Chapter Text
The first time they have a threesome, Chris assumes it’s going to be the last. Vigilante is stiff, awkward, and, though he keeps letting out a shrill laugh every now and then, like a last sign of life, it seems more likely that he will bolt through Chris’ trailer window than get himself or anyone in his vicinity off. Chris is half inclined to just go ahead and ask Vig if he’s a virgin, more for his sake than Chris’. He wouldn’t want a buddy to have their first time be sort of pathetic.
Props to the girl, because she tries her best to get him relaxed, even though it's clear that she would rather just be fucking Peacemaker, because who wouldn’t be?
Chris cannot remember her name, because he is very drunk and this whole thing was born out of being very wasted after some fun crime-fighting in front of a shitty club at 2am where the bouncer didn’t let them in. Chris was intoxicated enough to believe it would be smart to get his weirdo self-defined ‘partner’ to Eiffel tower a girl with him, like it wouldn’t just make Vigilante even more of an obsessed fanboy. He isn’t even sure why she agreed to do them both, or who suggested it in the first place. She’s like a pro, except he’s almost 100% sure she’s not a prostitute. She’s just very good at having sex with nervous perverts, probably.
“Why don’t you take off the mask? Don’t you think you’ll be more comfortable?” she coos at Vig, swaying on Chris’ lap languidly after kissing around his neck, fingers curling around Vigilante’s arm, who sort of just sits beside him with a hard on.
Vigilante has his uniform armor off as well as his undershirt, showing off a nice lean frame and a good foundation of abs, a patch of thin dark hair leading down from his navel to his groin. Too lean for a proper superhero, definitely, but he’s always saying that he’s working on his weights. He still has the black underpants on, and of course, the stupid mask. Chris initially and stupidly assumed he wouldn’t wear that once things started getting heated, that he might act it like a normal person. Fuck him, right? Why would he assume Vigilante wouldn’t be all the way weird and off-putting?
“Oh, no, thanks, I can assure you I am– super comfortable,” his voice sounds strained and pitched an octave higher than normal. He lets out another bird-like giggle. “Just– secret identity and all that. If I showed you my face, I would be risking my entire operation. And the lives of potentially dozens if not hundreds of people who I will save. Potentially. ”
“Aren’t you sweaty under there though?” she asks. She tugs at the spot between his neck and shoulder, where the mask ends, fingers caressing the blue fabric, and Chris would probably pull her hand away if it looked like she was going to try to tug it off, because bros before hoes and all that, but she doesn’t seem interested in that. And also he is curious if whatever she is trying might work. “I mean, what’s the harm? The Peacemaker doesn’t wear a mask, does he?”
“It’s just Peacemaker,” Chris corrects her. He can hear Vigilante muttering ‘Peacemaker’ under his breath too. He looks at Vigilante, still as a statue, killing his boner, and can see the eyes blinking back at him in fright behind his dark red visor. He gives him a mean grin. “He doesn’t want to put our safety in jeopardy, isn’t that it?”
“I don’t want to put my loved ones’ safety in jeopardy,” Vigilante corrects him, like it’s an exam question. “That would be really unfortunate, to put people’s lives in jeopardy for the sake of a night of passionate lovemaking.”
Chris groans, but the girl giggles, leaning forward and kissing Chris on the mouth. “How come you don’t wear a mask then?” she whispers at Chris, grinding against his underwear-covered crotch. Chris hums deep in his chest. He tries not to pay attention to Vigilante on his left side. He’s ready to get started with the fucking, and then maybe the guy will calm down.
“Cause I’m a real superhero,” he says, “And I can do whatever I want. I’m not scared of anyone going after me.” He glances over at Vigilante when the girl leans back, hands pushed against his pecs. Vigilante’s still looking at him, a lost lamb brought to some kind of confusing pre-slaughter orgy. Chris would laugh at him if he didn’t think it would spook him further. He really doesn’t want Vig to spend the whole time staring at them and absolutely killing the vibe.
“Dude, you can take off the mask if you want,” he tells him, trying to keep his tone friendly. “She won’t tell anyone. And even if she does, who gives a shit? I’m your best friend, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. You are my best friend,” Vigilante nods. “But I can’t take it off.”
“I don’t mind,” the girl says, “as long as you’re over 18.”
