Fic: Each One Better Than Before
Title: Each One Better Than Before
Chapter: 1/3
Characters/Pairings: Critic/Ask That Guy for this chapter.
Word Count: 649
Prompt: A day in the life of the Critic, from the time he wakes up to the time he blacks out. (Why am I so mean to him?)
Disclaimer: Only Morgan belongs to me. I really wish he didn't but there you go.
*BANG BANG BANG*
Critic curled up closer to Ask That Guy and clenched his eyes shut against the noise. Maybe if they pretended to not be there, he'd go away and would never bother them again.
*BANG BANG BANG* "I know you're in there, boys! Your rent is way overdue!"
Okay, it was time to face the shithead. He tried shaking his brother awake, no way in hell was he going to try and convince their landlord of not kicking them out onto the street. But Ask That Guy wouldn't budge.
"I know you're not dead, I can hear you breathing."
Still silence.
"If I give you a blowjob everyday for a mon- week, will you face him with me?"
And still no response. If promises of cocksucking didn't tempt him this was clearly a lost cause. He swung his legs over, the creak from the bed matching his groan at touching the floor. There was no heat in this godforsaken place.
As the door opened, he put on his very best smile. "Hi there! What can I do for you?"
Morgan had that look of complete and utter disdain that he always did. "You've skipped out on at least three rent payments. What do you think?"
He'd had sex with fatter, balder guys before. If there was ever a chance that it would make him lay off them for a while, he would gladly swallow his pride and... swallow something else.
But he'd probably get shot before he tried anything like that, so he went for the nearly-always-successful bimbo look; girly pouting and those big eyes that JewWario said made him look like a moeblob. "Whatever you want me to, sir."
Was that a flash of disgust mixed with panic in those beady little eyes? At least he could cherish that if things went wrong. "I don't give a shit about your fruitiness, either pay up or start packing."
He dropped the act and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We have three hundred dollars that's not saved for food, can't I give you that now and like, work off the rest?”
Now that was definitely panic. “I've heard rumors about what you do, you'll probably try and rape me. Just gimme the cash.”
He bit his lip in a valiant attempt to keep from laughing and got the money, rushing into the tiny bedroom in a fit of giggles when Morgan had stalked off. That, and to slap the finally waking Ask That Guy.
“Did you put out?” the man asked, one eye cracked open.
He got into bed with him again, pulling the covers over their heads and savoring feeling warm. “I tried. I think he wants brain bleach now.”
Ask That Guy gave him an assumedly-affectionate pat. “Doesn't know what he's missing.”
Might as well get it out. “I caved and gave him the money.”
The covers were thrown off again and he winced at the freezing air. “How much?” His brother's voice was calm, but he knew the storm was coming.
"The three hundred.”
He was pinned down to the bed, his snarling double right in his face. “That was mostly mine! I worked hard for that you stupid little-”
It was way too early for this shit. “You actually going to tell me how you got cash this time? If not, that makes you a goddamned hypocrite.”
Ask That Guy's knee was now in his stomach and it was making it rumble all the more. The last thing he had swallowed was... um... “You know I can't fucking tell you.” It was probably just an illusion, but he could have sworn that he looked scared for a second.
With all the strength he had, he pushed his twin off. “So don't fucking yell at me.”
The cold silence matched the cold room.