A/N: Inspiration for this one goes to my dad and his Chihuahua, who also happens to be my Chihuahua. Yep. Any reference to something saying 'even on Wednesday' is a reference to the video 'The Fifth Avocado'. And just in case you're confused, there is no first, second, third, fourth, or even sixth avocado. There is a small, small reference to the SNL Christmas sketch 'Dick In A Box'. Anyway, you can consider this a sequel to How To Make The First Move 101, I guess. There's no references to it, but I guess I'll just end up following the guidelines of every previous Hanhall fic I've written.
Disclaimer: Because I've forgotten it in any other story, I do not own 21 JS. Unfortunately. Because, if I did, I would never consent to the idea of them making a fucking movie about it. Anyone else think that they'll totally butcher it and it will never be the same again?
Even as his boyfriend, Tom Hanson recognized the flaws in Doug Penhall. Supposedly, you were supposed to think that your boyfriend or girlfriend was perfect, but Tom was fine with the fact that his boyfriend wasn't perfect. It was something about the personality, the quirks (all of which were more amusing than annoying), but definitely nothing having to do with what he looked like. His slightly shaggy hair, just a lighter brown that Tom's own hair. His eyes matched his hair color, though they hinted more of a hazel, with some blue and green mixed in there. Then there was his body, which was beyond perfect-- at least compared to Tom's scrawny structure. If Tom had to pick someone that he would have to look like for the rest of his life, it would have been Doug. The only problem with that would have been that, what would Doug look like? Would Doug look like Doug, or would Doug look like... Tom? Either thought was scary, so Tom was going to accept the fact that he looked like Tom Hanson. Doug looked like Doug Penhall.
The most annoying thing about Doug was-- well, the most annoying thing about Doug was that Doug was Doug. He was annoying-- on occasions. Of course, Tom couldn't just judge Doug on his overall annoying-ness. Truthfully, there might have been part of Tom that was attracted to Doug's being annoying. Yes, that was probably it. Tom was probably actually very attracted to the fact that Doug was annoying. Doug had to have something wrong with him, right? Yea, he did. So that was it. It was just, Tom liked his annoying boyfriend. He liked him-- hell, he loved him, a lot.
"Tommy-boy!" A voice came from Tom's front door, as it apparently opened. "Tommy-boy! It's your birthday and I got something for you!" Tom rolled his eyes, groaned, hit his head on the headboard, rolled over onto his stomach, and covered himself with the comforter-- all in one motion. There was one annoying thing about Doug. He liked to take advantage of the fact that Tom had made the mistake of giving him a key ot his apartment. On the other hand, Tom had probably also taken advantage of Doug's key too, but that didn't faze him much.
"Tom? Where are you?!" Doug's voice echoed off the walls. Tom tried to hold his breath. It was his birthday, he wanted to sleep. Doug could come sleep with him, yes, but Doug wasn't exactly the type of person who would just come over on a Saturday to actually lay in bed with Tom. Sure, other things maybe. But not just laying there and sleeping. Not unless they had done something first.
Tom heard Doug enter the room, and he focused on not moving, not breathing, not doing anything. If Doug couldn't find him, then maybe-- well, maybe he'd let him sleep for a while. Or something. Yes, Tom did want to see his boyfriend and all of his perfectness, but right now? Right now, he didn't want a surprise for his birthday. He didn't care that he was finally a quarter of a century old, anyway. God, that made him sound so old.
Somehow, Doug got the idea it was okay to pull the comforter off of the bed, exposing Tom in only his boxers. Tom groaned into his pillow. "You found me," he sighed, wondering what on Earth it was that Doug was planning to do. If it involved presents he had to unwrap, that would have to wait till later. If Doug was under the impression he was going to get some action? He was terribly mistaken. And he should have known that, too. If Doug had ever paid any attention to Tom, it would have been obvious that he always slept in on Saturdays, regardless of whether or not it was his birthday.
"Wake up, sleepy-head!" Doug said, shaking Tom lightly by the shoulders. This made Tom angry. Angrier than it normally would have, anyway. If he would have wanted to be waken up by Doug like this, he could have just slept over at his house, in Doug's bed, which honestly did seem like a good idea. But he hated being awoken like this. Sleeping over at Doug's house-- that would have been a much easier to way to have let this happen.
