There he goes, swinging from nice back to not, from acquiescing back to making the rules, from being sweet and kind to making sure I've earned all of these bruises as punishment for whatever it is that he maintains I've done.
Which is nothing but tease him slightly and it was more than enough to send him into a tailspin of dark misery that he saw fit to share and I needed to run from and didn't because we have a trauma-bond.
Hell, yes we do.
Caleb keeps vetoing every single thing I suggest, after he asked me for a Christmas list. Every single thing I offer he counters with something outlandish, expensive or inappropriate. Finally he throws up his hands and asks me to stop, that he'll find something and that I'll like it.
Just because.
Then why did you ask me? This is so stupid, I think I've decided it's the hill I'm going to die on today.
Because I thought maybe you might be reasonable.
My suggestions are reasonable for what you-
Oh, please finish. For what I am to you? Think hard before you answer, Neamhchiontach, for I like to reward you not for what I am to you but for what you are to me.
Redemption.
Hell. Yes.
Too bad you can't buy your way out of this.
It is.
Well...too bad!
Oh, I see we're just going to slip into some childish frustration now.
Best I've got.
Indeed.
Okay, I'm leaving.
Why leave when we can fight our way through dinner?
I already have dinner plans.
With?
Danny and Sky. We're making pizza. I'd offer to bring you along but they specifically said threesome. I say this just to watch his ears light up and burn. They said nothing of the kind.
(It's implied, though.)
Does Ben know you're going? (Lochlan is away. Yesterday's sweetness was a going-away party. Not for more than a few days but I am well-supervised for his absence and I miss him enough to cry already.)
Yes, of course. Now I'm just annoyed.
Maybe I'll send them some instructions and they can talk you into something nice for Christmas. They appreciate the finer things.
Good luck with that.
Good luck with your dinner. I'll watch for your return.
Don't bother. I'm staying for a sleepover.
The face he made was enough of a Christmas gift for the next fifty years of my life. I grinned back.
Adios, Diablo.
Don't throw Spanish in on top of everything else, he whispers.
Which is nothing but tease him slightly and it was more than enough to send him into a tailspin of dark misery that he saw fit to share and I needed to run from and didn't because we have a trauma-bond.
Hell, yes we do.
Caleb keeps vetoing every single thing I suggest, after he asked me for a Christmas list. Every single thing I offer he counters with something outlandish, expensive or inappropriate. Finally he throws up his hands and asks me to stop, that he'll find something and that I'll like it.
Just because.
Then why did you ask me? This is so stupid, I think I've decided it's the hill I'm going to die on today.
Because I thought maybe you might be reasonable.
My suggestions are reasonable for what you-
Oh, please finish. For what I am to you? Think hard before you answer, Neamhchiontach, for I like to reward you not for what I am to you but for what you are to me.
Redemption.
Hell. Yes.
Too bad you can't buy your way out of this.
It is.
Well...too bad!
Oh, I see we're just going to slip into some childish frustration now.
Best I've got.
Indeed.
Okay, I'm leaving.
Why leave when we can fight our way through dinner?
I already have dinner plans.
With?
Danny and Sky. We're making pizza. I'd offer to bring you along but they specifically said threesome. I say this just to watch his ears light up and burn. They said nothing of the kind.
(It's implied, though.)
Does Ben know you're going? (Lochlan is away. Yesterday's sweetness was a going-away party. Not for more than a few days but I am well-supervised for his absence and I miss him enough to cry already.)
Yes, of course. Now I'm just annoyed.
Maybe I'll send them some instructions and they can talk you into something nice for Christmas. They appreciate the finer things.
Good luck with that.
Good luck with your dinner. I'll watch for your return.
Don't bother. I'm staying for a sleepover.
The face he made was enough of a Christmas gift for the next fifty years of my life. I grinned back.
Adios, Diablo.
Don't throw Spanish in on top of everything else, he whispers.