Hey! Guys! I wrote this a while back, ahem obviously during the super bowl!
I've been so happy from your reviews, thank you!
This is for now, a oneshot, but it may turn into a story where Lon'qu is just like WTF? All the time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem, otherwise my people would be writing for me and id be chilling somewhere in England...
XxXxXxX
"Hm hm hm. Hmhm hm hmhm. Hm hm hm hm hmhm hm hmhm.. Hmm hm hm ..." I hummed to myself as I took a chilled glass out of the freezer and set it on the table. Pulling out the counter drawer, I dug around in the pile of utensils until I found what I was looking for.
"Aha!" I said to myself, feeling quite triumphant as I held up a bottle cap opener. Twirling it like a baton, I set to work prying the lid off of the beer bottle in my hand. The glass bottle let out a hiss as the cap popped off, and the cold air drifted out of the nozzle; light fumes carrying the wheat scent to my nose.
I tilted the bottle and the glass at an angle as I poured the beer from one to the other. The caramel-colored liquid gently sloshed against the sides of the clear glass, a creamy, off-white foam beginning to form.
I continued to drain the bottle of its last drops until finally, like a worn-out faucet, it slowed from cascades of amber to singular drips. Satisfied, I tossed the empty beer bottle into the silver trash can and, glass in hand, returned to my previous residency in the living room.
I peered into the room from the doorway and saw my husband sitting on the couch, hunched over with his hands on his knees. His dark brows furrowed in an intense look of concentration, and his chocolate eyes squinted as he stared-or rather, glared- at the tv screen. I inwardly chuckled as I finally entered into the room and plopped down beside him on the couch. I kissed the smooth, tan skin of his cheek and handed him the drink I had just prepared. He 'hmph'd' a reply and nodded his thanks as he lifted the glass to his pale lips and took a long, drawn-out sip. Setting the glass on a cork coaster on the coffee table, he resumed his watching the tv.
"How's the game, babe?"I asked, smiling amiably at him.
His cheeks became dusted with pink as he mumbled a 'good.' He didn't even spare me a glance. My feelings were not hurt though, not in the least. I knew why he didn't want to look at me-he was very embarrassed.
Just the other day, Chrom and Vaike, two of his coworkers, had invited him to watch the Super Bowl with them. Lon'qu quickly denied, replying that I needed help changing a light bulb. I laughed, hysterically I might add, at his poor excuse. I am an electrical engineer after all-but that's another story for another day.
I knew Lon'qu didn't say 'no' because he felt awkward around them, that's only women. However, he did have another problem, perhaps worse than aforementioned gynophobia. My darling husband knows nothing about sports. Absolutely nothing. Unless fencing counts. Which, if you ask him, it most certainly does.
So, my poor husband was forced to stay home and watch the game with his wife. His crazy Patriots fan wife. I don't make fun of him, and he appreciates that.
At least I don't most of the time.
A loud noise from the tv caught my attention and I whipped my head around to look at the perpetrator. On the tv I saw the Seattle fans in the stands screaming their approval as the Seahawks gained three points from a field goal. The score was 17-14 with the Patriots down.
I glared at the tv and grabbed a chip from the aquamarine bowl I had set out. I roughly dug it into the guacamole and shoved it into my mouth. The chip became slivers and pieces with an audible 'crunch.'
My companion beside me cleared his throat, obviously trying to attract my attention. Not even turning my head, I inconspicuously glanced in his direction. I was accosted by brown eyes staring directly at me, and a slight smirk graced his face as he caught me attempting to slyly look at him. He raised his eyebrows in question, his left brow quirking upward more so than the other.
I ignored him and continued to munch on the white corn chips before me. The salt attacked my taste buds and I quickly downed my glass of water. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve in a quick, very unladylike gesture, showing him that I didn't care if he was still staring at me or not.
Turning my attention back to the game playing on the widescreen in front of us, I growled in annoyance as I watched the Patriots lose possession of the ruddy leather ball once again. The Seahawks were still ahead and my team was sitting back on their haunches, apparently waiting until next year to try to score! Incredible.
