TITLE: Sanders, The Wolfe, & The Wardrobe – 1 of ?
AUTHOR & BETA: Shadowfax27 (Yeah, mistakes make me human…)
GENRE: Fluff/Romance/Crackfic Humor
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, don't you think TPTB would've done a crossover and would've gotten these two hotties together by now? Duh…
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Ryan Wolfe/Greg Sanders
WARNING: SLASH! Got that? And in the words suggested to me by ladydarisa, "Flames will be used to make heat-up lube and condoms for Ryan and Greg." So, don't read if you don't like this kind of pairing. You have been warned.
A/N: I know I haven't updated in a while. I'm currently at an impasse as far as updates (though, that's not to say that the plot penguins aren't biting). But I was thinking about this grin-inducing scenario several weeks ago and thought that I might as well go ahead and write it into a ficlet format just to break this dreaded writer's block. Anyway, the question came up as to whether or not the boys would like the way that their partner dressed. Or would they try to change each other's wardrobe once they got together? Based on Ryan's OCD, I think he would probably make Greg throw away some of the rattier shirts that are just too wild and too worn to wear, but he probably won't make him throw it all away 'cause that's part of the reason why he loves Greg -- he's different, and he's wildly fun. Hence, the birth of this pointless fluff of a ficlet that's really bordering on a crackfic... I hope you guys enjoy this, nonetheless.
Dedicated to all Ryan/Greg shippers, especially Twiztid4togo, whose question about the boys' clothing inspired Chapter 3 of this crazy little fic. Thanks for keeping my mind firmly in Gutterville! Heheheheeee…
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Chapter 1 – Cobweb Of Yesterdays
It had been three months since Ryan Wolfe and Greg Sanders had finally decided to take that proverbial leap into the land of declared relationships.
Two months since they were finally able to work out Greg's paperwork and job transfer from Las Vegas to the Miami Dade Crime Lab, where he would be working primarily as a DNA tech and then as a backup CSI whenever the need arises.
One month since they had found a new and bigger space to move in together, to call their home, close to work and convenient to the beach, where an extremely giddy Greg had promised to teach a very reluctant Ryan how to surf.
Three weeks since they had completely settled in: painted the rooms, hung picture frames, argued jokingly about the proper way to organized their cabinets and book shelves and CDs, and unpacked the rest of their belongings.
Two weeks since the last time Greg Sanders had done his laundry, which was beginning to mutate into its own smelly geographic landmark in the corner of their bedroom.
One week since Ryan Wolfe had been resisting the urge to say something about the state of his lover's clothes, or better yet… to demolish said eyesore himself. He just rolled his eyes, shook his head, and went on his not-so-merry-anymore way… to work.
It had been six days since Greg had caused an appreciative grin to appear on Ryan's face by promising to do his own laundry 'soon' without any prodding from the Floridian, much to the latter's pleasant surprise. And yes… they did make love that night.
It had been five days since Ryan had stubbornly refused to look at the still-present, still-unattended, and still-growing pile of unwashed and unsorted clothes in the corner of their bedroom, remembering Greg's promise and holding onto it the same way Greg would hold onto him in the heat of their horizontal dance.
Four days since Greg, not unexpectedly, ran out of underwear and had to secretly 'borrow' one of Ryan's without first asking his lover for permission. He silently cursed himself and vowed to do at least one load of his ever-growing pile of laundry when he got home from work that night… starting with the underwear.
It had been three days since Ryan had discovered that he was missing a pair of boxers after he had gotten home from work and had taken his nightly shower. He searched for the missing garment for the next twenty minutes, frowning hard in concentration as he looked for it in all the possible places he thought he might've left it.
Frustrated, he stood up finally and cursed, his eyes reluctantly landing like a magnet on the horrendous mountain of clothes in the corner of the room and finding his missing boxers there, haphazardly laying on top. He breathed an exasperated sigh, hesitantly approached the now-stinking pile, and shook his head dismally at the sight.
Stepping closer still, he was about to reach for his underwear when the mound suddenly and unexpectedly shifted. Startled, he froze mid-grab and frowned, staring at the mound before him for a moment before reaching out again. The mass shifted from underneath once more, and this time, he heard the distinct sound of a muffled squeak and the pitter-patter of little feet, running hurriedly towards his direction as it attempted to get out from beneath the pile.
Thoroughly alarmed and before he could even see what kind of a creature had created an unwanted home among his lover's clothes, he jumped over the bed with an unmanly yelp and bolted out of the room in a tizzy, slamming the bedroom door behind him shut and gripping the handle with both hands (as if the creature could somehow reach up, turn the handle, and get out of the room) as he tried to catch his breath and calm his shaken nerves.
Twice he had thought about peeking into the room to make sure that he hadn't been imagining things. Heck, he had even considered going back in to properly investigate what had been dwelling underneath his lover's clothes. But each time he had felt ready enough to turn the handle, he found his heart rate soaring so anxiously that he would end up pulling his trembling hand away before he could even touch the brass knob.
At a loss for what to do, Ryan finally decided to wait it out.
Greg was working a double that night, and with no other option presenting itself before him on how to deal with the creepy living thing that he had so expertly trapped within his normal place of rest, Ryan had relegated himself in uncomfortable reluctance to sleep on the couch in the living room, feet propped up high against the armrest as he slept, clutching a broomstick like a lifeline to his side.
Only time would tell whether there was, indeed, a critter residing underneath Greg's dirty heap of clothes. But for now, Ryan was going to content himself with sleeping in the living room…
On the couch…
And as far away from whatever that mysterious critter was as possible…
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TBCReviews are the main staple for my starving plot penguins and the antidote for my writer's block.
Please be kind… feed the penguins (and me).
A/N: Mwahahaha… cliffhangers are my friends! Well, this was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but the plot penguin wouldn't be satisfied with just one chapter. This first part could definitely be considered a crackfic, but I giggled the whole time I was writing this part of the fic. What did y'all think so far?