#Cherricharlie

[the-tummy-closet]

Past-Midnight Snack

((A/N: Heyy I hope you like this :) these are my OCs (which I changed the names of just in case) and they are bestie partners-in-crime mercs. And they only have a few supernatural things going for them!! It's normal in their sort of cut-throat big city. Enjoy!! - Cherricharlie))

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"You wanna watch Dance Moms or The Office?" Skylar asks, legs propped up on the table, remote hanging languidly from their hand.

"Can't we watch something that's less dramatic? More action, maybe?" Mason says, folding and placing his sunglasses on the table- it's way too dark to have them on, even for his usual insistence on wearing them.

The sun is past set, and the only light on in the apartment is the flatscreen TV, illuminating the two's faces like they were phantoms. The blinds remain open, letting a light blend of neons shine onto the floor at the window. A boom sounds off and the two don't do much besides blink.

"Dance Moms it is." The remote is discarded to the cushions as the show starts.

Mason groans, sliding off the leather couch at snail speed.

"It's literally my turn to choose. Shut the fuck up, they're already pulling each other's wigs off. Is that not action-packed??" Skylar kicks him in the side of his ribs on his way down to the floor, but Mason just slouches further.

"But they do that every episode, Skylar."

"Your little dudes slow-motion punch each other every episode too, Mace. We get it, you want to bruise him. Kinky for real." They lean forward and grab his arm, tugging.

He pushes himself up like the world is weighing down on him and sits on the couch heavily, turning to extend his legs over Skylar's lap. "Well, if you like it that much, you'll have no problem not getting up." Mason smirks.

"You act like you just did something. Bruh." Skylar's wings fidget and settle as they lean against the back of the couch. "I love this shit. I mean, I could also totally just look out the window, to be honest. But sometimes that's so lame, and this is so.. Making me invested. Not like that dude who totally took the L delivering your neighbor's live mice."

Mason nods slowly and vigorously. "The difference is that we can mute Dance Moms."

"Hah, tell me about it." The two sit in a tired and drowsy silence, occasionally bantering for a few episodes.

Today was one of those separate jobs days. Mason was typically hired when someone needed something done quickly and/or quietly, and Skylar was better at undercover socialization and manipulation. Together they could do either or, but both did what they could to get money and get a reputation, akin to the rest of the city. In the end, both of them stumbled home at around the same time that night, prompting a change in clothes and for Skylar to steal the remote.

Skylar didn't think they would have a problem with not getting up until they started to feel hungry. And really there was no way they were about to complain when they already acted like it was no big deal that Mason was preventing them from moving, but hell if they weren't starving. The last time they would have eaten had to be around eleven that morning; brunch with Alisa. Which was fourteen hours ago. Skylar internally groaned at the realization as they glanced behind them at the clock on the microwave, which taunted them with a tick from 1:24 AM to 1:25.

At their movement, Mason peeled open his eyes to glance up at them, half-lidded and slightly gruff. "Tired of Dance Moms? It's literally putting me to sleep, so I would understand."

"No, dumbass. I can't move because your stupid legs are on me."

"I thought you wouldn't have a problem with that?" Mason closed his eyes and smiled, tilting his head back over the armrest of the couch.

Skylar pressed their lips together- damn. "I don't! My legs are just, uh, asleep. Come on, Mace, pleeaaseee??? We can go to bed, I'll turn off your 'favorite' show, and we can wake up tomorrow- refreshed and not crampy."

Mason looked back up at Skylar, unamused. Then, with a supernatural breakneck speed that they had grown familiar with, swung his legs to the side like a gymnast who saw a spider on their beam. Their brief freedom was immediately taken away by his torso on their lap instead. "Nope." He said, a smile on his face as one arm covered his eyes.

"You still had that in you this whole time?" Skylar gawked. Mason smiled and nodded in response. "Well, do it again and get the hell off of me!" They whined, with no real malice in the plea.

"Sorry, Skylar. That was my last one for the night. I mean it."

"Oh, fuck you. Kill yourself. I mean it," Then, softer "not actually on that last part." Skylar gently slapped Mason, before sinking into the couch, further resigned to their fate. At least the remote was within reach; their eyes were burning off. They turned off the TV and reveled in the silence of the room. The busy city outside served as white noise, drifting in the room gently and blanketing the room in comforting silence.

Skylar quickly learned that the harsh noise of some crazy dance moms screaming was the only thing covering up their stomach growling. The long gurgle was easily heard in the otherwise quiet room, and Mason was definitely close enough to hear now. They shifted awkwardly, to let their wings rest over the back of the couch and give their spine a break, but to also get comfortable since Mason was starting to get up, slowly this time. Their wings started to bristle, nervous of Mason's reaction.

