In Regards to the Mental Health of Harry Lockhart and Perry van Shrike
Title: In Regards to the Mental Health of Harry Lockhart and Perry van Shrike
Rating: PG
Warnings: First-time posting? Fluff? Not really much other than that.
Characters&Pairings: Harry, Perry; Perry/Harry
Word Count: 1,390
Author's Notes: This is my first time writing something Kiss Kiss Bang Bang related. I'm so excited, and I hope that you guys like it!
Written for rc_am.
Also, I do one of these types of things to dip my toes into any fandom, l-lol.
One ( 1 ) Ticket Stub.
Perry doesn’t think that he should mind, but he does. It’s ridiculous, he knows, the way that the little purple scrap of glossy paper mocks him. It’s ridiculous how he even imagines that it’s even mocking him in the first place (paper can’t mock, can’t speak, and yet it laughs at him, teases). It’s a sign that he’s been hanging around Harry too often, and he can’t help but frown at that thought.
He flips the stub over, glances over it, and then back at the front, re-reading the time and day and all the little information that any other person would completely disregard.
He had been home at that time.
He had been sitting right here, in the very same chair, probably talking on the phone with some client.
Perry doesn’t like to admit how it irks him that Harry would go see a movie without him, and tucks away the little scrap of paper back into his pocket.
He’s being ridiculous.
One ( 1 ) Shoelace.
Harry is being an idiot, something that does not surprise Perry any longer. He’s come to (inwardly) accept these facts about the other, and he can understand that Harry has this weird thing with police, and ultimately prefers spaghetti over fettuccini. This is because Harry finds that spaghetti noodles are easier to slurp, and Perry does not like to acknowledge the other man’s less-than-desirable record.
But this is something that Perry did not expect.
Knowing that Harry isn’t aware of his presence, Perry watches as the other takes apart his shoe (an old shoe, but a shoe regardless), and removes one of the laces. With such delicacy, and such concentration, Harry moves to a hooded sweater that he wears too often for Perry’s liking, and threads it through the string hole that goes around the hood.
The entire process takes twenty minutes.
Harry says nothing about what he did, and it’s unnerving, because he’s normally boasting about how handy he can be.
Perry loathes to admit (even to himself) that he wishes Harry would say something, and Perry could scold him, and then they could go out and Perry would purchase him a new hooded sweater; and Harry would smile.
And it’s then that Perry starts to wonder if he’s going insane.
Eight ( 8 ) Different Types of Bendy Straws.
He wonders why he even does these things.
He’s a grown man, purchasing eight hundred bendy straws.
The embarrassment is overwhelming.
Harry’s excitement and smile is worth it.
One ( 1 ) Highlighter.
Harry takes the worst notes.
It’s gotten to the point where Perry does this all on his own, diligently wasting his time going through paperwork and information, when he could be doing something not so mind-numbing. He hates it, too; but at least there are no doodles on the pages and Perry knows what he’s talking about (not that he ever didn’t).
“Hey, I noticed that, like, you’re always underlining,” Harry sits down next to him one day, all talking and using his hands excitedly. Perry doesn’t look up from where he’s reading. “And that’s gotta be boring after a while. So.”
He doesn’t dignify it with a response. He’s still angry at Harry for losing a particularly important piece of information.
“Here,” There’s suddenly something orange waving in front of his face, and it takes a second for Perry to recognize it as a highlighter. He takes it. Harry is ecstatic and laughs, bounding up from the couch to go do something. Perry’s not sure. He sets the highlighter aside, because he’s just fine underlining.
It’s later that the manufactured stench of oranges causes Perry to take a break and sit with Harry as he watches television.
He’s not completely convinced that Harry didn’t plan it.
Four and a Half ( 4 ½ ) Fingers.
Perry still notices that Harry is self-conscious about his hands.
He understands why. It’s a perfectly good reason. But he hopes that Harry can get over it soon and notice how nice his hands are. He does have nice hands, when they’re not swiping gum and little trinkets from stores.
Perry tries not to overanalyze the situation when he notices that Harry won’t ever be able to wear a wedding ring comfortably-if at all.
He tries not to feel like he is being given a chance when Harry looks at him and laughs, albeit sadly, “Looks like I’ll never be able to keep a girl with no finger for a wedding ring!”
Perry hopes that his voice sounds as stronger than he felt when he responds, “Like a girl would want to marry you in the first place.”
Six ( 6 ) Pillows.
Perry isn’t sure when it started to happen.
All he knows is that the pillows from the couch and linen closet are now in the spare bedroom, all piled up neat-like on the bed he’s letting Harry sleep in.
He doesn’t know why it’s six-and it’s always six, because whenever Perry takes just a few back to go on the couch, they magically reappear on Harry’s bed again. He’s tried taking just one. He’s tried taking four.
