Figaro Not-so-Magnifico

"Hey hey hey hey," Simon said, kneeling on the side of Gray's mattress, shaking his shoulder. "Gray, wake up. The cheesecake is not going to eat you." Simon had no idea what the nightmare was actually about, but he was pretty sure that everyone had had that dream before. "It's all good. There we go, it's all good." He had successfully woken Gray up by this point and was patting his arm. "Whatever it was, was just a dream, alright? You're all good. Sir Fuffyboots did not want to come help you, so I couldn't bring you cat-love medicine, but he'll probably throw up in your shoes in the morning anyway, so it's all the same thing, right?"

Simon flopped down on top of the blanket, pretty much smashing his shoulder into Gray's, "Ooof, ow, sorry. SORRY." The one benefit of Simon being a painful human was that Gray was probably not sleeping any time soon, and that meant no nightmares. He hummed quietly to himself while he scrolled through his phone for his baby animal video playlist. "Here, look, this is Nancy the baby alpaca. Her mom kicked her out so she lives with goats. They think she's a funny looking goat, but she's still their goat-sister." Hitting play, he held the phone up for Gray to see.

It wasn't supposed to be nice. The appropriate response to waking up with your not-even-ex-boyfriend after yet another ill thought out night together (because that totally made things less complicated and messy) was to unceremoniously kick them out of bed. Or leave. Preferably with a small kitchen appliance in tow and a loudly slammed door. Depending on whose bed it was.

Quinn, in his infinite sleepy wisdom did not steal KJ's toaster and knock his door off of his hinges. He didn't even scurry off in a sad walk of shame.  He didn't even unplug the toaster or dump a jar of marmalade in it. Instead, he'd rolled over and absently started to play with KJ's hair. It was a bit of a hangover from when they'd done this on the regular - KJ had nice hair and physical affection was easier to line up with the whole "no feelings attached" thing.

In the probably thirty seconds between starting that and realizing what he was doing, KJ woke up, and like the smug bastard he was, looked infinitely too pleased with himself.

After approximately five point two seconds of "that" look, Quinn grabbed a pillow and smacked it repeatedly over KJ's head.

It had been a long day in the office - made even longer by the fact that Gael was stuck sharing a cubicle with Nina-Nancy-Nostradamus. There had been a power struggle over the radio (they had settled on what Gael would politely call "Latina Grandma music"), Natasha had brought in smelly food and Gael had thrown it out when she had left the cubicle to check her makeup or whatever it was she did. Revenge had been had and Gael was pretty sure that the entire office would smell like fish until kingdom come.

There had been an hour of détente, and now the tree shrew that called herself Nora was smiling. Smiling. Like the cat who ate the god damned canary.

Gael typed away on his computer, finishing up a fabric order and an invoice for a fitting. Nadine was still smiling.

A solid fifteen minutes passed. Gael worked his way through a spreadsheet, and he was pretty sure that Nala was supposed to be doing some kind of accounting invoice. No one was that happy looking at numbers. No one.

"Could you stop smiling?" Gael asked, typing an aggressive note to the dumbass intern who could not tell the difference between sky blue and periwinkle. "It's deeply unsettling. Like Satan doing novena."

He closed off his email and hit send. “Also, you look like Jaws.”

Jasper woke up with a killer headache and something licking his ear.

The first part was pretty par for the course. Jasper had definitely drank too much. He'd already been a few drinks in when an - also a few drinks in - Juniper had challenged him to a drinking contest. Jasper being Jasper, and Juniper being Juniper, they were lucky that there had been no hospitals or stolen farm animals involved.

What was not so normal was that anything was licking his ear. Juniper was known to lick people's faces in the middle of a hockey game or anything vaguely competetive. But Jasper - admittedly befuddled by alcohol and sleep - could not remember challenging or being challenged to a sleeping competition, so if Juniper was licking his ear she had reached a new level of freaky. Or she had discovered a new kink or read a thing on the internet. All of which were very possible. Increasingly possible when there was more alcohol involved.

"Alright, alright, 'nuffa that," Jasper said, rolling over, "Now you're just getting weird."

And he got an eyeful of an adorable puppy.

He was really hoping that Juniper never found out that he had thought that a dog licking his ear was her. He was pretty sure that he'd wind up dead in a shallow grave somewhere.

Probably a very deep grave, actually. Juniper did not half ass things.

"Now, what are you doing here?" Jasper asked the dog, who leaped over Jasper's lap and landed smack dab on top of Juniper, who seemed about as aware of the dog's existence as Jasper was.

"Hey, hey," Jasper said, nudging Juniper repeatedly in the side with his knee. "Wake up. Wake up. We have a tiny, furry invader."

