Chris was aware of your autism, as you'd told him of it, and everything that came with it. He was used to it, never judged you for it or anything, no, he was the most supportive a boyfriend could be when it came to you. Your stims didn't bother him, but intrigued him, everything about you intrigued him. Like, every damn thing.

Especially your vocal stims. When you guys watched a movie together, a few days later you'd be repeating different phrases you'd heard. It amused him, how you'd constantly do it, as opposed to bother him. He'd go quiet sometimes, just to listen to you. He loved it because it meant you were happy and comfortable with him.

Currently, you were hyperfixated on Batman. You'd mention it at every chance you got, you had funko pops lining every surface you could literally get your hands on. And every article of clothing too. Bracelets, sweatshirts, whatever.

So of course Batman lines had become some of your vocal stims, well, the majority of them actually. To the point where it was sort of taking over. Chris had woken up in the middle of the night to find you weren't beside him. He also hears noises downstairs, which means he assumed the absolute worst.

He rushes downstairs, hair sticking out in all directions as he almost trips down the stairs. But any worries he had disappeared the moment he saw a figure huddled on the couch, then when he looked at the screen. Lego Batman. It was like, your 10th time rewatching the movie. And you were reciting the entire thing too.

Wandering over to you, still overwhelmed with sleep, Chris plonked himself down beside you and rested his head in your lap immediately. "Don't scare me like that," he mumbles, "thought somethin' happened to you." But he couldn't blame you.

Lego batman was a fire movie.