Sometimes.
But not as often as I used to.
I used to bounce off of Mar all the time, though.. *snorts* Talk shit about people…switch it up if they actually knew Italian.
Sometimes.
But not as often as I used to.
I used to bounce off of Mar all the time, though.. *snorts* Talk shit about people…switch it up if they actually knew Italian.
No idea…
Well, obviously you’re talking to them because you were lonely without my handsome mug around.
Sorry for that, sweetheart. I’m here now. *smirk*
I keep that magnum around for more than just sentimental reasons…
He’s stuck on Finding Nemo right now. Pixar shit, mostly…
Eh, I got him to watch a couple of old gumshoe movies with me, but he dozes half way through them.
Not so much as considering him someone who would have my back if something major went down.
If we all of a sudden had another zombie outbreak, sure, I’d trust him to cover me.
Socially, he can stay on his side of town.
Probably not.
But considering how Overalls has been the past couple of days…maybe.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Nick murmured as he approached the naked hick lazily sprawled across his bed. The gambler had been up most of the night, settled for some of the morning and then had gotten up yet again for the past handful of hours. He’d been in the kitchen most of that time, preparing a few things to slow cook in time for dinner that evening, leaving his younger lover to sleep the day away.
Overalls offered a warm smile, eyes half-lidded and still glazed with sleep. The shadows beneath his eyes didn’t seem as bad, the near twelve hours he’d spent dozing lightly or sleeping hard had done him some good.
[Written for Hell-of-a-Con/Hell-of-a-Hick, for my girl’s birthday.]
Chuck’s furred nose fluttered in endless contentment, his fat, bow-backed frame flopped out across Nick’s chest to accept the conman’s feather-light petting along the soft tuft of its gray-furred underbelly. Nick was halfway through a Red Sox game, lack of sleep smeared in purple and pouched beneath his half-lidded eyes, his body slumped deep into the cushions of his couch.
“Detroit’s getting their ass handed to them by the pound,” Nick remarked to the lop-eared rabbit, his teeth gritted briefly in mock sympathy for the absolute destruction being havocked on the Tigers. “Jesus Christ, look at that asshole,” he said sharply, objecting to the behavior of the current batter with an angry gesture of his hand at the television, “Where the hell are you keeping your eyes? Your ass? No wonder these morons are getting creamed, look at this idiot. This is a fucking disgrace, Chuck. A disgrace.”
The gambler settled back again, resuming the content drift of his fingers over the young rabbit’s soft fur, and Chuck twitched a velvet ear back over the gray curve of his whiskered face.
I’d say it’s more of a pain in the ass than anything else with all those magic fuckwads running around.
I’ll lay there for a while, but if it’s longer than an hour I get restless and I don’t want to wake the poor kid up.
I have no problem cuddling, just getting antsy and him being woken up to because he feels me shift around or tense up.