CAndy- Storms

Sometimes storms would come for what would seem like no reason. They would come out of the blue- Andy could be just sitting with Chucky on the couch, and they could be laughing together, and then in the next moment, the doll would be in tears behind his small hands. Sometimes he'd try to hide it and run away, and other times he would just hide his face in Andy's broad chest for a while.

There were signs that told Andy when it was coming. Sort of like the dark clouds and the fresh breathy air before the storm. The doll would have two different ways of going: he'd become extremely quiet and begin breathing quickly, or he'd explode and become a bit violent, throwing objects and curses at everyone.


Today was a curse-and-object-throwing day.

"Goddammit, Andy!" he shouted just as the young man walked through the door. He had just gotten back from work, and was surprised (not to mention disappointed) that the welcome he was receiving was not exactly warm. The man cast an inquisitive look towards the angry face. Chucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "The door, you stupid shit. You always slam that goddamn fucking door! Everyday when you get back home, you let the thing hit the post as if you're announcing it to the whole fucking world."

Andy opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it. "Sorry?" he mumbled questioningly, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the hooks slowly. Perhaps if he took his time here, the doll would move on and he could sneak away to his room.

"You aren't sorry about shit, Andy," Chucky spat.

"You're right there, Chucky," Andy replied coolly while removing his shoes. "Can't say I'm sorry for shit. It happens."

"My god, you smart-ass son of a bitch!" the doll growled. He clutched one of the small couch pillows. Andy just tucked his shoes against the wall neatly. Getting hit by a pillow was the least of his concerns. And as hard as Chucky tossed it, he couldn't even pretend to flinch. "Do you mind?" he asked calmly, picking up the throw pillow and placing it gently back on the couch. "People have to clean this up, you know."

Chucky hissed and made a rather unattractive face. Andy was reminded of a rabid hedgehog. "Does this look like a face that gives a flying fuck ship?" He stood rigid and cold, his blue eyes sending lightning vibes at the young man. Andy smiled and knelt down to the doll's height.

"Well. I wouldn't know about that. But I do know it's a darn cute looking one."

Chucky shoved Andy away from him angrily. "Oh, fuck off, Andy!" he shouted before stomping up the steps, shoving things around like toys at the mercy of a tornado as he went. Andy stood and sighed, counting to three.

Fuck off.

Otherwise known as the key words for please-come-after-me-I-am-feeling-emotional-but-I-don't-know-why-and-it-pisses-me-off-and-I-really-need-you.

He walked up the steps. They were old and creaky. He sighed again and ran a hand through his work tangled hair. To him, this time was the hardest. This was the time when Chucky would cry things that Andy didn't know how to respond to. Anger was one thing. He could deflect that easily with wit or plain disinterest. When the doll was looking to him for comfort was a whole other challenge. In this case, he really wanted to say the right thing.

He slid through the already open door. He remembered the first time he had had to deal with this. He had left Chucky alone for hours before the doll finally came tumbling out to him, still hiccuping with leftover tears. Andy didn't really remember what the doll had said, save for one thing:

"I didn't even lock the door."

Andy found the doll curled up in a ball and shaking on the bed. He sat down beside him and locked his fingers into the bright orange strands of hair that covered the doll's face. "Hey," he said softly. The ball squeezed tighter and he could just barely hear the voice. "No... get the fuck away..." Chucky moaned softly.

But Andy didn't go away. Now was not the time for leaving things be. Now was the time to act.

He leaned over and kissed Chucky's forehead. And continued to do so until at last the doll surrendered and relaxed his defensive position. "I'm sorry..." he whispered into Andy's chest sadly. Andy just held the doll close to him and murmured sweet comforts into his ear until the storm of emotions cleared away, leaving Andy to feel Chucky's small breath puff against his neck.

Andy knew why.

He knew why these storms came. He knew what they were for, and why they would come, time and time again. He knew that sometimes there would be thunder and lightning, and that sometimes there would only be light showers. But he'd learned to bring an umbrella of his own.

And someday, soon, he would help Chucky learn to dance in the rain. 3