“Good,” you supply, setting the papers down and smoothing your fingertips over the title page. “The grammar is too stylized for anything but creative writing.”
“I got my oxford commas from you,” he volleys back.
“Yes, well,” clearing your throat, and lifting a foot to push out the chair opposite you so that he’ll sit down. “You’re welcome. They really do help with clarification.”
“They’re pretentious.”
You scowl at him, reaching down to card fingers through Carter’s hair from where he’s given up clinging to your leg for dear life and is simply picking at the already chipping nail polish on your toes. It’s gross, and you wiggle your toes once or twice to get him to stop—but you don’t really put the effort in. “Keep being a brat and I won’t feed you,” you caution.
“That’s child abuse.”“You’re an adult, heathen.”
i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#41] snapshot 42
Tag: qoe
“Happy birthday, beautiful.”
She blinks up at you, like she doesn’t understand, before smiling, “D’ja eat your cupcake?” You see soot on her cheek from the fire she’d stopped earlier—a little singe at her shoulder—you’d watched the whole thing on the screens behind your desk, chewing on your lip the whole while. You know she’s perfectly capable—that this is almost nothing—but it hadn’t stopped you from worrying. You swallow down the urge you have every time—to tell her National City can save itself, that she doesn’t owe them anything—but you don’t want to have that argument again. Especially not tonight.
“Not yet,” smoothing a hand over her crown, you tell her to scooch, and when she shuffles down on the couch so that you can sit, with her head settled comfortably in your lap. Kara’s turned toward you so that she’s pressed against your stomach, and you can only imagine that the buttons of your shirt are jabbing into her, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I’m sorry,” as if it could be said quietly enough, as if that could take it back. “The days got away from me—but that’s—it’s not an excuse.” You’re combing fingers through her hair, scratching behind her ear so that she hums deep in her chest. Carter coos in his sleep, and one of his little hands uncurls from Kara’s jacket to slap lightly at her chin—obviously not pleased with the movement. Kara catching his fingers in a kiss, and they go limp against her cheek—the boy obviously asleep again.
“I forgive you,” is all she says, eyes closed, settling into your lap.i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#36] snapshot 14
“And you think we should encourage the chaos by letting the heathen behind the wheel?”
“Come on, Cat, we talked about this. He’s sixteen, he doesn’t want us to drive him everywhere. It’s not cool.” Kara is very invested in cool, maybe it’s because she still only has a permit, and her driving encourages no confidence.
“Until I see that poor driving isn’t genetic,” Cat grouses, and presses a kiss to Carter’s forehead, and another to Kara’s cheek, “He’s not getting anywhere near Stella. He can drive Chuck.”
You can’t help frowning, because Chuck is your grandfather’s 1987 VW station wagon, a boat sized vehicle that is somehow still driving a thousand and a half years later. You’d much rather drive Stella, Cat’s brand new Mercedes lease.
“What?” You groan, “That car’s older than I am.”
Cat pats your cheek while she walks by, “I have shoes older than you are.”i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#33] snapshot 45
Question of Smoke 