so don't you let her get under your skin

[samson]

Who: Brock and Molotov
What: Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
When: Weds., 25 April, early evening
Where: Room 509
Rating: Probably PG-13, will edit if necessary :T

[Brock had been spending the majority of his time lately working on his cabin, or rather working on a garage to attach to his cabin so he could put his car somewhere to work on that. It was pretty convoluted, but the point was, he was getting married in less than a week and he should probably spend time with his fiancée instead of dicking around in the woods all the time.

So, it's just around dinnertime when he rolls in through the door. Better late than never, right? That's sort of Brock's philosophy about their whole relationship, which explains things.

Anyway, he shuts the door behind him and calls out for her.]

Hey, kitten? You home?

Comments

[molotov]

[Molotov is quiet for a moment, then sort of pulls away a bit.]

So... you do not want to be married to me.

[samson]

Honey -- it doesn't matter to me either way, as long as I'm with you.

[He frowns, moving his arms off her shoulders to just hold the back of her chair instead.]

We could have stayed not married forever and I'd be fine with that, too. Whatever you want to do.

[molotov]

[She stands up and goes to sit on the sofa.]

You would not marry me if I would have sex without it, Brock.

[samson]

[Brock just stands there frowning for a moment, then rolls his eyes and follows her. Always walking away, what a jerk!]

You don't know that.

[molotov]

[Shut up! Molotov hugs her knees to her chest.]

But you wouldn't.

[samson]

[Sadfaic ...]

If you wanted to, yeah I would.

[molotov]

I practically begged you for months!

[samson]

'cause I thought it would change everything ...

[molotov]

What changed your mind?

[REASSURE YOUR FIANCEE, SAMSON]

[samson]

[He just smiles and goes to sit next to her, his hands on his knees.]

Well. We spent a bunch of time together, and I figured ... it could only get better. You know? Not worse. And it wouldn't change us or anything, we'd still be the same people.

[molotov]

[She leans against him, her head on his shoulder.]

Really?

[samson]

[Wrapping his arm around her, he leans his cheek against her head.]

Of course, honey. What, do you think we're gonna change?

[molotov]

Nyet, but I do not want you to regret marrying me.

[samson]

[He snorts and kisses her temple, then goes back to resting his head on her.]

The only way that could happen is if you turn into a dried up little babushka overnight.

[molotov]

[FROWN. Does that mean he wouldn't want to marry her if she were capable of aging in Paradisa?]

Well, I am Russian, so that is inevitable. But I still have at least twenty years until that day.

[samson]

[Haha, it was a joke! He was joking.]

As long as it's not overnight, we'll be okay.

[molotov]

[It's still a rude thing to say to a Russian lady :( ]

Okay.

[samson]

Good.

[Another kissu~]

Now what -- you wanna wash up and take a nap? Or read a book or something? [Read a wished-up copy of Maxim or Men's Health, in Brock's case.]

[molotov]

[Tiny snuggle! Almost secretive.]

Can we just watch a movie?

[samson]

[GROSS somehow wishing for movies is worse than wishing for books (magazines) in Brock's mind.]

Uh, sure. What do you want?

[molotov]

[Shut up, crazy man.

Molotov sighs a little, thinking.]

Cab Operator?

[samson]

[He just smirks a little.] Romantic.

[molotov]

Well, if you want romance, we can watch Cataclysm Now.

[samson]

[He smirks wider.] You know just how to get me goin', Mol.

[molotov]

That is why we are getting married.