Warning: RWB spoilers ahead.
Some say the best love stories often take time.
Emery Chernychevsky has had a crush on Cameron Brooks since he can remember. Watching him date different girls all throughout high school was nothing if not pure torture...
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The loud rattling of kitchen items was enough to stir Asher awake. It was hard to remember a time when he wasn't asleep, almost as hard as it was to imagine a scenario where he would opt out of choking whatever nincompoop was dumb enough to wake him up. Half-heartedly, he found himself moving toward the stairs, sleep slowly eluding him as the noise grew louder.
"Please tell me you're not trying to juggle knives in your kitchen."
Blake's head popped out of the pantry, his head covered in plastic. "No. I'm looking for a-" His sentence got cut when he screamed, massaging his head where the countertop hit it. "Ow. I'm taking Ian's advice."
"You're dyeing your hair red."
"I'm dyeing my hair red!" Blake grinned, and Asher grimaced at the red stain on his nose. That should be easy to clean. "Wanna help me?"
"Do I look like I wanna help you?" Asher asked, alluding to his bleary eyes, expression dour. "Can you just please keep it down? The world is sleeping."
"It's 9 AM why the hell are you tired? All you do is sleep," Blake told him.
Asher dismissed him with a huff as his eyes panned to the sink full of dirty dishes. He couldn't hear himself gasp over the sound of Blake delving into cupboards of old steelware.
"What the hell is this?" Asher muttered, grimacing when his hand touched one of the oil-covered plates. "It's like living with children..."
"Calm down, Monica Geller, it's a pile of dirty dishes," Blake told him, plastic bowl in hand as he took a seat on one of the bar stools. Asher glared at him, but he was too busy coloring his roots to notice.
"Where is everyone?" Asher asked. "Why am I the only one in this house who cares about home maintenance?"
Blake shrugged. "Dunno. It's my home and even I don't care."
"See this is why," Asher raised his voice enough to reach upstairs. Noticing his friend's imminent outburst, Blake chuckled, quietly so he wouldn't have his ass pounded by Pissy Sanders. "you people have to stop fucking each other!" Asher sighed. "Seriously, no one's doing any cleaning because you're all busy fondling each other's bathing suit parts."
Blake laughed out loud. Footsteps from the staircase receded as Cate appeared wearing a sour face, scratching her head as she tried to register what was going on.
"People, people..." She groaned, her feet carrying her in the middle of the kitchen. "What's with all the noise?"
"That's the sound of me being sick of having to do the dishes every morning," Asher answered with the sass of a seven-year-old. "You know Cameron was supposed to do this last night. There can never be too much help around this house."
"Two weeks more, Ash. Just two weeks," Cate reminded him. "You know the world doesn't have to descend into chaos if you just leave them there and let the others do it."