Harry got mad at him for that one day, and for the life of him, Perry couldn’t think of a valid argument other than the “they’re my pillows, they should be where I want them” statement.
The next few days show that Harry is getting little to no sleep at night without the precious six.
Perry isn’t sure he understands, but that’s just another thing that he doesn’t particularly understand about the inner workings of Harry Lockhart, so he allows him to take the pillows off the couch and linen closet if he promises to return them in the morning.
It’s distracting how the couch smells like Harry now, regardless of the amount of Febreeze Perry uses.
Thirteen ( 13 ) Dinners At Home.
Harry is not allowed to cook.
Harry is not allowed to cook because of the last time he tried.
Harry is not allowed to cook because he gets in the way.
Harry is not allowed to cook because Perry does not enjoy his “help.”
Harry is not allowed to cook because Perry likes his food to be edible.
Harry is not allowed to cook because he gets distracted while doing so, and Perry finds doodles all over his recipe cards and charred remains in the cookware.
Harry is not allowed to cook because Perry recognizes his lack of hand-eye-coordination.
A Seemingly Infinite ( ∞ ) Amount of Candy.
The wrappers are getting horrible. They’re everywhere-even in places that he wouldn’t have thought them to be before. He has found them in his own pockets of his jacket, in some of the drawers of his desk and in the utensil drawer. Perry has found candy wrappers in the couch cushions while he had been looking for the remote, and, most interestingly, in one of Harry’s shoes.
He finds it ludicrous that a thirty-five year old man has this sort of thing for sweets. Perry himself has a limit, and he finds all of these parts and pieces enough to make his stomach curl. He frowns and scolds Harry, telling him to throw his shit away because otherwise it’ll attract ants.
Harry nods in a frightened manner that almost makes Perry deflate.
But then he finds another damn wrapper in the back pocket of his own trousers, and is unsure of what to do with himself for three and a half seconds.
For some reason, he smiles.
Perry still isn’t sure why.
Seven ( 7 ) Lightbulbs.
Harry doesn’t like the dark.
Perry doesn’t blame him.
Perry likes to be able to see what’s in front of his face just as much as the next man; but Harry has a fear. He falls asleep with a lamp on, or the television on, anything that radiates enough light so the room is illuminated just to the point where everything glows eerily.
Perry teases him by suggesting a nightlight.
Harry defends himself - poorly - by saying that if he shared a bed with someone, he wouldn’t feel the need to have some sort of light.
It’s awkward for the rest of the day.
That night, Perry finds out that Harry’s a cuddler.
Rating: PG
Warnings: First-time posting? Fluff? Not really much other than that.
Characters&Pairings: Harry, Perry; Perry/Harry
Word Count: 1,390
Author's Notes: This is my first time writing something Kiss Kiss Bang Bang related. I'm so excited, and I hope that you guys like it!
Written for rc_am.
Also, I do one of these types of things to dip my toes into any fandom, l-lol.
One ( 1 ) Ticket Stub.
Perry doesn’t think that he should mind, but he does. It’s ridiculous, he knows, the way that the little purple scrap of glossy paper mocks him. It’s ridiculous how he even imagines that it’s even mocking him in the first place (paper can’t mock, can’t speak, and yet it laughs at him, teases). It’s a sign that he’s been hanging around Harry too often, and he can’t help but frown at that thought.
He flips the stub over, glances over it, and then back at the front, re-reading the time and day and all the little information that any other person would completely disregard.
He had been home at that time.
He had been sitting right here, in the very same chair, probably talking on the phone with some client.
Perry doesn’t like to admit how it irks him that Harry would go see a movie without him, and tucks away the little scrap of paper back into his pocket.
He’s being ridiculous.
One ( 1 ) Shoelace.
Harry is being an idiot, something that does not surprise Perry any longer. He’s come to (inwardly) accept these facts about the other, and he can understand that Harry has this weird thing with police, and ultimately prefers spaghetti over fettuccini. This is because Harry finds that spaghetti noodles are easier to slurp, and Perry does not like to acknowledge the other man’s less-than-desirable record.
But this is something that Perry did not expect.
Knowing that Harry isn’t aware of his presence, Perry watches as the other takes apart his shoe (an old shoe, but a shoe regardless), and removes one of the laces. With such delicacy, and such concentration, Harry moves to a hooded sweater that he wears too often for Perry’s liking, and threads it through the string hole that goes around the hood.
The entire process takes twenty minutes.
Harry says nothing about what he did, and it’s unnerving, because he’s normally boasting about how handy he can be.
Perry loathes to admit (even to himself) that he wishes Harry would say something, and Perry could scold him, and then they could go out and Perry would purchase him a new hooded sweater; and Harry would smile.
And it’s then that Perry starts to wonder if he’s going insane.
Eight ( 8 ) Different Types of Bendy Straws.
He wonders why he even does these things.
