sixwordstories | (no subject)

What crazy Mirror Universe do you hail from? Byrne's a genius. Smiths might be able to compete with Byrne's solo stuff or the Heads, but not Morrissey alone. As someone I know would say, "he's a wanker," buddy.

And I'm still going to roll around in your bed signing Talking Heads songs. Without socks on.

I guess we'll just have to agree that I'm right and you're wrong and you live in some delusional world where you think you're right.

That's sick. But just without socks or? . . .

I'm not sure this can work out between us, considering you live in a fantasy world where up is down and black is white. I dare you to find a song by Morrissey or the Smiths that is better music to have sex while listening to than "Electricity (Drugs)" off of "The Name of This Band Is the Talking Heads."

Or...?

Now, that's not very fair. I've never had sex during any Talking Heads or Smiths songs so I can't have a very informed position.

...or are you going to sully my sheets with your nudity.

You disappoint me, Carlton.

It would hardly be sullying your sheets. You're just trying to make me get pissed and roll around naked now.

It's not like it can't be rectified at some point of time.

I would never dream of doing such a thing.

I don't follow you. [This is a lie. She just wants him to say it.]

Fine. Then maybe I will. You can join me... but you can't wear socks.

[Steps closer and throws a manly police strong arm around her waist, pulling her in.]

That's right, you're of a magic mind, not a scientific one. I'm saying, you posed a hypothesis, so now we need to do the experimenting to see what's true.

Now that's not fair, if you get to roll around without socks as you choose, I should be able to keep my socks.

[Leans girly... magician...y hips against his?] Oh, yes, I see. I suppose that could be arranged.

It's totally fair. Socks aren't for rolling around in. At least not for sexy rolling around in.

It should be done as soon as possible. For the sake of science.

Okay, if I take off the socks, then what will you do in turn?

Well, I don't usually care much about science, but I suppose I could just this once.

Not kick your ass out of your own bed?

We'll try one of your Talking Heads songs first.

Come now, you can play more fair than that.

I'd hope so.

Make a suggestion, then.

I'm afraid nothing comes to mind for this moment, but I reserve the right to hold this favor at some other time. [And he's pulling his socks off with his feet as he talks, see, he's a man of his word.]

...okay, fine. I accept your conditions. [She looks pleased. What a freak.]

[And because she seems to like it so, he scooped her up in his arms to carry up the stairs like a complete and total gentleman.]

This doesn't mean David Byrne beats Morrisey, by the way, so don't get all smarmy like you've won.

[She does! Not only is it fun, but it means she can be lazy. And... well, maybe she likes the fact that he can actually do it.]

You only say that because you sort of resemble Morrissey.

[Well, he may call her fat sometimes but she is quite light. And small.

Oh man, that gets a shy little appeased smile out of him.]

...You really think so?

[YEAH WELL... she's totally small! She just has hips and tits, which she hopes is more appealing than skin and bones.]

A little. You're better looking, though. Definitely.

[It doesn't hurt]

And you're better looking than David Byrne.

[Is he teasing or is that an honest compliment. Who cares! because he's kissing you as he carries you for saying nice things about his looks.]

[Good. Because if he calls her fat she's going to punch him. :(]

I'm flattered. [She appreciates it, either way. It's still dorky and she likes that. She makes a pleased little sound, gripping his arm lightly.]

You might look good in a giant suit though. Just a suggestion. [He kissed her again as he approached the bed and, oops, drops her.]

And then you'll complain about it if I choose to wear it in public, won't you? Careful with your--[oof.]--suggestions, bub. [She primps a little, messing with her hair, trying to look like she doesn't care at all. (Spoiler: she does.)]

[He crawls on after her, smirking almost evilly.]

It can be your Halloween costume.

[She raises an eyebrow and attempts to remain nonchalant, but fails terribly, grinning widely as she pulls him down between her legs by the tie and begins to remove it with nimble fingers.]

You're the only guy in the world that would suggest a gal puts on more clothing for Halloween. [And she removes the tie, tossing it somewhere on the floor. Popping a button or two undone, she slides a hand under his shirt and onto his shoulder.]

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THE TIE IN THAT ICON. OH LAWD.