Author's Note:
From the "Writing Prompts" list, prompt 61: "If you go anywhere near them, you'll have to deal with me!" and prompt 98: "Hold me back!"
Pairing: Sweet Pea/Reader
"Why didn't you get more meat toppings?" Sweet Pea complains, stretching the length of the couch to jam his clammy feet under your legs.
You turn to glare at him for being irritating on purpose. It's hot today―too hot for the childishness you sometimes find endearing. You grab him by the shins and shove his legs aside, reclaiming the couch cushion as your own. Across the coffee table, Toni gives you a look that tells you not to bother, that your boyfriend's behaviour is going to get worse before it gets before. You know this, but you can be just as tough to swallow as him when you want to be.
"Because it's my pizza. I have my own," you remind him, "you have yours, and Toni and Fangs have one to share because they can actually manage to agree."
"Yeah," he persists, foot creeping towards you again, "but why do you need your own pizza? I've never seen you put away more than four slices in a sitting."
You sigh, lifting the hair away from the back of your neck. Your fingers are probably greasy from the fast food pizza these jokers made you pick up for lunch, but it's fine. You need a shower anyway.
"They're called leftovers, Sweety," you snark back, using the nickname he hates to hear in company, but doesn't mind at all when you're alone.
"They won't taste as good when you reheat them," he warns, rubbing his toes along your thigh. "Besides, your microwave is super temperamental. You could fry a gremlin in there."
You glance over at Toni and Fangs to see if anyone else wants to berate your poor microwave. So maybe you fixed it with duct tape one time when you took it apart then couldn't find a screw when you were putting it back together. It has character now. Lucky for your friends, they're chowing down on pizza, mouths too full to comment―probably on purpose.
"Then I'll eat the pizza cold," you counter, "and save the microwave to fry your head. How does that sound?"
"Even more like science fiction than the gremlin," he says with a snort, moving his foot to dig his toes into your side. You jerk slightly, ticklish, but refuse to laugh. Sweet Pea seems unsatisfied, which you know to be his most dangerous mood. "I think I'll have a slice of your pizza," he declares with a decisive, why the hell not? nod of his head.
A second ago, you didn't want to be touched, didn't want to move, but now you feel irate energy rising in you, making your bare toes dig into the scratchy, cheap carpet that lines the floor of the entire trailer.
"Hold me back!" you hiss at Toni.
Eyes fixed on Sweet Pea, you don't look at her, but you know she'll get the message. In this group, Toni's the only one who ever has or ever will try to stop you from fighting or taking some other reckless action. Sweet Pea does the exact opposite and Fangs is too loyal to him to treat you in any way that would be directly at odds with his best friend's modus operandi.
"I dunno, Y/N," she starts in a sluggish voice, forcing you to glance over to see her contemplating the pizza crust dangling between her fingers, "I kinda think he deserves it this time."
"Hey!" Sweet Pea interjects, propping himself up on the couch. "I haven't even done anything yet!
"But you will," you point out, mouth tightening. "You always do."
"Would you let me starve?" he shoots back, swinging his feet to the floor.
"You've had like six slices already!"
"Seven," he corrects you with an open-mouthed grin. "But not from your pizza. I think it has potential, once I've flicked off the nastier toppings."
"You go anywhere near them, you'll have to deal with me!"
Your eyes lock with his like the two of you are a mechanically perfect fit. Fucking made for each other. He's quick to get to his feet, you'll give him that, but before Sweet Pea can take a single step towards the pizza, you've dived sideways at him, catching him around the waist. He's solid, and it's possible that your cheek will be a little swollen where it clipped his hip, but you've got him.
Now, your mutual stubbornness kicks in, neither of you willing to concede.
Sweet Pea decides to walk towards the pizza anyway, deadweight or no, and you're dragged off the couch, getting your knees under you so they're the only skin to be rug burned. You change your grip, grabbing the waist of his jeans with one hand (the idiot never wears shorts) and attempting to pinch the back of his knee with the other. It's no good, the denim's too impervious and you release your captive, thumping to the floor.
"Watch her!" Sweet Pea shouts at Fangs, a laugh in the back of his throat until you throw yourself after him, scrambling to hang onto his shoulders and get your legs around his waist in an unwelcome piggyback.
This time, you take him down, and victory is as sweet as his name.
"Ugh," your boyfriend groans as he allows himself to be flattened, face down, on the floor, you sitting in the center of his back because you know he's strong enough to take the weight. "God fucking dammit, Fangs!"
You roll your eyes at the fact that he's more willing to blame his friend than accept that he was felled by you.
"Well what did you want me to do?" Fangs asks from the other couch, waving the crutch he had propped against the side. He's almost better, but the heat wave has been a real drag on his energy. "Knock her out?"
Sweet Pea manages to turn his head enough to catch your eye. You shake your head no.
"She's already a knockout," he states, then shuffles around. It feels like trying to balance on a rolling log while he does it, but once he gets on his back, with you still perched on top of him, it's a decided improvement.
"Flattery will not win you a slice of my pizza," you inform him, starting to smile.
"No? Then what will it get me?" His hands come up to grab your hips.
"OK," Toni says loudly, making you look away from your boyfriend's lips. She's quickly rising from the couch and assembling everyone's used plates in a hasty stack. "Let's get out of here before things get gross," Toni suggests to Fangs, closing their box of pizza to take with them.
"You guys suck," is Fangs's parting shot. "So much for the pizza party."
"Oh, good riddance to the pizza party!" Sweet Pea yells at their backs as the trailer door bangs shut. He looks up at you, eyes heating admittedly better than your tragic little microwave. "It's time for the pizza after party."