Vigilante giggles. Chris thinks he might just smother him with a pillow before the night is over. “Ha, I– yeah. I don’t think I can prove it legally without making the whole point over why I’m trying to prove it moot but… yeah. And I have a driver’s license for classes D and M. I’m over 21 too. I could play at casino if I wanted to. I don’t think gambling is fun or logical, but I could do it.” Leave it to this guy to make himself sound guilty of being underage. Chris is almost certain Vigilante is over 21 (he’s at least 25, he thinks).
“Yeah, great. Maybe go get us another beer then,” Chris says, shooing him away. “And down one on your way back.”
The girl giggles when Vigilante hops off the bed obediently and goes to scavenge over in Chris’ mini-fridge. “So is he like a groupie you let hang around you?”
Chris chuckles, pulling her close, hands moving from her boobs to her stomach to her hips. “Every hero needs an ego boost.”
“And you don’t want to know your groupie’s identity?”
“He’s handy during a shoot out. The fuck do I care what he looks like?”
“It’s kind of mysterious,” she says, then hums once he begins moving his fingers, “ a little creepy. I guess I can pretend he just looks like a more handsome version of you.”
“Putting your imagination to work,” Chris grins, and she moans under him. Vigilante comes back with a slight wobble and two beers held under his fingers. Chris waves him over, and he jumps back on the bed, to the exact spot he was sitting in before. The chick presses her hand against Vig’s sweaty chest, lowers it to the obvious bulge in his black underpants, pushes her palm against him. Vigilante doesn’t move at all, watching the scene unfold before him like a hawk, and Chris pretends he isn't looking by focusing on her breasts.
“Now I’m going to fuck my two versions of Peacemaker,” she says, and Chris feels a very shaming surge of arousal at that. He can see from the corner of his eye that Vigilante squirms at the words.
“That’s– that’s kind of cool,” Vig offers, but he sounds breathless. The girl chuckles, leaning forward to kiss Chris again, pushing against him, pumping at Vigilante in earnest. Chris tries to tune him out, but he can hear Vigilante’s short, breathy exhales, muffled against that stupid mask. They manage to Eiffel tower the girl in the end, and Chris thinks that by the chick’s reactions they are both doing a decent job, but when Chris looks at Vigilante, gaze falling on his visor, intuitively searching for a face, he has his eyes closed tight. Chris comes all over her face, and to Vigilante’s credit, she cums on his dick – which Chris looks at, because why the fuck wouldn’t he, and it’s, well, it’s a dick. It looks decent. Girthy.
Vigilante doesn’t cum though, not even when the girl offers to blow him. He’s the first to bow out too, claiming he has to go check out some ‘crime spot’ or some bullshit. Chris cuddles the girl for a bit after that, and he can’t help feeling a little bad, like maybe he pushed Vigilante a bit too far. He feels stupid for feeling bad – it’s sex, sex with a hot chick, and unless Vig is some kind of homo this should be one of the best days of his virgin life. It’s not like Chris was making him shoot puppies.
“I think your best friend was a little nervous,” the girl says, chuckling.
“Fuck, I hope it wasn’t too bad for you.”
“Nah, it was good,” she says. “I hope it wasn’t because of me.”
“Fuck no, you’re super fucking hot.”
She smiles at him. “We should just do a two-way sometime.”
Chris nods. He likes the chick. She’s easy. And she was nicer with Vigilante than he usually is. He finds out her name is Rina, later, and she ends up moving two cities over for a job, so he doesn’t really get that two-way, which he considers a real shame.
Chris thinks things might be awkward with Vigilante after this sudden jarring break in their usual midnight escapades of crime fighting (or Chris crime-fighting and drinking beer and Vigilante barging in unannounced, always eerily aware of his location somehow). He doesn’t reach out to Vigilante to check on him, because why the fuck would he, and there is unusual radio silence from Vig’s end for the following three days.
There’s not much to do in Evergreen while he awaits news from his government contact. He plays with Eagly in the woods, drinks and listens to his old CDs. He goes to the one music store in town to get some new stuff when he realizes his Master of Puppets CD is scratched beyond playing and rummages through the new releases section, with all the gay pop stuff. At night, after his sixth beer, he thinks guiltily about Vigilante’s forearms bulging as he held onto the girl’s waist, his quiet, punched out breaths against the mask, his hips pistoning.
