[MM] Feb 2.3.1: You're killing me here!
ooc: set after this. Lowell is low_as_youcango and mine to use and abuse.
“Dude--you’re killing me here!! You walked away?!”
Joseph glowered at the form of his roommate and crumpled the empty silver beer can in one hand, tossing it one-handed with surprising accuracy towards the trash can across the room. They were both still wearing their grease-stained jumpsuits, as Joe had gone straight from work to Hank‘s and Low had been working some voluntary overtime when he‘d gotten the 911 text from a buddy in need. “What the hell was I supposed to do? I was pissed. If I’d just kept standing there I’d have yelled and said things I didn’t mean and made her feel worse than she already does.”
Lowell stared at him as though he’d just said something in Chinese. No, not just Chinese--backwards Chinese. “What the hell were you supposed to do?! Your girlfriend just told you was into chicks, man, you say ‘Oh fuck yeah, call the bitch up and let’s see where this goes’!”
Joe wished he still had the beer can in hand so he could lob it at Lowell’s stupid head. Why he‘d ever thought this would make him feel better was beyond him at the moment. “Number one, Harper’s not a bitch.”
“She was five minutes ago when she was fucking around with your girlfriend.”
Since he couldn’t deny it and the reminder of his tirade made him flush guiltily, Joe chose to ignore the comment altogether. “Number two, I’m not a pervert.”
“Which worries me.”
“Number three, I don’t like the idea of sharing my girlfriend.”
“Aw, son, I really, really worry about you.” Shaking his head, Lowell dug a beaten silver flask out of his jumpsuit and took a long pull from it as he studied Joe pitiably. “It’s not sharing your girlfriend, it‘s getting a freebie. You have the chance to take a tumble with a hot piece of tail with full permission from the doe-eyed love of your life, or whatever. She can‘t bitch because she‘s already been there--and dude, she‘ll be into it. You get to bang your girlfriend while she bangs her girlfriend, it‘ll be awesome.”
“You don’t know that!! God, I swear, the only brain you ever use is the one in your dick, which, coincidentally, is not a brain.”
“Ah, but that’s where the blood supply spends most of its time, my young apprentice.” Lowell smirked and spread his hands. “Come ooooon, just admit it, you thought about it.”
Joseph made a face, his cheeks already flushed from the alcohol turning a deeper shade of pink. “Maybe for a second, but it’s not worth the risk of fucking things up even more.”
“Oh, it is so worth the risk!” Lowell rolled his eyes when Joe shot him a glare. “Look, man--twu wuv should be able to withstand a little sexual experimentation. You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it has to be.”
“I am not,” Joe protested, flopping back on the threadbare carpeted floor. “Harper’s Hank’s best friend. Hell, I thought she was my friend. It’s complicated and messy and…I have to get the fuck over being pissed and not be a dickhead about it.”
“Sex’d help you get over being pissed.” Lowell held up his hands when Joe glared at him again. “I’m just saying, it‘d help me.”
“Sex is your solution to everything.”
“Because it works.” Lowell tossed Joe his flask before he settled back in the armchair. “And if you’re not seeing that yet, clearly you’re not drunk enough.”
Joe sat up and frowned down at the silver container, wondering if maybe for once in his life, Lowell had a point. Maybe it did sort of make sense. If it was what Hank wanted…
…Christ, if Lowell was making sense, he was obviously drunker than he realized. He tossed the flask back to his roommate, and got up from the floor to get another of the skunky, cheap beer that Lowell, for some insane reason, seemed to like so damned much.