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If I started listing all the things the evil grandma does to drive me up the wall I'd probably come across as petty and childish and paranoid. Because they are just little things. Little jellyfishy things. Or little dumb things. Or little frustrating things. But they all accumulate into one giant ball of--
Suffice it to say that the quantity of time ( Read more... )
Steve's standing on the other side, rain splattering down just behind him. There's raindrops in his eyelashes. Danny's life is ridiculous.
"Oh, what fresh hell are you," Danny sighs, leaning against the doorframe. He honest-to-Jesus doesn't have energy for anything else. Nana and Gracie are in the middle of a going-on-five-hour-long game of Monopoly, and he's rapidly losing the will to live.
Steve's got his mouth open like he's about to say something, then he frowns and says instead, "You look like you got run over by a truck."
"I look that good, huh?" Danny says.
"What happened? You look like crap and all your stuff is--" Steve leans over Danny's shoulder, peering into the living room. "Organized. Did you get a visit from the menehune since you moved in?"
"I don't know what that means," Danny says. Part of him should object to the way Steve's basically pushed past him to examine the new place, but that part's outvoted by the huge part that's too tired to put of a fight and the small (very small) part that thinks Steve smells nice.
"They're kind of like brownies. Do nice things for people. Like clean up their--"
Steve gets interrupted by a shrieking, victorious noise coming from Gracie's room. "Park Place! Fiiiiiive hundred bucks, Na-nana!"
"This game is teaching you all the wrong things," Nana grumbles, and Danny rubs his face as he tries to come to grips with the fact that his mother and his daughter and the walking, talking human disaster that is his partner are now all under the same roof.
I WILL WRITE YOU MORE I PROMISE I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW I WAS WRITING SOMEHING.
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