Then Vigilante texts ‘did you hear about the car jackings near interstate 151? I have a lead! Are you free tonight?’ plus a couple of his mermaid emojis and Chris figures they are just not going to talk about it. And it won’t happen again, because it was fucking awkward.
A little over two months later, they’re at the only bar that lets Vigilante in with his mask on because of a ‘deal’ he has with the owner (Chris cannot possibly bother asking), drinking shots of tequila after a well-performed stakeout at a meth lab near the outskirts of town. Chris is feeling pleased with himself, buzzed and excited to the point of horniness, glancing around for a target to his desires. He keeps glancing back at Vigilante when they’re taking a shot, who is giggling and obviously drunk. He pulls his mask up above his lips as he grabs a shot glass, not bothering to hide his face behind his hand like he usually does, then tips his head back and drinks it down in one gulp before mouthing at a piece of lemon. He licks at the leftover salt in his hand, then leans over the table and sprinkles some more to lick it again. His lips are red and spit-shiny, and Chris can see that his neck – pale and delicate compared to his own – is flushed.
“Vig, you gotta stop eating the salt, that’s not the fucking order,” Chris shouts at him, but he’s laughing, and his hand moves to slap his friend’s knee. Vigilante gives one more lick before pulling his mask back down.
“Dude, have you ever really tasted salt? That shit’s delicious!”
Chris sputters. “Have I fucking tasted salt?”
“But really, like, tasted– this is so good. Do you think they use the Himalayan one here? Maybe they have an illegal salt operation going. This is probably what coke tastes like?”
Chris laughs again – he knows coke. He's not gonna tell Vig this because then Vig might try to kill him. “That’s fucking stupid, dude, no one’s putting coke in salt!”
“It’s like an adult version of putting heroin in candy on Halloween, or those little razor blades,” Vigilante points out, but he’s all giggly, and Chris gives him a friendly slap on the head, which makes him giggle more. Vigilante has one glove off, to be able to eat the salt off the side of his hand near the thumb. Chris is getting little glimpses.
Vigilante's fingers are long and pale, like a pianist's, nails short and trimmed, but Chris could have guessed that with the glove on. His skin looks smooth. He’s fucking young. Chris can tell from his mouth, his dark pink tongue kitty-licking a trail of salt off his own hand, his excitable posture, his defined jaw, white skin, unblemished (Chris expected maybe burns, pockmarks, anything to justify a mask).
Chris is getting little glimpses. He's pretending he’s using that to figure out more about his mysterious, borderline insane partner. But he’s got post-mission heat shooting up his spine, he’s drunk off the warmth of tequila and the dark pink lights of the club, off their laughter and sense of comfort, and he’s thinking about Vigilante’s naked torso that night with Rina, that threesome chick who was so patient with him. Chris is thinking that he wouldn’t mind using his mouth, without the stupid mask on, and he would make sure Vigilante keeps his eyes open the whole time.
“P?” Vigilante calls him. “Where are you going?”
Chris has gotten up. “Bathroom!” he barks out. He feels like he’s going to throw up.
He needs a cold fucking shower.
When you’re horny enough, he thinks to himself, everything turns into a welcome receptacle. Someone warm, whose skin looks soft. Everything can be a woman, sort of, under the right light, if you’re drunk and horny enough. Like, a mouth is just a mouth, and it would be weird to reject a mouth, any mouth, it would be gayer, actually.
He’s running through these thoughts so fast it almost speeds back down to slow motion, trying to calm his racing heart down. He makes it to the bathroom somehow, not sure how he even knew where it was, and splashes cold water on his face, doesn’t care that it drips all over the floor and onto his shoes. He can hear his father’s voice inside his voice. A woman, a woman. He needs to fuck a woman.
When he comes back out, rather than go back to Vigilante, he makes a beeline for the bar, makes a show of ordering himself the most expensive vodka bottle he definitely cannot afford at the moment, just to catch the eye of a hot chick, standing next to him and sipping a martini and waiting to be picked up. He grins at her, chats her up. Her name is Annie, she’s got a friend, fucking hot, every girl is fucking hot when you’re not a fucking fag. They both come with Chris to their table. Vigilante straightens up, doesn’t pull his mask up again the way he was doing before, but rather with quick careful swipes, not even when Chris tries to razz him into drinking his vodka glass in one shot, and Chris doesn’t think it’s disappointing because it’s not, and he’s not.