I puffed out my cheeks and slouched back on the sofa. Crossing my arms across my chest, I glared at the tv, fed up with Tom Brady, my team, and the world.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my husband, STILL openly staring at me. He shook his head from side-to-side in a disapproving manner, his dark brown spikes of hair swayed back and forth with the motion. I noticed him lean forward slightly, his arm outstretched as he began to pick something up off of the table.
Letting out a war whoop, I leapt onto him and an intense tug-of-war ensued.
"Give me the controller, Lon'qu!" I yelled, jerking my hands upward as they gripped one end of the remote.
"No. Guinevere! You're being ridiculous. You're becoming upset, so I'm turning the TV off." He replied quite calmly for what was happening at the moment.
Straddling his lap, I kept my grasp on the controller tight as I looked him right in the eye. He looked right back and leaned toward me slightly. His brown locks of hair hung down in his face and they gently tickled my nose. From this angle, his lashes framed his dark eyes perfectly, and they seemed incredibly long. I tilted my head down as if to plant a light butterfly kiss on his lips, and his eyes slid shut. I stayed just like that for a moment, letting out a puff of warm air on his cheek. It was quiet all around. Nothing but the clicking of the grandfather clock and the TV made a sound. It was so peaceful, and a serene silence hung on Lon'qu. Until he felt a certain slippery appendage dart out and run along his cheek. The cold air immediately darted to the saliva-slick skin.
"Are you mad, woman!? What do you think you're doing!" He growled and shoved me off of his lap.
I giggled like a naughty child from my new position on the floor as I saw him furiously wiping his face on his blue, long sleeved shirt. I stood up and did a victory dance, moving my hips in a circle and bringing my arms in and out as I waved the TV remote in his face.
"Looks like Ylisse's Number One Tactician wins again!" I taunted as I smirked at him.
"No one is this town made you tactician. What a ridiculous notion. Then again, it did come from you."
I ignored the scathing remark and sat back on the couch beside him, blasting the TV's volume. The sport's announcers yelled what was happening on the screen as I settled back into watching the game.
For the next few minutes the action was jumbled as the Seahawks and Patriots tossed possession of the ball back and forth. It never stayed with one team for long, though I did notice it seemed to linger when Seattle had it.
Lon'qu continued to watch the game with me. I caught him glancing at me several times but payed him no attention. My team was on! When the Patriots made a well-thought out play, I cheered vigorously. Jumping out of my seat and raising my hands in the air. This action was intermixed with various boos and groans at points when my team's performance lagged.
I was so caught up in the game that I almost missed what happened beside me. Almost.
As the Patriots sacked one of the Seahawks I let out a 'whoop!' And I saw Lon'qu slowly raise a hesitant hand into the air in a fist pump. My husband was so adorable sometimes. He was trying to get involved in something he knew I enjoyed. I gave him a broad grin and he returned it with his own sheepish smile.
The game went on with Seattle in the lead and I waited; waited for my team to swoop in and crush the opposing team.
But it didn't happen.
I watched in horror as Doug Baldwin caught the ball in the touchdown zone. My eyes became as wide as windmills and my mouth gaped wide enough to catch a whole herd of stampeding buffalo.
Lon'qu must have taken my raw shock as surprised happiness because of what he did next. I would have guffawed quite uproariously, except for the fact that I was much too upset to actually act on that notion.
As soon as the player caught the ball, the announcers let out shouts of excitement and Lon'qu leapt to his feet.
"GOALLLLLL!" He yelled, acting more animated than I had ever seen before. Well...except for that one time that he went to that convention for kittens...again, another story for another time. Turning to face me, he gave me a wide smile (as wide as Lon'qu smiled that is) and shook my shoulders.
"Guinevere! Your team is ahead! Aren't you happy?" He must have noticed my pained expression as he spoke to me. His eyebrows once again furrowed and he searched my face for any sign of emotion.
Sighing deeply, I turned to him with solemn eyes, "Lon'qu... Goals are in soccer...the English football. That was a touchdown."
"Oh." He blinked, not seeming fazed by this revelation.
"And that was the other team."
XxXxXxX
How'd you like it? Good? Bad? Needs work?
let me know in the reviews!
And poor Lonnie is hopeless...