Chore Day
"You missed a spot!" Jez called to Morgead from her position on the ground. She was rather enjoying her chore today: painting the shed outside of Thierry's estate. She had given her beloved soulmate the task of actually painting while she "supervised" from the grass below.
Morgead stood up on a ladder several feet from the weeds where his Jez was comfortably placed. How did he get stuck doing this, you ask? He was lured in with promises of blood, money, ad sex. Jez could be quite persuasive when she needed to be. She was… enticing.
But he was having trouble getting excited when Jez continued to shout at him, and his ladder was frighteningly unsteady. Not to mention he was juggling a can of paint.
He got in one more brushstroke before his nimble footwork failed him and he was soaring backwards.
His weight rivaled the gutter as he tried to hold on. His efforts were of no use, for soon enough the black paint fell on his head, and he hit the ground with a loud whack. All he could think was, my hair.
Despite his panic, he could still hear a small snort behind him. He slowly and ruefully turned around to face his sniffling soulmate. Then she exploded.
She laughed so hard that she cried. She fell to her knees, clutching at her sides as tears fell past her cheekbones. She gasped tightly for air, before finally using her words.
"You… paint…fell…idiot…ha!"
He shot her a death glare, which only made her laugh harder.
"You know what?" He said calmly, "I guess it is pretty funny. You have a great sense of humor, Jez; did I ever tell you that? It's one of the many reasons I love you. God, I love you so much. Can I… can I hug you, dearest?"
That stopped her laughing. She shot up, eyes widened impossibly.
"1, 2…"
She ran faster than the wind blew strong and fierce. Her fiery locks danced behind her. Her legs were whips, snapping, using all of the speed and strength they could muster up.
But he still caught her.
He grabbed her – not roughly – and hugged her to him. He swung her back and forth, kissing her anywhere he could. When he eventually let her go, she was fuming, steam practically coming out of her ears.
He gave her the littlest, meekest smile he could summon up, and her eyes softened as bit. Then she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists so her knuckles turned red and white.
"Get back to work."
(A/N) So, this is inspired by America's funniest home video, when a guy had a can of paint smashed over his head. That show always makes me laugh. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while for my other stories, but I've been held up, with school coming to an end and all. I'll try to get them done soon. See the review button? He says he doesn't want to be pressed. See? Reverse psychology. Now you HAVE to review.