TENNESSEE WHISKEY -corpse husband-

NEW PLACE (47)

    Weston couldn't believe it. She was standing in her first home.

    "Weston, baby, you're blocking the door," Corpse grunted, his voice strained.

    She stepped away quickly, unable to pull her eyes away. "Sorry," she mumbled, still stunned.

    It wasn't much, but it was theirs. The entryway was classic, a long hallway opening up into their living room, dining room, and kitchen. The house was incredibly open-concept, which Weston loved. She couldn't wait to have people over to show off her space.

    Two bedrooms were on one side of the home, along with a bathroom, and the other bedroom was on the other side with another bathroom. The layout was simple, it was one story, but it was everything Weston had imagined and more.

    "Weston, love," Corpse snapped her out of her trance. "The faster we get everything inside, the prettier this place will look. Until then, you'll be staring at blank walls," Corpse teased. He patted her butt lightly, pushing her out the front door and to their packed cars.

    Killian was staying with Rae for a few days, partially to stream on her channel, and the other to see Mika. They had agreed to let Killian do a face reveal, if he wanted to, and he was ecstatic. He claimed that now people would actually draw him how he looked, and he couldn't wait anymore to see the art.

    Weston was still unsure, but Killian was growing older, and becoming more independent. Everyone loved him, for the most part, and Rae promised she would allow extra mods onto the chat to filter inappropriate and unwanted messages.

    They were using the time off from parenting to unpack and get everything set up in the new house, at least starting with their bedrooms so they could sleep comfortably. The beds had been delivered, them opting to buy a new mattress set, but the couches from the apartment wouldn't be delivered for a few days, but it was okay. It gave them time to focus on everything else before Killian came home.

    Carrying in the last box, Weston began working on the bedroom. She unpacked all of their clothes and organized their two closets, while Corpse got started on his office across the hall. The faster he got everything connected, the faster he could get back to work. People were getting on his ass about putting out content, and he was tired of hearing it.

    "Weston!" Corpse hollered from across the hall.

    Deciding to take a break before moving onto the master bathroom, Weston went to him. "Yeah?" She asked, pushing the door open slightly to see Corpse surrounded by empty boxes, monitors and computer equipment surrounding him. He was supposed to be working on things for the past two hours.... what had he actually gotten done?

    "I... I don't know what I'm doing," Corpse looked up, a pamphlet with instructions in his hands. Corpse had invested in new equipment as his own gift to himself, but he had never had more than one monitor, with one keyboard, and one microphone. It was new, and awkward, and he didn't know what he was doing.

    "Babe.... read the pamphlet?" Weston tried not to sound like she was making him seem stupid, but it was a very straight forward solution. He looked up at her, giving her a look of frustration.

    "You think I haven't been doing that for like twenty minutes?" He snapped at her.

    Weston furrowed her eyebrows, physically stepping back from the harshness in his tone. "Woah, I was kidding," she defended.

    "It wasn't funny," he grumbled, aggressively turning the pages of the book.

    "Okay, I'm sorry," Weston apologized. She knew she hadn't done anything worth apologizing for, but sometimes Corpse had these moments. He was a work in progress, and he was open about that. They both were. Weston chose her battles with him wisely. He was just tired and stressed, and sometimes he was allowed to be. She opted to keep her mouth shut about it.