goshdarnspam | (no subject)

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IT'S FACE-SUCKING SATURDAY

post as your characters.
anons reply with character names.
ur character + that character = facesucking.
underagedchans can hug or hold hands etc.

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[ derp she's just gonna sit on the edge of the mattress or something. ]

Look, hon, about the other day -- I didn't mean t'say all that.

[ he's peering up from whatever blueprint he's scribbling on in bed, with a mildly unidentifiable look. ]

T'salright. Ain't like. Wasn't your fault that y'caught that thing.

[ and then he's looking down again to write more, aloof. ]

[ a pause. then she moves to sit closer, idly tucking her legs under the blankets. in her confrontational way: ]

Are y'upset with me? [ she tilts her head, watching him work. ] Or s'there some other reason y'been even more distant than usual lately?

[ no, madison doesn't look up; but his lips press in a thin, all-too transparent line. he leans away. only a few centimeters, but he does. ]

Why'd I be upset with you? [ quietly: ] Ain't like y'did anythin'.

[ it hurts her a little. it always does. but that, in turn, just irritates her, and it's almost petulant when she leans over and snaps her fingers at him, demanding his attention. ]

Hey. Look at me. I'm askin' y'what's wrong.

[ the snapping is enough to get him to turn around and actually look at her, but he gives that heaving sigh of a person begrudgingly pulled from their work into an irreparable mess. firmly: ]

There ain't nothin' wrong, Lillian. Don't worry about it.

[ quietly, accusingly: ]

Liar.

[ he puts his pen down―nearly slams it, but just barely restrains himself. and sits up, shaking his head at her in disbelief. ]

Whaddya want from me?

What do I want from you, Maddie?

[ she makes a frustrated gesture with her hands. ]

I'm your wife. Whaddya think I want from you? I'd settle for y'to pay attention t'me once in a while -- y'could at least pretend like you're still attracted t'me at all.

Lil.

[ he's more shocked at the accusation being spoken aloud than anything else. his eyes widen, his shoulders retreat a little back. ]

Just 'cuz I don't... 'cuz I don't got the time or the energy t'fawn over you every day and night don't mean I'm unattracted t'you. Can't believe you're even sayin' this.

I ain't askin' t'be fawned over twenty-four hours a day. [ her fierce stare is as accusing as her tone. ] D'you even remember the last time y'kissed me? Or held my hand?

[ it really feels as if he's on the losing side of this argument; he looks rather uncomfortable as a result. ]

I just don't see how it's that big a' a deal. Y'know I love you.

How can y'say that t'me when y'don't even wanna touch me, Maddie?

[ he's only looking more and more defensive, jaw setting firm. ]

I know I don't need any gestures a' affection o-or favors or constant lovemakin' t'know y'still feel somethin' for me.

[ maybe a little accusingly himself: ]

Why do you?

[ she doesn't know the answer. but the question, the accusing tone of it, makes her suddenly feel as though she's being too needy -- and that only makes her more irritated, makes her ask aggressively, without really thinking about it: ]

Are y'like this with Danger too?

[ it always arrives to him just feeling hurt. that's how he always feels, eventually. hurt. ]

The hell's Danger got t'do with you bein' like this?

I just wanna know if y'treat her like y'treat me.

[ maybe just to be mean, because it's lil, and she's cruel when she's unhappy: ]

I'm tryin' t'figure out if it's somethin' wrong with me or if it's somethin' wrong with you.

[ stiffly: ]

I don't treat her like my wife, if that's what you're wonderin'.

[ but he falls into a hush after that, fearful, maybe, of stating the obvious again.

truth hurts. ]

[ she exhales, and it comes out like a scoff. she pushes her fingers through her hair, letting her head hand a moment when she responds, resentfully: ]

Y'don't treat her like your wife. [ there's bite in her voice when she goes on: ] S'pose that's why she still loves you.

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