goshdarnspam | (no subject)

Because I'm the adult. [ Loudly. For the benefit of anyone listening in. It's kind of comfy just using her as a human cuddle pillow, so he doesn't bother moving his arm, though he grunts as a flailing elbow jabs him in the ribs. ]

Why would you want that.

[One more good reach- and, ugh. Too much energy. So just goes utterly limp, a sudden sack of April sprawled across him, forehead pressed against his clavicle. ]

Adulting is terrible.

[ He doesn't relax when she stops flailing, not entirely convinced she isn't playing possum. He knows what she'd do for alcohol, okay. ]

Someone's gotta do it. I'm the sacrificial lamb or something. For the good of the many.

The many are terrible and deserve to suffer.

[Damn. He's on to her. She resumes wiggling, but just enough so that she can be on her back, looking up at him, instead of with her face smashed into his neck.]

It wouldn't be a sacrifice if they deserved it.

[ What are they even talking about anymore: He lets her shift as she wants. ENJOY YOUR STUNNING VIEW OF HIS NOSTRILS AND STUBBLY CHIN??? ]

God. Drama. How do you even live with yourself.

[It started as an attempt to hit him lightly to emphasize the point, but given their current position it ends with her just patting his wrist with one hand.]

[ It's not a question, so Bradbury isn't obligated to dignify it with a response! Instead, he just squints down at her, levering himself up enough on the elbow of the arm not holding her in place so he can see more than the top of her head. ]

Getting pretty comfortable there.

You can't not give me vodka and deny me pillow space. That's a hate crime.

[To prove the point, while keeping eye contact, she just kind of curls up around him.]

What minority am I supposed to be committing it against? Alcoholics?

[ He snorts, hand ruffling through her hair absently. ]

It's only a problem if it hurts my work. And I have napping for that.

[Tongue officially being stuck out. Like an adult.]

[ Way to reassure him of your nonexistent maturity, April. ]

Keep that up and it's gonna stick that way.

[And way to remind her of her dad, B. Is she gonna have to make the first move in your seductive dance here.

Which, by the way, currently consists of her sticking out her tongue further.]

[ Let's be real, the world would end before Bradbury makes the first move.

Or would it. Because he's narrowing his eyes at her thoughtfully. ]

[For all that april notices. She pulls her tongue back in, taking a moment to wrinkle her nose at the now dry feeling of the muscle in her mouth.]

Yeah. Totally stuck.

[ The expression passes as soon as it appears, and Bradbury shakes his head. ]

We should get some water.

[ This pronouncement is followed by a valiant attempt to get up, taking April with him. ]

[Holy shit- moving. She clings to him instantly, letting out an impressive eep.]

No. No, no, I don't wanna. You were just getting fun.

[ He rolls his eyes as he suddenly finds himself an impromptu perch. ]

The kitchen isn't that far.

[ And look, he's pushing to his feet anyway, arms wrapping around her as he goes and taking her with him. ]

Is there more beer there? Are you taking us to fruity mix drinks?

[arms officially wrapped around his neck now, her cheek pressed almost fully against his as she peers around.]

The only fruity mix anyone's having is the cranapple.

[ and they're in the kitchen! and he's sliding her butt onto the counter and attempting to detach her arms from his neck. ]

[Nope. Not happening. All her drunken strength is being power into the idea that if she doesn't let go, he'll change his mind and take them back to the drinking couch.]

We were having fun.

[ Temporarily giving up on prying her off in favor of resting his hands against the counter, because oof, he can't do this all night. ]

Fun. [ He says that's word so dubiously. ]

Has Mitch programmed it out of you already?

[If her arms weren't currently occupied clinging to his neck, she'd put one hand on each of his cheeks in distress. As it is she pulls back enough to...kind of look him in the eye. She's still way too close, making the whole effect blurry.]

Fight it. There is more to life than paperwork and binary code.

Mitch isn't a robot. [ He makes the protest automatically by now, feeling like he has to defend his friend's dignity and honor and ... who is he kidding, it's not like April had (much) respect for him in the first place. Alcohol makes the proximity less alarming than it normally would be.

Almost mildly indignant: ]

Besides, Mitch isn't responsible for everything I am.

[Hey, she both loves and fears the boss. He just also happens to be a baby eating robot and people should be aware. But she makes a skeptical noise at that last comment- well. At both comments. It just happens to come after the last one.]

Okay. I guess he doesn't do your hair in the morning.

He doesn't run my life. [ He says that more firmly and insistently than he probably would while sober, leaning in to make his point -- except they're pretty much too close already, so his nose just ends up bumping into hers. ]