fandomhighdorms | Deck, Saturday Afternoon

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Deck, Saturday Afternoon

It was nice to wake up to a warm day finally. Hannibal had thought the winter would just be everlasting, dumping snow on them whenever it got the urge but it was finally warm. He didn't even mind the clouds that much because warmth meant he didn't have to coop himself up inside anymore. Warmth meant he could stick himself on the deck, in a comfortable chair with his feet up and sunglasses on.

Really, he probably would have been happy to sit on the deck if it had been cold. It was amazing how everything seemed to improve when one's mood was no longer akin to a battered punching bag.

It might not have been the deck of a cruise ship but Hannibal decided this was kinda nice anyway.

[hey, open! taking advantage of the east coast's GORGEOUS weather!]

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"Yeah, and that's what makes the girliness on your part extra pathetic," he said, snickering. "I could get away with it right now if I wanted to."

"Good god, I'm a girl because I said you were my friend?" Hannibal asked, shaking his head. "Fine, I take it back."

"You already said it, you can't take it back," Chuck said, his grin getting wider.

"Fine, you can keep it," he said mock grudgingly. "Though, I'm sure most people would assume that you're my friend."

"People here, sure," he said. "I'm afraid in New York you'd probably be considered a figure of my imagination."

"Easily solved," Hannibal said. "Give me a few phone numbers and I'll call them."

Chuck snickered and shook his head. "No way."

"Why the hell not?" Hannibal asked. "I'll tell good stories about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure whatever stories you'd tell would go over real well," Chuck said with a roll of his eyes.

"What do you think I'd tell them?" Hannibal asked, laughing/

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "But stories involving me don't usually have the best endings."

"You've never heard me tell a story," he replied. "And really, I don't have any bad stories about you in the first place."

"Okay, maybe bad isn't the word I'm looking for," he allowed. "But still, no. Not calling anyone."

That probably meant a trip to New York was out of the question too.

"Wimp," Hannibal teased. "Maybe if someone ever visits, I'll get to tell stories."

"Sure, you can do it then," Chuck said only because there was no way anybody would ever visit.

"Fine." He nodded and made a note to remember this. "For now, I'll be content with just telling every person here how good a girl you are."

"Oh but then I'd have to kick your ass," Chuck said sadly. "And we only just stopped fighting."

"You couldn't kick Mr. Potato Head's ass," Hannibal said, shaking his head.

"You underestimate me," Chuck said, sighing. "I can throw a punch when properly motivated."

"You have girl hands," Hannibal said. "Even when you're a guy."

"You liar, I have huge hands when I'm a guy," Chuck said. So what if they felt like he moisturized and his nails were kept nice. There was nothing wrong with that.

"No, I have huge hands," Hannibal said, grinning. "Yours are just average."

Chuck looked down at Hannibal's hands and shook his head. "No, mine are around that size, if not bigger."

"Oh, hell no, I'm taller and more toned than you are," Hannibal said. "Mine are bigger."

"What the hell does you being more toned than me have anything to do with it?" he asked.

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