KISS One-Shots

Peter and Eric S

There was a loud bang as a door upstairs slammed shut and I let out a sigh, sitting up and switching on the lamp beside my bed. The shouting had already started by the time I managed to find my headphones, but to my surprise there was just the sound of the door slamming shut again and footsteps on the stairs before I had even managed to select a playlist. 

"I fucking hate you! We're done!" "Good! You can get your stuff tomorrow!" 

As the shouting picked right back up where it had left off except this time on the stairs instead of in their room, I picked my loudest playlist and put it on shuffle, cranking it up all the way. But I was also really nosy, and as their very heated argument kept going I decided to stand just outside my door, looking through the peephole at everyone's favorite couple from 315. Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer, who had gone from lovers to enemies remarkably fast.  

Finally, Tommy stormed back upstairs to his apartment, leaving Eric standing in the hall, and I watched as the sudden realization he had no place to go for the night slowly set in. Rolling my eyes, I pushed open my door. "Hey! You need a couch to crash on for tonight?" I asked, a little colder than I meant to. His face immediately went red. "What makes you say that?" he snapped back.

I gave him a flat look before letting out a short laugh. "Oh, kind of just the whole fight that the entire building heard. For what, the third week in a row? You guys finally call it quits now?" Eric's face fell and I felt a bit bad. "Uh...yeah. We did." "I see. Sorry to hear that. But really, do you need a couch to crash on?" He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Y-yeah. Thanks Peter," he mumbled, walking into my apartment with my head hung. 

He sat down on the couch in my living room, letting out a long sigh and staring at the floor. "Damn," he muttered, before looking at me. "Sorry. For this fight and for all the fights. That wasn't fair of us to do to you, we should've just worked it out like mature adults." I shrugged. "I mean, yeah. And hell, it's not just me you need to apologize. The entire second and third and probably fourth floor have been tired of listening to your shit. Anyway, let me get you a blanket and stuff," I said, walking off to my room and leaving him sitting there. 

Eventually, I had produced two extra blankets and a spare pillow, handing them all to him. "Here you go. Let me know if you need anything, but in the meantime, I'm going to bed. And since you're not with Tommy, I'll actually be able to get some sleep," I said, giving him a pointed look, and he cringed. "Yeah. Sorry again. And thanks." Shrugging, I walked into my room, closing my door behind me and flopping onto my bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

I woke up to the smell of coffee and frowned before remembering that Eric had spent the night on my couch. Shaking my head, I slid out of bed, throwing on a hoodie and walking into the kitchen, immediately feeling my mouth drop open. Eric was standing over the stove, carefully making crepes and adding them to a plate that was already full of them. "You didn't have to make breakfast," I blurted out. 

He jumped before letting out a yelp, jerking his hand away from the pan. "Oh! Ow, damn!" he cried. My heart dropped and I rushed over to him. "Oh I'm so sorry! Oh shit is it badly burned?" I asked, gently taking his hand. Eric shook his head, blushing furiously. "N-no it's fine, just nicked the pan with the back of my hand," he said. "I overreacted, I'm fine, don't worry about it." 

Shaking my head, I walked him over to the sink, still holding his hand, and ran some lukewarm water over it. "Alright let me get you a band-aid," I said, and his face grew even redder. "I'm fine, you really don't--" he started, but I shook my head, dropping his hand and grabbing a box of band-aids and some burn ointment from the bathroom cabinet. He was somehow blushing even more by the time I got back, helping him apply the ointment and the band-aid. "You really didn't have to," he mumbled.

I shook my head, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. "Well, you didn't have to make breakfast, and especially not crepes." Absolutely beet red at this point, he shrugged helplessly. "Just wanted to do something nice." I gave him a look. "You alright man? You've kinda gone like...really red." Looking like he wanted to die, Eric stared intently at the floor. "Sorry. I just uh...well I mean...you know," he mumbled. 

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't really know. What're you talking about?" "Peter look I uh...I really like you. I've really liked you for awhile. That was a bit of the reason Tommy and I split, but I mean we had a whole lot of issues on top of that too. So sorry if I just tanked our friendship or anything I just really had to tell you," he blurted out. 

Blinking, I stared at him in shock. "You...like me?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yeah. I really, really like you," he said quietly. I gently took his hand, lacing my fingers through his. "You're certain you love me?" I asked, and he nodded again, giving me a shy smile. "Yeah." My heart was pounding as I picked up his other hand, staring into his eyes which were absolutely dancing at this point. 

Trying not to panic, I leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were soft and fit perfectly against mine. He let go of my hands, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling himself closer against me and I smiled, holding him tighter.

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