"No..." Tom murmured into his pillow. He heard Doug sigh as he climbed onto the bed. Turning Tom over onto his back, Tom only kept his eyes open long enough to see the beginning of a smile and upturned lips. He didn't only scrunch his eyes shut, but he covered his eyes with his hands too.
"Come on, Tommy," Doug said, tracing circles on Tom's chest with his index fingers. Tom grumbled. Why did Doug have to know all of Tom's weaknesses? It made everything so much harder sometimes.
"It's too bright outside," Tom remarked, pushing away Doug's hand. If he could avoid being wooed by Doug, he could possibly avoid getting out of bed for the rest of the day.
"You should be happy it's bright out, Tom," Doug said, brushing a strand of hair out from under Tom's hands that were still held in place, covering his eyes. "Come on, you. It's your birthday. Get up. We'll have fun."
"We'll have fun on your account. If you so much as try to make a move on me, I'll shoot you. And I have a gun; you know it," Tom whined. This was not going to be easy.
"So do I, Tommy boy," Doug teased. "Besides, I wasn't planning on making a move on you if it opposed with your agenda. I'm not that evil. Now come on, you're finally twenty-five. We need to have fun."
"We need to have fun? Doing what exactly?" Of course, Tom had a list of things on his mind. He could make out with Doug, he could tackle Doug and proceed to do 'naughty things' (regardless of the fact he'd just told Doug he'd shoot him if he did), they could go for a walk in the park, and Doug could get in bed and lay with Tom. Yes, that was the best idea. "I'm only up for it if it involves falling asleep in this bed. I'm old now, I'm allowed to do that kind of thing."
"You're not old. If you were old, I'd be old too. Keep in mind I'm three years older than you, Mr. Hanson," Doug emphasized, resting his hand on Tom's shoulder. "And you won't be old for another twenty-five years, when you're fifty. So get you're perfect fucking ass out of bed, and see what I brought you."
"I don't want to see what you brought me, unless it involves sleep," Tom complained. "Please, just let me sleep."
"Fine. Maybe I'll leave then," Doug said, growing annoyed. He began to move, but Tom didn't necessarily want him to leave. He'd never said that, had he?
"Don't leave," Tom whined, rolling onto his side. He rested his head onto Doug's knees and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist. If anything was going to keep him inside of the house, it would be that. "I never told you to leave. Just lay down, next to me, and we'll go to sleep. And when we wake up, then maybe I'll contemplate the idea of opening your present."
"Tom, now you know I'd gladly do that any day of the week-- even Wednesday," Doug said, his voice sounding softer, as he ran his hand through Tom's knotted hair. "But you have to open this first."
"Do I really?" Tom grumbled, pulling Doug's waist closer to him. "I don't want to, Doug. Please don't make me."
"You have to!"
"I have to?"
"If you insist, Dougie." Tom gave up. This was obviously going nowhere, and if Doug was willing to lay down with him afterwards, and actually let him sleep, maybe the present would be worth it. Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, Tom finally sat up. Sitting directly in front of Doug, he rubbed his eyes and groaned. Slouching his back, he shielded his eyes from the blaring sun. "You're evil."
"No I'm not," Doug grinned, turning around to grab a box. He placed the box in his lap carefully. Tom blinked at it. It wasn't wrapped. It was just a cardboard box with holes punched into it. How very... well, Tom didn't know what to think of it. "Go ahead, open it!" Doug urged excitedly.
"Doug, there's holes in the box." Doug nodded. After a moment of hesitation, he couldn't help but add, "So what's in it? Your penis? Seems most likely. But, Doug, your penis doesn't need to breathe. And if it does, that's actually kind of cool."
"It's not my penis," Doug said bluntly.
"Okay," Tom said, chuckling slightly. Boys don't giggle; they chuckle.
He placed his hand on the top of the cardboard box. Holding one flap down, he opened up the other. Peering into the box, he squinted his eyes before--
"HOLY SHIT, DOUG!" Tom said, scrambling out bed, and flattening himself against his bedroom door. Doug blinked. Now, he'd been expecting the 'HOLY SHIT, DOUG!', but he never expected the fear in Tom's eyes.
