8 - upwards to infinity

[lolitics_meme]

Welcome to our eighth prompt post.

As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:

1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real

Comments

Fill - 3/?

[anonymous]

Stepping back, Petra laughed. “Of course not. You’ve made it all too clear how you feel about my cooking...” She crossed to the stove, slipped on a pair of oven gloves, and took two full baking trays out of the oven. “Chinese okay?”

Georgie’s fingertips seemed to tingle with the loss of contact. “Fine. You know, at your age you probably should know how to cook.”

“And at yours, you should still be living on beans on toast and takeaways,” Petra shot back, now splitting the food on to plates. “Wine’s in the fridge, if you want to feel grown-up.”

Within seconds, Georgie had located the bottle, and with the fridge door open she stopped and looked over at her, eyebrows arched. “‘Wine’?”

“Okay, champagne,” Petra grouched, shedding her oven gloves. “Some of us thought an effort might be appropriate.”

“I apologised, didn’t I?” Georgie’s fingernails made short work of the foil on the top of the bottle, and she twisted open the little metal cage over the cork just as Petra put two flutes down within her reach.

“I could be difficult about this, you know.”

“Though of course it’s not in your nature to do so.” The cork popped out and smacked into the ceiling, and the liquid nearly spilled over, but Georgie caught it with a glass just in time.

“I’d be quite within my rights to expect some... compensation, I think.”

Georgie handed her a filled glass, and picked up her own. “What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing you’ll object to, I’m sure. At least, not after a little persuasion.” Petra held out her glass. “A toast. To a whole month of my putting up with your little hissy fits.”

“To a month of me ignoring your catty comments.”

Petra’s face was a picture of astonishment, not that Georgie credited it for a second. “Ignoring?” She looked demurely down at her champagne glass for a moment. “Is that what you’d call your responses?”

At that, Georgie had the good grace to blush. So maybe the occasional slap, nibble or poke didn’t count as ‘ignoring’ things that had been said. With a blithe smile, she held out her glass. “...To just a month, then.”

Truce called, they clinked glasses, and sat down to eat.