**

As it transpired, some "friends" had intervened in their drinking competition around two AM, and ordered them an Uber so that they got home safe. The Uber driver, however, was extremely poorly reviewed, and showed up looking kind of sketchy. And, in Jasper's admittedly foggy memory, had had a trenchcoat full of puppies.

In reality he probably just had puppies in the back seat, and was making a side hustle of trying to hawk them to drunk people who hired him to uber for them.

By three AM, Jasper and Juniper had adopted a homely but adorable pupperoni who they had named Pupperoni. "I swear to god, Juni, this seemed like such a good idea at 3am."

leaves their dirty clothes on the floorExcuse you. They keep a nice, tidy house!!!!forgets to run the dish washerChester. Because he hates it. He'd rather do the dishes by hand.pumps gas for the carChester. Because he likes to be a man who PROVIDES. Also because Aileen does NOT like the smell of petrol.drives when they’re going somewhereChester, cuz they're a cute kinda old fashioned >> Aileen will drive him when he's cranky or there's bad traffic because she's less likely to yell at the hooligan drivers.rearranges the furnitureIt's a team effort. Aileen directs. Chester moves the heavier stuff.falls asleep with the TV onChester. Aileen brings him blankets and makes sure that he doesn't break his glasses in his sleep.gets to use the bathroom firstAileen. Chester is a secret smoosh.decides the temperature for the ac/heaterAileen. See above.sets up holiday decorationsTeam effort,but this one is mostly Aileen.leaves the lights onThey're probably both pretty good about this.uses the bathroom with the door openThey're probably both pretty good about this.fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)Chester, cuz he's a handy dandy feller. Aileen can probably fix minor stuff but won't touch anything disastrous.

@dearweasel @slipperyweaselroleplays

Noelle breaking in for comfort snuggles Sammy’s first night at Finnre’s place. 

Requested by anon. For @cinna-rps. @backy-rambles Finnre is mentioned, so Ima link you.

“C'mon, shh shh, be quiet, agh, no no don’t - Sammy I will kill you, no you shhhh, SHHHHH,” Noelle whispered, as she wedged herself through Sammy’s window at two am. He looked bleary eyed and tousle haired, though that was not exactly a two am thing, more just a Sammy thing. And in spite of the fact that he’d almost knocked her off of the sill, he had not actually murdered her. The rest of the MacKellan-Yilmaz house was quiet as a mouse, and Noelle felt like an elephant wearing tambourine shoes. No one came running, so either this family slept like rocks or Noelle had made a lot less noise than she thought.

Kicking her boots off, Noelle gave a quick look around the room. Deciding that no one was about to come barging in, she headed to the bed. “Scoot,” Noelle instructed, seizing one side of Sammy’s blankets and flapping them about to indicate that she had picked this side of the bed. Tossing the blankets over Sammy, she snuggled in.

“This’ll be good, Sammy,” Noelle said, absently scrunching up Sammy’s hair as she stared at the ceiling. It was a nice room, even if it was harder to break into than the last place that Sammy had set up shop. Clean, and based on the extensive internet - and some minor physical - stalking that she had done, the parents seemed like nice people. Like weirdly in love for old people, and Noelle had been tempted to vomit into a shrub, but that would have blown her cover. She kicked Sammy’s foot under the blankets - they were pretty much the exact same height, even though he had only recently caught up to her, being the treacherous stretchy creature that he was. “They seem nice. I mean, I highkey followed them through the supermarket for an hour, and they’re just… blegh. Lovey. Old people shouldn’t be allowed to be that lovey, I am super triggered.”

They’d had this conversation a bajillion times, at a bajillion different homes. Or it felt like that. What a place was like, what the family was like, looking for the best. Noelle had bounced around a lot less than Sammy, but this had somehow become their ritual once they were old enough to figure out how to break into each other’s houses. Many scraped knees, one sprained ankle, and two angry chihuahuas later, and they had it pretty much down pat. “This’ll be the last one, Sammy, I feel it this time,” Noelle said, holding out her pinky for a pinky shake. Every placement they hoped would be the last one. Right now, Noelle was with a pretty nice couple - she was pretty sure she’d only lose her spot if they decided that they wanted “real” kids, as some less than tactful people put it. It wasn’t unlikely, but she was holding out hope that the room with the ugly wallpaper would be her last. And that this room, nondescript as it was, would be the last for Sammy. “And if it sucks, you can live in my closet until we graduate, and it’ll be great. I mean, it’s a pretty good closet as far as closets go. I could probably make you a nest.”

Requested by anon for @backy-rambles​

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa

Tbh probably Quinn. KJ is like supernaturally smooth. All bets are off if they’re drunk.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them

If either of them do, they will not admit it >> because they 100000% do not have the feelings.

