play with fire
pairing: Chris Argent/Reader, past Allison/Reader
reader’s pronouns: he/him
author’s note: mwahahaha. mwAHAHAHHA.... yes. yes. *cackles maniacally* sigh. i love argent.
“Who’s this?”
You whip around, heart racing. Mr. Argent, father to your girlfriend Allison, is standing in front of you, arms crossed over his chest. He is rather muscular, and you feel more than a little intimidated. You take a tiny half-step backwards, which he matches immediately.
“Um-” you try to explain, taking another step backwards. Your back hits the front door behind you, and the man towers over you. You gulp, feeling a chill go down your spine as he looks down on you. He is tall. “He's my boyfriend, Dad,” Allison remarks, walking over to you from her spot in the kitchen. She looks up at her father in annoyance. “Leave him alone,” she chides him, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you to her room. You follow, feeling his eyes on you the entire way up the stairs.
Every time after that fateful encounter, you try your best to avoid Allison’s father. Your efforts never seem to work, however. Every time you are over, you are always met with Mr. Argent’s heated gaze at least once. You tell Allison of her father’s animosity towards you, but she doesn’t seem to believe you.
“Your father hates me,” you blurt out once, watching as Allison looks over at you with a confused expression on her face. The two of you are sitting on her bed, finishing up with your homework. At least, that’s what you tell yourselves. Your backpack lays unopened on the floor, but you can’t find the energy to care.
“Really?” Allison asks, squinting at you with her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s always staring at me, like, really angrily,” you remark, running your fingers along the quilt on Allison’s bed. The fabric is rough under your fingers.
“He doesn’t hate you,” she shakes her head, moving closer to you. You lean into Allison’s touch, wrapping an arm around her waist as she leans her head on your shoulder. “He likes you a lot, actually. At least, I think he does.”
You stiffen, and Allison looks up at you. You aren't quite sure what to say, but the confused and doubtful expression on your face must give Allison a clue as to what you’re thinking.
“I’m serious!” Allison says, poking you in the side. You hiss and try to jab her in the side as revenge, but she dodges it. She laughs, before returning to what she was saying. “He asks about you sometimes. He thinks you’re a good kid, probably.”
“Oh no,” you remark dramatically. “My bad boy reputation! I’ll never recover from this.”
“Shut up, you big softie,” Allison laughs, launching herself at you and sending the both of you flopping back onto the bed. You laugh, all your apprehensions about Allison’s father receding to the back of your mind.
Your relationship with Allison goes smoothly for a while, until the two of you have a disagreement. You can’t exactly recall what the disagreement was about, but it ended up escalating into a full-out argument in a rather short time. You visit Allison that day, planning on talking it out with her. Somehow, your discussion ends with the two of you breaking up. You still remember storming down the stairs that day, and the conversation with Mr. Argent that followed.
“Where are you going?” a voice behind you says, just as your hand closes on the doorknob. You flinch, turning around to face Mr. Argent. He is standing in the hallway to the kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest. You contemplate just running, but you figure that would be impolite.
“Home,” you swallow hard, trying to avoid his gaze. Your hands shake at your sides.
“Home already?” Mr. Argent asks, a frown on his face. “It’s rather early.”
“Yes, well...” you break off, tears welling up in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes furiously, embarrassed that you are crying in front of your now ex-girlfriend’s father. “Allison and I broke up.”
“Ah, I see.” The two of you are silent for a while after that, and you shift your balance awkwardly. You want to leave, but you don't want to be rude...
A reassuring hand on your shoulder jars you out of your thoughts. “You’re a handsome young man. You’ll be fine, I’m sure.” You immediately feel flustered. “You’re always welcome in this house.” You’re sure your expression betrays your shock and disbelief, so you quickly mumble out a goodbye before leaving. You replay the conversation over in your head as you drive home, your heart racing in your chest.
You continue to visit the Argents’ house, despite your breakup with Allison. Chris is rather nice company, you have to admit. Your visits are rather awkward though, as Allison usually is home when you’re there. She usually just gives you a reluctant smile before going back to her room.
