Page 52 of Missiletoe
Vale: “With you.”
Paris: “If he wants that? Yes.”
That was when my panties would have gotten wet if I’d had the right equipment for it. I did have the panties on though, but that’s our little secret.
Gareth: “He has a life. A safe one.”
Paris: “He’s safe right now.”
Me interjecting because why not?: “With kittens!”
Gareth: “There was a fire here less than an hour ago.”
Baz, my soul brother: “Our house has fires every other day!”
Me, being very helpful: “A third of them are mine!”
Baz, covering my mouth like an asshole: “You aren’t helping your case, love.”
Me, licking Baz’s hand: “Mmphgbmmmph.”
Baz, a sick pervert: “More, baby, you know I like it sloppy.”
Paris, scruffing Baz and chucking him in Vale’s direction: “Stop that.”
Things devolved for a bit after that.
It was a good solid five minutes of Baz biting basically everyone, me getting pushed back out of the fray by everyone, Paris and Gareth scuffling around until they, and I shit you not, sat down on the floor and had an arm-wrestling match.
Like, seriously? In front of my children? Toxic masculinity much?
Let’s not discuss exactly how metaphorically soaked my panties were at this point, okay?
While Gareth and Paris were chest-pounding, Vale and Baz had decided to wrestle for some reason. Vale got bit a lot, but he eventually had Baz locked in a chokehold. Even when Baz managed to say, “Harder, Daddy,” Vale didn’t let go. Then Baz gave me a wink, and I realized he was distracting Vale so Paris could go one-on-one with Gareth.
I don’t know how I’d gotten so lucky, but Baz was giving us his seal of approval. My one and only real hurdle (on my side of the relationship, anyway.) to being with Paris was behind me. If Baz was accepting Paris into the fold, Paris was in. Gareth and Vale would eventually come around once they realized my psychotically overprotective brother was on our side.
And I fucking knew Gareth noticed because he noticeseverything.Also, Paris was still alive and breathing. I mean, Gareth had been trained and jacked up and enhanced by all sorts of weird things, so there was no way Paris could hold out against Gareth in an all-out battle.
Maybe that was what the arm wrestling was about. Maybe Gareth had accepted Paris too? I think the arm wrestling was his way of apologizing for letting Vale get out of control earlier. Like, he couldn’t just say he was sorry like a normal person. No, he had to find a way to make a show of power, but not completely obliterate Paris to show us that he approved.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t be struggling to get Paris’s hand down that final inch to the floor.
Right?
Well, whatever the case, I’d had enough. I threw blankets over Sylvia and Company’s crate, then found another one for the other cage in the room. It was full of bunnies, and I swear to God, I wanted Paris inside me so bad at the reminder of him having an entire crate full of baby bunnies.
Once all the animals were covered, I fished around in my pockets and produced my least lethal distraction.
I closed my eyes, turned my head away, pressed the button on the side, and threw it into the melee shouting, “Stop fighting in front of my babies!”
There was a huge flash of light that I was able to see even behind my eyelids. There were at least twoJesus Christs, awhat the fuck, Vix, you promised to warn me first, and some loud complaining involving swear words that came from everyone except Paris. From him I got aWhat the…?
That was when I realized Paris didn’t swear, and my panties went from metaphorically soaking to metaphorically flaming. Why? I’m not really sure. Maybe it had something to do with appreciating contrast because I swear a LOT.
Anyway, back to the clusterfuck.
“There are impressionable children here, ass-, I mean, jerk faces. So no more swearing or fighting in front of them. Behave!” I stomped my foot but realized no one could see it because I’d just temporarily blinded everyone. I helped them out by saying. “Stomp stomp! I am being very intimidating right now, and you are all very nervous because of it.”
