A.K.A. "It's Very Hot Outside"
By Fidget
A/N: Yes, another extremely short ficlet about Bob and Dot. So I'm a little bit unoriginal! What are you going to do about it?
Disclaimer: I still don't claim to own this universe or its characters. Please look elsewhere (namely Mainframe Entertainment) for the creators. The lucky devils.
Rating/Reason: Uh, PG, because...(silence)
A blue hand slid into the freezer and searched for a moment with a crunching sound. It withdrew triumphantly and closed around its treasure.
The owner of the hand strutted casually down the hall, arms swinging slightly, towards the bedroom. The steady ticker-ticker-ticker of typing floated from the doorway at the end of the hall.
He crossed the threshold and surveyed the situation. The typist was leaning in on a small datapad, eyes never leaving the screen and fingers flying gracefully over the keys. You had to admire her typing skills; where most of the keys showed wear and the letters were barely visible, the backspace button remained in shining perfection.
He started forward once again, watching the back of her head in terrible suspense. But the tiniest noise could give it away, so he suppressed his laughing until what he knew would be fantastic.
Leaning over, he set his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them a little. She made a small, nondescript noise in response and he took that as a good signal. However, she gave no more evidence that she had noticed his presence, and he tugged on the neck of her shirt playfully. When she still ignored him, he ran his thumbs along the hem of her neckline, going all the way from the back to the front. As he pulled out the v-neck of the white blouse, something fell from his palm and down the front.
Her reaction was instantaneous. Up she jumped with a shriek, hitting his jaw with her shoulder in the process and obstructing his snickering for the moment. She gathered the material at the bottom hem and tugged it out. A little ice cube hit the floor in front of her.
She whirled around on her heel and glared at her assailant, who merely stood laughing at her.
"Well, I hope you're happy with yourself." she said sharply. "I've got a spot on the front of my shirt now, and there's an ice-cube on the floor."
Bob was incapacitated by snickering at the moment and found it necessary to lean on his knees. Dot pouted more. She dipped down quickly and snatched up the ice cube. As soon as her lover looked up at her, she flung it at him. The uncouth missile spiraled away and slipped straight down the collar of his uniform. He stopped laughing and yelped, trying unsuccessfully to get his hand down the front of his suit, the to tip the ice-cube out the way it had come. After several amusing moments, he rushed away to the bathroom to strip down and remove it. Dot sat down on the bed, laughing.
He returned a moment later, sporting a dark spot on the stomach of his uniform. Dot cracked up again and pointed to it.
"Yes, thank you, I noticed." he said sarcastically. She looked almost in pain with laughter, eventually flopping backwards on the bed to lie and giggle. Bob watched her with a frown threatening to turn into a smile.
"Yeah, it's really funny. Keep laughing, I've got a never-ending supply of ice cubes. Some of them are stuck together to make a big one, even."
Dot sat up. "But it's my refrigerator! I own the entire artillery!"
Bob rolled his eyes. "If you're going to get technical like that, it's my apartment. I own the battlefield! Doesn't that give me an advantage?"
"Just watch yourself when you're at the diner next. There's a walk-in freezer over there." Dot replied with another small giggle.
"Yeah? I wonder how long it'll take you to get over there." And he produced the remains of the ice cube, by now very small and drippy, and ran at her with a predatory grin.
With a shriek from his prey, the war was on.
The Last Word: Review it. Now!