You and Chris grow closer as you and Allison grow further apart. It is quite a juxtaposition—one that leaves you reeling at times. But, you manages to make it work. You try your best to be nice to Allison while at the Argents’ house.
Allison gets a new boyfriend within a couple weeks of your breakup, and eventually he starts visiting the house too. Somehow, you manage to avoid seeing him. You overhear the occasional conversation with him and Allison, but you never cross paths with him.
Chris’s behavior with Allison’s new boyfriend puzzles you. He is a hell of a lot nicer to the new boyfriend than he was to you—that’s for sure. You soon learn, however, that Chris hates this new guy. He tells you as much when the two of you are sitting around in the kitchen, and his rather random admission nearly makes you choke on your water. You are sure there’s a meaning to that juxtaposition- his behavior towards you versus his behavior towards Allison’s new boyfriend. If he pretends to tolerate this new guy, when he really hates him, where does that leave you? Maybe it’s the opposite with you—he acted like he hated you, but in reality he didn’t... It’s a nice thought, but it’s ultimately an idle fantasy and nothing more, you tell yourself.
One day, you drive over to the Argents’ house to visit Chris. It is becoming somewhat of a routine for you, and you are looking forward to his witty commentary on your lives. You trudge up the steps a bit slowly, fatigued from your long day at school. You knock on the door a few times before letting yourself in—the Argents started to leave their door unlocked so that you could get in whenever you visit. You walk into the entryway, confused when you don't see anyone. Typically, Chris would be mulling about in the kitchen at this hour, but upon closer inspection, you find that he isn’t there. Shrugging, you walk up the stairs to Allison’s bedroom. You hate to bother her, but you want to at least make sure that someone is home.
You frown, looking down at the light seeping out from under the doorway. The lights are on. Biting your lip, you open the door slowly, only to find no one. You take another step into her room, confused that Allison isn't there. You’re about to walk out of the room when you feel someone’s presence behind you. You have no time to react as you are swiftly punched in the face. You stumble backwards, and your assailant shoves you to the ground. Dazed, you look up, only to find Allison’s boyfriend, Blake, standing over you.
“Blake?” you mumble, glancing around the room. Allison doesn't seem to be home. Why is he even here? You glance at the window on the wall behind you, beginning to piece together the mystery. He must’ve climbed in. What a psychopath.
Blake looks down at you, pure hatred written all over his face. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed. “I fucking knew it.” You blink up at him, not at all sure what he is talking about.
“What?” you mumble in confusion. Your head is spinning, both from the punch and the chaos of the entire situation. Blake only laughs dryly, cracking his knuckles. You want to roll your eyes at the dramatic display, but you can hardly focus your vision without feeling like you’re about to pass out.
“I knew she was cheating,” he seethes, grabbing you by the shirt collar and yanking you up. You try to wrench off his grip, but it is too strong. He shoves you into the wall. You wince in pain as your head hits the wall, hard enough to make you see stars. You shake your head as a coppery and metallic taste fills your mouth.
“Allison would never,” you hiss. Blake doesn’t seem to like your response, as he reaches back again to hit you. You close your eyes and flinch, waiting for a blow.
Chris is on high alert. He is supposedly home alone, and yet he keeps hearing noises coming from Allison’s room. He knows for a fact that Allison isn’t home—she is out with friends. Thus, when he hears the thud of a body hitting the floor he quickly slips a handgun into his back pocket and runs up the stairs. He makes it to Allison’s room and shoves the door open, wincing as it hits the wall with a loud crash. That will leave a mark.
His heart is racing as he sees you on the ground, Allison’s new boyfriend standing over you ominously. “What’s happening here?” he asks. Blake whips around.
“I’m sorry, sir-” he tries to say, but Chris interjects.
“Get out of my house,” he seethes, standing tall and looking down upon him. Blake takes one look at him and scurries away, launching himself out of the window and scampering off of the roof. Chris sighs loudly. He will need to have a talk with Allison about her taste in boys. A raspy breath breaks Chris out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at you.
