☠ 062

[molotov]

Who: Molotov and you, maybe
What: Fireside sitting in the lobby, thinking, talking, drinking
When: The middle of the damn night!
Where: Lobby
Rating: Ehhh probably like PG-13 at most

The lobby never really got silent, not with the noctural residents and everyone who seemed to come and go at all hours, but it did get quiet if you waited up late enough, and Molotov needed a little bit of quiet.

Sure, she could have stayed up in her room, could have sat in bed next to Brock as he slept, even though she couldn't sleep herself. But something about it made her want to leave, want to just be in front of the beautiful, if slightly "majestic generic", fireplace down in the lobby.

So she'd put on some pajamas and wandered downstairs, taking a seat on the sofa closest the fire. The castle provided a blanket to cover her legs with, and a mug of red wine hot chocolate that never seemed to need refilling, and Molotov couldn't help but think it was the nicest thing the castle had done in a while.

And there she sat, alone and silent, gazing into the flames as the lobby traffic died out more and more.

Until you came along.

Comments

[molotov]

"I know we aren't new anymore, but that doesn't mean we can't be like we were!" she says, letting him pull her toward him. "I just want to feel like... I don't know, like I am special to you still, or something. Like I am something more than just that sex doll at home."

[samson]

If I just wanted meaningless sex, there are a looot of people I could go see, is what he almost says, but that is probably. The wrong thing to say. So he doesn't.

"Listen, if you weren't special to me, then I wouldn't have talked to you about this stuff."

He means about feeling like he's going soft here. It's hard for him to reconcile Molotov His Girl and Molotov His Colleague, so that might be why she's feeling the disconnect, but he's too dumb to get that; he's used to his sexual and professional relationships being completely separate.

"Like... what, do you want to hang out more or something? I thought I got on your nerves if I'm around you too much, right?"

[molotov]

Molotov has the opposite problem, actually, of not being able to really separate the two, since there had never been any other sexual relationship to compare it to. That could be the root of her uncomfortable closeness to her male friends, actually, because she didn't really know how to be Just Friends with men. There were only a few categories for men in her life: Papa, Targets, Brock. And since the former two categories were clearly not suitable, her good relationship with Brock tended to tinge all her friendships as well.

"Nyet, no, we... we fight, you know? We are too similar, maybe, so we wind up arguing. I think we spend a good amount of time together, the right amount. But... maybe we could do things, like we used to. When you surprised me with the dinner, when we used to go out..."

[samson]

"What, you want to have like... date night or something?" he says, eying her just a little bit.

Brock's pretty okay with the current set-up, hanging out and talking sometimes and then having sex like every night, but Brock's always been pretty happy with a routine. With domesticity. Getting up at the same hour and having the same morning routine with her every day was something he sort of took for granted, maybe. He just sort of assumed she was the same, that she was happy this way too.

"You know I'm not really good with, uh, romantic stuff," he adds a little hesitantly. The surprise dinner had been kind of a one-off thing. Come to think of it, he's pretty sure he'd done it because she'd been having these same complaints at the time... which probably isn't a good sign that they're coming up again...

"But I could try to do stuff like that, I guess. I dunno."

[molotov]

"I guess that's what I want," she says hesitantly, hating to call it something so stereotypical, but that is what she wants, basically.

Brock has to remember that, deep down, his wife is still kind of a girly girl, and she is also a woman who had never had another serious relationship. Her whole life before marrying Brock had been men trying to woo and impress her, so, in her mind, a routine with nothing special and sparkly and fun was a sign of disinterest, not comfort.

She shrugs. "I do not want, you know, a surprise trip to Paris or anything," she tells him. "Just... you know. Something."

[samson]

Brock's always seen Molotov as sort of... masculine? Not that he thinks she is mannish, but her personality has always struck him as being very masculine, in that she is aggressive and doesn't back down. It's the root of their contention in the 'real world,' probably: they're both too stubborn to compromise for one another. It's a quality Brock associates with masculinity, not deferring to anyone else. Which isn't to say that he thinks of her as less of a woman for it -- Brock defers to her all the fuckin' time, but he doesn't think of himself as less of a man.

But because of this, because Molotov very much wears the pants in their relationship and because he has trouble reconciling his professional and sexual relationships with her, he never really gets that she isn't just like him.

He is still probably gonna need some reminders.

"Okay," he says, finally letting her out of this dumb quasi-headlock and sitting back. "I'll try."

[molotov]

She has those qualities, yes, but let's remember that this is also a woman who gave her husband a goat for Christmas because "it has a little heart on its side". She's got some girly in there! Jewelry and chocolate and hearts on everything! And sometimes her interior decorating can veer a little frou-frou. Their apartment has seen its fair share of lace-trimmed throw pillows and small scented soaps!

Molotov sits back when he releases her, still just watching the fire. "Okay."

[samson]

To be fair... Brock doesn't really mind lace-trimmed pillows and decorative soaps. He's a little domestic goddess, remember.

Brock sits there for another minute, frowning lightly. This was kind of a heavy conversation! He hadn't been expecting that when he went to find her.

He leans over to kiss the side of her head. "I'm goin' back to bed. Don't stay up too long."

[molotov]

It's true, and his failure to object to her girlier tendencies had probably only strengthened them. Your measuring cutes are adorable and shaped like nesting dolls, Samson! Put your foot down already!

"Da," she says, looking over at him. "I love you."

[samson]

Measuring cutes, huh? I see what you did there.

Brock grins a little, then gets up to go. "You too, honey."

[molotov]

Shut up, just shut up! No one even likes you.

She watches him go, sipping from her mug, then turns back to the fire. It could have gone worse.

SORRY FOR LATE

[bezazzled]

"Anything, really! I knit my own sweaters, I bezazzle my accessories, and I must admit, I'm a pretty good sculptor. Not to brag or anything, of course."

Except she really wants to brag.

YOU ARE NOT FORGIVEN!!

[molotov]

"Maybe you should sculpt and bezazzle us something," Molotov humors her, gesturing to the lobby. "Give us something that isn't silly castle interpretations of 'art'."

8(

[bezazzled]

"It's not like I haven't thought of that already. This place is great, but for a castle it could definitely use a bit of touching up. You think I could find a place in town that sells a couple hundred thousand bezazzle jewels or is that something I'd have to wish for?"

[molotov]

"I doubt anyone in town sells bezazzle jewels at all. But you could wish for them, I suppose, or maybe just stick to sculpting."