It's been months since I've updated anything. It's been frustrating to try and continue my other stories, but I haven't given up. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this. Please review! I appreciate all feedback. :)
Piers liked chilly days.
The cold and snow made people scarce and spared him any unnecessary interaction. He would interact with them in his own way. More specifically, with their wallets.
People were careless coming out of stores on chilly days. They hurried to tuck their cash and valuables in their accessible outside pockets instead of more secure places. He'd always been able to nab something on these kinds of days.
He pulled his dark, tan peacoat tighter around himself and casually leaned against the glass of the store, leering in every so often from underneath his brown ivy cap. A few more minutes passed before he spotted a more than suitable mark; a heavyset man that seemed to be completely unaware of the cashier girl flirting with him. He looked middle aged with his stubble, and just oblivious enough that Piers was certain he could swipe something sweet without being noticed.
Piers watched the silent interaction as the girl blushed, fumbling some of the man's groceries. He waited patiently with his hands in the pockets of his dark wool coat as she bagged the rest.
Piers looked away with an irritable frown and began to tap his foot. Tipping his cap lower to hide his eyes, he prepped the set-up and stood where he knew the man would exit the store.
A few more seconds and a few quick, deliberate strides had him colliding with the bulky man, causing him to drop most of his parcels. Piers stumbled onto his backside on the icy sidewalk, not expecting quite so much recoil. The man was a damn tank.
Piers grimaced at the pain, rubbing at his face with his hand and quickly righting himself to try and help the man with his parcels. Getting closer was crucial.
"I'm sorry," came a rough, almost authoritative tone. "I didn't see you there." Despite the warmth of his coat, Piers shivered at the intensity of the man's voice.
"Nah! It was my fault. I was rushing. Gotta watch where I'm going," was his too-jovial response.
He began to scrabble around for the groceries on the ground as he neared the now kneeling man. He waited until the man's eyes were occupied with the last few items before slipping his hand in the loose pocket, digits gently lifted smooth leather from the rough wool. He then briskly withdrew his arm, shifting the wallet from one hand to the other behind his back, finally tucking it away in his own back pocket. He masked the movement by patting the man on the shoulder.
"Really sorry about that." He gave a small, apologetic smile as the rest of the items were returned to their bags, and both men stood. He tipped his cap at the older man, careful not to meet the other's eyes.
"Not a problem." The man nodded. "I appreciate the help." He lingered for a few more moments to savor the rumble of the man's voice. He almost felt bad turning on his heel and rushing away.
Piers turned a few corners and retreated down an alley to see just what he'd won. He flipped the wallet open and found absolutely nothing. Piers gave a frustrated grunt at the lame theft. Had he missed where the man had put his cash?
After a few more seconds prying through the various slits in the wallet, Piers discovered a picture tucked away beneath the transparent plastic frame. A cute looking couple, the man he had robbed and a fair haired woman. They looked happy together, but the picture seemed worn, as if it had been withdrawn from its resting place many times. He had been so occupied with the empty wallet that he hadn't noticed the looming shadow behind him.
"What I'd appreciate more is if I could have my wallet back."
Piers spun around to meet a stern expression worn by the man from the store.
"Sorry…? I don't know wh-"
"Cut the crap," the man interrupted. His expression betrayed his polite tone. "The wallet."
Piers was just as startled as when he'd rammed into the guy, and even more intimidated by his towering stance. It wasn't the first time Piers had messed up on a mark. Judging by how the man held all of his groceries with one arm, he didn't seem like he'd stand much of a chance against the guy. He cut his losses and surrendered the wallet.
"Thank you," was his calm response. Piers dared to look at the man in the eyes for the first time. His gaze was soft and his eyes were deceptively blue, and to Piers' surprise, he was at ease with the other man, if only temporarily.
"Sorry," he said with more fervor than he expected. One thing Piers never did was apologize, mainly because he never felt he had any reason to.
The man simply nodded with a small hand gesture. "Come with me."
Piers didn't move, glaring at the man from under his cap. Now the guy was gonna turn him in?
"Come with me and I won't report you," the man offered.
Piers hesitantly followed the man. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but the fact that he wasn't being turned in or getting the crap kicked out of him came as a pleasant surprise.
They walked a few blocks, not too far from the store where they'd unofficially met. Piers followed him to a stony colored apartment building. The man never looked back to see if he was still following.
Piers considered just running away from the man; he probably could too, but at this point, curiosity got the better of the young thief.
They climbed up to the 4th floor of the building and stopped at what Piers assumed was his apartment. The man took out a pair of keys and for the first time glanced at Piers as if he had just appeared out of thin air. Piers gave an annoyed huff and finally broke the silence.
"Is there a point to this?"
The man's face scrunched up in discontent, as if he was displeased that Piers had spoken at all.
"Inside," was all he said.
