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Life After Credits

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Ky found living with Sol to be oddly domestic.

The other came and went on a whim, and he was decidedly alone for most of the time, but whenever the older man did stay, the hours spent with him in his small apartment was baffling.

The two of them had fallen into a pattern of sorts: Sol would immediately head for the fridge upon walking through the door for the six-pack now semi-permanently residing in the freezer before heading off to the balcony to either stay out of Ky's hair or wait for him to come home if he was out for the day until it was time to eat. The two of them then talk about their day over bites of whatever was cooking—which usually was just Ky almost-monologuing over Sol's occasional grunts and short replies. Their conversation carries on to the living room when the dishes are done, which would either turn into full-blown bickering or stop completely as Ky does schoolwork. Sometimes, Sol would throw in a hint or two at whatever he was working on, which was a huge help; Sol knew things that he didn't, and it always amazes Ky just how much his older lover actually knew. Most of the time, however, it usually boiled down to Sol lounging at his couch and scoffing at his homework or pestering him until he caved in to the temptation to either smack him or kiss him.

Either choice ends up with the two of them making out in a frenzy on the floor like a couple of hormonal teenagers, which somehow winds up in sex. Whether or not they actually make it to the bedroom is another fight with probability that refuses to resolve itself. Ky refuses to find out; the marks scattered all over his body and the numerous rug burns he had endured over the short time he spent in this crazy whirlwind of a relationship all serve as a reminder that he is better off not knowing.

It isn't as if he doesn't like it; living with the largest, most uninterested house cat in existence probably has more cons than pros, but he's pretty sure he won't have it any other way.

Today was a Saturday, and it was shaping up to be a long weekend. Sol had come down from a hunt and decided to come crash at his place. Ky put up with it after a minimal amount of fuss which includes bullying the older man for his laundry and the requisite amount of words to remind him that he bought him ashtrays and that he should use them when he inevitably goes out onto the balcony for a light.

Ky follows it up with a sharp jab to his shoulder when Sol only started stripping down to his underpants and grunts in response to his tirade.

With Sol lounging in his living room in only his shorts and dinner put away in the oven to cook, Ky begins the process of doing the week's laundry. Separate the whites from colours, then separate according to the type of clothing and material. Delicates get loaded on the washer first, and the appropriate amount of detergent and softener put into the machine before he starts the cycle. Then the colours get separated the same way. It was a chore Ky never minded amongst everything; it was repetitive and almost soothing, and it helped him clear his mind.

He finishes sorting out the rest of the laundry, when his mind drifts back to his odd arrangement. Ky often found himself wondering just how absurdly lucky he was to cross paths with Sol within two lifetimes; God truly has blessed him with the opportunity to meet him again, despite their circumstances.

Ky catches himself thinking this and laughs to himself. There are times he curses the fact that he met Sol, which usually happen whenever the older man aggravates him beyond the point of patience. The mixed feelings he gets afterward make him take it back, however, so he supposes it doesn't exactly help him any.

The blonde leaves his neat piles of laundry to go check on his pork in the oven; the smell has permeated the entire apartment and has filled the kitchen and living room with the scent of cooking meat. Sol had relocated from his couch to his counter, and Ky's eyes narrow at the folder in his hands.

"You better not have done anything to my report, Sol," He says warningly. "If I find that you've put something else in there—"

"Relax, kiddo. I was just reading through it," Sol mumbles, not looking up from where he thumbed through his meticulous notes. Ky feels his blood pressure slowly rising as he thinks about the creases in the pages and the smudged ink. "S'not like it's anything new to me."

"If so, then drop it," He says, slapping his wrist. Sol obliges and lets the folder drop onto the counter. "Instead of poking fun at my work, how about you contribute to this?"

"Pretty sure school reports are supposed to train you to work independently," Sol says with a grin as he leans on his folded arms, and Ky has a sinking feeling that he was staring at his ass as he bent over to fetch the pot roast from the oven. "Can't have people giving you freebies, now, can you?"

"I'm pretty sure if I was dating someone else, they'd be falling over themselves to help me," Ky points out as he sets the pot on a rag. "You just like seeing me squirm, Sol.I thought the perk of dating someone infinitely smarter than you are is exactly for these sort of thing?"

Said man shrugs, looking very unrepentant as Ky sets the table. "C'mon, Kiske. You gotta let me have some measure of fun. Besides, your expressions always crack me up. It's extremely entertaining."

A dishrag finds a home in Sol's face with a wet splat as his younger lover walks past. "Of course you would, you absolute retard. Remind me why I bother keeping you around."

"I keep your heating bill down?" Sol suggests as he tosses the damp rag into the sink. "I'm the only way you can get regular semi-intelligent conversation? The sex is good? I dunno, boy. You tell me."

Ky rolls his eyes in good humour as he takes a seat at the table, Sol immediately sliding into the chair opposite his. "I'd say neither of those choices, but that'd be a lie," he mutters as Sol helps himself. Ky glances up and has to look away from his lover's face to stop himself from outright laughing. "Oh stop. You're a fully-grown man; stop pouting."

Dinner settles into this comfortable silence interspersed with small tidbits of conversation. Ky tells Sol about the notes he gets on his desk, and the brunette snorts. "You are far too pretty for your own good," The American comments. "Must be because you're shiny." Ky only replies with a shake of his head and a poorly-hidden grin.

Ky thinks about his papers piled on the coffee table, but lets it go when Sol's bare foot brushed his ankle. He hides his smile behind a spoonful of roast and holds back his laughter.

All his regular problems could be put on the back burner for a little while; his lover was here, and he wasn't here often enough as he would like. His assignments could wait.