paradisalogs | ☠ 041

Entry tags:

☠ 041

Who:

samson
What: Talking :(
When: The morning after all of this.
Where: Brock's cabin
Rating: Probably like PG-13 at most.

She said she'd find him.

When Brock hadn't come home, and he wasn't still on the kitchen floor, Molotov figured he must have gone out to his cabin. So that was where she went. It was late morning -- she'd wanted to give him time to wake up.

With a small knock, she opened the door, peering around the edge before the door was even fully opened.

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Well, he had apologized, and that had helped. Molotov felt better. Healed? No, but better. Clearly they couldn't do much better.

Molotov started when he set the plates down, rocketing upright and looking around. Don't disturb a sleeping spy, Brock! You know better than that.

Brock just chuckled when she reacted that way. Scared spies were cuties! What a cute, deadly lady. Brock, stop.

"It's just French toast," he teased, handing her a fork and sitting down next to her.

"Do not make me stab you with this," she mumbled, yawning, and took the fork before just digging right in.

Brock laughed a little, shaking his head, and tucked into his own breakfast. Well, it was more like lunch now, with how long they'd been fighting.

"Do you need something to drink?" he said after a few bites, looking at her sidelong.

"Milk?" she said, through a mouthful of food.

CUTE. Molotov was the cutest. Brock beamed at her, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. "Coming right up," he said, then went back to the kitchen, leaving his food on the table. Don't eat his toast, Molotov!

Oh no, Molotov was definitely going to eat his toast. As soon as he was in the kitchen, she speared one of the slices on his plate and dragged it over to hers.

Wow, that is rude and unforgivable, basically. She'd better apologize for that!

Brock came back with two glasses of milk, though he just stood there squinting at his plate with the drinks in his hands. "Did you take my French toast?"

She would not, she would never! Brock was the one who wanted her to eat.

"No," she said, through another mouthful of food, looking at him as innocently as she was able.

Brock stared at her, because oh my god, what a rude little liar! What an impossible woman.

"You owe me one French toast," he said mildly, sitting down and handing her a glass of milk.

Molotov took her milk, and downed a big gulp of it before affixing Brock with a Look.

"Do you really want me to make you anything that involves raw eggs?" she asked.

He just turned to her with a slightly lascivious grin. "Okay, you owe me for the value of one French toast."

Molotov snorted and rolled her eye, taking another bite and chewing it slowly. She swallowed before answering, evenly, "Fine, you can eat the value of a french toast later."

Brock just looked utterly taken surprised when she said that, though this swiftly gave way to a very wide, ecstatic grin. He wasn't used to her being so forward! And, you know, he figured she still needed some time before she wanted to jump back into their marriage bed, so to speak.

So imagine his pleasure at this revelation.

"That seems like a fair trade to me," he said, biting his lower lip and continuing to grin at her.

Edited (lol wrong icon) 2012-06-09 07:04 (UTC)

Well, she didn't exactly say when "later" was. It could be next week! Probably it would be like... the following day or two. But whatever, she would explain that later on. Today, later on.

Molotov just kept eating serenely, and didn't acknowledge what he'd said.

Haha, oh no! He thought she meant after they were done eating. And I guess after he brushed his teeth. He was going to be so disappointed.

Brock kept grinning at her like a big dumb idiot for a little while, then sighed happily, shaking his head, and ate what French toast she'd left for him.

No, she wasn't ready for that! Anyway, she didn't like having sex in the cabin, Brock knew that. It was too weird, other people hung out in there!

She finished her food, then sat back to wait for him to be done.

That's only if you count oral as sex!!! Haha, Brock, stop. It will be okay. You can survive another few days.

Brock finished around the same time she did, since now he had less food, and looked over at her with a smile. "So ..."

That didn't make it any less weird! And unless he planned to put a whole bunch of effort into ~seduction~ right about now, then no, nothing was happening in this cabin.

Molotov looked over at him when he spoke, then leaned to kiss him softly. "I need to nap," she declared.

r u kidding, Brock puts a ton of effort into seduction all day errday!! No I'm kidding, the only effort he makes is suggestive grins and 'hey.' Still haven't figured out how to get Molotov to drop her panties yet! It's a work in progress.

Brock's smile softened when she kissed him, and he touched her hair, idly combing out a tangle with his fingers. "I could think of something to help you sleep," he said quietly.

He just needed to be nice and do... romantic husband-y stuff! Perhaps he should seek advice from guys who have to try a little harder than 'hey', they would probably know better.

When he hit the snag in her hair, Molotov winced, but then shook her head. "Not... maybe tomorrow. Okay?"

What guys! Losers? No, he would not do that. He absolutely refused, thank you. He was getting along just fine! He could deal with not having his face buried in his wife's crotch for another day or two. This log suddenly got really racy and I hope nobody else is reading it.

Brock's brow furrowed just a tiny bit for a fraction of a second, but he nodded at her. "Okay," he murmured, tilting in to kiss her again.

He could still stand to be a little more seductive and romantic, that's all I'm saying. Variety is the spice of life, Samson!

Molotov kissed him back for a moment, then pushed him to lie down, so that she could basically use him as a body pillow.

Brock laughed but let her push him, first grabbing the ash tray off the table so he could smoke while she slept on him without risking like, setting her hair on fire. Because that is neither seductive nor romantic.

Lighting a cigarette, he put a hand behind his head and laid back.

When he laid back, Molotov just settled down on top of him, draping her arm across his body and her head on his chest. She was very tired, she would probably nap for at least an hour.

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samson - 2012-06-13 02:13 (UTC) - Expand

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