Post by Griff on May 26, 2013 4:20:00 GMT 10
Title: Liberal Print
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 572
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: (Modern AU, Country Boy!Cooper Pt4) Roger has issues with the yearly Christmas party
-
It was half past nine in the evening and Roger had managed absolutely nothing constructive since he walked through the door at seven. It wasn’t his fault. How was he expected to function when a blatant display of disrespect lay glittery and open his desk.
“Alright, Darlin’,” George sighed from the doorway, leaning in the frame while he toweled off his wet heads from the dishes. “You gonna tell me why you hate your office Christmas invitation so much, or am I gonna have to guess. ‘Cause, as far as I can tell, that is exactly the right amount of glitter and the print was very cultured without being nauseating liberal. I can’t believe I tell what print you considered ‘liberal’ any way, considering it’s all pretty letters that don’t say nothing until you tell it to.”
Roger scowled, “Careful. You’re leaking hick all over my rug. If you drawl any harder, you might break something.”
“Ouch,” George huffed with a crooked grin. “Someone’s got his panties good and twisted, tonight. Wanna keep insultin’ me or you gonna do the smart thing and start talking before I decide your prickly self ain’t worth the trouble and lock you out of the bedroom.”
“I have the print lock,” Roger pointed out snidely.
George promptly countered, “And I’m the one who can move your Edwardian closet without breaking my back.”
“Bureau.”
“Big-assed wood thing you can’t climb, one way or another.”
He slouched further into his chair, denying his behavior as anything other than strictly adult. “I hardly find it necessary to involve you in my business affairs.”
“If this were about work,” George laughed. “You’d be a manic mess of evil glee as you devoured the futures of every plaintiff in your way. This ain’t work and I’m not stupid.” He crooked an eyebrow. “I am gettin’ bored, though.”
Roger didn’t resist when his boyfriend kicked his chair just light enough to make it turn so George could fit on the desk next to him. He looked up, jaw set in petulant misery - dignified misery! Very Bronte misery! - and promptly crumbled under that stupid cowboy smile.
“Roald invites me to the Christmas party every year. It’s a blatant insult. I should set fire to it in his office, except I like that furniture and, if I have my way, it’ll be mine exactly how it always should have been.”
“Your uncle.”
“Yes,” Roger snapped. “Of course he’s my uncle. I only have one branch of my family still breathing. It would be far more concerning if my Christmas invitation came from the grave.”
“Christmas Carol,” George shrugged. “You’d make a decent Scrooge.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I am, but that doesn’t explain why you take an office-wide invitation as an insult to your mother.”
Roger pouted. He admitted it, this time. It was a full blown pout, but damn it, George was supposed to entertain his moods, not demand logic and reasoning for Roger’s sore feelings. A trophy would have been so much more convenient. “It just is.”
“Uhuh.” George nodded. “Well, are you going to just be miserable all night, or do you want to come sit on the sofa and mock the evening news, so we can go to sleep and you can make a ridiculous amount of money in the morning.”
Roger sighed. “Make a ridiculous amount of money.”
George smile and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s what I thought.”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 572
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: (Modern AU, Country Boy!Cooper Pt4) Roger has issues with the yearly Christmas party
-
It was half past nine in the evening and Roger had managed absolutely nothing constructive since he walked through the door at seven. It wasn’t his fault. How was he expected to function when a blatant display of disrespect lay glittery and open his desk.
“Alright, Darlin’,” George sighed from the doorway, leaning in the frame while he toweled off his wet heads from the dishes. “You gonna tell me why you hate your office Christmas invitation so much, or am I gonna have to guess. ‘Cause, as far as I can tell, that is exactly the right amount of glitter and the print was very cultured without being nauseating liberal. I can’t believe I tell what print you considered ‘liberal’ any way, considering it’s all pretty letters that don’t say nothing until you tell it to.”
Roger scowled, “Careful. You’re leaking hick all over my rug. If you drawl any harder, you might break something.”
“Ouch,” George huffed with a crooked grin. “Someone’s got his panties good and twisted, tonight. Wanna keep insultin’ me or you gonna do the smart thing and start talking before I decide your prickly self ain’t worth the trouble and lock you out of the bedroom.”
“I have the print lock,” Roger pointed out snidely.
George promptly countered, “And I’m the one who can move your Edwardian closet without breaking my back.”
“Bureau.”
“Big-assed wood thing you can’t climb, one way or another.”
He slouched further into his chair, denying his behavior as anything other than strictly adult. “I hardly find it necessary to involve you in my business affairs.”
“If this were about work,” George laughed. “You’d be a manic mess of evil glee as you devoured the futures of every plaintiff in your way. This ain’t work and I’m not stupid.” He crooked an eyebrow. “I am gettin’ bored, though.”
Roger didn’t resist when his boyfriend kicked his chair just light enough to make it turn so George could fit on the desk next to him. He looked up, jaw set in petulant misery - dignified misery! Very Bronte misery! - and promptly crumbled under that stupid cowboy smile.
“Roald invites me to the Christmas party every year. It’s a blatant insult. I should set fire to it in his office, except I like that furniture and, if I have my way, it’ll be mine exactly how it always should have been.”
“Your uncle.”
“Yes,” Roger snapped. “Of course he’s my uncle. I only have one branch of my family still breathing. It would be far more concerning if my Christmas invitation came from the grave.”
“Christmas Carol,” George shrugged. “You’d make a decent Scrooge.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I am, but that doesn’t explain why you take an office-wide invitation as an insult to your mother.”
Roger pouted. He admitted it, this time. It was a full blown pout, but damn it, George was supposed to entertain his moods, not demand logic and reasoning for Roger’s sore feelings. A trophy would have been so much more convenient. “It just is.”
“Uhuh.” George nodded. “Well, are you going to just be miserable all night, or do you want to come sit on the sofa and mock the evening news, so we can go to sleep and you can make a ridiculous amount of money in the morning.”
Roger sighed. “Make a ridiculous amount of money.”
George smile and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s what I thought.”