Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.
Author's note: back from hiatus, albeit only briefly. Hope you enjoy it. I promise, more will be coming. R/R! I love you guys!
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
The Sweetness: Stealing Happy Hours
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Three weeks into the summer, Hillridge experienced a massive rainstorm. The sky opened up and let loose its frustrations on the small California town for nearly three days straight, with accompanying thunder and lightning and what seemed like eternal darkness.
The third day found Gordo and Lizzie holed up in Lizzie's bedroom, watching TV. Matt and Lanny had pirated the TV downstairs, and the DVD player, so Lizzie and Gordo were stuck with local channels, which kept fading in and out of static due to the weather.
After channel flipping through the same basic stations for two minutes straight, Lizzie gave up, clicked off the TV, and threw the remote to the floor. She collapsed backwards on her bed with a loud sigh. "This is the worst day in history," she groaned dramatically.
"There have been worst days in history, I'm sure," Gordo said from the floor, rolling his eyes.
Lizzie flopped on her stomach and stuck her head over the edge of the mattress to stare at him. "You're not helping," she said.
Gordo laughed. "When am I ever? You and Miranda might as well have the phrase 'Not helping, Gordo' tattooed on you."
Lizzie giggled. "Yeah, you're right. We're so mean to you sometimes. I'm sorry."
He shrugged good-naturedly, then hoisted himself off the floor and flopped onto the bed. "Nah, it's all good."
Lizzie sat up. "Y'know, maybe I *should* a tattoo. Might be interesting."
"What would be interesting is seeing the expression on your mom's face when she found out."
"It would be something pretty," she said, tapping her chin. "Feminine."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
"Funny," Lizzie said, swatting his shoulder.
Gordo instinctively threw his arms up and drew away from her, but he was laughing. "I meant that as a good thing! I swear!"
"What's the deal, Gordo?" Lizzie taunted. "I'm too feminine for you?"
"Well, I wouldn't mind if you didn't spend *every* weekend at the mall..." he hedged, and Lizzie squealed in protest. "Not true!"
"Yes, true!" he said. "We spent an hour hanging out in front of the Style Shack last Saturday while you ogled this fuzzy pink thing."
"It was a *sweater*, Gordo."
"It was a glorified lint ball."
"I happen to love that sweater! That sweater and I have a very good relationship going!"
"Yeah, like you stare, and it remains unbelievably out of your price range."
He was right, but Lizzie wasn't going to let him win. "You'll pay for that, David Gordon," she threatened, stretching across his body.
For a brief second, Gordo thought for certain she was going to kiss him. They were in such close proximity, she couldn't not. But that moment flashed by, and next thing he knew, he was getting a faceful of down pillow.
"Agh!" he coughed, then grabbed another pillow and hit her shoulder with it.
Shrieking, Lizzie jumped off the bed and retreated a few steps backwards, to get better footing. Gordo clamored off the mattress on the other side, and they squared off against each other, brandishing pillows and wicked grins.
"If you think I'm afraid of you, you're sorely mistaken," Lizzie said.
"You will be," he promised, dodging around the foot of the bed and lunging for her like a streak of lightning. Lizzie shrieked again and tried to shield herself from the fluffy blows, ducking behind her own pillow before she realized it was arsenal.
As Gordo made an overhand swing to hit her on the head, Lizzie made an accurate hit against his open abdomen, which caused him to lurch slightly. "Oh, we decided to fight back, did we?" he said, arching an eyebrow and looking amused.
"You've got something coming to you," she swore, and she dove for him.
They chased each other around the room frantically for several minutes, yelping, leaping over furniture, and generally having a great time. In one of her madcap hurdles over the bed, Lizzie lost her grip on her pillow and fell onto her backside, defenseless. Gordo loomed over her, wielding the pillow like he meant business. Lizzie instinctively curled up, protecting her head with her hands and half-giggling, half-yelling in protest.
The pillow made its descent, inches from striking. Lizzie made herself a moving target, barreling her rolled-up body at Gordo's leg. She darted out her hand, grabbed his ankle, and pulled him to the floor in a heap.
He grunted, and concerned, she leaned over him. "You okay?"
Suddenly his pain-contorted face gave way to a mischievous grin, and Lizzie felt the pillow slamming into the back of her head. She fell forward onto his chest, and felt it rising and falling as he said breathlessly, "Checkmate."
She giggled. "Fine, okay." She didn't move. They were finally getting comfortable in the new phase of their relationship, and therefore, this moment was good.
Gordo grinned at her. "Is today still the worst day in history?" he teased.
She smiled. "Nope." And she kissed him.