Who starts the tickle fights

Probably KJ and Quinn probably “hates” it!

Who starts the pillow fights

Quinn. And probably claim that it’s because KJ said something stupid.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile

Shhhhh, they both do this >> Mostly cuz it’s the only time they’re not getting heckled

Who mistakes salt for sugar

Quinn. I feel like KJ has better life skills in this regard.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning

KJ. He has all of the chill in this relationship. Quinn would unplug the thing and then be pissed when it won’t turn on next time he tries to cook something.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines

KJ. ALL THE WAY. I feel like on the rare occasion Quinn comes up with a mess of one and KJ just stares at him like “dafuq you just say?”

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order

Well, neither. KJ does not seem like he would care and Quinn is a disorganized mess. 

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies

KJ. Quinn would tell him he’s gonna die from salmonella or something.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion

I feel like they can both agree that that money is better spent on alcohol >>

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen

KJ cuz he thinks the tattoo thing is funny. Quinn does not want to feed into this joke.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation

Quinn probably. He’s probably the person who freezes up in the souvenir shop and just gets a magnet because it’s easy and everyone needs magnets. 

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines

If you were in the business of crime, you met a lot of really dumb criminals. Not just your run of the mill stupid people, but people who were so sincerely "dumbass is my only employable skill" that all they could do was be a criminal. And commit crimes very badly.

So, here they were. Standing in a government contractor's office, committing what could, on a good day be written off as "corporate espionage" and on a bad day chalked up to "treason" - potato potahto - Michelle was going through the hard copy files while Rowan did his thing copying the hard drives, and four very loud someones came barreling through the hallway, and into the office, already congratulating themselves on a job well done.

Michelle raised an eyebrow at them, before looking over at Rowan. "Really? Really?" Things had been going so smoothly. Their tech guy was good, and for a government contractor, apparently looping security footage was easy peasy. Breaking into things was kind of Rowan and Michelle's thing - the couple that thieves together leaves together and all of that jazz. And here were a ragtag team of actual dumbasses who probably though that they had foiled all of the security measures with a paper clip and a Hardy Boys guidebook.

"What are you two doing here?" the lead idiot, call him Dipshit, demanded, waving his gun around like he had no idea what kind of damage he could do if it just so happened to go off.

"Could ask you the same thing," Michelle said, slowly slipping the file out of the drawer and safely under her jacket. Safe from blood and brain spatter.

"Well, we're asking," idiot two, codename Fuckhead, said, attention fixed on Rowan, having already decided that Michelle was not going to be a problem.

Bad call.

Fixing her gaze irritably over the shoulder of one of the idiots for a moment, she reached for a paperweight and chucked it at one of the offending morons.

Request: Ambrose finds Albany wearing his sweater

Hanging out with Ambrose had seemed like a good idea. They had been hanging out a lot, and there had been only a few fiascos. Always of Albany’s making, for doing or saying something dumb. Somehow, two degrees had not smacked the stupid out of Albany. Nor had the small army of children she dealt with. And, at some point, Ambrose had had to leave for a while, and Albany had found one of his sweaters and decided to snuggle up in the sweater, fiddling around on her phone until he got back.

Great plan.

Except the whole “Ambrose walks like a ghost and I don’t have time to put the sweater away before he notices it” thing.

So here they were.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Albany said, waving her arms a bit so that the ever-so-slightly too long arms flopped over her hands. “This one is yours, it’s really nice. I mean, I didn’t mean to steal it, it was just there and it was cold. Not that I just steal things because I’m cold. But it was warm and smells nice - not that you, I mean you smell nice, but I’m not like smelling you.” Ahhhhh why were words so vomity. “Oh my god, I’m just going to shut up now.” Subtext: Kill me now. She should never have snuggled up in the sweater, but it was cold and Ambrose smelled good in a totally not weird ‘I smell you like a bloodhound’ sort of way, though that was a very difficult thing to communicate to someone even when they didn’t have a face like that and shoulders like that and well, just Ambrose’s general Ambrose-ness.

After a moment of standing there like an awkward duck, it dawned on her that the thing to do would be to give the sweater back. “Oh, right, here you go,” Albany said, pulling the sweater over her head, and, naturally, catching an earring and her hair on the knit, and having to do a weird little shimmy around to get it untangled. Because, of course, she couldn’t just pull a sweater off like a competent human being around Ambrose. It had to be a god show. And not the good sexy kind, more like something that would show up on youtube under “Fails.” “Yeah, here you go. Or, I can wash it. I can totally wash it. If you’d rather.”

She was pretty sure karma was coming down way too hard on her for poaching a sweater from a good looking person who had left her unattended with his sweaters.