"Don't you like it?" Doug asked, taking the Chihuahua out of the box and placing it on the bed.
"NO, I FUCKING DON'T LIKE IT! I HATE SMALL DOGS! BIG DOGS!? I LOVE THEM! SMALL DOGS!? DOUG, THERE'S SOMETHING GENETICALLY WRONG WITH A DOG THAT YOU CAN EASILY DROP-KICK OVER A FENCE!" Tom shouted, flinching at the sight of the small dog. He looked back up at Doug, who looked genuinely hurt. It made Tom feel a little guilty, but once he looked at the Chihuahua again, he knew why he was angry.
"Tom, you're gay," Doug said, trying to get a laugh out of his boyfriend. "Not a football player." Tom just glared at Doug. Apparently, he hadn't found that very funny. "Sorry, I didn't know. I'll take her back."
Doug scooped up the dog and placed it back in the box. Refolding the flaps on the top, he held the medium-sized box in his hands, and walked back up to Tom. Tom glared at Doug, obviously not amused. "Leave," Tom said, his voice cracking. Doug looked troubled, staring at his feet.
"Can I come back later?" Doug asked, still not making eye contact with Tom.
"Get out," Tom said, pushing Doug out of his room. Doug began to walk down the hallway, dragging his feet across the carpet.
"Jesus Christ, Doug," Tom finally said while they stood at his front door. Doug was putting his shoes on. "Why couldn't you have gotten me something more conventional?"
Doug paused. "Like what?"
"Shower sex," Tom suggested. Doug chuckled a little, resuming tying his right shoe. "I don't know, anything but a Chihuahua."
"Don't you think you're overreacting about the whole Chihuahua thing?" Doug asked. Tom rubbed his eyes once more. Finally, he drew his hands away from his face, and continued to glare at Doug.
"No, I don't fucking think so," Tom said.
"Well, I think you are."
"Are you sure?"
"I'M FUCKING NOT OVERREACTING!" Tom exploded, obviously exasperated. "Just leave, will you?!"
"I will," Doug said, finally standing up, seeing as it had taken him so long to finish tying his shoes. "But I'm leaving the dog with you now. Her name's Bianca. Have fun with her."
And just like that, Doug stepped out of Tom's apartment, keeping the closed box on the floor, and the door open. Tom didn't think; he just simply chased Doug down the hallway, in spite of the fact that all he was wearing was his underwear. He could deal with the humiliation he was bringing upon himself, if it so came to that, in a moment. "DOUG!" Tom yelled after his boyfriend. He leaped and caught Doug by the legs, wrapping his arms around them to keep him from moving. "DON'T LEAVE ME WITH THE DOG, DOUG! I SWEAR, I LOVE IT! YES I DO!"-- Tom flinched at the thought of the dog-- "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME WITH IT! IT'S OKAY, I SWEAR!"
Tom stared up at his boyfriend, now wrapping his legs around Doug's, too. At this point, he was just sitting on his boyfriends feet. Doug was smirking at Tom, obviously amused at the prospect of Tom really being afraid of the dog. Tom could tell this wasn't because of the fight anymore. This was because Doug wanted to see how Tom would deal with the dog. This was... this was... Chihuahua war. Well, two could play at that game-- the only thing was, Tom didn't have any spare Chihuahua that he just held in his pocket at all times, just in case he might need to use it Chihuahua war. So he was just going to have to sit on Doug's feet, and wait for him to apologize for the dog and once again offer to take it back. Tom wrapped his arms and legs around Doug's legs even tighter, holding his head tightly against Doug's right thigh.
A door squeaked open from behind him. Somehow, Tom didn't think anything of it. "What the h--" an elderly lady's voice said from behind him. "Oh... oh dear."
Tom's head whipped around, to see an elderly neighbor he knew as nothing more than Mrs. Rocks. Well, this was awkward. He suddenly had this brilliant idea that was far too late, but this would have been a hell of a lot less awkward if Tom had put up a notice on the bulletin board downstairs. It would say 'HI, MY NAME IS THOMAS HANSON. I LOOK LIKE THIS, I WORK AT JUMPSTREET-- WHICH MEANS I GO INTO SCHOOLS (UNDERCOVER) AND BUST DRUG DEALERS AND SO FORTH. I AM GAY; I HAVE A BOYFRIEND NAMED DOUG. PLEASE MAKE AN ATTEMPT TO REFRAIN FROM CATCHING US DURING OUR 'INTIMATE MOMENTS' OR AT LEAST MOMENTS THAT SEEM INTIMATE, SINCE THAT SEEMS TO HAPPEN A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT.' Yea, that probably would have made life so much easier.
