A/N: Hey, guys! Again, I've got some time to kill, so I decided to post chapter six. –looks back on previous chapters- Wow, I guess I have been on a roll here. Six chappies in a matter of three days! Damn. But, I guess that's what you get for having ideas in your head that literally won't let you take a break, right? But, that's fine. All the more reading material for you guys, right? Anyway, I'd normally start this off with Tristan: But, I felt like being different and see what Ron's up to this time. Sit back and enjoy, as I bring you the next chapter in this lovely little saga.
DISCLAIMER: Scroll back to chapter one for all the details.
Ron finished loading the dishwasher, and hit the button to start it up. Once it had done what it was supposed to; the blue-eyed ghost decided to sit down and relax for a bit before finishing up with the normal cleaning routine.
It had been a couple of weeks since he and Tristan had shared their day at the 'Sun and Surf,' and the twilight spirit had been doing some serious thinking.
He wanted so badly to drop his guards, and admit that he liked him: but, every time he'd go to pick up the phone to give the starlight angel a call: it usually resulted in a simple click of the phone being set back into its holder.
Getting comfortable on the couch, Ron picked up the nearby remote, and flipped the TV on. It had been a long day of working on the house; and he had wanted to take a short break before moving on to the next task.
Sighing softly, he lightly brought a hand to his crystal-blue eyes; rubbing them wearily. The nights of not sleeping well, or not at all had been starting to catch up to him. He wasn't sure of how long he could take this torture.
Every time he tried to drift off; the same series of nightmares had come back to haunt him: causing the handsome spirit to jolt awake, and pace the living room until he'd have to get ready to go to work that next morning.
Sometimes, he wondered how he had managed to make it through the ten hour work days: but somehow, he did; even though he still to this day couldn't figure it out.
Seeing the TV go from a black screen, to colored: he was met with a male reporter talking on the news:
"More on this as police find evidence. And in other news tonight, the ring-leader of Al Quida, Osama Bin Laden is dead-"
"Nah," Ron spoke, flipping the channel to something else. He wasn't exactly in the state of mind to hear of what was going on in the world today.
He came to a different channel:
"I'm not going to the party, Jackie."
"Steven, you have to! I already told the squad you'd be there! If I show up without a date, my popularity status will be as low as Eric's!"
"Brian, tell Lois they'll be a slight delay in our coming home."
"We're stealing the Winnebago, aren't we?"
"Oh, you know me so well."
"Inuyasha, you idiot! You could have gotten yourself KILLED!"
"Well, if YOU hadn't shown up, and stuck your ugly face in where it didn't belong: We wouldn't have been IN this mess, Kagome!"
"Miss. Dion: I understand you're coming out with a new CD this Christmas?"
"Yes. I decided to go for something with a bit of an edge this time. And as always, a big thank-you to my fans for supporting me all the way. This album is for all of you."
Ron flipped the channels, yawning softly for the millionth time today, as he finally found something that perked his interest.
He got comfortable, as he watched the screen before him: though his thoughts being brought back to the beautiful angel that had been so kind to him a few weeks back.
For some reason, he couldn't get the green-haired man out of his head. Even at work when he was trying to concentrate and do his job behind the computer, his thoughts drifted to Tristan.
No one in his life had ever been so concerned about him; and he hadn't felt such warmth from anyone in years. The angel had been the first person to actually want to spend time with him: and to buy him such a great lunch to compliment it only added icing on the cake.
'I want to. I really do,' he thought, 'But, what if he's just like Silver? I-I can't go through that again.'
He sighed out loud, 'I should call him. At least to thank him for such a great day,' he spoke again in his subconscious, as he continued to watch the show that was playing before him on TV.
'Maybe I could even do something for him. To at least pay him back for lunch,' he devised in his thoughts once again, as he tried to figure out exactly what.
What exactly could he do for someone who had made a normally rainy day turn into sunshine?
