Title: "What's Yours is Definitely Not Mine"

Author: Veritas Found

Rating: T / PG-13 / Teen

Characters/Pairings: Matt Dowd x Taylor Wethersby

Summary: When moving in with someone, compromises must always be made.

Disclaimer: Eli Stone and all respective properties are © ABC. Megan D. (Veritas Found) does not, has never, nor will ever own Eli Stone.

Author's Note/Warnings: Set in the relatively near future (blink-and-you-miss-it spoilers for 02x04). Crackish.

"What's Yours is Definitely Not Mine"

She hadn't been in an apartment this cluttered since…well, since she had moved in here herself. That had been months ago, after things had ended with Eli; over the year that had since passed, she had fixed the tenth-floor apartment up quite nicely. It had developed a homey feel to it – something she loved, considering she usually wasn't home enough to give it such a feeling.

Now, however, it was…cluttered. Junked up, messy, littered with boxes – his boxes. Matt's boxes. She didn't entirely mind; she knew they'd be cleared away soon, and, in all honesty, she was proud of him for it. This was them, taking the next big step in the Matt Dowd-Taylor Wethersby (and soon to be plus one) relationship: this was moving in. She had the bigger, less-bachelor-paddish apartment, so here they were.

The thought made her smile, even as she cut open another box and began sorting through the peanuts and bubble wrap. The packaging material popped under her fingers, and the sound drew an excited shout from the kitchen behind her.

"Ooh, bubble wrap!" Matt called, and she arched a finely-trimmed brow at him as he rushed over and took up the seat next to her on the couch. He reached into the box and pulled out another small bundle, hurriedly unwrapping it to play with the bubble wrap.

"Well, no surprise you'll be good with the kid – you're still one yourself," she quipped, her tone more fondly amused than reprimanding. He shot her a grin before turning his attention back to his newfound toy.

"I will take that as a compliment. Everybody loves a good piece of bubble wrap," he said. Her brow rose a bit higher as an amused grin quirked her lips.

"I don't," she said, and he feigned a wounded look.

"I don't think I can live with someone who hates bubble wrap," he said, and she laughed as she playfully slapped his arm. He could be such a goofball at times, but that was one of the things she loved most about him. It was good to see someone with a good, albeit quirky, sense of humor. "Nah, I can forgive you for that. Everybody has their faults."

She hummed in agreement and turned back to the box, pulling out another bundle to unwrap. She whistled as a bottle of vintage scotch rolled into her hands. She shot him a look, and he grinned. "After the baby, Taylor," he said in a playful tone that overplayed the serious note. She rolled her eyes and placed it on the coffee table; honestly, like she hadn't known that? She frowned at the next unwrapped bundle, a set of four shot glasses.

"Shouldn't these be in with the kitchen boxes?" she asked, causing him to turn a curious look her way. The curiosity gave way to boyish glee when he saw the glasses, the sudden change and glint in his eye almost scary. "Oh God, what are they?"

"These," he said, taking one from her and flipping it upside down, "are a shelf-worthy collector's item!"

She watched as he pushed a little black switch hidden by the bottom lip of the glass, and her eyes widened as the base began to flicker with red and gold lights. He flipped it back right-side up, grin widening as he held it up for her to see. He looked so proud of himself, though she couldn't for the life of her imagine why. Bravo, he had light-up shot glasses. She hoped he wasn't too attached – they were not staying in her apartment.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Oh, no."

"What? They're cool!" he said, and that boyish charm turned from cute to annoying in a snap.

"Cool? Matt, they scream two-dollar Vegas hooker!" she said, and he looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Vegas hookers are way more expensive than two dol…" he paused at the look she gave him, and laughed slightly. "Not that I'd know, of course…"

"Ok, trailer park. Dinky. They're…they're…" horrible, she added mentally, unable to find the heart to tell him the brutal truth. He twirled the glass he was holding around in his fingers, studying it.

"I like 'em," he said. She put a hand over his, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Honey, we're not keeping them," she said, her voice firm and sounding more like she was saying no to a new puppy instead of four dollar-store shot glasses. He tipped his head to the side, watching the lights flicker in the base. "They're hokey. We're not doing hokey in my apartment."

"Our apartment, you mean," he said. He looked around. "It does need a man's touch. Too girly in here."

"Because until today it was only a girl living here," she said, and he shrugged.

"I'm not throwing out my shot glasses, Taylor," he said, making her roll her eyes.

"I don't want them here," she said, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"I'll put them in a cabinet, far in the back so you'll never have to see them," he said. She shot him a look, one that clearly said the idea was out of the question. He'd hide them, but she'd still know they were somewhere in the apartment. It would be a niggling in the back of her mind, a little voice telling her to find the shot glasses and destroy them. "Or you could give 'em to Eli – or Keith. Keith seems like a light-up shot glass kind of guy."

"You don't even seem like a light-up shot glass kind of guy. I think if you gave those to Keith he'd kill you," she said, and he shrugged.

"Eli?" he asked, and she thought about it for a minute.

"They would go with his duck," she said, and he gave her a look that asked if he really wanted to know. She shook her head, took the glass from him, and began stacking them next to the bottle of scotch. "Very back of the liquor cabinet, where they're not noticeable. I don't want to see them."

"Aw, but Taylor, you know the baby'll love 'em when she gets here," he said, winking at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Very nice, Matt," she said. "Turn our baby into an alcoholic and I'll kill you."

"Thank you," he said, brushing right past her comment as he began unwrapping another bundle. "My light-up shot glasses and I appreciate the gesture. Hey, my singing trout!"

"Oh, hell no."