Blue Monday

Chapter 6 - Ghost

***ALEX***

"This is obviously your dream, Feathers."

"Huh? Why would you think that?"

Fionna gestures to the rain-lashed windows of my living room. "Because when I make a dream, it's a sunny, warm day. Not a cold and rainy one."

I crane my neck to look out the window. "Well, since it's so cold and rainy, that means we can get nice and warm. Huh? Huh?" I snuggle closer to Fionna, wrapping my arms around her as best I can, considering there's a fuzzy dark-brown blanket separating our bodies.

"You wanna get nice and warm, but you don't wanna get under the blanket with me?" Fionna taps the tip of my nose with her index finger, prompting me to try and bite it playfully. "What's the matter? Afraid I'm too delicate for you?"

"There's something I'll never have to be afraid of," I say. "And if you wanted me to really get up close and personal with you, all you had to do was ask." I roll over so my back's against the back of the couch, then look down at myself. "Of course," I say slowly, "how can you be sure this isn't your dream instead of mine?"

"What makes you say that?"

I gesture at the outfit I'm wearing right now - dark gray hoodie, red T-shirt, beige cargo shorts. "I don't normally wear the right combo of clothes to cosplay as Hiro Hamada."

Fionna rubs the back of my head. "Aww, but I really miss tangling my fingers in that wolfy fur you used to have."

"Wolfy fur, huh? Never heard it put that way before. And don't change the subject. Did you or did you not make me dress like this?"

"Why not?" Fionna snickers. "You wear it well."

I climb off Fionna and start walking towards the stairs. "Don't get me wrong," I say, turning around for a second just to see her get up and follow me. "I love Big Hero 6 and all. But I don't love it that much. And I'm not really a good Hiro. About the only thing I have in common with him is a serious Pop-Tart addiction."

"You have a Pop-Tart addiction?"

"Well, I used to, when I was Hiro's age." I laugh under my breath before stepping into my room. I then open my closet door and stand behind it while picking out some longer pants and dropping my cargo shorts.

"Why're you hiding from me, huh, Feathers?" Fionna asks. I poke my head out to see her leaning casually in the doorway. "Come on, I've seen you shirtless. Why not pantsless?"

"Access denied, sweetheart." I flash her a grin before tossing my shorts onto my bed, then clumsily sliding my favorite pair of gray jeans onto my legs.

Fionna sighs contentedly as she sees me step back into view, laughing as I present her with views of my lower half at multiple angles like a runway model. "You wear that well, too," she says. "Hell, you wear that even better."

"See? I told you a quick change would be an improvement."

"You never said that. But seriously, has anyone ever told you how hot you look in skinny jeans?"

I raise my eyebrows. "These are slim jeans, Leftenant," I say in one of my many British accents - this one modeled after Ichabod Crane from Sleepy Hollow (the show, not the movie.) "I would never degrade myself by wearing the devil's trousers!"

"Slim, skinny," Fionna says, weighing her hands. "Same difference, really." She grabs my hand, then leaps onto my bed. We both land on it roughly at the same time, causing the springs to bounce and creak dangerously a few times before the mattress settles under our combined weight. I lie on my back, using my network of pillows to prop myself up (lying in a horizontal position faceup is murder on my wings), and hold her next to me, stroking her hair and caressing her shoulders.