Author's note: back from hiatus, albeit only briefly. Hope you enjoy it. I promise, more will be coming. R/R! I love you guys!
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
The Sweetness: Stealing Happy Hours
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Three weeks into the summer, Hillridge experienced a massive rainstorm. The sky opened up and let loose its frustrations on the small California town for nearly three days straight, with accompanying thunder and lightning and what seemed like eternal darkness.
The third day found Gordo and Lizzie holed up in Lizzie's bedroom, watching TV. Matt and Lanny had pirated the TV downstairs, and the DVD player, so Lizzie and Gordo were stuck with local channels, which kept fading in and out of static due to the weather.
After channel flipping through the same basic stations for two minutes straight, Lizzie gave up, clicked off the TV, and threw the remote to the floor. She collapsed backwards on her bed with a loud sigh. "This is the worst day in history," she groaned dramatically.
"There have been worst days in history, I'm sure," Gordo said from the floor, rolling his eyes.
Lizzie flopped on her stomach and stuck her head over the edge of the mattress to stare at him. "You're not helping," she said.
Gordo laughed. "When am I ever? You and Miranda might as well have the phrase 'Not helping, Gordo' tattooed on you."
Lizzie giggled. "Yeah, you're right. We're so mean to you sometimes. I'm sorry."
He shrugged good-naturedly, then hoisted himself off the floor and flopped onto the bed. "Nah, it's all good."
Lizzie sat up. "Y'know, maybe I *should* a tattoo. Might be interesting."
"What would be interesting is seeing the expression on your mom's face when she found out."
"It would be something pretty," she said, tapping her chin. "Feminine."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
"Funny," Lizzie said, swatting his shoulder.
Gordo instinctively threw his arms up and drew away from her, but he was laughing. "I meant that as a good thing! I swear!"
"What's the deal, Gordo?" Lizzie taunted. "I'm too feminine for you?"
"Well, I wouldn't mind if you didn't spend *every* weekend at the mall..." he hedged, and Lizzie squealed in protest. "Not true!"
"Yes, true!" he said. "We spent an hour hanging out in front of the Style Shack last Saturday while you ogled this fuzzy pink thing."
"It was a *sweater*, Gordo."
"It was a glorified lint ball."
"I happen to love that sweater! That sweater and I have a very good relationship going!"
"Yeah, like you stare, and it remains unbelievably out of your price range."
He was right, but Lizzie wasn't going to let him win. "You'll pay for that, David Gordon," she threatened, stretching across his body.
For a brief second, Gordo thought for certain she was going to kiss him. They were in such close proximity, she couldn't not. But that moment flashed by, and next thing he knew, he was getting a faceful of down pillow.
"Agh!" he coughed, then grabbed another pillow and hit her shoulder with it.
Shrieking, Lizzie jumped off the bed and retreated a few steps backwards, to get better footing. Gordo clamored off the mattress on the other side, and they squared off against each other, brandishing pillows and wicked grins.
"If you think I'm afraid of you, you're sorely mistaken," Lizzie said.
"You will be," he promised, dodging around the foot of the bed and lunging for her like a streak of lightning. Lizzie shrieked again and tried to shield herself from the fluffy blows, ducking behind her own pillow before she realized it was arsenal.
As Gordo made an overhand swing to hit her on the head, Lizzie made an accurate hit against his open abdomen, which caused him to lurch slightly. "Oh, we decided to fight back, did we?" he said, arching an eyebrow and looking amused.
"You've got something coming to you," she swore, and she dove for him.
They chased each other around the room frantically for several minutes, yelping, leaping over furniture, and generally having a great time. In one of her madcap hurdles over the bed, Lizzie lost her grip on her pillow and fell onto her backside, defenseless. Gordo loomed over her, wielding the pillow like he meant business. Lizzie instinctively curled up, protecting her head with her hands and half-giggling, half-yelling in protest.
The pillow made its descent, inches from striking. Lizzie made herself a moving target, barreling her rolled-up body at Gordo's leg. She darted out her hand, grabbed his ankle, and pulled him to the floor in a heap.
He grunted, and concerned, she leaned over him. "You okay?"
Suddenly his pain-contorted face gave way to a mischievous grin, and Lizzie felt the pillow slamming into the back of her head. She fell forward onto his chest, and felt it rising and falling as he said breathlessly, "Checkmate."
She giggled. "Fine, okay." She didn't move. They were finally getting comfortable in the new phase of their relationship, and therefore, this moment was good.
Gordo grinned at her. "Is today still the worst day in history?" he teased.
She smiled. "Nope." And she kissed him.