Piers gave an exasperated sigh but obliged. He removed his hat, revealing the small spiked tuft of his sandy brown hair. The man closed the door and walked down the wide hallway and led him to the kitchen, from which a sweet smell emanated. The room was square with two entrances, and light filtered in from a window over the sink.
"Sit," he directed, and motioned to the small kitchen table in the middle of the room. Piers sat and watched the man as he began to put the groceries away in the cabinets. He left the room and returned shortly after without his dark wool coat, instead wearing a simple black turtle neck that hugged his torso and arms. The coat, Piers thought, did not do this man's body any justice.
"You want anything?" he finally spoke to the neglected Piers.
Piers bristled. "Yeah, for one, I want to know why I'm here."
"Well that's simple. You're here because you walked here with me," he said with a small chuckle, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
This only further irritated Piers.
"Why did you bring me here?" Piers growled.
"Because we all have a reason," the man said without preamble. He leaned his back and arms on the counter to face Piers. "What's your name?"
"And just what the hell does that mean? What is this? Some kind of intervention? Are you some kind of missionary? You gonna try and fix me, is that it?" The words flew angrily from Piers' mouth.
"It means shut up and answer my question."
Piers scowled at the older man. He was not appreciating this, but he figured the least he could do after robbing the guy was to humor him.
"Piers."
"Chris," the man responded immediately.
Piers gave him a questioning look.
"My name. Now, I'll ask again. Want anything?"
Piers almost rolled his eyes, but decided against it and gave in.
"Fine. You got any coffee?"
"Sure."
After putting a small pot of water up to boil, Chris sat down adjacent to Piers. He stared at Piers for a moment before pulling out the wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out the picture.
"My wife," he murmured as he fingered the fraying edges. "That's my reason. That's why you're here. Now it's your turn. I gave you my reason, now you give me yours. Why did you steal it?"
Piers scoffed.
"Look, it wasn't personal. I just… needed some cash."
Chris gave him a skeptical look.
"Are you homeless or something? You don't really look it."
Piers glared at the man.
"No. I… no."
"Then why did you need cash?" Chris insisted.
Piers opened his mouth and closed it a few times before answering. He looked down at the table and fidgeted with his hat.
"…I don't know. I guess I just got used to stealing. My parents… they weren't around since recently and I had to live with my Gran-gran." Piers paused to look up at Chris; the older man's eyes were unnervingly gentle. Piers' face heated. "We didn't have a lot, so…"
The man looked as if he were going to reach over and take Piers' hand, but instead he stood up and went to turn the heat off and pull out a few mugs.
"I hope instant is okay. It's all we have."
Piers nodded and heaved a sigh of relief when Chris wasn't looking. The man was an incessant starer. He was glad for the break.
As he made the coffee, he kept his back toward Piers. It was almost inaudible until Chris cleared his throat. "…Do you mind if I ask what happened to your parents?"
Piers stiffened. He wasn't used to telling people of the accident a few years ago. He'd never even seen a therapist about it despite his grandmother's requests, but he doubted some shrink could help anyway.
"They died… they died in a car accident on the way to my high school graduation." Piers set his elbows on the table and let his head rest against the back of his hands. He tried to black out the memory of receiving the horrific news after getting his diploma. He tried to not remember how he hadn't cried, hadn't cared.
"I'm sorry." Chris handed him a small mug of the warm beverage and offered a sympathetic grip to his shoulder. Just the touch seemed to revitalize Piers, and he quickly shrugged off the gloomy aura.
"What happened to your wife?" Piers asked flatly, perhaps out of spite, or perhaps out of innocent curiosity.
"Jill?" Chris raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Nothing. She's at home."
Piers gripped the mug tightly. Now he was confused. He hadn't expected a happy ending from the regretful expression he'd seen.
"Oh…" He took a sip from the mug while letting it warm his fingers. "It's just…you looked a little down when you looked at that picture."
"Yeah, well," Chris scoffed, "We're not having the best of times." He got up and bent over the oven to pull out a tray of what looked and smelled to be cranberry muffins.
He eyed the muffins and lifted an eyebrow, waiting for Chris to turn back around.
"You bake?" Piers teased.
"Actually, it's my sister's stuff," Chris corrected stiffly. "She wanted me to take them out. It's part of the reason I wanted to come back here."
Piers absentmindedly wondered what the other reason could be.
"And so what if I like to bake?" Chris continued with a lighthearted tone. He turned to the sink after clumsily removing the muffins from the tray and setting them in a dish. "Besides, Gran-gran?" he half snorted, half chuckled.
Piers blurted out a feeble, "Hey!" in defense. "Don't even."
A slight blush crept over his face behind Chris' back. The teasing felt almost natural, and he finally felt at ease in Chris' presence. The more he thought about it, the more unusual it felt, considering he'd just attempted to rob the man. So Piers made one of the smarter decisions he had that day and decided not to think about it. He liked Chris. It had been some time since he'd actually talked and joked with someone so openly. Maybe years.
