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twobirdsonesongTitle: Drop It Like It’s Obvious
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Rating/Length: G / ~1,200
Summary: A belated birthday gift for Katie.
Read on AO3
In hindsight, Darren should have seen it coming.
Chris likes to bake and is a good hand at it, but he tends to stick to the handful of recipes he’s already proven adept at. Darren is intimately familiar with Chris’ chocolate chip cookies, his banana bread, and his pecan pie (which Darren sometimes convinces him to add bourbon to, on special occasions). There have been other attempts along the sliding spectrum of success: key lime pie, misshapen eclairs, and croissants that used up more butter than Darren had ever seen before in his life.
When he comes home one evening to discover the kitchen covered in powdered sugar, Darren has to pause and wonder what’s going on.
Chris tries new things when he has something to prove. The eclairs happened in the middle of Glee; the key lime pie happened after he’d turned in the first draft of his book and didn’t know if anything would come of it.
Now the kitchen smells of flour and almonds and an oven that’s been on for a while.
Chris stands at the counter, apron dusted in flour and a smudge of it on his forehead too, rolling cookie after cookie in powdered sugar. Piles of little domed confections cool on a racks and Darren is pretty sure there are even more baking away in the oven. He looks like he’s been at it for hours.
“Hey.”
Chris glances over at him, smiles a little. “Hey, you’re home.”
Darren shuffles over, reaches around Chris to snag a cookie off the rack. He fully expects the annoyed smack on the back of his hand when it comes. “What’cha making?”
“Cookies,” Chris says, nudging him away a little to reach for more cooled cookies to roll in sugar.
It practically melts in his mouth when Darren takes a bite, almonds and sugar crumbling apart across his tongue.
“I see that. What kind? You haven’t made them before.” Darren licks sugar off his fingers.
“Mexican Wedding Cookies.”
They’re delicious, and messy. Darren’s probably going to eat twelve. “Nice,” he says. “So what’cha want for dinner?”
***
It’s four o’clock in the morning and Darren can’t find his rings. He has a flight to catch, a bag sitting at the door with a cat sitting on it, and a car waiting outside for him to get his ass out there. But he can’t find his rings and he’s not leaving without them.
They’re not on the dresser, they’re not on the bathroom, they’re not in the little box he bought to store them in that he never ends up using. And they’re definitely not on his finger.
Chris is asleep, almost completely buried under the covers, and Darren desperately tries not to wake him as he scours the house, top to bottom. Only one of them should be up at this hour if it can be helped.
But Darren’s good intentions don’t save him. He’s on his knees looking underneath the dresser by the light of his cell phone for a second time when he hears the rustle of sheets.
“What’re you doing?” Chris grumbles.
“Go back to sleep.” All Darren finds under the dresser is dust and a cat toy. Brian, at least, will be happy.
“Can’t with you banging around like this.”
“Sorry, but I can’t find my rings. I don’t know where the fuck I put them.”
“Tote bag,” Chris mutters, sounding like he’s about to fall back asleep already. “On the chair. Under my coat.”
Darren sits up on his heels. Sure enough, on the comfortable chair Chris likes to read in near the window, Darren can see the fabric of Chris’ favorite tote bag. And inside is a little velvet bag from a jeweler somewhere in the city.
“Why do you have my rings?” Darren asks.
Chris flips his pillow over, settles back down. “I had them cleaned.”
“Cleaned?”
“Mhmm.”
Darren takes them out of the bag and slides two on his middle finger. The weight is comforting, the silver warming against his skin. They do look shinier than they were the other day. The third he leaves in the bag, and takes over the dresser for safe keeping.
“Thanks.” Darren bends over the bed and presses a kiss to Chris’ sleep-warm cheek. Chris’ eyes are closed, but his lashes flutter. “Back in a few days.”
Chris hmms softly and Darren slips quietly out of the house to the waiting car.
***
“What do you think of these?”
Darren glances up from his script. He’d thought Chris was writing, but though his laptop is open, he’s not looking at a Word Document. He’s looking at a website with a billion color swatches on it.
“Huh?”
“What do you think of these?” Chris asks again. He clicks on something and a purple-hued square disappears, replaced by one with a lighter tinge.
“Can’t really see them from here.”
“Then get up.”