Tom scrambled up. All that he could hope was that the old lady wouldn't think much of it, since apparently people around her age were under the impression that homosexuality was a sin. Tom looked at the ground awkwardly. There was no way he was going to get out of this. Doug seemed to see this too, seeing as he heard him laugh under his breath. Glaring at his boyfriend, Tom looked away only for a moment when Doug started running down the hall again.
He didn't care about only wearing underwear now. Tom would tackle Doug, even out onto the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, if he had to. Tom was prepared to tackle Doug even if they were running down stairs, even if there was a definite possibility of them killing themselves if Tom even got that far. But of course he didn't catch up. Doug outran Tom by far, unfortunately. Now, usually, Tom would have been able to catch up to Doug, given that he weighed so much less than his boyfriend. But now, that had been kind of hard to do because of Mrs. Rocks. Curse old ladies and their ability to surprise Tom.
Tom knew it wasn't smart to venture out of the stairway in just his underwear. That would be a difficult sort of thing to explain, even if he just had contemplated the idea of doing it, but he especially wouldn't do it since Doug probably would have been out of the building by the time Tom would've known where he was. Sighing in frustration, Tom slowly walked upstairs. Why did Doug have to decide to leave him with the stupid Chihuahua? Tom hated the idea of animal abuse, so he couldn't just let it sit there, but at the same time, he was terrified of the dog.
He couldn't even remember exactly why he was afraid of small dogs. He remembered something about a family member's Chihuahua biting him when he was fairly young, and ever since he could only manage to trust large dogs. Tom supposed it was because he half expected a large dog wouldbe able maintain the ability to save him if any menacing little Chihuahua decided to come up and try to bite him. Yes, a Great Dane or whatever might have been around him at the time would have been able to eat the fucking little dog before it had the change to even get close to Tom. Big dogs were cool like that.
Peering his head through the door head from the staircase, Tom saw that Mrs. Rocks was still standing there. Now, he couldn't just stand there and wait for her to go back into her apartment, because, for all he knew, she would stand there and wait for him until the end of time. His door was open, and what if the stupid little dog got out of it's equally stupid box? He had to get into his apartment. He had to get in there now.
He made a mad dash for his apartment door, succesfully avoiding the old woman. Once inside of his apartment, he sat down on the couch, out of breath. After a few minutes, he remembered; the box.
Slowly, he walked over to it. Pulling the tabs open, the puppy immediately stood up on it's hind legs, placing it's front legs on the cardboard, waiting for Tom to lift her out of her box. Tom just scrambled back a few five feet away from the box. The so-called Bianca was apparently impatient, as she somehow managed to jump out of the box, even in her small stature. Mainly, she was an extremely dark brown dog, with some grey hinting here and there. It made her look like she was actually an older dog, but the size she was couldn't possibly be full grown. She had a white spot above each of her eyes, one seemed a little bit lighter than the other one. It was cute, but it wasn't. Because she was a Chihuahua. Everything under her eyes was pretty much the same white-ish-grey-ish color that was on her 'eyebrows'. Even what Tom could see of her chest was the white-ish-grey-ish. Her legs, on the other hand, were more of a light brown color than anything else.
Above all, Bianca must have been the smallest Chihuahua Tom had ever seen. She was skinny beyond belief, with a set of four twig-like legs to prove it. She more trotted than anything else over to Tom. With every step closer to the man, Tom had to remind himself that this dog-- this Chihuahua-- was not going to kill him. Above all, it wasn't even going to manage to injure him. It was just a Chihuahua.
