fightingcargos | Reverse Jake:

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[You never thought you would be the kind of fella who would stand idly by while someone beat the crap out of your heart's darling. Turns out, you're not! You're the kind of fella who beats the crap out of said darling himself.]

[You leap into Dirk's personal space, guns ablaze, and attempt to make up for his superior speed with your superior firepower.]

Take THAT you studmuffin!!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

fightingcargos

...
I cant breathe.

From:

sickheartbeats

Oh.

[You're unsure how literally to take this. Ok, so he's overwhelmed. But he's not actually unable to breathe, is he?]

From:

fightingcargos

No seriously
I cnnh...

[You get tunnel vision. You only have it together enough to fall foward, into him, instead of onto the floor to crack your head open.]

Jake: > Faint.

From:

sickheartbeats

Wait.
No, seriously, come on, please--

[You have killed your boyfriend. He has been threatening to die, but you never thought it would actually happen.

You are way too fucking tired and pudding-y to deal with this, but you cradle and prop him against you anyway. Seriously deadweight. What now?]

Jake, please.

From:

fightingcargos

[You wish you could reassure him, but you cannot. YOU HAVE SWOONED INTO HIS ARMS.]

[You are SUCH A LOSER.]

Edited Date: 2013-01-18 11:14 pm (UTC)

From:

sickheartbeats

[You bring yourself to adopt the viewpoint that this will be hilarious to look back on when you're not exhausted and wet and you hair is an unconditioned mess. There's no helping it now, though. You need to get him out, preferably somewhere the humidity levels in the air aren't fucking nuts.

You go for bridal style because he deserves it. Your legs wobble briefly. He's shorter, but heavier than you, and this wouldn't even pose a problem if the hormonal rush weren't working on putting you to sleep.

You manage to make it to the bed, dripping all over the floor across the hall, and make sure he isn't choking on his own tongue.

ROMANCE.]

From:

fightingcargos

Jake: > Stir in his arms.

[Whose arms? What are you talking about?]

From:

sickheartbeats

[You flop onto the mattress next to him, because seriously, your legs are toast. He's moving, which is a good sign, but you feel for his pulse anyway, and upon deeming it fairly normal, you hold his hand.]

From:

fightingcargos

[You blink an eye open. You take in your surroundings.]

...
I didnt.

From:

sickheartbeats

You totally did.
Sorry I had to ruin your bodice, I snapped the laces to get you to breathe again.
On the upside, the Golden Globe is pretty much yours.

From:

fightingcargos

Oh my god.

From:

sickheartbeats

Yeah.

From:

fightingcargos

...What the fuck do you say in this sort of situation?
Sorry for fainting on you.
Uh.

[You struggle to unglue your tongue to the roof of your mouth. You feel dehydrated, languid, and sore. In a phrase, WELL FUCKED.]

That wasnt very cool of me.

Edited Date: 2013-01-18 11:35 pm (UTC)

From:

sickheartbeats

It's alright, I figured you'd be back.
I was going to get you a glass of water, but I didn't want to leave you unsupervised.
Also, I can't feel my legs.
Sorry about that.

From:

fightingcargos

Im in love with you.

From:

sickheartbeats

And I'm pretty damn smitten.
This is a good thing, I think.

From:

fightingcargos

Yeah. It is.
Now leave me to die from embarrassment.

From:

sickheartbeats

Fuck that.
Cuddling. Now.

From:

fightingcargos

[You groan, rolling onto your side.]

[You are still smiling, though, and--wouldn't you know?--your arms are open and inviting.]

From:

sickheartbeats

[You make a show of wriggling across the mattress and curling into his arms, and after a second of consideration, drape an arm and leg over him too. Bam. Jake English ain't goin' nowhere.