Angel looked away from the TV and over toward the door to the bedroom. He could’ve sworn that he heard something. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the TV, watching as the chef burned the risotto.
Angel mumbled under his breath and switched channels, looking over at the door once again as he heard another noise, sure he was hearing something this time. He quickly muted the TV, halting his breathing so he could listen better. He could hear a vague scrapping sound, faint and distant. There was a soft bang as well and Angel quickly stood from his bed, reaching over for his piece. Loaded with one now in the chamber, Angel held the weapon aimed down as he quietly made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall. He could hear the noise a bit more clearly now and followed it to the back door, the knob jingling softly. Adrenaline had Angel’s heart beating faster, the sound of his pulse audible in his ears. He gripped the gun in his right hand and slowly reached forward with his left. All of his lights were on, his bike parked out front. It was obvious that he was home. So, who would be dumb enough to try and break in when they knew he was there. He knew they weren’t trying to kill him; it would’ve been much easier to just drive by and spray the house. Must be some dumb kids looking to score some shit to sell for weed. His brows were knitted together, a deep-set crease in his forehead as his fingers wrapped around the deadbolt. With lightning speed, he undid the lock and reached for the doorknob, ripping the door open. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see on the other side, maybe a teenager in a ski mask or something of the like. Not his girlfriend there, hunched over with her hands still outstretched, eyes wide as you looked at him, gun in your face. You both spoke incredulously at the same time.
“What the fuck?”
“What the fuck?”
Angel sucked his teeth and growled, quickly pointing the gun away from you and tucking it into the band of his sweats while you stared at him.
“What the fuck are you doing? I could’ve killed you!”
You scoffed and stood up straight, holding a hand to your chest.
“Even if you didn’t shoot me, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”
Angel rolled his eyes and stared at you fiercely, his chest still leaving slightly in the excitement.
“Why the fuck are you at the back door? Why didn’t you just call so I could let your ass in through the front?”
Angel’s eyes were squinted in pure confusion and you took in a shaky breath, willing away the jitters that came with having a gun pointed at you. Lifting your other hand, you pointed to the ground, a container of kosher salt and a bottle of ghost pepper sauce.
“Well, I was going to replace your sugar with salt so you could gag tomorrow when you made your coffee and then throw hot sauce in your orange juice so you would be double screwed when you drank out of the bottle to get rid of the saltiness. But that went left quick.”
Angel mocked you sarcastically, shaking his head and pulling the door open wider for you to come in. Walking past him, you reached up to press several kisses to his jaw, the scruff of his beard tickling your lips before walking inside as he locked up behind you, not knowing what he was going to do with you.