover of night and then he can explain away any suspicious noises people overhear as being half forgotten dreams, but he’s going to have an interesting day tomorrow and he needs to be properly rested for it.
He’s never had the opportunity to provide his assistance to one half of a couple that needs to make up for a fight before and social experiments are always a joy to conduct.
He slips inside and carefully makes his way over the path of uncluttered floor space that ends at his bed.
Tomorrow is bound to be an absolutely riveting day.
Pitchiner wakes up feeling vaguely dehydrated, too hot, and with a mild headache. He cracks open his eyes to see himself laying under one of Proto’s scratchy blankets on the couch in the living room and he groans as the previous evening comes back to him.
"Finally awake, are we?" Proto looms over the arm of the couch to cheerily gaze down at him and Pitchiner resists the urge to pull the blanket over his head and ignore him.
"Pitch didn’t come home last night."
"What?" Pitchiner untangles himself from the blanket and jumps up from the couch, even though the movement makes his head throb. "Not at all? Not even to get a change of clothes for his classes today?"
Well, there went the breakfast in bed plan.
"He texted me this morning to inform us that he was still alive. You must have really irked him this time, thankfully you have me here to help." He slid an arm around Pitchiner’s shoulders and smiled brightly at the way Pitchiner went absolutely rigid at the contact.
"How can you possibly help?"
"Honestly Kozmotis," Proto began with a put-upon sigh, easily ignoring the way Pitchiner’s fists clenched at the sound of his given name, "I’ve known Pitch a lot longer than you, surely you realize that I know things about him that you don’t? Come along then, my first class is in a few hours so we’d better get going."
Proto’s smile widened eerily.
"Oh, you’ll see."