☠ 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

[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.