The dog climbed into Tom's lap. He was sitting on his knees, looking up at the ceiling nervously, as if he had to avoid the dog's eye contact at all costs. Don'thurtmedon'thurtmedon'thurtmeHOLYFUCKdon'thurtme! But the dog wasn't going to hurt him. No, it was actually just lifting itself onto it's hind legs once more. As Bianca stood, with her right front paw on his chest, her left paw reaching out for his face, Tom held his breath, preparing himself for the worst.
There was something wet on his face, and as Tom somehow managed to will his eyes open, he realized Bianca was only licking his face.
Maybe this wasn't going to be that bad.
Knock, knock, knock.
"It's open!" Tom called out, sitting up on the couch. He had covered himself with a blanket, in attempt to keep Bianca warm. Unfortunately, in the past day, he had learned to appreciate the dog so much that he was now snuggling with her on the couch. His hand on the dog's head, he watched the door slowly open, revealing a certain Doug Penhall on the other side. Tom instinctively turned over, and looked back at his TV. He wasn't going to tolerate Doug. Not now, anyway.
He heard the door shut, and Tom listened for Doug remembering to take off his shoes. Surprisingly, he did. Within the next few seconds, Doug was sitting on the floor, in front of Tom's view of the TV. Frustrated, Tom closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.
"Okay, Tom. I'm sorry," Doug said, though there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Obviously, he thought that Tom was just doing it for the attention or something. He reached out, and brushed a lock of hair from Tom's eyes. "Will you talk to me? Goddamnit, Tom, if you're so fucking worked up about it, I know a few people who might want it. If that's not the case, well, then, I'll just bring it back or something."
Tom opened his eyes and stared at Doug. He wasn't going to say anything. "Tom!" Doug said in a loud whisper, obviously not aiming for screeching in Tom's ear. "Talk to me!"
"Doug, you made me chase you all the way down the hallway and down the stairs in my underwear," Tom said bluntly. Doug chuckled. "What am I supposed to say to that?"
"Tom, I never made you do that. You just did that by yourself. Besides, I thought it was rather hot-- you running down the hall in your underwear, I mean. You should do it more often," Doug remarked, looking at the ground for a moment. "Come on, forgive me? Please?"
"No," Tom said, rolling his eyes. Doug attempted to make the saddest puppy eyes and most typical pouty face he could. Tom closed his eyes for just a moment, before reaching out, and tracing Doug's cheekbones with his right index finger. Running his hands through Doug's hair, Tom sunk down farther in the couch. Doug just liked to blackmail Tom into doing things he didn't want to do. "Fine, yes."
"Really?!" Doug said a little too loudly. Tom nodded, reaching out and grabbing his boyfriend by his T-shirt. "Now come here, Mr. Penhall."
"I would've been there five minutes ago, if you weren't so difficult, Mr. Hanson," Doug said, obliging to Tom, coming closer to the couch, Tom sat up, in order to let his boyfriend to climb up onto the couch with him. With Doug almost finally placed firmly on top of him, Tom gasped.
"Wait! No, Doug!" Tom said , lifting the blanket, picking up Bianca. Doug looked in gleeful surprise while Tom held the dog to his face and kissed it's face. The chihuahua licked the bridge of Tom's nose a few times. "What should we do with her?"
"You like her!" Doug exlaimed, grinning. "I knew it!"
"Shut up," Tom said, looking frustrated with his boyfriend. "What should I do with her? We can't just make out on top of her like this."
"You like her!" Doug repeated.
"I asked you a question, Doug," Tom sighed.
"Just put her on the floor, then," Doug said, looking at the Chihuahua.
"What if she pees on the carpet?" Tom asked, the dog still in his face while she licked at his nose.
"Put her in the box, then."
"She can jump out of it."
"Then close it, you idiot," Doug remarked, rolling his eyes. Tom nodded, as if Doug had made some scientific discovery. Doug allowed Tom out from under him, as Tom walked around the couch, back to where the box was still placed. Doug sat up and watched his boyfriend, who was still in his pajamas of boxers, place the dog inside of the box. After Tom had closed it, and said something along the lines of "You just stay in there, little Bianca!" in a high, baby-ing voice, he walked back around to the couch and sat down. He smirked at Doug.
"Now, where we we, Dougie?" Tom asked. Doug smiled, and nearly tackled Tom against the couch.
"Somewhere around here, Tommy," Doug said, closing the short gap between Tom's lips and his own.