“Do you ladies wanna come to mine?” he asks one of the girls. She smiles at him. “I think you guys should come to ours instead?” hot martini Annie says. The friend nods. She points at Vigilante. “Does he take that off at any point?”
“Nah, it’s a whole thing,” Chris says.
“Never!” Vigilante hiccups.
Chris didn’t include Vigilante in his sex equation. He was hoping for a threesome – a proper threesome, a straight one. He was just going to tell Vig to fuck off as soon as his catch was confirmed.
“It’s kind of sexy,” the friend says. Chris scoffs. Vigilante looks from her to Chris, again a kid out of his depth in a conversation of grown-ups, and Chris wants to shoo him home, but he doesn’t know how to pull that off now, in front of the girls. He hopes maybe Vig will read the room and just head back to whatever hole he calls home, but that is a bit like hoping for a tornado to read the room before tearing your house from its foundations and sending your cows flying.
He tries to get Vig to hang back, so he can give him a very explicit pointer about fucking off – he’s now convinced that Vig needs to go, that he can’t have him fucking up a threesome, that it’s very important that Vig not be there when Chris fucks those girls – but Annie hangs onto Chris’ arm the whole way back to her place, and Chris can’t find his opening. The other girl is just buzzing around Vig while he’s talking about knives or kung-fu or fucking Magic the Gathering cards, and he’s doing these little hand motions to demonstrate something, which keeps forcing her to step two feet away. She laughs – at him, obviously, looking over at her friend, who looks up at Chris and shows him her tongue, all skittish, a pink tongue.
They end up at Annie's house – a pretty hipster-ish apartment, and she’s got a large fish aquarium on one corner that Vigilante is immediately drawn to. “These are so rad! Did you know fish can understand human voices? If you’re angry around your fish and you talk around them, they will get stressed out.” Chris is pretty sure that’s not true.
“Yeah, my mom gets me a fish every year for my birthday,” Anne laughs, pulling Chris over to the couch. “Do you guys want a drink?”
“I’m good,” Vigilante says quickly, but Chris cuts him off, “We’ll have whatever you’re having.” He nods towards Vigilante, knees bent, standing in front of the aquarium’s blue glow and following the movement of the little colorful fish like Chris took him to a fucking marine museum. “Get him a double, he’s all twitchy.”
“I’m not twitchy!” Vigilante argues, standing up straight. “I’m just intrigued by the sea life. Or fresh water life. You don’t see this everyday unless you’re lucky enough to work at a pet store.”
“So you don’t work at a pet store?” The girl who is trying to get his attention asks. She’s also watching the fish, but Chris thinks she’s probably just humoring him.
This is clearly too much information divulged by Vig. He looks contemplative for a second. “Vigilante doesn’t,” he says, finally. “I’d rather not answer any more personal questions. It’s a security hazard.”
“Dude, be cool!” Chris calls out. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself.
“I’m cool! I’m so cool I’m actually kind of chilly!" Vigilante snipes back. The girl seems to find this super funny. She’s probably high on something – Chris hopes not, or Vigilante might suggest they both need to die for doing molly.
Annie comes back with glasses of vodka and orange juice for Chris and Vigilante. “I hope this warms you up,” she tells Vigilante before moving back over to Chris and straddling his lap. Chris can tell Vigilante is following her movement, is watching them on the couch.
“Do you wanna go check out the bedroom?” the girl asks Vig, poking him on the shoulder so he looks back at her.
“Does she have fish in the bedroom too?”
And Chris tries to, once again, tune them out, glad Vigilante is being pushed out of his line of sight. He takes a sip of his drink, licks his upper lip, and the girl is smiling down at him like a benevolent god of straight, manly men.
“I think my friend likes your friend,” she tells him.
“He’s not really my friend,” he replies.
“Yeah, it looks like he’s your little brother,” she jokes, and he frowns immediately, feeling a sudden sinking in his stomach.
He tries to keep it cool. “So, fish?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
She laughs again. “Not you too, okay, leave my fish alone.”
They make out for a while and it feels nice. Chris thinks he could just make the best of the couch at this point, but Annie suggests they go to her bedroom. “You sure?” He can see the closed door at the end of the short hallway next to the aquarium. He can hear the sound of a creaking mattress and a woman moaning.
“Yeah, yeah, Zo will like that,” she replies. “I wonder if she got his mask off.”
