Alex/Wesley - Purrito stays at home

[doomhoops]

Fandom: Crosscanon: XMFC & Wanted
Pairing: Alex Summers/Wesley Gibson
Category: Drabble
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Bad words and bad table manners
Summary: Drabble thing. Concerning the Alex/Wesley memeverse shenanigans that occur in some ridiculous amount of meme threads with imtheman. Lmao, idek. Crazy straws.


Alex has crazy straws from across the globe, all in different and exciting neon colors, all with varying loops and spirals in them, though there seems to be some universal kind of shitty plastic every restaurant across the world uses to manufacture them, as none of them will survive the dishwasher. But Alex doesn’t mind the handwashing. Gives him something to do in between commercial breaks of the late night kung fu movie marathons when he’s not feeding the cat (or the dog). Or prying open Wesley’s laptop to see if he forgot to sign out of his email so Alex can leave a ‘Hello, my name is Wesley Gibson and I’m a giant douchebag and I should put a password on my laptop so people don’t accidentally log on and email gay porn to everyone on my contacts list’ draft. Or ordering take-out. Or flinging rubber bands at candid photo magneted to the side of the DVD shelf of Alex trying to shove Wesley down a flight of stairs from the time Wesley attempted to educate him on the proper execution of MySpace angles, ending up with each of them half out of the frame. That picture looks terrible. Alex has no idea why neither of them haven’t relocated it to a trash can somewhere.

Along with the straws, he’s got a collection of assorted, cheap souvenirs, likely all made in Hong Kong, but sold across any number of distant continents. Mugs labeled I Heart New York, I Heart Milan, I Heart London. Socks with the Eiffel Tower stitched into them. A plastic plate from a Chuck E. Cheese in Calgary. Even one of those ridiculous novelty shirts that have an excessively cartoonish woman’s body in a bikini designed onto it like ‘hahaha, look, I have boobs except not really’ from Cancun. It would never see the light of day outside the apartment, and Alex would insist on it living in the farthest back corner of the dresser while Wesley’s home. But while he’s gone and Alex is wandering around in socks, boxers and a blanket, he occasionally tosses it on. It makes a handy napkin when the take-out gets messy. That’s his story, at least.

The truth of it is, all of the souvenirs come out while Wesley’s gone. Sprawled out on a couch, with Drunken Master II on the TV, the dog on the other end and Annabelle curled up on his stomach, Alex has the I Heart Milan mug filled up cola and decorated two crazy straws – one from Dublin and one from Tokyo – while a pile of Lo Mein sits half eaten on his Calgary Chuck E. Cheese plate and the socks from Paris discarded somewhere across the living room. It’s not that there’s particular sentimental value behind the items or that he hoards them and treats them like something much more precious than the cheap little gag things Wesley bring back for him that they are. When he’s ready to go pass out and wait for said asshole to show up at some gross hour of the night, and crawl into bed with his commando gear all still strapped to him, Alex just collects up the various dishes and nonsense, takes them to the kitchen, washes them, and stuffs them back in the drawers they came from. The socks go in the dirty laundry and the hideous shirt follows close after. They’re not some items that he clings to and pines over like some ridiculous sap – just reminders, really. Reminders that Wesley always comes back with more. That Wesley always comes back.

Alex will smirk and roll his eyes and complain that they've already got too many of whatever crap he brings back next, but a few weeks later, when Wesley has his next job, it’ll be Alex, the Jackie Chan late night marathon, pork fried rice and the stack of crazy straws again. The only real evidence of it being dishes drying next to the sink and the fact the socks and shirt get washed, refolded, and restuffed into the back corner of the dresser.