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when is a door not a door

"Have endured vorse for lesser things, upon request. Safety is paramount, America, you are being very valuable," to me, "and even if it vould have been not pleasant-- and yes, to be qvuite honest, scared-- I vould have listen."

He leaned back, eyes calculating, before shrugging just once. "...Da. Tventy/tventy."

Konstantin grew more and more sullen as she continued, something setting him on edge. It sounded so innocuous, an innocent rivalry...but.

Lawrence had watched them sleep. He spoke in ways that set America off kilter: a few, short messages, and she was weary and sharp around the edges, unstable.

It's atmospheric, you never know what you will find.

"Need to stop breaking phone so much," he chided, weariness setting in. "Need to not be so reckless. Not vith sex partner, that is own choice." He was going to have to investigate the other two. America didn't need to know that, for now. "Either vay. Need new place to sleep, no qvuestion."

"Never said anything permanent," Kostya replied, his tone gently chiding, still. "Until door installed, stay vith another. Pozhaluysta. It not feel right." He put his hands up. "But of course, find door and put in. No qvestion. Not think of permanent relocate, just..."

His dissents were getting more and more frequent.

"Spasiba."

* Please
* Thank you

Culinary Snobbery

"No," he instructed her sternly, jabbing the end of the spatula in her direction while still counting the seconds off on his fingers. "You resist. You don't ******** touch it. Ten seconds. Give or take. The less you ******** with it the better, and not just omelets. That's true of just about everything you'll ever cook--" With an easy, expert motion, he snapped the pan and turned the omelet, a perfect fold "--except risotto. I can't make risotto to save my ******** life, that's a patient man's game."

Effortlessly, he delivered the omelet to the waiting plate--he'd buttered the damn plate--and didn't even wait to gaze on her doubtlessly appreciative reception as it almost magically assumed the proper omelet shape, already turning back to take care of the stove.

Sextya




Glancing up from her phone she told Taym, "He wants me to be gentle." She grinned, raising her eyebrows, "Think this is him getting back at me for meddling with you two?"

Sexstya/Sleepover/what do we even call this any more omg

He was reading his own texts when America's phone went off and had actually opened his mouth to tell her not to read it--too late, too late.

"Jesus Christ," he said, pressing his palms to his eyes theatrically. "Couldn't look him in the ******** eye for a week. Don't ******** bring that up again."

Or any of it. That it was a joke, worthy of little more than a dismissive laugh. He'd friendzoned himself with more success than he could have imagined. Fiona treated him to something like an internal golf clap.





"Anyway, considering who we're talking about, I don't think it's likely that his motiv--"

He realized what he was about to say, and stopped.

SoS (Sextya on Sleepovers)


With a small, frustrated sound America tapped aggressively at her phone.



Glancing up at Taym, she let out a small huff, "I told you I wouldn't take advantage of Kostya like that, and I won't take advantage of you either, so rest easy. I can, in fact, respect boundaries, thank you." With an indignant little sniff, the girl continued, "I think he's going to try and approach my sex life the same way he does your eating habits. There will be spreadsheets in my future, most assuredly."

America paused in her irritation and considered this. After a few moments her shoulders began to shake.