D is for "Debt"

Rated T

Clyde: 22

Lynn: 24

Okay, no. Just…no. C'mon now, really? Uggggggggh.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, about this situation was fair at all. Not. One. Bit. Dammit, was one stress-free evening in his apartment, lying on the couch in front of the television just too much to ask? Apparently, Lynn Loud Jr. thought so. Or hell, maybe she didn't think so. Otherwise, why else would she be approaching her boyfriend like…like this?

On any ordinary day, "this" was not only a welcome sight for sore eyes, but a pleasantry that Clyde went out of his way to show his appreciation for every chance he got. Unfortunately, though, today wasn't an ordinary day. Waking up at seven in the morning to drive to his community college classes was never fun, but that didn't mean that he failed to understand that attending class was important. That's why, when he was treated to his car failing to start properly—meaning that he had to get someone to jump start it before he could be on his way—he was a little more than pissed off.

Add a stern chewing out on his tardiness from his ever-cranky political science professor (Prof. Birch? Yeah, try switching out that "r" with a "t"), the realization that he forgot his statistics homework at home, AND his car dying on him again on his way back home to the mix and you had a Clyde McBride that just wanted to unwind with no intention of doing anything by lounging around on his ass before heading off to sleep.

So alas, a few hours after he finally got himself settled on the couch, Lynn's alluring ensemble of bedroom eyes, coquettish grin, untied locks, and cocked hip (a.k.a. "this") was a presentation that only made Clyde groan with frustration as she sauntered into the living room and blocked his view of the TV. Well, okay, that didn't make him groan, but the motivation behind her actions sure did.

He had always chalked Lynn up as a little squirrely and naughty (an adorable combination, if anyone asked him), but downright evil? Hell no. But that was what he was forced to believe when she laid out her intentions. Apparently, she "just so happened" to waltz up to him in nothing more than one of his T-shirts when she asked him, in no uncertain words, to help him look for her missing lucky tennis ball.

Double uggggggggh.

No wonder Lynn was acting all seductive-like to sway him into agreement, despite how transparent her attempt at nonchalance was (try easing back on the perked-up eyebrows and pouty lip, next time, honey)—she knew how much of a klutz she was when it came to misplacing her belongings. Clyde loved the girl to death, but he was certain that she'd lose her head if it wasn't attached to her shoulders. The other day, when she had lost her car keys, it took hours combing around the place until they found them...inside the oven (he still couldn't wrap his head around how that happened).

So, not only was Lynn trying to rope him into doing something that would probably last until midnight, but she thought he'd fall prey to her bait without much resistance. Honestly, he had every right to feel insulted.

…

Except for the fact that he knew he couldn't say no to that face, a fact that he had accepted long ago. She knew it, too, which is why she smirked with triumph when he let out a heavy sigh before he agreed to help her.

Upon entering their bedroom—the first place that Lynn suggested that they check—Clyde was greeted to a sight that made him question...well, just about everything that led up to this.

'Ummm...what?' he thought to himself, too engrossed by hisdisbelief to hear the door close and lock behind him.

Soooo...was Lynn in need of a cataracts surgery or something? That was probably the best explanation for why her lucky tennis ball, in all its worn-out, color-faded glory, was resting on top of her pillow. He didn't even imagine that this could be a practical joke because...what was the joke? Or at least, what was the worthwhile joke? Puling the wool over his eyes for a punchline that basically came down to "Gotcha!" didn't seem like Lynn's style. So then, what on Earth could she be trying to−

"Weeeeeell, would you look at that? You found it for me~."

The door shutting did nothing to wake Clyde up from this thoughtful stupor, but that hilt in Lynn's voice did the trick. Before he could turn around and see if her body language aligned with that sultry timbre, a familiar pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his waist. Then, silky lips grazed the lobe of his ear, eliciting a shuddering sigh as his nerves quivered with excitement.

"And you went through all that trouble, despite the shitty day you had? Why, Clyde, I don't know how I could ever show you my appreciation." Her once idle fingers slipped under his shirt to trace tiny circles across his abdomen as he tongue snuck out to give his ear a fleeting lick. "I guess that means I'm in your debt. Oh, whatever will you have me do to repay you~?"

Clyde grinned, finally understanding what was going on and loving every second of it. He didn't know how on Earth he could ever turn down a night of passion with Lynn in favor of sulking in front of the TV like a bum, but he was glad for the coaxing.

He swiveled around in her grasp to wrap his arms around her waist, hoist her up, and lock their lips together in a heated kiss. His spine racked with a shudder when her toned legs locked around his waist and her hands grabbed handfuls of his shirt in order to pull him in even closer. Despite the onslaught on sensations, Clyde was determined to keep his wits about him. After all, Lynn had a debt to own up to, and he was gonna make sure she paid up.

With interest.