Chris Evans wore rejection exceptionally well.
When he returned from New York, it was like nothing had happened, nothing had changed – and you didn’t know how to feel about that. A big part of you was relieved that things had returned to normal almost instantaneously. But a small, dark part of you – hidden very well in the recesses of your mind – had wanted him to be as hurt as you still were.
But there he was, bursting into your room, smile on his face.
You hadn’t woken up yet, but the sound of the door being flung open had you springing up and already had a pillow clutched in your hand, ready for an attack – which you received, but not from who you’d expect.
Dodger, hot on Chris’ heels, leapt onto you with a happy yowl and began the vigorous task of slobbering the ever loving shit out of you. You attempted to push him away, fighting to get the pillow between you to prevent getting drenched by dog saliva. But you were sluggish and Dodger was not, easily manoeuvring around you to attack once more.
Fighting a fit of laughter, you peered around your pillow at Chris. He stood in the doorway, hands in pockets, grinning stupidly.
“Christopher, get your attack dog off of me!”
He chuckled. “Get out of bed!”
You groaned. “It’s a Saturday, Chris. I’m allowed to sleep in.”
“Not today. Come on, get up!” He clapped. “We have a big day ahead of us.”
Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s got you so chipper?”
“Two things,” he said, making his way to you. He promptly threw the covers off of you, causing you to yelp and tuck your bare legs to your chest. “Hey, didn’t we discuss more pants being worn around the house…?”
“Two. Things?” You ground out the prompt from behind grit teeth. Dodger pawed at your legs.
“One, I got the part.”
You beamed, irritation dissipating. “That’s great! I’m really proud of you, Evans.”
He smiled briefly, before hollowing his cheeks and letting out a singular piercing whistle. You winced, but Dodger immediately stopped his antics and returned to Chris’ side, bounding happily alongside him as they both moved to exit.
“And? What’s the second thing?” You called out to him.
“Pack your things, wear something nice. We’re going to Vegas, baby.”
———————
“Vegas?!” You had immediately hopped out of bed at the very casual name drop. “As in Las Vegas?”
“Of course,” Chris shrugged, pouring some freshly brewed coffee into his favourite mug. It was one he’d stolen from the set of Knives Out; you were well acquainted with it.
“May I ask why?”
“We’re going to a wedding.”
“A wedding?!” Your voice was shrill. You were becoming increasingly more annoyed with how non-chalant he was being, answering your questions with the bare minimum.
YOU ARE READING
ocean eyes || c.evans
Fanfiction"He looked at her the way an immortal would describe Galileo's first look to the Milky Way. And if you hadn't been so entranced by the splendor of it all, that look that Robert wore would seem familiar. Because right beside you, Chris was looking at...
