Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.
Summary: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?
"Oh, and don't be a bitch and bring her back at 11:59, Angelica!"
Groaning loudly, Virgil turned and shoved the door shut with his foot. She is going to be the death of me. Clicking his tongue, Virgil meandered back into the living room where Richie remained seated on the floor, still examining the handiwork of the mp3 player. Lying on his stomach on the couch, Virgil turned his head so he could watch Richie wrack his brain over the small gadget.
"Virgil?" Richie questioned, glancing up at the person in question momentarily.
"What, Richie?"
"Do you have a screwdriver?"
Virgil blinked and furrowed his eyebrows. Richie had to be kidding; there was no way he was honestly asking Virgil for a screwdriver, and Richie definitely did not want to take apart his new mp3 player. On the other hand, it would be exactly like Richie to take new things apart to find out how they worked. Either way, the last thing Virgil was going to do was giving Richie a screwdriver.
"Yes, but I'm not giving it to you," said Virgil as he buried his face into the couch cushion.
Richie furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at Virgil. If Virgil had been looking, he would have seen confusion and a puppy dog pout. "Well, why not?"
"Because you're not taking apart my Christmas present," Virgil mumbled.
Richie huffed and said, "I just want to know how it works."
Virgil rolled his eyes against the cushion. He turned his head to look at Richie again, snorting at the puppy dog pout gracing Richie's features. Virgil buried his face back in the cushion and laughed airily. Just because Richie was being adorable did not mean Virgil was going to cave and give him what he wanted.
"Richie, if you want to know how it works, ask Rachael."
"Why would I ask a little girl for help? I'm far smarter than any eight-year-old. If you would just let me take it apart, I could find out for myself," Richie said confidently.
"Richie, you're not taking it apart," Virgil mumbled exasperatedly. "I'm not running the risk of you breaking my Christmas present."
"I bet you would let Batman take it apart," Richie murmured under his breath.
Virgil rolled his eyes and lifted his head to look at Richie. He rolled his eyes again when he found Richie was still pouting. "Richie, seriously, why would Batman come to my apartment to take apart my mp3 player? I'm pretty sure he has better things to do."
Letting out a long sigh, Virgil pushed himself to his side so he was facing the room. With an airy laugh, Virgil said, "For a super genius, you don't always think very logically, do you?"
Richie shrugged and placed the mp3 player on the nearby coffee table. With a grunt, he lifted himself off the floor and shuffled to the couch. He pushed Virgil's feet off the couch and sat down at the opposite end. When Virgil reluctantly sat up, Richie answered his question.
"Well, I am still in love with you, so you tell me," Richie said with a shrug.
Virgil sighed and let his head droop. He became insanely intrigued with his fingernails as a variety of thoughts skipped through his mind, most of them memories of the night he told Richie he was married. There were so many things about that night he wished he could redo; if he could go back in time, for starters, he would have never gotten married; he would have been more accepting of himself and not married Angelica, and ultimately hurting a woman who never did anything to deserve it. He would have been more accepting of himself because then, maybe, he would have not destroyed his friendship.
Virgil looked up at Richie again to see the other man staring intently at him, and it suddenly hit Virgil how badly he wanted Richie to trust him; how desperately he needed Richie to trust him, because he desperately needed Richie. It was no coincidence Richie was sitting in his living room; if Richie really had wanted to leave, he would have, despite Chloé's pleads for him to stay. That obviously had to mean Richie wanted to be there; it had to mean Richie at least somewhat trusted him.
When Richie realized Virgil wasn't going to respond to him, he turned away and continued to examining the mp3 player. If Virgil wasn't going to let him take it apart, he was going to do his best to find out how it worked in other ways; he was going to find out how it worked, and it was not going to involve asking an eight-year-old girl for help.
The way Richie's glasses fell down his nose was an image Virgil remembered all-to-well; Richie always managed to nearly lose his glasses when he was intently working on something. Somehow, Virgil found it endearing, adorable. The way Richie furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose when nothing else mattered but what he was focusing on made Virgil do the same for Richie; nothing else was worth focusing on except him.
Virgil knew Richie didn't want to date him; he had made that perfectly clear the night before, and Virgil absolutely understood that. If he could just become friends with Richie again then he would be happy; if Richie could just trust him like he used to, he would be happy. Unfortunately, gaining Richie's trust seemed like it was going to be a tedious endeavor, but one that would ultimately, hopefully, end up being worth it.
Virgil drew in a soft, gentle breath and let his eyes flutter shut. One memory replayed through Virgil's mind over and over again as he sat with his eyes closed. Laying one hand on the bridge of his nose, and the other on his chest, right over his heart, Virgil reveled in the memory of every scent, sound, and touch from the night they made love. The image of Richie standing before him, shirtless and half out of his pants rapidly sped up Virgil's heartbeat and made his breathing shallow. Richie had looked so good in what was left of those blue jeans.
I want you so bad, Richie. I love you so much. The words echoed in his mind, but were immediately replaced with: I do love you, Richie, but it was just sex. How could Virgil have been so stupid? How could he have let Richie slip away? How could he have been so naïve? Of course Virgil loved Richie, and Virgil assumed anyone with two eyes could see that, considering how many years of others hating he had fallen into. Even Virgil knew he loved Richie, which was how he got himself into this situation in the first place; this situation where, instead of jumping Richie for being so gorgeous, he was internally kicking himself for not being able to.
