(Untitled)

[giftedthom]

*Thom could probably use a drink, but instead he's decided to spend the evening all strung out on pure nerves.*

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[abtruse_wiggin]

"So what bee got into your bonnet?"

Peter may not be particularly helpful with calming nerves. Sadly, he will make no apologies in advance for this.

[giftedthom]

Shove off, Wiggin.

[abtruse_wiggin]

"But I don't want to."

Peter's tone is oh so pitiful. Won't you pity him enough to let him stay?

[giftedthom]

You think I care what you want?

*He turns and scowls at Peter. Straight-on.

Thom looks restless.*

[abtruse_wiggin]

"So... a hug between friends and I get disowned after the fact?"

Peter raises an eyebrow at him.

[giftedthom]

Never happened.

[abtruse_wiggin]

"Suuure."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"I sense the stages of anger, and denial. What's next?"

[giftedthom]

Might belt you one, if you were close enough.

[abtruse_wiggin]

"You could try."

-- and probably succeed, because physical fighting isn't exactly a politician's strongpoint. But that was beside the point.

[giftedthom]

*Yeah, because Thom's real tough.*

Maybe.

Guess I don't have a reason.

[abtruse_wiggin]

"I could give you a reason."

Maybe two or three.

[giftedthom]

*Thom slides smoothly out of his seat, face calm.*

Dare you.

[abtruse_wiggin]

There's only one thing to do for this, really. The one action that Peter feels is guarenteed to bait Thom into punching him.

He kisses him.

[giftedthom]

*A long moment later, pale, shaking, violet eyes wide, Thom steps away.

Hauls back and socks Peter in the jaw.*

[abtruse_wiggin]

If you guessed that Peter would let himself get hit and not hit back? You'd have guessed wrong. After the punch connects, he aims one of his own for Thom's stomach.

"What's the matter, did I do it wrong?"

[giftedthom]

Bastard.

*He doubles over . . .

And tackles Peter down.*