“Okay, what about The Princess Bride?” I blink at him hopefully. My love of retro classics is my only
weakness, besides shoes and clothes that is … oh and sugar, and junk food. So, I may have a lot of
vices besides old movies. Shoot me.
“You do know you are not an eighties kid, right? That your weird love of crazily old movies for someone
so young is abnormal?” Arrick walks back to me carrying hot mugs and I turn to follow his progress
when he gets back around beside me, moving to let him sit down and then curl back up close to him
when he slides back. He runs his arm along the back of the chair over my head, so I have his armpit in
my face. It’s just as well he always smells good.
“I hung about with an old man through my most important developmental years, and he must have
rubbed off on me.” I throw back deadpan at him, met with a palm in the face which squashes my nose
as he smears what’s left of my makeup further down with the motion.
“Hey!” I slap it away, that annoying person he can be starting to come out now all the emotional serious
stuff is out of the way. This is the real him that I miss. The infuriating brother figure, annoyingly
immature at times, despite his overall Mr. Mature. persona. That dude who holds me down and tickles
me to death until I yield. The one who opened my world to a whole host of annoying behaviors and
practical jokes at my expense.
“Less of the old … I happen to not even be in my prime yet.” He settles back and lifts his mug with his
free hand before returning to the armpit in the face pose, taking a drink of coffee I know will be like tar.
He takes his black, super strong and with no sugar; disgusting if you ask me. I like mine with cream
and sweet, and he always makes it perfectly.
“Still getting on in years, soon be losing this, developing a man podge and wearing house slippers.” I
pat his very firm and toned flat abdomen in jest with a raised brow of knowingness.
“You’re only five and a bit years younger than me, brat. Fairly sure the slippers and the food baby will
happen to you long before it happens to me, seeing as you’re the one with a sugar addiction and an
allergy to the gym.” He slides his mug back down, picks up the remote and starts scrolling Netflix.
Focusing on the screen as he fast scans a whole list of favorites.
“I don’t need a gym; this is all natural.” I sit up on my knees and lean back, pushing out my poor
attempt at a belly and rub it heartily. I have always been pretty lucky that I have an athletic shape and
fast metabolism. Despite having a decent set of breasts on me, I have a pretty toned boyish body with
a little extra curve on the ass. I guess all that dancing in high shoes and walking around the city every
day has some perks.
Arrick looks up at me as I now tower over him with a flat expression and prods me in the stomach. I
flinch and collapse back down with an ‘ooft’ noise and shove him in the shoulder in outrage. Focusing
on the screen and list of movie icons the same way he is.
“Okay … I can tolerate either ‘The Dark Crystal’ or ‘Robin Hood, Men in Tights’. You choose.” He eyes
me seriously; picking two movies from the list he has labeled ‘Sophie’s Crap’ saved to his TV because
of me. I frown at the new caption on the list and give him an ‘I am not amused by that’ look that is met
with a smirk and a shrug.
“Don’t even pretend that you’re not really angling for ‘The Dark Crystal’. We both know it’s secretly your
favorite movie of all time!” I prod him in the cheek childishly, right in the place his dimple always
appears, perfect bullseye and meet only a serious flat expression.
“Why do I even do this shit for you?” He sighs heavily and picks the movie, pressing a button with the
remote held up before throwing it down on the couch next to him and reaching for a folded throw. He
hands me the blanket and helps me spread it around myself, over my legs and feet.
“Because you love me, and you know what makes me happy.” I grin at him when I’m comfy and settled,
curled up like a kid next to him and ready to find a landing place for my head somewhere on his body.
“Hmm.” He frowns back and checks his watch; the faint rumble of his stomach alerts me he’s checking
how long before food gets here. I get that inner creep of guilt once more that he should have eaten by
now. Not that it lasts long as I am also starving, and the thought of pizza has me already watering at
the mouth.
“Don’t deny it. I’m like your most ‘favoritest’ person in the whole entire world, even when you’re really
mad at me.” I poke him again and this time he catches my finger and sticks it in his mouth with a
completely satisfied look on his face. I squeal in disgust, yank my hand back fast and start wiping his
saliva on his shirt in a frenzy of cringe, screwing up my face as he grins at me smugly. He knows how
much I hate that, it’s worse than when he sticks his finger in my ear or that one time, he licked my face,
because I wouldn’t stop mimicking him.
“You’re disgusting.” I scold him and slap his shoulder hard enough to get a decent sounding ‘whap’
noise. He remains unmoved and doesn’t even acknowledge it. Mind you, with shoulders like his he
doesn’t feel pain from girly little attempts of violence.
“Yet you love me because I’m like totally your most ‘favoritest’ person in the whole entire world.” He
mimics me with a girly voice and fluttering lashes that earns him another poke in the face, although I
am quick to get my hand out of the way when he makes a dive for it again.
“Shut up and let me watch my movie.” I pout childishly, ignoring him watching me with an utterly
amused beam on his face. Obviously thinks he’s totally smart and so freaking funny, when really, he is
about ten shades of annoying as shit at times.
“Move over then and lie down, so I can get behind you. If I must watch it, at least give me room to go to
sleep until food arrives. You can wake me up when it gets here.” He shoves me so I fall sideways away
from him, obediently moving to the front of the couch and stretch out straight so he can slide in at the
back of me and mirror my pose. We both roll onto our sides to face the TV as he drapes his arm
casually over my waist, pulling up the blanket over me, so I’m covered again, and he’s not. His breath
in the back of my hair as the music starts rolling into the opening scenes, and we get comfy in the
space, rolling into each other perfectly. No hint of any sense of fear or invasion, even when he’s
spooning me this way.
“You are,” he utters softly behind my head and I smile. Knowing he’s answering my statement, even if I
did say it in jest. That fluttering smile runs across my face and the tiny warming sensation in my
stomach that happens anytime he’s being genuine, blooms.
“You’re such a loser,” I respond drily, curbing the urge to laugh. I shove my butt back to hit him in the
groin childishly, then ‘SHHH’ him when he makes a noise. He just squeezes my waist with his arm and
settles down to either sleep or watch this infernal show.
My film starts, but the heaviness of my eyelids tells me that I won’t see much of it.
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