Opening his eyes once again, he found Richie still intently, desperately, wanting to know how that mp3 player worked. It was obvious that it did work because Virgil had tested it, but finding out that it worked had only made Richie crazier; it worked and Richie desperately wanted to know how it worked; wanted to know what about it could read emotions. For a split second, Virgil even considered letting Richie take it apart.
At this point, Virgil found himself a little bit more than drunk on Richie's presence; the mix of emotions Virgil felt for Richie were driving him absolutely crazy. On the one hand, all Virgil wanted was to be Richie's friend; he desperately wanted to put the past behind them and have Richie trust him again so they could continue on as they were twenty years ago, before emotions ever played a factor in their relationship. On the other hand, Richie was the best buzz Virgil was ever going to find. His sheer presence was a better high than any cigarette he had ever smoked, and Virgil even considered quitting smoking if he could just have Richie. He would do anything to have Richie.
A pain stabbed Virgil in the chest as it became painfully clear how much Virgil really had missed Richie. Of course he had realized after seeing Richie the first time he loved him, and realized he had been suppressing whom he really was, and of course Virgil had been telling the truth when he told Richie the previous night he had missed him, but it wasn't until right now that he really understood the magnitude of his words; realized the intensity of what he felt.
Virgil was madly, head over heels, straight out of a corny romance movie, in love with Richie, and there was nothing he could do about it, and he ached for the chance to show Richie just how much he had changed. He ached for the chance to go back in time and fix his mistakes; to show Richie that no one else mattered but him. He would tell himself not to marry Angelica and to stay with Richie, because love ultimately trumpeted fear.
Virgil drew in a deep, shaky breath and bit down on his bottom lip. He shut his eyes at the first indication of tears welling up in them and leaned back against the couch. His head lulling forward, Virgil pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and made a soft moaning sound.
"Virgil, are you alright?" said Richie in a concerned tone.
Virgil could tell Richie was close because he was vaguely aware of Richie's warm breath against his cheek, and it was absolutely not helping.
Opening one of his eyes, Virgil was met by Richie who was no more than six inches from his face. He would have debated over why Richie was so close, but the fact that he was was internally driving him crazy, and he wanted, so very desperately, to close that gap; he wanted to press his lips against Richie's soft, pale, luscious, welcoming…
In one swift move, Virgil swung around and pressed Richie back against the couch, pressing his lips firmly against Richie's. One of his knees rested in between Richie's legs while the other leg leaned against the edge of the couch. His left hand held the back of Richie's neck while the other one pressed tenderly against Richie's right cheek. Just for a moment, Virgil was in an absolutely heart fluttering, head spinning state of ecstasy.
Then he realized Richie wasn't kissing him back.
Immediately, he pushed himself off Richie and scrambled backward to one of the seats across the living room. As he spilled into the seat, Virgil pressed his hands to his face and began to mumble incoherently until he was able to form proper pronunciations.
"Shit, Richie, I'm so sorry," Virgil said, scrambling out an apology. "I have no idea what came over me. I just… you were there and… the memories… and… I just want you to trust me, because I've miss you… and… and… I just love you so much."
Dropping his hands to his lap, Virgil focused his attention on Richie who was staring at him blankly. Virgil drew in a sharp breath, letting it out with a low, pleading moan. Squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in his lips, Virgil suddenly felt nauseas and he scrambled out of the chair, intending on making a beeline for the bathroom.
However, he promptly found himself being pulled back by the arm. Spinning around, Virgil found himself face-to-face with Richie. Virgil's breath hitched, his eyes were wide, and he bit his lip as he watched a series of incomprehensible emotions play across Richie's features.
Hesitation spilled from Richie's gaze as he muttered the words, "I love you, too," and Virgil found himself pressed against a wall, both of his hand holding the back of Richie's head while Richie's hands wrapped securely around Virgil's waste.
Their lips met once more, and Virgil swore he could feel his heart doing somersaults while butterflies assaulted his stomach and made him feel light-headed. Pulling Richie closer, their heartbeats met and Virgil withered, thankful that Richie was holding him against the wall, because his jelly legs would never have been able to hold up his weight. After a few short moments, their kiss became increasingly sloppy and a lot more desperate, and it was at that moment Richie pulled away from the kiss, but not from Virgil.
Resting his head against Virgil's chest, Richie reeled over a few thoughts before inhaling and exhaling quickly. He wanted to be with Virgil; he wanted to call Virgil his boyfriend. Richie wanted Virgil to be the one he settled down with and spent the rest of his life with. He wanted to call Virgil his. Did Richie fully trust Virgil? No, not yet, but that could be easily remedied; it would take work, but it was obvious Virgil was prepared for that.
Then there was Angelica. If Richie was going to date Virgil, then something had to be done about Angelica. Virgil had to apologize, and she had to accept it, because Richie was not going to get in the middle of that catfight. Amends would have to be made with Angelica, not just because Richie wanted it to happen, but also because Virgil would be a lot happier if he did. Virgil apologizing to Angelica would really be healthier for all of them.
Richie drew in a deep breath and let it out gently. "I want to be with you, Virgil," Richie said and felt himself being pulled closer to Virgil's body. He responded by tightening the hold he had on Virgil.
Gently, but firmly, Richie continued his previous thought. He didn't want to sound rude, but he wanted to make sure Virgil really, absolutely understood what was being said to him. "There's some stuff we need to seriously talk about first, though.
"Also, I need you to drive me back to my house."
A/N: I literally have nothing to say about this chapter. XD
Please review! I hope you enjoyed it!