AN: For, Muse of Suffering, who wanted this fic. Sorry I took so very long! (You must have waited the time span of about a year and a half, perhaps? What patience- how lazy I am!)
This was meant to be a one-shot, but it's gotten so long I will be putting it up in three or four parts, depending on how this goes.
PS- to Ms Mystry, who I cannot respond to (really dearest, I wish you were not a guest so I could reply to you!), I have always entertained the idea of the birthday dilemma, and I will attempt to work on that prompt ASAP.
PPS- I DID deactivate my old DeviantArt account, but my new account is karisele . deviantart . com J
"Why would you want to do that?" Chucky asked. "There's no reason for us to talk to whoever they are- all this about meeting new neighbors is bullshit. Besides, I doubt they'll even use whatever you put in this gay little welcome basket." He frowned, seemingly unsatisfied by what was in the perky looking subject.
Andy gave him a look, one that clearly translated to would you like to help, then? The ginger shook his head furiously.
"And no, I want no part in this!" he exclaimed, gesturing to everywhere around the basket. "Tell them this is from you- fine, go be all friendly and fraternize with strangers- but don't involve me."
To which Andy only shrugged and responded, "Suit yourself."
The idea came about when Andy had first seen a mover's van backing up into the driveway of a small house that had been empty as far as the two of them could remember. It wasn't too shabby of a place; at least, it wasn't even nearly half as hopeless as their own home had been (before they'd fixed it up of course, try as Chucky might to pretend the house was still a piece of junk, it clearly had quite the change for the better), but still, it had been empty until one day in the late fall about two or so weeks ago.
Andy finished packing up the basket, tying on a ribbon which Chucky would forever after tease him for being too perfect. He reached the front door before turning to Chucky one last time. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked as he wrapped on a scarf. "I don't want to have to wait up later down the road when you change your mind and decide to come toddling after me."
He was now making a teasing gesture; both of them knew how Chucky looked funny when he ran, which would usually occur when Andy had already wandered somewhere far ahead, leaving the ex-convict to, basically, toddle behind.
At this, Chucky made a rather crude gesture. "Suck it," he snarled.
"Maybe later," Andy replied curtly as he went out the door.
The lawn to the house next door looked very unkempt, but Andy knew better than to judge. He had to mow the grass, or else he'd lose a certain killer doll in the jungle of the front yard. Besides, the family had just moved in. They were probably still settling into their new home. Andy jumped up the front steps, reached for the doorbell and pressed gently, waiting to hear the soft ding. He would make sure they would feel at home. Maybe they could have an outdoor grill or something sometime?
The door opened and interrupted his plans of friend-making with the neighbors. A rough looking man appeared behind it, blinking at the sunlight that was just starting to reach its hottest for the day. "Can I help you?" he asked, voice gruff. He sounded like a smoker, probably middle aged. He was also dressed quite sloppily, Andy noticed, with unruly curls of hair and dirty clothes that looked as if they hadn't been washed for weeks. Either he did as he pleased, or he was a single guy.
"Hello," he said cheerily stretching out a welcoming hand. "I'm Andy Barclay, your neighbor just next door to the left." He pointed towards his house so that the new neighbor could see. "I just wanted to come by and welcome you- you know, a neighborly gesture of sorts."
The man grunted. "Eddie," he said, regarding the basket with wary eyes. "Eddie Caputo." He looked a bit sheepish before shaking Andy's hand and continuing hesitantly. "You wanna come in or something?" He opened the door a little wider, and Andy nodded.
Something about his name sounds familiar…
"Well, just for a little while," he replied. "Can't stay too long, Chucky will probably blow up my cell-phone telling me to hurry up and get back." He snorted when his phone vibrated in his back pocket, as if on cue.
Eddie gave a little start and looked at him curiously, which Andy assumed was because he had no idea who Chucky was.
"Chucky is my, uhm… he lives with me," he ended lamely, as sort of an explanation.
He didn't really know what you called that. A housemate, perhaps?