Groaning, Darren sets the script aside and rolls to his feet to shuffle over to Chris on the couch. He sits down on the wide arm rest. “Okay, I have arrived.”
Chris has a dozen tabs open on his browser. “What do you think?”
Darren squints at the swatches on the screen. The color arrays remind him of the fall. “Are we painting?” He’s always thought Chris’ house was a bit bland, but was never going to say anything about it. Both of them have been too busy to worry about decorating, besides.
Chris makes a noncommittal noise.
“I like the purple,” Darren offers. “The darker one.”
“Plum,” Chris corrects
“Whatever. It’s nice. Would be a lot for all of the walls though. Dark.”
Chris pulls up a few more swatches. “Pumpkin Pie. Champagne. Sage.”
“Are these colors or is it dinner?” Teases Darren, but Chris is staring thoughtfully at the screen, fingers of one hand resting against his chin.
“I like it,” he says finally.
Darren looks again at the color combinations. “You don’t think it’s a lot? A big change? This whole house is white and blue.”
“Change can be good.”
Darren leans over and kisses Chris’ temple. “Go for it.”
***
In hindsight, Darren really should have seen it coming.
Chris is down on one knee, a new silver ring in his hand, looking up at Darren with a mixture of fondness and obvious nerves. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” he says, half-smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in the corners of his eyes.
“Well, I’m surprised.” Darren doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He puts them on his waist, then folds them behind his head, drops them to his sides. His heart beats heavily under his skin.
“I was kind of hoping you’d just…figure it out.”
“Oh.”
“I was, you know, trying to drop hints.” Chris shrugs awkwardly. His cheeks are pink, his eyes bright.
Darren blinks. The colors. His rings. The damn wedding cookies. He really is dense sometimes. “Yeah I, uh, I get that now.”
“Well, are you going to say yes, or are you just going to leave me down here?”
Darren laughs. He grabs Chris’ hand, sandwiching the ring between their palms, and pulls Chris to his feet. “I kind of always thought I’d be the one to propose,” he confesses.
“You wouldn’t be able to keep it a surprise from me.”
“Probably not,” Darren agrees, delight welling up inside.
“Is that a yes?”
Darren kisses him, kisses him again. “Obviously.”
The ring, of course, fits perfectly.
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Rating/Length: G / ~1,200
Summary: A belated birthday gift for Katie.
Read on AO3
In hindsight, Darren should have seen it coming.
Chris likes to bake and is a good hand at it, but he tends to stick to the handful of recipes he’s already proven adept at. Darren is intimately familiar with Chris’ chocolate chip cookies, his banana bread, and his pecan pie (which Darren sometimes convinces him to add bourbon to, on special occasions). There have been other attempts along the sliding spectrum of success: key lime pie, misshapen eclairs, and croissants that used up more butter than Darren had ever seen before in his life.
When he comes home one evening to discover the kitchen covered in powdered sugar, Darren has to pause and wonder what’s going on.
Chris tries new things when he has something to prove. The eclairs happened in the middle of Glee; the key lime pie happened after he’d turned in the first draft of his book and didn’t know if anything would come of it.
Now the kitchen smells of flour and almonds and an oven that’s been on for a while.
Chris stands at the counter, apron dusted in flour and a smudge of it on his forehead too, rolling cookie after cookie in powdered sugar. Piles of little domed confections cool on a racks and Darren is pretty sure there are even more baking away in the oven. He looks like he’s been at it for hours.
“Hey.”
Chris glances over at him, smiles a little. “Hey, you’re home.”
Darren shuffles over, reaches around Chris to snag a cookie off the rack. He fully expects the annoyed smack on the back of his hand when it comes. “What’cha making?”
“Cookies,” Chris says, nudging him away a little to reach for more cooled cookies to roll in sugar.
It practically melts in his mouth when Darren takes a bite, almonds and sugar crumbling apart across his tongue.
“I see that. What kind? You haven’t made them before.” Darren licks sugar off his fingers.
“Mexican Wedding Cookies.”
They’re delicious, and messy. Darren’s probably going to eat twelve. “Nice,” he says. “So what’cha want for dinner?”
***
It’s four o’clock in the morning and Darren can’t find his rings. He has a flight to catch, a bag sitting at the door with a cat sitting on it, and a car waiting outside for him to get his ass out there. But he can’t find his rings and he’s not leaving without them.
