A dysfunctional relationship. Trory. One-shot.
They went through this routine every morning.
As they indulged in a fit of fervent bickering, Rory would threaten to climb out the roof, Tristin would then dare her to, motivating her even more until she really did slip out the window-- in her pajamas, just to spite him. Where Tristin, cursing violently and holding the sheets around his otherwise naked waist, would be forced to climb after her. Yelling obscurities all the way.
"Ror—stop being so ridiculous!"
"Who's being ridiculous, I'm not the one wearing sheets!"
Tristin, not looking forward to climbing out the window in risk of dropping the sheets, being they were the only source of protection from indecent exposure, settled for calling out exasperated, "We go through this routine every morning, and quite frankly, I think the neighbors are quite sick of it."
"I'm shocked, Tristin DuGrey taking worry in someone other than himself!"
"Just get in here!"
"No!"
"Rory!"
"I am going to sit here. Outside. On the roof—in my pajamas and you can't do a thing about it, so there!"
Grumbling something deplorably close to 'fucking idiot who invented mood swings…' Tristin squeezed through the window, making sure to keep the sheets around his waist, and started towards a frantic Rory.
"Oh no you don't…" Rory warned, backing up as a very pissed off Tristin advanced towards her, "… Don't you dare! I'll scream! I'll—Put me down! Put me down you sick bastard!"
Half holding a hysterical girlfriend over his shoulder, and half attempting to keep the sheets around his waist, which were beginning to slip, from falling, Tristin could conclude, finally, that he really, really needed to move their bedroom to ground floor.
The neighbors, on the other hand, who were used to the couple's antics, slept peacefully through the entire thing.
After having inflicted a few bite marks and scratches upon the struggling boyfriend, Rory soon found herself being dumped unceremoniously back inside the bedroom as a very livid Tristin climbed in after her.
And as she opened her mouth to complain, she found herself bluntly cut off but a forceful kiss audibly initiated by Tristin to shut her up. After finding herself forgetting why she was boiling mad in the first place, she reciprocated eagerly as her arms wrapped around his neck and melted into him, all homocidical thoughts involving chainsaw massacres and Tristin's head on a stick washed quickly out of her mind.
Tristin grinned into the kiss as he lowered her onto the bed. He knew there was a reason why they went through that routine every morning.
Oneshot I guess. My head had been in kind of a… ditch. So I needed to get it unstuck. It's not that good. But I didn't really expect it to be. So blah. And my heads still stuck in that ditch. Kind of half in, half out. Okay shutting up now.