Chanceball Chapter 72: This Chapter Radiates Maturity

Two days later you went back for a viewing and nervously entered the small townhouse, expecting a repeat of the last place but surprisingly this one was a heap better.

“Well… walls are, uh…” your voice trailed off as you stepped into the front room and looked around at the ripped wallpaper that was a brown and yellow flowered pattern.

“Easy fix,” Dabi commented confidently from behind you and slung his arm across your shoulders as he stepped up beside you.

“Mmmmm,” you hummed dubiously, crossing your arms across your chest as you looked around the room.

“Let’s see the kitchen,” he said, turning you around and walking you out and down to the kitchen that was on a kind of split level lower.

“Bro,” you laughed when you looked at the missing tap in the kitchen sink, “how are we supposed to do dishes?”

“We don’t,” he replied bluntly, “we eat out every night.”

“Always got an answer for everything, huh?” you remarked, elbowing him in the ribs, “have we seen upstairs yet?”

“Not yet,” he replied, “but it’s gonna be good!”

“How do you know?” you asked suspiciously, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t, but I’m being… optimistic…” he said, painting his hand out in front of you while he leaned in- as if drawing a rainbow across your path with his passionate words.

“Optimism can only get you so far,” you warned, “listen, let’s look at the other place I found and then we’ll compare that one and this one and decide which we want.”

“Ok, deal,” he promised, leading you up the stairs and turning left to the first bedroom.

The house was a three bedroom place, 2 rooms upstairs and one downstairs and the rooms upstairs were pretty good. Not much needed to be done to them and there was no mould.

“Ok, so what do you rate this house?” Dabi asked you.

“Uhh, like… 6?” you mused, “there were a few things that needed fixing but it wasn’t as terrible as the first place.

“So you do admit that that place was bad,” Dabi leered.

“I was just excited to be getting a place, ok? Stop shitting on my parade.”

“Woah, that’s pretty fucking hardcore. I thought the saying was ‘don’t RAIN on my parade’?!”

“For normal people, that aren’t dating you, it’s just rain… but you like to shit on my parades,” you teased.

“Is this a kink?” Dabi asked with surprise, “I mean like, if you’re into being shat on, I’d do it. Not that I’d enjoy it, but anything for you, poopie,” he teased, grabbing you around the waist and squeezing you against his side as he kissed your forehead.

“Dont fucking call me, poopie, you weewee head!” you snapped with faux anger, trying to fight him off with a straight face but failing.

The two of you bantered and teased as you left the rooms upstairs and came back down, simmering your weirdness as you got to the agent at the front door.

“So? What did you think?” The agent asked expectantly.

“We’ll be in contact,” Dabi replied professionally, “thanks for letting us look though.”

“It’s no trouble, call me whenever you have made your mind up,” the agent said with a smile, handing Dabi her card.

You both thanked her and left. No sooner had you walked out of the gate you looked up the number for the $140 house you had set your eyes on earlier when you were looking for places a few nights back.

“Good afternoon,” you greeted the agent on the other end of the line politely while looking at Dabi intently, “I would like to book an inspection for house 69 of Cock Street at your earliest available appointment, please?”

Dabi roared laughing when he heard the name of the place and stopped so that he could double over with laughter.

“You have to be shitting me! That’s not a real house number and street name,” he cackled, “is this place a fucking scam?”

“It’s real!” You hissed, covering the speaker of the phone as you scowled at him, “the pictures look decent, ok?”

“Is it a Caucasian cock?” Dabi leered, “’cause I’m not into Caucasian cocks.”

“Shut the fuck up, you ass,” you growled at him, trying not to laugh as you continued squeezing the life out of the phone receiver so the agent couldn’t hear what Dabi was saying.

After looking at the available appointment list the agent then addressed you on the line again.

“We actually do have an availability this afternoon at 4:20pm would that suit?” He asked.

“Perfect,” you said, looking at your watch to see what time it was, “we’ll see you then.”

“Wonderful, thank you for the call- miss…”

“Miss Y/N,” you said quickly.

“Miss Y/N,” the agent repeated, “looking forward to meeting you.”

“Same,” you replied, then said your goodbyes and hung up, turning your full attention onto Dabi and addressing him. “Ok, listen up, weewee head. NO… absolutely NO dick jokes when we look at this place, ok?!”

“I can’t promise anything, it might be too hard to keep it in.”

“I’ll leave you tied up at the gate.” You threatened.

“I’ll moan loudly till you come back,” he leered.

You scowled at him, knowing that he would do just that if you did refuse to bring him into the house.

“Just don’t embarrass me,” you said, suddenly changing to a pout instead of a stern look, switching up your attack from aggressive to begging to see if that had any more weight, “I’ll do whatever you want when we get back home as long as you don’t say anything stupid in front of the agent.”

“Oho? I like this,” Dabi sneered, his top lip curling back with amusement as his mind ran wild, “I’ll hold you to that…”

“Yeah, but you gotta behave!” You warned.

“Since when do I misbehave?” he asked innocently.

You deadpanned.

“Seriously? You seriously want me to answer that? I—.”

“Ok, don’t answer that.”

“Child—.”

“Yeah, ok, I know…” Dabi said, holding his hands up in playful defense, “maybe sucking my dick will make me behave more.”

“No.”

“Well it was worth a try?”

“You’ll try anything to get sucked off,” you teased.

“Oh, but it’s just because you’re so good at it,” he praised as he slung an arm across your shoulders then turned to keep walking down the street. “Onward to Cock Street!”

You snorted and coughed while laughing, trying to contain yourself.

“You’re just trying to flatter me with that comment about me being good at it. Flattery only works on weak bitches and I’m not a weak bitch,” you said proudly.

“You’re weak to me,” he whispered huskily as he tilted his head to your ear and nibbled on your earlobe.

“Stop, weewee head,” you chided with a smirk.

“I love you, poopie,” he whispered, kissing your neck before straightening and smiling to himself.

“I love this stupid, smug asshole,” you thought as you smiled to yourself.

<<< Chanceball Chapter 71: Shit House

Chanceball Chapter 73: 69 Cock Street >>>