Chocolate Chip Shanshu: Four
by Poison Pen
True to his word, Connor eased into Angel’s room just as the big hand met the little one at the top of the clock.
Angel sat at the end of the bed, the edges of his johnny tucked under his butt to keep it closed. “Hi.”
Connor staggered. “Dad?” he gasped.
“I thought we got past all this on the phone.” Angel chuckled, once again almost giddy at the sound of his son calling him ‘Dad.’ Then he noticed Connor’s wide eyes and slacked jaw. He jumped up. The cold air tickled his ass, but he didn’t care. “Connor, are you okay?”
“I was planning on beating the hell out of some fruitcake voice impersonator,” Connor said, regaining himself. “You know, because most hospitals don’t keep the morgue on the second floor.”
“Don’t tell me that means you didn’t bring clothes.”
Connor tossed him a plastic shopping bag. “I still hoped I was wrong.” He smiled.
Angel dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed. “A T-shirt, sweatpants and flip-flops?” he said, scowling. “What happened to all that cash I handed you before the apocalypse?”
“Didn’t figure you’d want me to blow it all in one place,” Connor said, obviously trying not to smirk. “And like I said— I thought you might be some asshole lunatic.”
Angel pulled on the sweats, dropped the johnny, and then held up the T-shirt. “Beavis and Butthead?”
Connor snorted, trying not to laugh. “It was a good deal. Only three-fifty.”
“Give me your shirt.”
“No way!”
“I’m not wearing this.”
“He gets a heartbeat, and suddenly he’s too good for Beavis and Butthead. Geez.”
“I was too good for Beavis and Butthead when I was dead,” Angel growled, tugging on the shirt.
He grabbed the flip-flops. “Pink?”
“It’s the new color for men this year,” Connor said, his chest shaking with silent laughter. “Now put ‘em on, and lets get out of here.”
“I look like a freak.” Angel said, staring down at his pink shoes.
“Yeah, so I guess some things never change,” Connor said, turning toward the door. “Come on.”
Angel followed him out into the dim hallway. “You still hate me, don’t you?” he whispered. “You’re punishing me.”
“Shut-up before I bust my gut and get us caught,” Connor hissed back. “Two more rights, and we’re at the stairwell. Home free. And then I’m gonna piss myself laughing.”
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