“She can try, but the mask doesn’t come off.” Chris shrugs. He still feels a stressful tightness in his abdomen. He tries to clench and unclench his hands. He doesn’t want to look at Vigilante right now. For a moment, he wonders if, in an unbelievable twist, this Zo chick actually did manage to take off his mask, if Vigilante gave in to his secret identity for the promise of pussy, and he’s actually so angry at this ridiculous scenario he almost runs into the bedroom, opening the door with very unwarranted strength.
Vig has his undershirt off, chest glistening with sweat, his pants down and the girl’s legs wrapped around his torso as he fucks her. She’s moaning and muttering something, head turned to the side. Chris gets hit full in the face with the smell of sex.
“Huh? Vig whips his head toward Chris, going slightly off rhythm for a second. His mask is still on. “Dude, if I wasn’t so drunk that my senses were impaired you would probably have gotten a knife thrown in your face. You can't barge in like that!”
“I would have absolutely dodged that knife, but sure.”
“Sh,” the girl says, to Vig or them both. “Just keep going.”
“I think the sex is over now,” Vig tells her, in the tone of a teacher explaining something to a particularly slow student, though he does continue to pound her. Chris is, unfortunately, very turned on by the whole thing.
“The sex isn’t over, Vig,” Chris says, pulling Annie towards him once she arrives by his side, forcing his focus on the hot chick under Vig and the fact that she is hot, that her getting pounded is the hot part of this view, that Annie next to him is so fucking hot. “We just want to use Annie’s bed.”
“Fuck,” Vigilante stills and loses his rhythm again, glancing up at them, “Annie’s home?”
“I’m Annie,” the chick next to Chris says, laughing.
“Hi, Annie, I’m Vigilante,” he says. He leans back on one elbow to free his other arm and waves his hand at her. Chris rolls his eyes.
“I’m Zo,” Zo says under him. “Keep moving, please.”
Vigilante glances over at Chris, as if waiting for a counter-order (like a retreat), but Chris ignores him, and he goes back to pumping into Zo.
Annie pushes Chris down playfully onto the empty side of the bed, and Vigilante leans back on his knees and scoots over, pulling the girl under him by holding her by the waist and shoulders with surprising gentleness, like picking up a glass jar. He places her down a few inches away from Chris and Annie.
“All good?” Annie asks, and Chris takes a second to reply because he thought she was talking to– Zo or Vigilante or something. He tries to focus on Annie on top of him, on her warm, soft skin. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, a bit impatient, “we fell behind, I guess.”
“Not a competition,” she says, leaning down to kiss him, her blonde hair falling over his face like a curtain. He can still hear Vig’s quiet, punched out breaths beside him, his movement rocking the sheets under him slightly, the girl’s moans crescendo-ing next to him. Chris feels a sort of panic rising, so he goes into work mode, quickly shifting his and Annie’s positions so she can be underneath him.
She smiles at him, surprised, and pulls him by the neck to kiss him. Chris is quick to prove himself.
He can hear Zo giving out directions as she orgasms, and he tunes her in and out, coming back around to her asking, “Are you sure you don’t want me to–?” and Vigilante babbling about something. Chris doesn’t bother turning his head. He’s focused on Annie, gorgeous blond Annie, spread out underneath him. When Zo and Vigilante leave the bedroom, he doesn’t look, and when Zo comes back later and joins the two of them, he also doesn’t question it. Once all three are spent, Annie is the one who mentions it. ‘Did the other guy leave?”
“He wanted to look at the fishes. I think he fell asleep on the couch,” Zo shrugs. “He’s got very impressive stamina but it was a little… No offense.”
“Nah, he’s weird as hell,” Chris agrees.
“Definitely,” she chuckles, “but I, mean, it’s a bit of a confidence bummer. I sucked him off for like half an hour and he never came.”
“Oh,” Annie laughs.
“My jaw is so sore!” And they both giggle together. Chris can feel that tight pit again. He feels bad – fuck, why does he have to feel bad? Vigilante was having a good fucking time. Chris wasn’t the one who forced him to bang a hot chick. Vigilante got the hotter chick out of the deal, for starters. Chris didn’t even want him there this time.
And he didn’t look so fucking awkward, not until Chris came in – Chris is pretty sure he was enjoying himself, to the extent that the weirdo seems to enjoy sex (which is clearly not a lot, despite all the shooting shit he does).
