I Say "Vol," You Say "Finals" (A Klance AU) [ON HIATUS]

3. I Give Him my Phone Number

After we brought up my boxes, I somehow managed to convince Keith to unpack his own. Hey, you can be messy with unpacked stuff, can't you?

When I finished, I stepped back, admiring my handiwork. With my dark-stained wooden desk up against the middle of the left-hand wall, I had plenty of room for a bean bag, lava lamp, and some small, low bookshelves in the corner behind it. My race-car bed was in the opposite corner, facing it, and I had put a big, blue carpet in the center of the room. I stacked all the empty boxes in the corner to the right of my door, put my knife in the secret compartment in one of the legs of my bed, and I went to see if Keith had already stocked anything in the kitchen.

To my surprise, he was already in the kitchen, and he seemed to be cooking something.

"H-h-hey there, Keith. Whatcha making?"

"Hmm? Oh, this — I'm making frittata." Just then, a timer went off on his phone, and he pulled something out of the oven. "Do you want some?"

"Sure," I said, sitting down and shrugging my shoulders. Hey, I wasn't going to complain. It smelled great.

He set a plate down in front of me with some sort of...egg-dish on it? I must've had a weird look on my face, because he burst out laughing.

"Have you actually ever...well, I don't know, tried frittata?"

"Uh...no?" I said, cutting a piece off of the edge. I tried it. It was, indeed, as great as it had smelled. "Mmm, this is delicious! Where did you get the recipe?"

"It's my dad's. I can send it to you, if you'd like." He walked over to the counter and picked up his phone.

"That would be great," I agreed.

"Uhhh...I don't...I don't have your number," he said, walking over and handing me his phone awkwardly. I put my number into his phone, and I got a message almost as soon as I had handed it back to him.

red-lion: hey, here's the link

whyyesitsblue: oh, thanks :)

red-lion: no problem :)

I giggled, still being in the same room as him, and it wasn't long before we were both laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

We both ate our frittata -- what a weird name for a dish -- and washed our plates.

"Hey, do you want to watch something?"

"Uh, sure," I said, hoping I didn't come off weirdly. What if my response was too disinterested? What if I responded too quickly? What if-- I cut my brain off there. This was one train of thought whose tracks I did not want to walk near.

"Cool," he said, walking over to the couch and grabbing the remote. I sat down next to him, taking the blanket.

"Hmmph," he pouted, pulling it back. I took it back, and he took it back, and it was a tug-of-war for the blanket.

"Ah, good sir, I shall relinquish this covering to you," I said overdramatically upon my losing.

He wrapped himself in the blanked. He just looks so cute like that.

"So, what show--?" I turned and found that he had fallen asleep. Tch, I thought, holding back my laughter. "Welp, I guess there's no help for it. I'll have to carry him to his bed."

I went and set him down on his bed, tucking him in, turning out his lights, and closing the door to his room behind me.

I sat on my bed, bored. Ugh. I feel like I'm craving something. Something familiar. Hmm...I can't quite place it...

Oh, right, that's what it is. My face lit up as I remembered what never failed to bring a smile to my face.

Murder.