"So what's the deal? You're married and you live with your sister?" Piers asked bluntly. The whole 'married' thing had been niggling at him ever since Chris had mentioned it.
"Ah… well…" It was the first time Chris looked uncomfortable the entire conversation. "This is just temporary." He didn't elaborate so Piers pushed on with a humorous smirk.
"Your wife kick you out or something?"
Chris heaved a sigh and looked out the window mournfully. "She probably wants to divorce me… But no, she's not like that. She's sweet; one of a kind, really," he gushed.
Piers frowned.
"I'm just here because it's easier for me this way. My sister is understanding."
"You make this Jill out to be something special. Why isn't it working out?"
Chris shrugged. "Our careers are taking us in different directions." He smiled to himself and shook his head. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I haven't even talked to Claire about it."
"Your sister?"
"Yeah. It's kinda easier to tell a stranger about this stuff than your own family, you know?"
Piers gritted his teeth at that. "I'm not a stranger." Anymore anyway.
And it was true. It was the first time someone had taken an interest in him since high school and Piers would be damned to admit that it felt nice. He wanted to be more than just a stranger to Chris.
"Yeah. I guess you're right," Chris agreed, and for a while, he simply looked at Piers, as if seeing him in a new light.
"Gee, don't sound convinced or anything," Piers joked while awkwardly trying to hide another light blush with the mug.
"I'm really glad you came," Chris said after a beat.
"I'm glad I did too." Piers took another sip from the mug, eyes defiantly darting away from Chris'. "But not for the coffee. It's gross."
Chris laughed wholeheartedly. "You're pretty damn honest for your occupation."
"I'm a lot of things for my occupation." Piers eyes returned, leveling an even gaze on Chris.
"…I'm sure you are," Chris agreed, nodding slowly and beginning to stand. "Listen. I hope after this… it doesn't stay your occupation, y'know? This was never meant to be an intervention. I just wanted to know why you did what you did, and now I do. You're a good kid."
Piers raised his eyebrow for the umpteenth time that day. "What makes you say that?"
"I can see it in your eyes," Chris replied, his tone turning serious again. "Piers, you're welcome here again if you like. Or at least as long as I'm staying here. It'll probably be a while from the way things are going. I'm sure my sister wouldn't mind meeting you either."
"Uh…thanks," Piers mumbled. The offer had caught him off guard, like the rest of the enigma that was Chris. He hadn't expected the man would want to see him again after today. "I appreciate that. And hey, maybe you can give your sister my number. I hope the looks run in the family." Piers smirked into the mug.
Chris chuckled again, slapping a hand on Piers' shoulder and leaning in close to his ear. "Let me think." Chris tapped his chin feigning thoughtfulness. "Ahhh…no. My sister's off limits to cute, thieving guys who aren't exactly strangers anymore." He smiled when Piers reddened at yet another unexpected comment.
Chris began to exit the kitchen and waved a carefree hand over his shoulder as he gestured to the door.
"Let yourself out when you want and don't worry about the lock. Claire'll be back soon enough. I'm beat; gonna take a nap. Nice meeting you, Piers."
Piers gaped as the man began to remove his turtleneck while walking toward what looked to be the living room. All that remained was toned muscle under smooth skin.
"You're taking a nap? Just like that."
Chris shrugged as he sat down on the plump couch.
"What if I decide to loot the apartment?" Piers taunted with another smirk.
He stared back at Piers who was hanging off the edge of the kitchen chair trying to catch a glimpse.
"You won't," was all he said before promptly turning over and dragging a light sheet over himself.
Piers scowled at the dismissive response. "Whatever," he mumbled to himself as he crossed his arms and legs, returning to a more normal position at the table.
Not knowing what to make of Chris, Piers got up and quietly paced around the apartment, looking at older photographs of a redheaded girl and a younger Chris. Probably Claire, he thought.
He felt nervous as more time passed, debating whether to stay and meet Chris' sister or to just leave. Returning to the kitchen, he glanced in on the large, still body of Chris.
Piers moved quietly into the living room. Chris' hulking form on the couch made the entire room seem smaller somehow. He leaned over the sleeping man's shoulder to spy calm features gracing the man's rugged face. Chris stirred and Piers immediately retreated. The last thing he wanted was for Chris to think he was some kind of creepy watch-you-while-you-sleep stalker types. Piers mentally slapped himself on the forehead. As if, after trying to rob him and failing, Chris had a better impression of him?
He looked around and found a pen and notepad on a near table, and scribbled his name and number on a slip. With a devilish smirk, he tapped the pen to his chin. Under his number, he wrote 'Call for a good time' and underneath that, 'Claire can call too'.
Grabbing his cap from the kitchen table, he silently fled from the apartment as if he'd burglarized the place.
Piers held his cap on his head for dear life as flew down the steps three at a time, scarf flailing behind him. He felt like a small child with a huge grin on his face. For the first time in a long time, Piers felt like laughing.