Work Text:
One Sunday afternoon when Mike had the oppoturnity to stay at home with his best friend, Chester. He decided to spend his time painting something while Chester doing a bit housework, cause he asked.
Mike sat down in the living room with his whole 36x30 canvas. He was trying to think of a new album cover, but his mind couldn't speak up anything. Brush in his hands, he swept some random line on the white farbic, as to lead to some conclusion.
On the other hand, Chester just finished laundry and went to see Mike's work. He peeped behind the couch, wanting to scare Mike as he jumped out to him.
"Surprise motherfucker!!"
"Dude it's predictable that you would do it." Mike laugh as he tap the brush into the cup of water.
"What are you painting?" Chester asked, his smile spreaded across his face.
Mike shrugged. "Nothing in particular. I was thinking if we need an alternate album cover."
Chester stood there, pondered for a while before nodding. He lowered down, picking a big brush.
"Chester? You're having a white shirt on." Mike didn't seem to applaud the idea.
"Maybe we can give it some decoration before throw it to the washing machine!" The other snickered.
"Hell yeah, can't stop you anyway." Mike said defeatedly.
As they settled down, they sat together beside the big window on the wall, letting the natural light coming in. Chester eagerly swept a robot-like figure, while Mike handled the background as a field of sky. It looked pretty cool to be honest, but something was missing. Mike noticed it when Chester paused, his hand under his chin.
"We need to add something..." He said, his eyes wandering around the painting.
"Like what?"
"Perhaps some potato chips since I'm kind of hungry?" Chested chuckled as he snatched the already-opened bag of chips next to him.
"No, the chips are mine!" Mike declared, attempting to take it back, but failed miserably when the other stood up and ran away.
"Catch me if you want it back!"
Mike groaned as Chester disappeared down the hallway, barefoot and laughing like a maniac with the crinkly chip bag clutched to his chest.
“You know we’re too old for this kind of thing!” Mike called after him.
“You’re too old!” Chester’s voice echoed from somewhere near the kitchen. “I’m still young and spry and full of MSG!”
Mike stood up slowly, wiping his paint-stained hands on a towel. “You’re full of something, alright.”
He followed the trail of loud crunches and giggles until he found Chester hiding behind the kitchen counter — not very well, considering he was crouched with half his hair sticking up over the edge.
They locked eyes.
Mike didn’t say anything. He just lunged.
“Aaahh!” Chester shrieked, laughing so hard he almost dropped the chips. He bolted, sliding slightly on the hardwood as he tried to turn the corner.
Mike caught up just in time to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him back.
“GOTCHA!” Mike barked triumphantly as they both collapsed onto the couch in a heap of limbs and laughter.
“Fine, take your stupid chips,” Chester huffed, shoving the bag into Mike’s chest. “You didn’t have to tackle me like a linebacker.”
“You started it with the 'surprise motherfucker' sneak attack.”
Chester grinned, breathless, and rolled onto his back, head landing against Mike’s shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Mike leaned back, letting his head rest against the couch. “Yeah, I really am.”
Sunlight danced across the wall, and the unfinished painting still sat by the window, colors drying in slow swirls. Chester tilted his head to look at it.
“It’s missing something,” he said again, quieter this time.
Mike glanced over. “Still think it’s potato chips?”
Chester shook his head. “Nah. I think it’s missing us.”
Mike smiled, soft and slow, and let his head tip sideways until it bumped lightly against Chester’s.
“Then let’s put us in it.”