for the OQ prompt party 2019, thursday. personal prompt: cursed Roni and Chris have a very heated argument at Roni's bar, which results into an unexpected kiss.
Altercation
.
Her day has begun as any other.
And really, she doesn't need any crap today, because let's say that the last weeks have been enough. Chris has been terrible, this last week, because apparently he doesn't like the way she's raising their daughter, he doesn't like the way she brought Jo with her to the bar, even if it was the middle of the afternoon and she was never in any sort of danger, and honestly, which kind of people does he think comes to her bar anyway?
But this day has begun with coldness and a broken radiator, and she's had a scalding shower to compensate, and then went down to the bar – entirely too early, that is, for a Wednesday morning. And she's found herself trying to work out the math of her accounts for the bar. It gave her a headache, and then the first customers have started to arrive around noon, so Jacinda fixed her a hamburger and told her to go sleep, that they were fine for once in a while, that she could go to her place and stay there for a bit until someone sees to her heating system…
But then, of course, Chris had to arrive, just then, she spies him from her room on the back, perfect, looking so good in his light blue shirt and deep blue tie, and he was wondering if Jo had left there her favorite book.
Just hearing his voice from the back room is enough to send her nerves to a jittery carrousel of rage and migraine.
"Is Roni here?" he has asked, ever so polite, and she can just imagine Jacinda's face as she tries to lie to him, and of course – he's a lawyer, he knows when people are trying to fool him. So she thinks that she should save that poor girl the trouble and go talk to him herself.
"Hello, Chris," she sighs, resigned. "What do you want, now?"
"Careful, love," he tells her. "Is this really how you treat your customers? If you keep it up, like this, without a smile, they're not even going to come back at this rate."
"Oh god, shut up," she snaps. "If you want to talk to me, just come to the back. I won't have myself causing a scene in front of my customers just because you feel you have to be a dick."
She's angry, and she spits it out vehemently – and Chris is almost taken aback by her rage, so she sees him nodding, one of his eyebrows raising as he rounds the counter and throws a confused look to Jacinda before following her to the back.
They enter, and she closes the door behind him.
"Well now. Do your worst, Mr Wood. No one can hear you here."
He gulps. It seems like all his rudeness and bold attitude has suddenly left him. Roni crosses her arms, looks at him expectantly.
"So?"
"I was just thinking – you've always been hot when you're mad at me," he smirks. God she could just slap him.
"Asshole," she immediately answers. "Is there an actual reason you're here, apart from making my life a hell on Earth?"
"There is, Roni," he sighs, and how dare he? Get that stupid face of someone disappointed in her? (A face she has seen very often, lately, but he doesn't need to know that). "I was wondering if Jo has left here her favorite book. The fairy tale one, you know, the one Lucy loves so much."
"Wow, it's weird that you even remember Lucy's name."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." She shakes her head, because if he doesn't understand, she won't explain it to him, for sure. "But – yeah, Lucy is… Jacinda's daughter, and since when do you care about Jo and about her friends? Or what she likes, or what's her favorite subject?"
"I know our daughter, thank you so much," he spits. "I thought you considered me a good father. Even… despite our discrepancies."
"I – I do think you're a good father," she says, slightly taken aback. "I just think you don't care of anything outside your little bubble, and whenever Jo goes outside that bubble, it's when you stop caring."
"Oh fuck it, Roni," he says, annoyed. "I really don't care about your stupid theories on parenting, you know? If I did, the jury would have given you more than two days per week."
"Fuck you, Chris," she tells him, with all the venom she can muster. "Honestly – fuck you. You know you only got almost-full custody because you're a gooddamn lawyer, yes?"
He gets closer – steps closer to her and now she can smell his cologne, and god, she has always hated this brand – it smells… it's so artificial, like he's just went through all the perfumes of a shop. It sucks. And yet there's something underneath, like… something natural and long forgotten that sings to her, but she can't quite pinpoint –
"I don't care how I got those five days, Roni," he breathes, and fuck, he's actually closer now. So close she has to lift his eyes to look at him, and god how she hates their height difference, especially right now… "I just know I deserve to be with my daughter, more than you do. I mean, look at your life, Roni, does it sound like a good environment for a child?"
"You – absolute – jerk!" she nearly screams, catching herself in time, but still, her hand rises because she needs to slap him, she hates him, she wants to break his nose and – his hand catches hers mid-air, his smirk back in place as he stares at her –
She hadn't realized how close they were.
It happens in a second, the tension growing until the gravity spins and she moans into the kiss, wait no, I need to hurt him, her brain says, but he pushes her closer and he walks against her until her back hits the door, his hand tangling into her hair as she finally stops resisting and melts into the kiss, and – oh she had missed him, so much, she moans again as he parts his lips from hers and whispers, Roni, then dives back in.
It may have started as an impromptu kiss but now that she has started, she finds she doesn't want to stop, because she may hate him, but his hands are very real – and she needs this, she hates him but he is making her feel things.
She pushes back into the kiss, getting on her tiptoes as she feels the cold of the door on her back, the cold filtering through her tank top, her nipples get harder.
"I told you I find you sexy when you're mad at me," he mutters against the skin of her neck, sending shivers upon her spine. She feels him, his cock against her thigh, and she may be starting to hump him – because anyway this kiss has taken every shred of dignity she had left, anyway she could just…
But every dream needs to end somewhere.
The alarm wakes her, and she's in a sweat. She's wet, too, she realizes with a startled moan, her hand going down to touch her panties. Definitely, she groans, rolling on her bed to push the alarm's off button.
Damn it. She hates him.
Seeing him every week was not enough, now she's even dreaming of him, and it's a disaster.
God, I wish I could forget you, she thinks, staring at the ceiling.
Her day has begun like any other, after all.
