A Weetiny Flat in London, Wednesday Evening
Life had been frustrating for Steve yesterday, what with all the jetlag, but now that he was awake and there was a big, firm ocean between him and Jeff's ex-girlfriend, things weren't looking as bad. Actually, as he paced up the stairs with a bag of groceries and a discretely tucked-in mag (that he was going to read strictly for the articles), whistling, life was looking to be almost good.
Steve's experience with life was that when it started to look good, something tended to pop up and ruin it.
He jangled his keys into the lock, shifting the groceries to his other arm. There was a novelty to having your own place, a place to relax, a place where you could scratch your balls and have a wank and watch porn without ever having to worry one of your parents might appear and catch you in the act.
He pushed the door open. He went inside. He set his groceries down and took his mag out and reached for the light--
"Miss May's looking pretty fit, isn't she?"
... That was Jeff. On his sofa. In his underwear. "Jeff!"
"I think it's the roundings," Jeff mused, pulling the bowl of chips towards him, "She has really round... bits."
"Jeff," Steve said, slowly, "Why are your bits on my sofa?"
Beat.
"I probably could've phrased that better."
"I'm your new roommate," Jeff told him, "I took the liberty of adding to your porn stash. I left my rent on the table." He popped a chip into his mouth and reached for the Nintendo. "Nice lesbian vintage," he added.
"Jeff," said Steve, who had developed a slow, slow tone of voice for just these kind of occasions over the years that he'd known Jeff, "You can't just-- move into another man's flat! It's against the rules! Important, personal space rules. I rest my bits on that sofa!"
"You still need to rephrase that," Jeff told him. "Come on, I've almost reached the next level! They say there's an unlockable where Daisy takes her--"
"Yes, thank you, Jeff," Steve interrupted, and rubbed his brow. "You do realise that we don't live in an American sitcom?"
"As for the porn stash, I brought Inferno." Jeff snickered. "Part fifteen!"
"..."
Steve sat down.
[ and Jeff's in new lands. ooc-okay, la! ]
Steve's experience with life was that when it started to look good, something tended to pop up and ruin it.
He jangled his keys into the lock, shifting the groceries to his other arm. There was a novelty to having your own place, a place to relax, a place where you could scratch your balls and have a wank and watch porn without ever having to worry one of your parents might appear and catch you in the act.
He pushed the door open. He went inside. He set his groceries down and took his mag out and reached for the light--
"Miss May's looking pretty fit, isn't she?"
... That was Jeff. On his sofa. In his underwear. "Jeff!"
"I think it's the roundings," Jeff mused, pulling the bowl of chips towards him, "She has really round... bits."
"Jeff," Steve said, slowly, "Why are your bits on my sofa?"
Beat.
"I probably could've phrased that better."
"I'm your new roommate," Jeff told him, "I took the liberty of adding to your porn stash. I left my rent on the table." He popped a chip into his mouth and reached for the Nintendo. "Nice lesbian vintage," he added.
"Jeff," said Steve, who had developed a slow, slow tone of voice for just these kind of occasions over the years that he'd known Jeff, "You can't just-- move into another man's flat! It's against the rules! Important, personal space rules. I rest my bits on that sofa!"
"You still need to rephrase that," Jeff told him. "Come on, I've almost reached the next level! They say there's an unlockable where Daisy takes her--"
"Yes, thank you, Jeff," Steve interrupted, and rubbed his brow. "You do realise that we don't live in an American sitcom?"
"As for the porn stash, I brought Inferno." Jeff snickered. "Part fifteen!"
"..."
Steve sat down.
[ and Jeff's in new lands. ooc-okay, la! ]