not much ever changes around here {wren/bee/minx}

The fridge is full of great things to be honest. There's an entire chicken shoved into one of the sections. An entire fucking chicken. Someone made this chicken and then decided that they weren't hungry so they said "oh well," and then they stuffed that bird into their fridge. If you don't think that that's beautiful, then you can get the hell out of my face. I decided to claim one of the legs for myself and am currently waiting for Wren to be finished cleaning the bedroom so that I can go in there and explore it too. I know that I'm meant to be cleaning but I can only aimlessly wipe at a counter so many times before it gets boring. The problem with kitchens is that there are too many shut doors to be opened and rifled through.

Wren calls me from the bedroom and a grin pastes itself across my features like a little kid doing macaroni art in kindergarten. I love it when Wren calls my name, it's even better when he also happens to be calling my name from a bedroom. I toss the half finished chicken leg out and wash my hands in the kitchen sink.

Giving the counter top one last swipe with my cloth, I head down the hall to the bedroom where Wren is hopefully waiting for me, naked. Maybe with a feather duster in his hand. I'm sure I've had dreams about that before. But then he says the fated words, "New kid."

Hell yes. Fresh meat.

I slip into the bedroom and flick the cloth in my hand over my shoulder like a waitress at one of those fancy coffee shops in the Games Square. "You called, darling?" I drawl out flirtatiously.

The words are like a lure to Beezlebub, he arrives in an instant with a look that almost calls a smirk from his hiding place, but I wrap my arms around him instead. He's taller than me, but I don't mind burying my face into the back of his shirt and picking at the waist of his pants absentmindedly. It comes almost naturally, and I'm far too comfortable to regard the new kid when he speaks so I just point in the direction of the voice and continue to play with Bee's clothing. Bee'll probably want to go introduce himself and I'll follow because it's so much fun to watch them sweat at his brazen flirting. 

Sometimes I wonder how it actually works. And then I remember that it worked on me and I feel like somewhat of an idiot. He's been my best friend for all of four years now. And even though we sleep together on a regular basis I've never actually called him anything different. Not friends with benefits or whatever weird fucking terms they have. "Over there." I mutter into his shoulder, smiling because it smells just like him when I breathe in and also because he and the new kid won't be able to see it. 

I don't like to do the smiling thing a lot. It always got my ass beat when I was a kid and I guess I've never gotten out of the habit of hiding them.