Drabble: Random Guy and Frances banter
Yeah, there was a reason why I said that in the previous entry about the drabble requests. This will probably be part of chapter 3 part 1, but I couldn't resist posting it here right now. :P
Characters: Frances and Guy Wrightley, Bunker Terrano-Grunt
Word Count: 396
Pictures? No.
Bunker blushed, smiling back nervously.
After Julia left, he shifted his gaze toward Guy who gave him a big smirk. "Boy do I know how you must be feeling."
Frances raised an eyebrow. "Oh do you now? Was the big frat boy on campus trying to pry all the women off him before reuniting with little ol' me?"
Guy wrapped his arms around his husband's waist. "Something like that."
Frances nibbled his ear. "I'm not surprised."
Bunker cleared his throat in an attempt to draw attention to himself. Frances was a bit startled from the sound, which made Guy laugh.
"Oh sorry Bunker, you know us newlyweds. Always getting into a mushy little tangent from time to time. Isn't that right, Frankie?"
"Well you know, technically we aren't 'newlyweds'. How long have we been together? Twenty years? Goddess, it's been so long that I've lost count."
"I'm afraid we're not quite there yet."
"But when we are, wouldn't that make for a fabulous party?"
"Sure it will. But speaking of parties, I'll be a bit late arriving to Lydia's tomorrow. You're coming, right Bunker?"
Bunker put his head down, focusing on the patterns of the wooden floor instead of looking up.
"I guess that's a no?" Said Frances.
"Frankie, don't rub it in. I can only imagine the anxiety he must be facing. You know how it is."
"How what is? Oh- that. Yes yes, the 'aristocratic social drag'. Yes, I've been through many of those myself." He joined Bunker on the couch, "It's quite interesting that your grandfather is holding one now, isn't it? From what I heard from your father way back when, he doesn't seem to be one to throw such a thing."
Feeling a lump where he was sitting, Frances stuck his hand down in between the cushions, pulling out a book. He sighed, and then glared at his husband.
"What did I tell you about not putting your things away?"
"You can't be serious."
"I am. That's it- you're sleeping on the couch tonight."
"Knowing you, you'd probably end up joining me there."
Frances stood up in a huff and stomped up the stairs.
"You'll be back for me!" Guy called after him, "You have no choice since I clogged the toilet up there. Better clean it up if you don't want to come down!"
Characters: Frances and Guy Wrightley, Bunker Terrano-Grunt
Word Count: 396
Pictures? No.
Bunker blushed, smiling back nervously.
After Julia left, he shifted his gaze toward Guy who gave him a big smirk. "Boy do I know how you must be feeling."
Frances raised an eyebrow. "Oh do you now? Was the big frat boy on campus trying to pry all the women off him before reuniting with little ol' me?"
Guy wrapped his arms around his husband's waist. "Something like that."
Frances nibbled his ear. "I'm not surprised."
Bunker cleared his throat in an attempt to draw attention to himself. Frances was a bit startled from the sound, which made Guy laugh.
"Oh sorry Bunker, you know us newlyweds. Always getting into a mushy little tangent from time to time. Isn't that right, Frankie?"
"Well you know, technically we aren't 'newlyweds'. How long have we been together? Twenty years? Goddess, it's been so long that I've lost count."
"I'm afraid we're not quite there yet."
"But when we are, wouldn't that make for a fabulous party?"
"Sure it will. But speaking of parties, I'll be a bit late arriving to Lydia's tomorrow. You're coming, right Bunker?"
Bunker put his head down, focusing on the patterns of the wooden floor instead of looking up.
"I guess that's a no?" Said Frances.
"Frankie, don't rub it in. I can only imagine the anxiety he must be facing. You know how it is."
"How what is? Oh- that. Yes yes, the 'aristocratic social drag'. Yes, I've been through many of those myself." He joined Bunker on the couch, "It's quite interesting that your grandfather is holding one now, isn't it? From what I heard from your father way back when, he doesn't seem to be one to throw such a thing."
Feeling a lump where he was sitting, Frances stuck his hand down in between the cushions, pulling out a book. He sighed, and then glared at his husband.
"What did I tell you about not putting your things away?"
"You can't be serious."
"I am. That's it- you're sleeping on the couch tonight."
"Knowing you, you'd probably end up joining me there."
Frances stood up in a huff and stomped up the stairs.
"You'll be back for me!" Guy called after him, "You have no choice since I clogged the toilet up there. Better clean it up if you don't want to come down!"