@vcughn
[ Some one-sided drabble based on this post. I hope you don’t mind bro. ]
Hugo called out as he approached Vaughn’s front door. “Oh honey, I’m home!”
He laughed to himself. Vaughn always hated when he said that. Which is why he said it.
The door was slightly ajar, which was kind of unusual. Vaughn occasionally left it unlocked if he knew Hugo was coming over, but most of the time it was locked up like, well, a vault.
Hugo let himself in and shouted, “I hope you’ve got a parka, because I’m gonna make it rain!” He closed the door behind him and placed Vaughn’s new shirt on the kitchen counter, still wrapped in plastic. It was the one Hugo had promised, after destroying one with what he considered to be a manly display of might. It was a couple of months overdue. It also wasn’t the same color. But he knew it was the correct size. He’d brought the ruined one with him when he got it.
He paused and listened. No response. Vaughn was probably taking a nap. Little guy liked his catnaps.
Hugo’s expression turned mischievous as he headed toward the bedroom door. “Oh Moneybags, don’t make me have to get you out of bed myself, because you know I --”
Vaughn wasn’t there. The bed was made, the room was neat. Hugo wondered if some items were gone or at least rearranged, but he hadn’t really paid much attention to details like that before. So he wasn’t sure.
“Vaughn?” He checked the bathroom. Towels still on the rack. The shower was dry. No Vaughn.
Well, that was kind of weird. Hugo knew he wasn’t good about giving Vaughn a heads-up before every visit, but they had kind of worked out a routine that suited them both.
And Vaughn had always been home.
Hugo felt a brief moment of panic, unnecessarily strong. Fuck, he’s gone. There hadn’t been a note. Fuck, what if he’s dead. He caught himself. That’s stupid, he scolded. Jumping to conclusions like that. Vaughn would laugh his ass off if he knew Hugo was that worried about him.
He slid the closet door open. There were still clothes there. Hugo couldn’t remember how much Vaughn had, but there were some empty hangers.
For curiosity’s sake he tried finding his own shirt that he had left there, but after a minute or two he gave up.
Maybe he took it with him. Maybe he’s getting it dry-cleaned. Maybe he had to wash a window somewhere.
He chuckled at that, along with the memory of Vaughn tiptoeing around the kitchen in the oversized shirt. It pushed some of his worry aside.
Hugo walked back into the kitchen and began making a pot of coffee. Wherever Vaughn was, he was probably going to want some coffee when he got home.
The fridge was still stocked, which was reassuring. Hugo found where Vaughn kept the cream and sugar and put them beside the coffeemaker. He turned around and opened the cabinet for a couple of mugs, and stopped short.
There was still an empty space where the throwaway mug had been, on the high shelf next to the mug that Vaughn always used. Dammit, Hugo had meant to replace that too. Even if it had been a throwaway.
He took Vaughn’s mug and placed it beside the cream and sugar. It’d be there waiting for him.
He took five crisp stacks of bills out of his coat pockets, slapping them on the counter in a neat pile next to the mug. That would be waiting for Vaughn too. Hugo knew he’d be thrilled. The man had been patient -- astonishingly patient -- but at last Hugo had had a good week. For once.
Hugo thought about pouring himself a cup, but decided to wait until Vaughn got back. He walked around the counter and sat down on the living room couch.
He couldn’t wait to see Vaughn’s reaction to finally getting what he was owed. He tried to ignore how bad he felt for making him wait so long for it.
Hugo laid down on the couch and stretched out, facing the front hall so Vaughn could see him when he arrived.
I might just take a nap myself, he thought, closing his eyes. It made the waiting easier.
