2020 hasn't been the best of years. Between Pete staying in England for a lot of it, and Ricochet dealing with so much betrayal in a short period of time that it makes his head spin, now that it's December, he's not entirely sure what to do with himself. He's all alone on Raw, and for now, he's alone at the apartment while Pete is at NXT. He sits on the small patio and stares up at the stars, a miniature Christmas tree flickering in the wind to his left. He smiles painfully and twists his fingers together, waiting.
It isn't too much later when lights flash over where he's sitting and a car pulls up, claims the designated parking spot in front of their apartment. He blinks into the headlights and waits patiently for them to go dark, leaving a glare in his vision once they abruptly do. He still sits there and tilts his head as a car door slams and he listens to the familiar shuffling walk approaching him. "What are you doing out here?"
Pete sounds gruff even on a good day so Ricochet just smiles into the sleeves of his jacket, not bothering to untuck himself from where he's sitting, arms curled around his knees. "Apartment felt too small," he says quietly. "Just felt like coming out and looking up at the stars for awhile."
Pete grunts, and Ricochet figures he didn't have a match tonight, because instead of going right inside and standing under a scalding hot shower for the better part of an hour, he sinks down to sit on the patio and lightly nudges him with his arm until Ricochet exhales through his nose and tips to the side enough to rest his head on Pete's shoulder. Pete makes a faint, pleased noise deep in his throat, and strokes his fingers against Ricochet's neck, up his scalp, back down.
There are a lot of moments like this, quiet and seemingly serene to an outside eye, that mean so much to Ricochet when the emotions between them are too much to say aloud, and it's easier just to be than actually try to over-analyze every little thing. He smiles and tucks in closer, finding Pete's free hand and lightly gripping it. "I'm happy you're home," he whispers against his skin and Pete's fingers still against his skull.
"So am I," he finally admits and Ricochet grins, sharp and bright, against his throat.
2020 may not have been the best of years, but Ricochet has everything he's ever wanted right here next to him, and it does give him hope that the next will be better.