Zack Foster Fanfiction- The Color Red // Angels of Death Anime

Slasher

I told Zack everything.

He seemed pleased, despite showing severe distaste after he made me describe the officer. Calling him a blue-collared dipshit over scrambled eggs and buttered toast. I agreed with him when Zack's eyes burned up with annoyance knowing he paid for my order.

There wasn't much to do now as we wait for Zack's turn.

Hanging up the phone, I type away in the spreadsheet showing up in my laptop's screen that Tony told me to look at. He asked me if he could get a dog to keep around the shop since someone had stolen the chained tires he had stacked outside behind the back gates.

And then offered to pay out of his own pocket to have Zack hunt down the thief.

I don't think he was joking. Tony sounded really upset about the whole thing, he cares more about the damn shop than I ever will.

Zack had asked me what the hell was all my rambling about, and when I told him about the problem- he only scoffed.

"You pay more attention to that steroid junkie than you do to me." He grumbles around a mouthful of chips, slumped down on the couch while clicking away at the remote with cheese dust on his white fingers.

I sigh, "Zack, it's just work."

"You call chit-chatting working? Why don't you put that pretty mouth of yours to proper use, instead?" He quirks a brow, eyes flicking down to his crotch and then back up at me.

I laugh from the bar stool, "No way, my jaw still hurts."

"Don't seem like it when you're yapping away with that asshole." He squints, brushing off crumbs from his lean stomach. Zack would be completely shirtless if it were not for those darn bandages.

Stupid bandages.

"Like I said, it's just work." I swivel around now, focusing back to the screen.

I had thought Zack would put his attention back to the television, but I hear the couch groan in relief as he stands, socked feet thudding against the floors and getting closer.

"The hell do you do on this crap, anyway?" His head is right above mine, leaning down as I crane my neck back. I see his firm jaw and sharp chin.

"Work." I repeat myself, counting the lines of white wraps.

"Hmm." Zack hums, and while I grow distracted- his arms come around me, and then I hear the keys going off.

KKKSSKSL

"Zack, quit it." I slap his hands away but he grins mischievously, eyes slitting in focus. I move my head back down and stare at his fingers.

The index jabs down on the R.

...E

D.

I smile back up at him again as I let him slowly type away, every key takes a three-second pause. Or longer as he searches for whatever letter he is looking for.

I stay this way, unglued- attached to the upside down view of his face. That scowl of his eases up, the grin grows- his tongue darts out in concentration and then he bends his head down. Face lined with mine and I swallow.

His shit-eating smirk makes me roll my eyes and face down at the laptop once more.

My smile drops and flattens when I read what this jerk typed.

Right in one of the blank columns of the spreadsheet, right after the smooshed letters,

REDISABITCH