Dead Set. || PURPLEPHONE

.:Brand New Moves:.

(( Woop. I hope you have fun with this chapter. I'll warn ya now, it may get a little mature (don't read if ur fam is nearby) but nothing 18+. It's just supposed to be funny / (a little bit of fanservice let's be honest).  

 it'S VERY LONG I'M SO SORRY BUT I'VE ALREADY SPLIT THIS CHAPTER IN 2 AND I CAN'T SPLIT IT ANY MORE WITHOUT IT BEING CONFUSING.

based on the song brand new moves by hey violet.))

Scott tiptoed back into the room, letting the door slide closed behind him with a quiet 'click'. "Vinny, hon? You still awake?" 

A quiet snore was Vincent's reply. He shuffled under the sheets, but otherwise, didn't stir.

Ah. Now Scott had to figure out some way to sneak into bed without waking him up. Vincent was a ridiculously light sleeper. All you had to do was wake up in the middle of the night and roll over, and suddenly, his eyes would open like flashlights, flooding the room with stunning white light that would blind you for the next fifteen minutes. 

It was great self-defense, Scott supposed, but wasn't so romantic when you tried to wake him up in the morning. 

It was probably already a lost cause, but it didn't stop Scott from carefully sticking to the walls as he sneaked around the side of the bed. Maybe he could make it so that when Vincent inevitably woke up, Scott was snuggled up next to him. That'd be sweet. 

He scampered across the carpet quickly and gently pulled the sheets back on the bed, screwing his eyes shut to block out any bright light... 

... but Vincent didn't seem to stir yet. So Scott opened his eyes again and clambered onto the bed. 

Foomp. There came the floodlights.

"Aagh," Scott hid his face in his hands, "Jeepers, Vincent, would it kill you to dim down those eyes before you open them? Really?"

"Sorry," Vincent's voice came from beside him, and through his fingers, Scott saw the light fade away, "It's just instinct. If I hear a sound, I wanna know who made it." 

"Well Oliver's hardly going to be climbing into bed beside you. Who did you think it was?" Scott pulled his fingers away, the room looking even darker now that he'd been accustomed to bright lights. Vincent's eyes were much, much dimmer. 

"I dunno, I just said, it's instinct," Vincent sat up, "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something about Oliver. Do you think he's a prostitute?"

"A-" Scott choked over his words, his eyes widening. Oh no, what did Vincent figure out!? "A prostitute? Don't be silly, Vincent. Oliver's not a prostitute." 

"Did he used to be?" Vincent seemed to have figured out that Scott knew something. He was watching him closely with those stupid interrogating eyes that had almost blinded Scott. 

"That's an extremely insensitive question to ask, Vincent," Scott chided, sliding into the bed beside him. "I can't believe you'd think that of Oliver." 

"You're ignoring the question," Vincent pointed out. "So you do know something, don't you?" 

Scott glared over at Vincent, his mind whirring at 100 miles an hour, trying to think of an excuse. Finally, one struck him, and his lips curled into a mischievous grin, "You better stop asking stupid questions like that, Vincent, or I'll have to shut you up~" 

Vincent's eyes widened. If he wasn't paying full attention before, he sure as all hell was now. "Oh? And how, exactly, do you plan on that?" 

 "Mm, I'm sure I can think of a few things," Scott purred, leaning over and crawling into Vincent's lap. He wrapped his arms around his neck, leaning in to breathe against his jawline, "I just hope nobody else wakes up..."