“You alright?” he asks, looking you up and down for injuries. You don’t seem to be gravely injured, but your wide eyes and distraught expression are concerning nonetheless. He offers you his hand, pulling you up to a standing position. He keeps your hand in his for a bit longer than what is considered acceptable, but he can’t bring himself to care. Chris gently lets go of your hand, before motioning for you to follow him to the bathroom. You follow, shoulders shrunk and head down.
The bathroom on the second floor is rather small, but Chris doesn't want to make you walk down the stairs and all the way over to the other bathroom on the first floor. He stands in silence for a second, watching as you hover by the door uncertainly. “Come on,” he says, motioning for you to stand near him.
He watches as you move to stand in front of him, only to find that you are just a couple inches apart. You take a step backwards, only for the heel of your shoe to scrape against the bathroom cabinets. You turn to look back at him, and he loses all train of thought.
He has never allowed himself to be so close to you before. He takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. Your nose is bleeding slightly. You’re rather jittery, and your gaze flickers around the room in uncertainty. Your eyes are bright, gleaming in the dim light of the bathroom. You have a few scars on your face, and Chris resists the urge to run his fingers along them.
Instead, he grabs a tissue and wipes the blood from your face. He isn't quite sure what to say, so he remains silent—not wanting to say something he might regret. He allows himself a quick glance down at your lips, only to find that your lip is bleeding. Chris grabs another tissue and gently wipes the blood off your mouth. You just stare up at him, an infuriatingly blank expression on your face. His thumb ghosts over your lips for a second, and he has to force himself to move his hand. Come on, Argent. Keep it together.
“Are you dizzy?” he asks you. You shook your head, blinking up at him. His eye twitches as he notices you wobbling unsteadily, as if it is difficult to even stand. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at you. Before Chris can even think about what he’s doing, he is lifting you up onto the bathroom counter. He lets you down gently, satisfied with the wide-eyed expression on your face.
“I’m fine,” you whisper, the first time you have spoken since he found you in Allison’s bedroom. Chris sighs, well acquainted with your propensity for pushing yourself too hard. He reaches down and opens one of the drawers under you, grabbing some bandages and setting them down on the counter beside you. Chris quickly cleans up your few wounds and dresses them, not trusting himself to be so close to you. When he finishes, he taps you on the knee and nods.
“Well, let’s go back to the kitchen,” he remarks, not quite sure what else to say. You hop down from the bathroom counter, swaying a little. He moves towards the door and glances behind him, expecting you to follow. You try to take another step, but you wobble and have to brace yourself on the bathroom counter. Chris grabs your wrist and yanks you towards him, before putting his arm around your waist and leading you down the stairs. When he finally reaches the kitchen, he guides you into one of the stools by the kitchen island, before collapsing into the one next to you with a sigh.
“Thanks,” you whisper. Chris nods, nearly falling off his chair as he leans as close to you as he can. Your eyes widen as he places a hand under your jaw, tilting your head up to face him. He leans closer and you close your eyes, waiting for- “Oh my God.”
He whips around, wincing as he sees his daughter staring at him. Allison has an aghast expression on her face, her mouth ajar and her eyes wide.
“Allison-” he tries to reason, but she cuts him off. “Oh my God,” Allison repeats, clapping her hand over her mouth. She shakes her head rampantly, as if trying to clear her head. Her eyes flick between him and you, evidently noticing your proximity and the way his hand cradles your jaw. “Oh my God. Wow. Okay. Um. So I’m just going to... Wow. I’m- Sorry. I’ll leave now.”
Chris laughs under his breath, knowing he will have to have a conversation with Allison later. Right now, though, he is content with pulling you close by the collar of your shirt and kissing you.
author’s note: guys I took this fic and RAN WITH IT>>> idk like I had it in my drafts and it wasn't much and then I came back to it today and suddenly it’s over 2k words>>>>>???? im really happy with how it turned out though. dream scenario ideas?? i mean... uh... anyways. thanks for reading y'all.