Chris gets up with the excuse that he’s going to the bathroom, which he does, but then he also makes a beeline back for the living room, where Vigilante is sprawled out on the couch, with his undershirt and pants back on, and the mask firmly secured on his face as he sleeps. Who the fuck manages to sleep with a hard on?
Chris crouches and touches his masked face, with a quick pat. Vigilante startles awake.
“Are you guys done?” he asks Chris, voice hoarse and tired from all the drinking and shouting and probably spending way too long breathing sweaty mask air. Something about this reminds him of when his dad brought friends over to watch him throw punches or shoot beer bottles, of waiting for everyone to leave while trying not to fall asleep on the corner of the living room when they went up till dawn. Pretending to be one of the adults. Chris is almost tempted to ask Vig if he had a good time, but he checks himself with something less compromising.
“Yeah. You good?”
Vigilante nods. He makes a little grabbing notion at something behind Chris’ back. Chris sees the glass of water precariously balanced on the coffee table and hands it to him, not before taking a long gulp himself. Vigilante pulls the front of his mask up to his nose, not seeming to care to hide it as much now that it’s just Chris in front of him, and drinks the rest of the water. Chris looks away.
“Dude, I’m fucking parched,” he says, popping his lips, and when Chris looks back the mask is back on. “Sex is really dehydrating. Do you think they have Gatorade?”
“I think we’re leaving.”
“Ah, ok, that’s even better,” and Vigilante is already up on his feet, going to the bedroom, which Chris was hoping he wouldn’t do.
“Oh, you guys are heading out?” Annie calls out.
“Yeah, long night ahead. Crime-fighting and protecting the city,” Chris says, walking in behind Vig. He winks at Annie, who’s sitting on the bed with a sheet wrapped around her like a dress. Zo is watching Vig as he puts the pieces of his armor back on, and Chris just grabs his clothes quickly before their exit can get awkward. He hears Zo asking Vigilante, “You sure you don’t need any help?” and Vig just chuckles in his strained voice, “Nah, it goes down on its own, it’s like gravity!”
“Hey, here’s my number,” Annie says, pulling up a pen and grabbing Chris’ wrist to write it down. “Hit me up, whenever you’re not crime-fighting.”
“Sure,” Chris grins at her. But he isn’t sure. “Ok, let’s go,” he says, grabbing at Vig’s shoulder and shoving him towards the door.
“Oh, by the way,” Vig says, turning his head around, though Chris doesn’t stop pushing him. “It looks like you have some algae overgrowth in your fish tank. You might need to get your light sources checked out, Maybe consider switching to dimmer lights!”
“Dude, shut up,” Chris says, once he’s successfully shut the door of Annie’s apartment and pushed Vigilante into the elevator.
“But I’m concerned for the well-being of her fish!”
Chris looks at him, narrowing his eyes. “And you definitely don’t work at a pet store?”
Vigilante snorts. “Man, I wish! That would be the dream. Are we splitting an Uber?”
“Yeah, we’re heading to mine,” Chris says. He doesn’t know why he says that, and in the commanding tone that leaves no room for arguments. He feels high-strung and not mellow like he should be after fucking two hot chicks to get whatever weird shit decided to burrow into his system from spending too much time with Vigilante. He desperately needs Vigilante to get away from his face.
“Oh, really? Cool!” Vig says, but he says it like a mouse poking its hand around a mouse trap, trying to get it not to activate. “Very cool. Yeah, we could do, like, a full night of drinking, I guess. I just might go to mine first to–”
“You can take a shower at my place,” Chris states while calling a car from his phone.
“Right. No offense, P, I trust you with my life. But your trailer is very tiny. I might flash you!”
“Just don’t flash me, dude! It’s not so hard.”
“Yeah, I guess I can do that.” Chris peers down to see if he’s still hard, but he can’t tell with the armor on now. He swears at himself for looking.
Vigilante doesn’t even shower. He calls around for Eagly, who’s not home, and they lounge on the couch and drink some beers and watch reruns of WWE, and Chris nods off in between explaining the maneuvers to Vig, who listens attentively like he’s going to take a test afterwards. Vigilante wakes him up and guides him to bed with the kind of gentle movements he had previously used on that chick he was fucking, and Chris lies down in his own bed, skunk drunk. He wakes up to a pissed off Eagly knocking on his bedroom window. Vigilante is gone by then.