"That you?" He asked, using his elbows and forearms to prop himself up.

"No, it was the tiger I'm illegally hiding in the closet. Yes, it was me. Are you gonna let me get up or are you gonna let me starve?" Skylar responded, voice dropping low in embarrassment.

"You could've just said so, Sky." Mason responded, a serious tone with a playful jab.

He pushes himself up to sit up and Skylar finally gets the relief of stretching their legs with a satisfied groan. A hand flies to their stomach and they start to rub it, accompanied by a muttered "Ah, fuck…" as it made a deep, hollow-sounding growl with a high-pitched squelch at the end.

"Jesus, Skylar. I'll grab you a snack, you stay there." Mason stood with a bit more urgency.

"I finally can use my legs and you're doing it for me, half asleep?" Skylar asked. "You're too kind."

Mason ignored this as he slowly navigated the dark apartment to his kitchen. It was small, and he could still be heard without speaking up much in the next area. "When's the last time you ate?"

"With Alisa. Sausage and egg breakfast sandwich. She thought it was weird that I put tabasco sauce on it." They recalled, but their stomach wasn't immune to thinking about food, and gave another displeased groan.

"And you're always telling me to take better care of myself," Mason shook his head, finding pita and mildly spicy hummus in his pantry, which he knew Skylar would have a taste for. "If you went to sleep, you wouldn't have eaten in a full twenty-four hours." He continued, bringing the dish over to the couch.

"You were intent on keeping me on the couch! Sorry you couldn't take a hint over Dance Moms though. My b."

While Mason's eyes typically went unseen by most under his shades, he wasn't wearing them at the moment. Skylar could make out through the dark that he had rolled them in a mocking manner.

"Dance Moms: Now more important than eating. Got it. Do you want this or not?" He waved the dish around, the pita slices threatening to teeter off. Skylar had to swallow; their mouth was watering like crazy.

"Please." They muttered, staring the dish down, their hand now firmly against their discontented stomach, which had started to growl intensely in anticipation. "My stomach's mad at you, by the way." They added with a pout, lifting their hand so Mason could hear the full extent of its roiling complaints.

"Consider this my apology." Mason sighed as he handed Skylar the plate and plopped down next to them. Skylar dug in quickly, scooping a load of hummus onto a slice and shoving it in their mouth, silent as they repeated the action before even swallowing.

Mason felt like he could continue teasing them, but with the gusto that they were eating and not even quipping in between pieces, he decided to let off. They started to get to the last couple of pieces before they stopped momentarily. "Uh, Mace, do you want some?" They offered, moving the plate towards him.

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. Big dinner tonight." He patted his stomach, which was long done with sending his meal to his intestines, but he could still remember the fullness, which had easily been making him very drowsy. "Stomach got kind of jostled on the ride home, so no more appetite, but I don't know what I expected from a dinner at Mami's."

"Aw, you went to Mami's without me?" Skylar asked, disappointed.

"She's my grandmother, Skylar."

"Oh, come on, you can share her."

Mason made a noise along the lines of surrender, as Skylar continued to cram the rest of their snack into their face with urgency. "You can come next time. I had to have eaten like twenty of those meatballs." He offered.

"Mmm.. Shut up, I'm supposed to be content now." Skylar said, but sounded less on edge and more placated than anything, putting the now empty plate on the table and reclining. They stretched out their wings, draping them around the back of the couch. Their stomach was relatively quiet now, the only sounds coming from it being the result of it working away on their snack. "I accept your apology, by the way. My stomach definitely does."

The two sat in silence, the only noise back to being faint city arguments off in the distance and the occasional digestive grumble of Skylar's sated stomach. "Mace?" They said to the darkness, a half-asleep acknowledgment hum coming from his direction. "You can come back if you want." They patted their lap. "I don't care about sleeping sitting up. You're warm."

"What, am I your personal heater?" He joked, but lowered himself back down anyways, using Skylar's lap as a pillow. Their stomach was more audible up close, and he could hear a constant stream of calmly digesting burbles, which was pretty relaxing. The sound of gas dislodging in their gut could be heard making its way up.

"Hm. Yeah, I guess so. Urp-" Skylar belched. The speed of their eating caused a lot of air to be swallowed, and they briefly pounded on their chest with their fist to dislodge another, louder belch, prompting a sigh of relief. "G'night, Mace." Skylar muttered, tilting their head.

"Night, Skylar." He responded, closing his eyes for the night in turn. The two fell asleep on the couch, with no care about how they would wake up with muscle soreness in the morning. They were just glad both of them were content and happy. For now.