A/N: written for Trope Bingo Round 9: Free Space/Curtainfic.
"This is ridiculous."
"Do you want me to lift you?"
Yang groaned and reached up with the pole, managing to hook the curtain before he slid it across. He told Gunnar their house could just be a simple place, away from the French Quarter and all its noise. Now he had to deal with windows that were eight feet high, and the unsettling feeling that something was watching them at night.
Why Gunnar had bought this place, he didn't know. It gave him the creeps yet here they were a week later, acting as if nothing had happened. It wasn't a sacred tribal burial ground, or an old plantation — those were two prerequisites he'd pushed without hesitation — yet Yin couldn't shake the feeling something was seriously wrong with the building itself, or the land beneath it.
"You don't think it's Stonebanks, do you?" Yin asked, stepping down off the stool. He liked the open plan kitchen, and the cellar. "Haunting us, I mean."
"It's an old house, they're always creepy." Gunnar shrugged off Yang's concerns and pulled him onto the couch. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be able to withstand his burning the house down if necessary. "How's work with Trench?"
He wasn't jealous of Mauser. Who would be? That guy had a whisker biscuit on his face and balls for brains. As Gunnar proceeded to swathe Yang with blankets and stave off the autumn chill, he tugged him closer, insistent on being able to rest his chin on Yin's shoulder.
"It's okay." He wasn't too excited about the distance it forced between himself and Gunnar, but Mauser paid more than Barney and that was the important thing. A steady income meant personal security. "Is there any mousse left?"
Gunnar lifted him off and set Yang in the corner of the couch, leaving his unsheathed Bowie knife in arm's reach in case something happened. Was the house haunted? It felt like home to him, like he was back in Sweden and learning to drive a tank from his mama. The right amount of light, an open airy kitchen, wooden cupboards, with trees lining the outer border of the property and grass everywhere. Although, when he thought about it, the real estate agent was kinda sketchy.
Oh well, they'd just deal with whatever was going on if and when something happened.
Jensen fetched a bowl of lychee mousse from the fridge and promptly delivered it to Yin with a spoon, only to notice the curtains were open again. "I think you're right," Gunnar muttered, "there's something going on, isn't there?"
Yin nodded once before shoving a spoonful in his mouth. "Yep."
He slid closer to Yin and took up position next to him, gripping his Bowie in his right hand while his left rested on his holstered pistol. Most days, Gunnar walked around their home ready for war.
"Gunnar?" Yin leaned across, spoonful of mousse in one hand and Gunnar's sleeve tightly gripped in the other. Poltergeist? Potentially, or maybe it had a more earthly explanation. "The curtains are moving again."
A soft squeak and the pitter-patter of claws followed as one curtain slid across. He turned and looked behind the couch, watching a small shape move behind the curtain. "It's a rodent."
Or that's what it wants you to think. Yin curled his arm around Gunnar's bicep and tugged him close, pressing himself firmly against Gunnar's side and resting his head on his shoulder. "Let's just ignore it."
"No, if it's both—" He looked back at Yang, noticing the unease in his eyes, and nodded. Alright, they'd ignore it. He let his left hand hang over the side of the couch, still grasping his pistol, and focused on keeping Yin safe. "You wanna soak in the tub? I got that orange stuff you wanted."
"Are you going to join me?"
He slid the blankets off Yin and left them on the couch before picking him up and carrying him towards the stairs. "That was the plan."