He continued to think, as his eyes were fixed on the TV screen.
'I wonder,' he thought up; feeling the cushioned couch underneath him become even more comfortable: slipping into dreamland without even realizing it.
The next thing the twilight ghost had known: the sun had already gone down, as he was greeted by the light of the moon; and the faint glow of the TV.
"Mmm," he groaned in retaliation: shifting his form towards the TV, as he felt something hit the floor.
He jolted up, as he eyed the coffee table: seeing a lone, black remote control lying on the slate blue carpet.
"Oh," he spoke, realizing that he must have accidentally knocked it over when he had shifted just a few moments ago.
He reached down to pick it up; setting it back onto the mahogany-stained platform, as he brushed his twilight waves away from his face.
"What time is it?" he questioned to himself, looking up at the white clock on the wall: reading 10:26.
He felt his blue-eyes widen, "My god, I must have been asleep for hours!" he exclaimed; remembering that it had been around four when he had first turned on the TV.
Getting up, he mentally kicked himself for falling asleep. He had planned on giving Tristan a call, but drifting off had cut those plans short.
Walking to the kitchen, Ron got himself some water from the faucet: sipping on it, as he looked down to the lone, white napkin that still sat on the dining room table: the words 'Tristan Sentra' written in cursive upon the soft paper, along with two numbers.
He got an idea: quickly waving it off.
'It's late. He's probably asleep,' he thought, deciding to do so tomorrow, when it was day time.
The young spirit went to take care of the dishes, as he felt his heart sink.
'You're just being a chicken. Just call him already. He did say to call whenever I wanted,' he thought once again, secretly hoping that Tristan wouldn't kill him for calling his house at this hour: or that he was one for staying up late.
Sighing, he decided to end the mental battle that raged in his mind, by picking up the white napkin: going to the phone, and picking it up from it's holder: coaxing himself the best that he could.
'Just go on and call him, you wimp,' he coaxed in his thoughts.
He looked down to the napkin in his hand, and took in a nervous breath: dialing the landline number that the starlight angel had left for him a few weeks earlier.
Hitting the 'talk' button with a light gulp; Ron heard the sound of ringing, as a voice eventually picked up: sounding like they had been sleeping.
"Mmm?" a sleepy voice spoke from the other end of the line.
Ron kicked himself again. He was hoping he hadn't woken him up; and that hope had failed miserably.
He shyly gazed to the ice blue, painted walls of his apartment, as he lightly spoke, "H-Hey…Tristan?"
The other party shifted, "For the most part," they answered, attempting to wake up.
"I-It's Ron. I-I'm sorry about that," the twilight ghost apologized, feeling suddenly bad about the whole thing.
Light, warm-hearted laughter was heard from the line: Tristan obviously sitting up, as he spoke, "It's all right. I was hoping you'd call."
Ron felt himself blush lightly.
"How are you, sweetie? It's been awhile. I was thinking that you had forgotten about me," Tristan asked, chuckling softly.
"O-Oh. I've been okay. And I've just been busy, I guess. I'm sorry I haven't called you sooner," the blue-eyed spirit apologized again; taking a place on the couch.
"It's fine. I figured you were probably working, or something," Tristan stated again, "No need to feel bad, kiddo."
"Thanks. I just- I-I've been thinking about you lately; and I-I wanted to thank you," Ron began with a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"Thank me for what?" Tristan asked curiously.
"For-For the other day. For talking to me. For lunch. I-I wanted to repay you properly," Ron answered, surprised that he was being so straight-forward.
"Aww. There's no need to thank me. Just seeing that you were having a good time was all the thanks I could ask for," Tristan intervened, as Ron blushed.
"I-I know. But, still- I want to do at least something," he replied, twirling a lock of his twilight hair around his finger.
"You really don't have to, love. But, if you insist: I'll take you up on whatever offer you have to present," Tristan added on; letting his wings flutter out, as he locked them back into place.
