Need A Little Cheering – GregStophe [or whatever it's called]
"What If"
…
Gregory leaned against the door frame and watched Christophe.
Christophe seemed to be pacing throughout the entire apartment. He began in the bedroom, then suddenly sped out to the hallway, then the kitchen. Each room he roamed he always would be about to touch something, then stop halfway and move on to something else. He looked jittery, and at times Gregory could hear the man mumbling something through his cigarette.
Gregory leaned patiently still, his arms crossed and his eyes watching with interest. He was used to a few of the odd things Christophe did, but this particular act was new. It entertained him, at first, but as Christophe rounded back to the bedroom then back out to the kitchen, he began to get worried.
Christophe was in the living room now, fingers reaching out to touch the television. Then he hesitated and his body turned away, toward the couch to not touch the throw pillow.
"Christophe."
The man continued to move. About to touch but don't touch, turn, look, walk, repeat.
"Christophe."
He began to mumble again and the ashes from his cigarette fell onto his shoe. He didn't notice and continued to move.
No Gregory uncrossed his arms and furrowed his brows. "Christophe?" He stepped forward and played with his fingers. "Christophe, stop. You'll wear a hole into the carpet."
Christophe passed him and Gregory heard him grumble something about, "It's ze carpet, ze fucking carpet…"
"Christophe." Gregory was now becoming irritated. "Look at me, Christophe." His fingers flicked a loose hair from his face and he kept himself from sighing. The frown deepened as Christophe completely ignored him.
"Hey Mole! Get that dog away from the couch!"
"What!"
Christophe broke from his trance and flipped a knife out from his pocket. "Where's ze little shit…" He stalked over the couch and looked over, finding nothing. "You've gone insane," he told Gregory, who was now standing behind him.
"No, you have, for believing that a dog somehow got into our second floor apartment. And put that knife away. What were you doing just now, Christophe?"
Christophe slipped the knife back into his pocket. "Looking for ze fucking dog."
Gregory sighed and rubbed his forehead. "No, no…I mean, what were you doing. Going around to every room like that." he looked up and placed his fingertips against Christophe's cheek. "Are you okay? Is anything bothering you?"
Christophe's eyes wavered as Gregory noticed that the cigarette in Christophe's mouth was almost chewed through. He took the cigarette from the digger's mouth and turned toward the kitchen to throw it away.
"You're just like a woman," Gregory heard Christophe grumble.
As he threw the cigarette in the trash, he laughed. "No, I'm not. If I were a woman I wouldn't have loved you this long." He turned around to smile, but Christophe wasn't looking at him. His body was in the other direction, running his fingers through his rumpled hair as Gregory walked forward, beginning to feel uneasy. "But I'm not, Christophe. I'm not a woman." He walked to Christophe and tapped the back of his neck. "And I still love you very much." He wrapped his arms around the man from behind and rested his head on a shoulder. "Christophe."
"Hn." Christophe didn't make any indication of moving and Gregory tightened his hold.
"What's wrong."
In Christophe's mind, he seemed to be going crazy. It started while he sat on his bed. He looked to the side and noticed Gregory's nightstand, topped with items of nonessential value, so much so that it made him smirk and think, 'What a woman.'
And then the thought came. More so, an image. Of Gregory walking beside a woman, smiling, talking, having a good time with this imaginary female in the recess of his brain.
Then the sadness came. Doubts.
What if, maybe if, if this happened…
In a nut shell, Christophe's mind collapsed in itself, with one sentence:
What if Gregory would be happier with a woman?
The cigarette between his teeth became something to chew on, and his eyes began roaming the room. All of Gregory's things, everything that he's touched, is everywhere. What if it wants to be somewhere else?
His feet moved before his mind caught up. The closet, the bed, the nightstand. All things belonging to one or being shared between the two.
What if, what if, what if…
He knew Gregory was watching him, but he couldn't look. It built up, and everything he wanted to touch, he was scared to, because every appliance held a memory. What if he wiped the memory away, or what if he got it dirty with his grimy hands? If Gregory left, he'd leave everything untouched, just to be able to leave Gregory alive through something.
And now here he is. Gregory is still holding him, and Christophe is still trying to figure out how to answer the question.
Gregory doesn't let go. He can't, he keeps telling himself. As long as the uneasiness stays, he can't let go.
Oh, how Christophe wished he still had a cigarette.
"Gregory."
"Yes?"
"You can let go."
"I won't."
"I'm dirty."
"You're always dirty. I don't mind anymore."
"You used to?"
"Yes, when we first met."
"…Hn."
They stood together, Christophe flipping the edge of his hair out of his eyes while Gregory closed his own and got more comfortable.
"I love hugging you, Christophe."
Christophe's mind jerked awake and he blinked twice. "Eh…what?"
"I love your body. I love to hold it, because I love it." Gregory's hands flattened against the digger's stomach and slid up his chest. "It's your body I love, and I love the person inside it."
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Gregory laughed loudly and squeezed Christophe's shoulders. "Only a little. But I'm also trying to remind you."
"Of what."
"That I love you." Gregory whispered, and lifted his head so he could kiss his cheek, standing on his toes.
Christophe's lip showed a quirk of a smile and his eyes seemed to lighten. Gregory couldn't see, but he still held on and waited.
"You love me?"
Gregory blinked and smiled. "Yep. I love you."
"Only me?"
Gregory's smile widened and he hugged his love tighter, if possible. "Only you, Christophe, even with all your digging and all your dirt, and your smoking and your messes-"
"Gregory, loose ze grip, eh? You're choking my waist."
Gregory loosened his arms. "I love you."
"Really?"
"Really, really. Just you."
"Just me."
"Just you! I love you more than any other man in the world and any other woman in the world, which should be obvious because I'm so totally gay for you."
Christophe chuckled and shook his head. "You're ze oddest man I know."
"But you still love me, right?"
Christophe nodded and let himself have a small smile. "Right."
Gregory took back his arms and turned Christophe around. "Right!" he yelled, and jumped Christophe. The digger stumbled back and slipped, falling onto the couch.
Gregory sat happily on Christophe's lap, finally at ease as he felt fingers run through his golden hair.
"I love you, Christophe. If you every doubt that again I'll beat it into you."
"I'd like to see you try," Christophe smirked, and pushed Gregory's head down to kiss him.
Christophe's mind was set at ease, for now anyway. The guy is crazy.
Besides, he thought to himself. Gregory is enough of a woman for both of them.
…
Yeaa! :D
So this is a request! From two people, actually. One requested this pairing in a story, and one suggested this pairing in need a little cheering. So I put them together! Hooray for laziness! XD
I actually really loved writing this. I hope you enjoyed it :3
And I really hope Christophe didn't hear me call him crazy. I love him, I really do! If I disappear on you guys look in his basement…
CUZ I'LL BE THERE VIDEOTAPING HIS BATHROOM AHAHAHAH /SHOT
Just kidding.
anyway, Review please :D Totally tell me what you think! This is a portion of a series of one shots called the "Need a Little Cheering" series. Look on my profile to see the other pairings I've written! It's all South Park.
`Bye! 3