He’s a grown man, purchasing eight hundred bendy straws.
The embarrassment is overwhelming.
Harry’s excitement and smile is worth it.
One ( 1 ) Highlighter.
Harry takes the worst notes.
It’s gotten to the point where Perry does this all on his own, diligently wasting his time going through paperwork and information, when he could be doing something not so mind-numbing. He hates it, too; but at least there are no doodles on the pages and Perry knows what he’s talking about (not that he ever didn’t).
“Hey, I noticed that, like, you’re always underlining,” Harry sits down next to him one day, all talking and using his hands excitedly. Perry doesn’t look up from where he’s reading. “And that’s gotta be boring after a while. So.”
He doesn’t dignify it with a response. He’s still angry at Harry for losing a particularly important piece of information.
“Here,” There’s suddenly something orange waving in front of his face, and it takes a second for Perry to recognize it as a highlighter. He takes it. Harry is ecstatic and laughs, bounding up from the couch to go do something. Perry’s not sure. He sets the highlighter aside, because he’s just fine underlining.
It’s later that the manufactured stench of oranges causes Perry to take a break and sit with Harry as he watches television.
He’s not completely convinced that Harry didn’t plan it.
Four and a Half ( 4 ½ ) Fingers.
Perry still notices that Harry is self-conscious about his hands.
He understands why. It’s a perfectly good reason. But he hopes that Harry can get over it soon and notice how nice his hands are. He does have nice hands, when they’re not swiping gum and little trinkets from stores.
Perry tries not to overanalyze the situation when he notices that Harry won’t ever be able to wear a wedding ring comfortably-if at all.
He tries not to feel like he is being given a chance when Harry looks at him and laughs, albeit sadly, “Looks like I’ll never be able to keep a girl with no finger for a wedding ring!”
Perry hopes that his voice sounds as stronger than he felt when he responds, “Like a girl would want to marry you in the first place.”
Six ( 6 ) Pillows.
Perry isn’t sure when it started to happen.
All he knows is that the pillows from the couch and linen closet are now in the spare bedroom, all piled up neat-like on the bed he’s letting Harry sleep in.
He doesn’t know why it’s six-and it’s always six, because whenever Perry takes just a few back to go on the couch, they magically reappear on Harry’s bed again. He’s tried taking just one. He’s tried taking four.
Harry got mad at him for that one day, and for the life of him, Perry couldn’t think of a valid argument other than the “they’re my pillows, they should be where I want them” statement.
The next few days show that Harry is getting little to no sleep at night without the precious six.
Perry isn’t sure he understands, but that’s just another thing that he doesn’t particularly understand about the inner workings of Harry Lockhart, so he allows him to take the pillows off the couch and linen closet if he promises to return them in the morning.
It’s distracting how the couch smells like Harry now, regardless of the amount of Febreeze Perry uses.
Thirteen ( 13 ) Dinners At Home.
Harry is not allowed to cook.
Harry is not allowed to cook because of the last time he tried.
Harry is not allowed to cook because he gets in the way.
Harry is not allowed to cook because Perry does not enjoy his “help.”
Harry is not allowed to cook because Perry likes his food to be edible.
Harry is not allowed to cook because he gets distracted while doing so, and Perry finds doodles all over his recipe cards and charred remains in the cookware.
Harry is not allowed to cook because Perry recognizes his lack of hand-eye-coordination.
A Seemingly Infinite ( ∞ ) Amount of Candy.
The wrappers are getting horrible. They’re everywhere-even in places that he wouldn’t have thought them to be before. He has found them in his own pockets of his jacket, in some of the drawers of his desk and in the utensil drawer. Perry has found candy wrappers in the couch cushions while he had been looking for the remote, and, most interestingly, in one of Harry’s shoes.
He finds it ludicrous that a thirty-five year old man has this sort of thing for sweets. Perry himself has a limit, and he finds all of these parts and pieces enough to make his stomach curl. He frowns and scolds Harry, telling him to throw his shit away because otherwise it’ll attract ants.
Harry nods in a frightened manner that almost makes Perry deflate.
But then he finds another damn wrapper in the back pocket of his own trousers, and is unsure of what to do with himself for three and a half seconds.
For some reason, he smiles.
Perry still isn’t sure why.
Seven ( 7 ) Lightbulbs.
Harry doesn’t like the dark.
Perry doesn’t blame him.
Perry likes to be able to see what’s in front of his face just as much as the next man; but Harry has a fear. He falls asleep with a lamp on, or the television on, anything that radiates enough light so the room is illuminated just to the point where everything glows eerily.
Perry teases him by suggesting a nightlight.
Harry defends himself - poorly - by saying that if he shared a bed with someone, he wouldn’t feel the need to have some sort of light.
It’s awkward for the rest of the day.
That night, Perry finds out that Harry’s a cuddler.