He followed Eddie into the house, which was dark, and boxes were still piled everywhere, some opened, some not, but either way, it was hard to step around all the items that had spilled across the floor. Andy supposed Mr. Caputo was still unpacking. "Are you settling in okay?" he asked, trying to start a small conversation. Eddie shrugged. "Yah, well, it's been going, I suppose," he replied. He scratched the back of his head. "I'm sort of a lazy son of a bitch; all this unpacking and organizing is not really up my alley." He chuckled, and Andy gave a polite laugh as a response.
The phone had buzzed at least five more times in his pocket. He reached into it and switched the phone off.
"Persistent guy, this Chucky?" Eddie asked, noticing Andy's sudden reaction. Andy quietly observed that there was something more than curiosity there, almost as if this man knew Chucky. He nodded. "Just a bit, yah," he responded, keeping his tone light, but a sickening feeling was settling in his stomach. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned Chucky? He held up the basket. "Where should I put this?" he asked. He thought it best to change the subject.
Eddie waved noncommittally towards a certain stack of boxes. "Anywhere, really," he provided, quite obviously still on the subject of the messages in Andy's phone. "How do you know this Chucky guy anyways?" he persists.
Andy felt his mouth go dry. How could he give away some without giving away too much? Or maybe he could come up with a white lie. "I.. uhm… well, it's a long story," he finally settled on. It was a truth, at least that much of it. He gave a small smile to try and avoid further questioning.
But Eddie had a knowing look in his eyes. "I understand that, if we are speaking of the same person here," he said softly, gazing over at the basket. Almost as if he had a sort of dark secret between himself and the person Andy now knew. Something Chucky had not told him.
Chucky hadn't told him a lot of things. Would it really be so wrong if he found out by asking this guy here?
That's when it had hit him: Eddie. Eddie Caputo.
"Wait a minute," he started suddenly, pointing out a finger almost accusingly, although he wasn't quite sure what he was accusing the man of. "I remember you! You were that guy whose house was set on fire and it had exploded!" His eyes grew wide with the sudden realization. "I thought you had died!"
At this, Eddie laughed. "Everyone did," he replied. "Especially Charles- I'm guessing the old fucker doesn't know I'm still around, does he?" he asked, now pointedly staring at Andy. "Does he?" he asked again, a bitter tone to his voice.
"No," Andy mumbled, not quite liking the darker atmosphere settling in. "He doesn't. And neither did I, until now."
"Yeah," Eddie said, and Andy noticed, to his relief, that the bitterness had worn away to a vulnerable show of regret. "I suppose maybe it's better that way, huh? Let him think he's gotten his little revenge on me." He meandered into the kitchen, leaving Andy curiously with no choice but to follow.
The man was reaching into the fridge- for a can of beer, it made sense that he would at least get that working, Andy thought. Food is essential. Also beer, he supposed, for Eddie in particular.
But he was getting distracted.
"Can… may I ask, why exactly Chucky was trying to get revenge on you?" Andy asked as politely as he could. Eddie took a long swig from his can before answering. "Why? Can't you just ask him?" he wondered. "You live with the guy."
"Well, he's not exactly the most… open type."
Eddie, laughed, taking one last full swallow from the now empty can, which he crushed easily. "You got that damn right," he said. Then he sighed. "Well, I guess you deserve it, and in a way, he does too…" he muttered softly, and he began to rub his hands guiltily. "Think of it as my apology to him."
What the fuck is taking so long? It doesn't take that long to walk there and back.
Are they really that interesting?
Does he have a wife? Does she have a large rack?
Or maybe he's a single bastard, old. Some old pervert.
Are you getting friendly with some old pervert, Andy?
Fuck you. I bet it's a hot chick. You dick.
It's some hot girl and you don't wanna tell me.
I bet you're flirting with her, you lousy fuck.
Bet you're all 'lemme help you unpack 'cuz I'm a hero'- You moronic shit.
Bet you just told her I'm your mom texting you. Loser.
Are you ignoring me?
Fuck you.
Hurry the fuck up. Why are you so goddamn slow?