Martel and Kimbley are especially uncivil before breakfast.
by Melissa the Sheep
For pinstripesuit, because her life was full of pain and suffering today. (Dorochet making coffee was Laylah's idea--though I don't think he got up early enough this morning.)
Summary: Martel and Kimbley are especially uncivil before breakfast.
Characters: Martel, Dorochet, Greed/Kimbley
Warnings: Sexual slurs, murderous intent, drinking first thing in the morning . . . I'm told it's cute anyway.
Dorochet eyes the percolator, then goes to extinguish the smouldering table. Martel is in good form this morning--Kimbley managed only the one attempt at detonating her, before she wrapped an arm around his wrists and pinned him to the floor.
"Take it back!" Martel demands.
"Fucking dyke," Kimbley snarls, thrashing despite the knife at his throat. "What's it to /you/?"
When Dorochet returns to the bar, Greed is perched on one of the stools, barefooted, hair flying in all directions, drinking vodka from the bottle and eating from Dorochet's plate. He waves a piece of bacon at Kimbley and Martel. "So what's it about this time?"
Dorochet moves his plate before Greed can take the rest of his breakfast. "Kimbley said you couldn't stay hard without your shield."
Greed grins. "Aww. Didn't know she cared so much."
Dorochet glances at the percolator again. Ready enough. "Martel, coffee."
Martel releases Kimbley abruptly and darts over to the bar stool beside Greed's. She coils her hand around the cup Dorochet pours for her, and sighs happily.
Kimbley grumbles as he sits down on Greed's other side. He and Martel exchange murderous glares as Dorochet pours another cup of coffee. Martel hisses at him. Kimbley extends his palm toward her, arm stretching in front of Greed.
Greed frowns slightly and wraps his fingers around Kimbley's wrist. "If you have this kind of energy before breakfast, darling . . . " He stands and nudges Kimbley toward the stairs. "I'm sure there are better outlets than burning the tables."
Kimbley balks a bit, but goes along when Greed pushes. "Wouldn't have burned the table," he mutters, "if that bitch hadn't been so fast."
"There's better outlets than blowing up my chimeras, too," Greed says as they reach the top of the stairs. "All this just because you're jealous of my virility?"
Their voices are fading as they walk down the hall, and Dorochet can't quite make out Kimbley's reply, or what Greed says in return.
Martel smirks. "Good riddance." She sets down her empty cup and reaches for Kimbley's untouched coffee.
Greed's headboard is thumping against the wall as Martel asks for another cup.
[ End ]