[ She rests her hand atop the one he’s placed at her waist, fingers curling gently around his. Is it late? She supposes it might be—Her perception of time is a little out of whack these days. ]
Which good side?
[ Don’t worry, she’s joking—For once, it even sounds like she’s joking. ]
[ Humming, he places a playful peck at the back of her neck before pressing closer for warmth. Winter’s slowly starting to become his favorite season. ]
Whichever one looks best at the time.
[ Voice smooth and nonchalant, a chuckle is suppressed after the response. ]
[ She pauses, if only for a moment, to lean down and kiss him—Properly kiss him, hand moving to rest pressed against his cheek. And then she pulls back, rolling off of him and almost falling off the bed. She doesn’t, though, manages to leave an inch of the mattress behind her. ]
Not a chance. I’ll keep the camera handy.
[ He basks in the affection, lips curling into a grin all the while. When she rolls away, her figure is almost immediately snatched back to his side, and he spoons her much like he did just a little while earlier. Face in her shoulder as drowsiness takes hold, he snorts. ]
—Try and get my good side.
Midnight in Paris (2011)
[ A sly grin, as she makes herself comfortable, taking his pout away with a quick kiss. Blonde locks spill forth, and she pulls her hair to one side, out of the way. ]
You’re gonna cry anyway.
[ Despite his outburst, he has no real response, so a simple huff is all that’s offered while digits reach up to twirl in the golden tresses gathered together, dangling in front of him. ]
—You could at least pretend I won’t.
"That’s…a start?" She offers, and it’s the best she can do to sound optimistic. (There aren’t many ways to put a positive spin on ‘you’re screwed’, after all.) “You’re good at science. I’m sure you’ll be able to pull something together in time for class.” The martian ruffles his hair a bit. “And try starting your papers earlier next time, goofball.”
"—Right." Even he can read into her words. Sighing, he stands, popping nearly every bone as he stretches out along the way. "Hey, I always do my papers at least the day before it becomes last minute! Then I have a day to relax and go over it if I want before turning it in! I’ll probably get a whole letter grade lower ‘cause of grammar alone!" That’s only if spell-check doesn’t do it’s full job correctly— which it never does. "Better finish this thing before it gets any later…"
[ She manages to press a quick kiss to his cheek before he’s moved away, then she rolls onto her side to look at him. ]
Don’t forget, they’ve gotta kill him off first. Merry Christmas from the BBC.
[ Always the optimist. ]
Thanks for the reminder!
[ Huffing, an arm slides under her figure and not a second later is she tugged to rest atop him. Instantly, his body relaxes under the archer’s weight as his lower lip juts out. ]
I swear, if they make eleven’s ending sadder than ten’s, I might cry.
No way. I just have a fantastic memory.
[ She’s been zoned out all season—The most recent episode actually managed to pique her interest. She doesn’t bother trying to force him off, only pulls her hands free and prods him gently in the chest. ]
[ He snorts and takes her hand to bring the poking finger to his mouth to nip playfully before pecking her lips and rolling onto his back once more. ]
Seriously though, it was pretty great. I can’t wait for next season.
[ Apparently feigning disinterest is difficult when she has to correct every tiny mistake he makes. ]
I mean, it was okay.
Aha! So you were paying attention!
[ Smugly, he pounces on his victim, pinned her down and grinning with delight. ]
Give it up, babe, you loved it.
"Because I’m sure he lives to do homework for lazy college students,” M’gann jokes, even though she’s hardly one to talk. “Tomorrow morning? I’m scared to ask how much of the paper you have done already.” If anything, she notes silently, but decides to give him a little credit.
In a childish voice, “he’d do it for me…” Cringing, the ginger all but flops against his friend, groan muffled against her. “I have the title.” That’s it. For a ten page paper, all that’s typed out on his laptop is the title. “—Oh, and my name and the date too. Although I might change it to an earlier date so it’s not totally obvious that I did it last minute.”
It wasn’t that great.
[ It was pretty great. ]
[ An all too exaggerated gasp. ]
All eleven doctors at once and you say it wasn’t that great?! …I don’t even know you anymore.