Response to the all-dialogue challenge on the Unfit for Society mailing list. And hey, it's harder than it looks.
Rating for language and little bit o' smut
Disclaimer: Sigh. How are they not mine? Let me count the ways.
Archive: Take if you want it, just drop me a line
Feedback: Better than Logan in this story--well, almost.
Additional Note: I had to write this one.
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"Marie? You in there?"
"Yeah. Go the fuck away."
"You okay? You hurt?"
"*No*! Just . . . leave me alone. Logan. I know you're still there. Go away. Please. For the love of -- go *away*! . . . alright. Fine. Come in and shut the damn door."
"You're sick, you're still in bed. Let me get Jean --"
"I'm not sick. I promise."
"You look all pale."
"Well sorry if I'm not up to your standards today, jackass. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just . . . are you *sniffing*?"
"Uhhh . . . oh. Sorry. I'll come back later."
"I just have my period, it's not like a contagious -- fuck!"
"Marie?"
"Cramps. Hold my hand for a minute -- *ow* -- okay, it's better. Thank you."
"I think I'm gonna stay."
"You don't have to. Mmmm, that feels nice. Don't kiss my hair, I haven't washed it and it smells bad."
"Does not. Smells like you. Move over and let me sit down."
"Maybe I'll actually be able to sleep a little. Hey, do you mind? Quit hogging the blankets!"
"Sorry."
"S'okay."
"Marie?"
"What?"
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. No. I will be in a couple of days. Until then I'll be crampy, bitchy, and smelly."
"I noticed. Well, not the smelly part."
"Liar."
"It's not *bad* -- the blood makes me tense though."
"Why?"
"Cause it makes me worry that you're hurt. But it doesn't . . . smell bad. Is that strange?"
"No, I think it's biological. Fertile loins and all that shit."
"So that would mean I'm attracted to you right now?"
"Well, are you?"
"Pass. Next question."
"You're such a -- shit. It hurts."
"Fucking . . . I'm sorry, baby. I wish I could make it stop."
"Just -- just stay here. I'm sorry, I know we were supposed to go out for a beer tonight, but I don't think I want to."
"It's okay. Some other time."
"Yeah."
"Where does it hurt? Here?"
"No, lower -- right there. Your hand is warm, that feels . . . mmmm."
"Am I helping?"
"Yep. And you're cute when you're worried."
"I'm gonna ignore that."
"Okay. Keep rubbing. Ohhhh. A little lower -- whoa, that's really low."
"I'm sorry, I'll stop."
"No, don't, please, it feels -- it makes it feel better. Logan, oh God--"
"Is this okay, baby?"
"Yes, please -- please -- it doesn't hurt anymore, I . . . Logan!"
"Stop?"
"*No*! Harder -- fuck, Logan -- *Logan* -- ohhhhhhh!"
"Marie?"
"Hmmmmmm."
"I didn't mean for it to go that far --"
"No, it was good. Very good. I feel a lot better, sugah. But you -- are *you* okay now?"
"I should definitely go . . ."
"Get out of this bed and I'll make you cut off your own balls."
"Not a pretty image, kid -- hey, come back up here!"
"Shut up. I'm only being fair."
"Marie! You -- we -- caaaaan't . . ."
"Can't what, sugah?"
"Ungggh."
"You've lost the ability to speak. Good, 'cause you being able to talk and me not is just unfair."
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"That was a weird night."
"Yeah. Want to do it again sometime?"