Ron sipped the water in front of him, "Well, I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow. If-If I may ask."
"Mmm. Not much to be honest. Ginger asked me to come in around ten; and I normally work until around five. But, after that, I'm free," Tristan answered, curious as to what the other man had had planned out.
Ron gave a nod; even though the angel talking with him couldn't see it.
"Well…I was thinking of cooking something special to say thank you. And I didn't know if you…maybe…wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow night?" he invited; hoping the other man would say yes.
The blue-haired spirit had felt so safe with the starlight angel on the other line; and he had felt a warmth like no other when they hung out together that one day. He had wanted to spend some more time with him, and possibly get to know him a bit more.
For some reason: Ron had felt like he had known the other man for years. He couldn't explain it; but, there was definitely a form of spark developing between them: and he had wanted to see him again.
Tristan shifted again; the slight creak from the bed apparent on the line, "I'd love that," he answered, as Ron almost felt himself smile. Almost.
"Me too. Hey…what's your um…favorite dish?" the twilight ghost asked, wanting to make something that he'd at least like.
"Me?" Tristan spoke, "I like just about anything. Why not make it a surprise?"
Ron gave a nod, "I could do that. I just don't want to end up making something that you hate, or you're allergic to."
"Don't worry. You could never make something I hate. What time did you want me down?" Tristan wondered, wanting to be sure and tell Ginger in case he had to cut out early.
He knew she wouldn't mind; but, he was the type to at least give her a "courtesy call" so she could find replacements for the rest of his shift if she had to.
"O-Oh. Uh-" Ron paused, trying to think of his own shift the next day, "What about…six thirty?" he suggested; knowing he'd have more than enough time by then to have everything ready, or nearly there of.
"That's perfect. I'll be there," Tristan replied, "Where do you live again?" he asked with a blush: remembering that he had forgotten to ask once he had gotten the invite.
"You know the beach we met at, right?" Ron asked, as a soft 'mmhm' was heard from the other man.
"Well, just keep going past the water until you come to the villa. Take the second set of lights to your right, and turn left onto 'Spring Mountain Road.' I live in the 'Springbrook Apartment Complex.' It's C6," Ron explained, as Tristan wrote that down on the small notepad that he kept by the bed.
"That's easy enough to find. I'll call you if I get lost," Tristan answered with a light laugh.
"All right. That sounds fair," Ron stated.
The starlight angel sighed softly, "Well, as much as I hate to do this: I should be getting to bed. Work comes early."
"That's true. Again: I'm sorry that I woke you," Ron apologized for the third time that night; still feeling bad about the whole thing.
"I already told you, sweetie, don't be sorry. You're worth it," Tristan replied, as the other man nodded slightly.
"Thanks," he spoke, getting comfortable.
"You're welcome. So, I'll see you tomorrow then?" Tristan asked, wanting to confirm their dinner date.
"You will. Have a good day at work," Ron wished, moving the remote closer to the potpourri in the center of the wooden platform.
"You too, Ron. Sweet dreams. Try to get some sleep for me," Tristan intervened, as the blue-eyed spirit nodded.
"I'll try. Goodnight," Ron spoke one final time.
"Goodnight, sweetie," Tristan ended as the two hung up.
Ron set the phone back into its holder; sighing back onto the couch.
He had thought about watching some more TV; but decided against it at this hour. He was too plagued with thoughts of the following night to be able to sit down in one place.
Figuring that he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon; the blue-eyed spirit stood up, and headed to the dishwasher. He opened the door, and pulled out the now-freshly cleaned dishes: proceeding to put them away, as he flipped on some lights.
He stacked them upon the counter, as he felt a slight sense of excitement enter his soul. Tomorrow night couldn't come any sooner.
-And chapter six comes to a close. What did everyone think? And how will the next night go? More on such details, and even more about our cute little blue-eyed ghost, as the story continues.-