They’re not on the dresser, they’re not on the bathroom, they’re not in the little box he bought to store them in that he never ends up using. And they’re definitely not on his finger.
Chris is asleep, almost completely buried under the covers, and Darren desperately tries not to wake him as he scours the house, top to bottom. Only one of them should be up at this hour if it can be helped.
But Darren’s good intentions don’t save him. He’s on his knees looking underneath the dresser by the light of his cell phone for a second time when he hears the rustle of sheets.
“What’re you doing?” Chris grumbles.
“Go back to sleep.” All Darren finds under the dresser is dust and a cat toy. Brian, at least, will be happy.
“Can’t with you banging around like this.”
“Sorry, but I can’t find my rings. I don’t know where the fuck I put them.”
“Tote bag,” Chris mutters, sounding like he’s about to fall back asleep already. “On the chair. Under my coat.”
Darren sits up on his heels. Sure enough, on the comfortable chair Chris likes to read in near the window, Darren can see the fabric of Chris’ favorite tote bag. And inside is a little velvet bag from a jeweler somewhere in the city.
“Why do you have my rings?” Darren asks.
Chris flips his pillow over, settles back down. “I had them cleaned.”
“Cleaned?”
“Mhmm.”
Darren takes them out of the bag and slides two on his middle finger. The weight is comforting, the silver warming against his skin. They do look shinier than they were the other day. The third he leaves in the bag, and takes over the dresser for safe keeping.
“Thanks.” Darren bends over the bed and presses a kiss to Chris’ sleep-warm cheek. Chris’ eyes are closed, but his lashes flutter. “Back in a few days.”
Chris hmms softly and Darren slips quietly out of the house to the waiting car.
***
“What do you think of these?”
Darren glances up from his script. He’d thought Chris was writing, but though his laptop is open, he’s not looking at a Word Document. He’s looking at a website with a billion color swatches on it.
“Huh?”
“What do you think of these?” Chris asks again. He clicks on something and a purple-hued square disappears, replaced by one with a lighter tinge.
“Can’t really see them from here.”
“Then get up.”
Groaning, Darren sets the script aside and rolls to his feet to shuffle over to Chris on the couch. He sits down on the wide arm rest. “Okay, I have arrived.”
Chris has a dozen tabs open on his browser. “What do you think?”
Darren squints at the swatches on the screen. The color arrays remind him of the fall. “Are we painting?” He’s always thought Chris’ house was a bit bland, but was never going to say anything about it. Both of them have been too busy to worry about decorating, besides.
Chris makes a noncommittal noise.
“I like the purple,” Darren offers. “The darker one.”
“Plum,” Chris corrects
“Whatever. It’s nice. Would be a lot for all of the walls though. Dark.”
Chris pulls up a few more swatches. “Pumpkin Pie. Champagne. Sage.”
“Are these colors or is it dinner?” Teases Darren, but Chris is staring thoughtfully at the screen, fingers of one hand resting against his chin.
“I like it,” he says finally.
Darren looks again at the color combinations. “You don’t think it’s a lot? A big change? This whole house is white and blue.”
“Change can be good.”
Darren leans over and kisses Chris’ temple. “Go for it.”
***
In hindsight, Darren really should have seen it coming.
Chris is down on one knee, a new silver ring in his hand, looking up at Darren with a mixture of fondness and obvious nerves. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” he says, half-smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in the corners of his eyes.
“Well, I’m surprised.” Darren doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He puts them on his waist, then folds them behind his head, drops them to his sides. His heart beats heavily under his skin.
“I was kind of hoping you’d just…figure it out.”
“Oh.”
“I was, you know, trying to drop hints.” Chris shrugs awkwardly. His cheeks are pink, his eyes bright.
Darren blinks. The colors. His rings. The damn wedding cookies. He really is dense sometimes. “Yeah I, uh, I get that now.”
“Well, are you going to say yes, or are you just going to leave me down here?”
Darren laughs. He grabs Chris’ hand, sandwiching the ring between their palms, and pulls Chris to his feet. “I kind of always thought I’d be the one to propose,” he confesses.
“You wouldn’t be able to keep it a surprise from me.”
“Probably not,” Darren agrees, delight welling up inside.
“Is that a yes?”
Darren kisses him, kisses him again. “Obviously.”
The ring, of course, fits perfectly.
