#waiting for one of the behind the cameras to go ‘16 days’ and sharl to go ‘16? what a good number’ cue smirk and blush

[xiaoluclair]

xiaaao can i have 14 + chalex for the intimacy prompts 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hi lovely 💛🌷💫❤️❕ i drew on inspo from the current chalex wip for this one hehe

14. smth smth their pet liking them // chalex // [ rating: T ]

Stan, with his flubby rolls of fur, is dozing off the bottom step like a particularly adorable caterpillar. Charles has dropped to his ass in the middle of a stride to pet a caterpillar.

Alex, apparently blue–balled by a caterpillar, says, “Guess we might as well invite him up.”

At that, Charles perks up. “Really?”

“Exhibitionism?” Alex tilts his head. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

A cloud passes over Charles’s eyes. Metaphorical, obviously, because they stay on Alex under the furrow of their bushy eyebrows and Alex can see them so clearly. Squinting and green, the little ring of orange swallowed into the middle like light to a black hole. When Charles gets it, Alex is settled on the step above, Stan rumbling like a large bulldozer under his hand.

“Alex.” Scandalised. “That is not what I— oh my god, you need to clean your brain with soap.”

Alex laughs, has the drywall thump the back of his head. Can ignore it, rub a hand over the sharp throb while Charles didn’t notice. Is too busy covering his face until Stan wiggles the pink pad of a paw into his thigh.

Alex pokes the patch on his skull. “He likes you.” Winces. Thanks the Heavens for Stan and his captivating potato nature.

Charles gives a small sniff. Is smiling as both hands disappear into the fur forest. “I like him.”

Obviously, thinks Alex. “Really?” says Alex.

Charles nods, matter of fact. “I like cats.”

“You didn’t used to.” He remembers. Back in F2, the gaggle of them in Monza. Charles vaulting up between the tyre blankets, proverbial tail tripping around his not–so–proverbial legs. His hand gripped Alex’s laughing shoulder, a few seconds. Tight and harsh and.

He remembers.

Charles levels him. Those silly black holes. He says, “I have always liked cats.”

And the staircase is too— small. No. Alex is too small, folded and fitted between the carpet, knees dug into his chest. Body like a boat in an algae ocean until it comes back to itself, cramped into too many close corners. No, you haven’t.

“Come on,” says Charles brightly, and he gets to his feet and stretches. This way and that, then fingers to his feet. Feline, thinks Alex. Like he is taunting Stan’s spine. See what you could have. Like he is taunting Alex.

The only difference is. When Charles hops over Stan’s sleepy mound and starts up the stairs. Glances back over his shoulder, waiting for Alex to realign himself before following him. Hand circles the back of his neck before the door has even shut, and he lets Alex pull it down, away from the light swelling of his skin. Legs grip the meat above Alex’s hip bone, tight and harsh and. The only difference is, Alex can have it.

For now, Alex does.