Well, then maybe that's my motivation. Maybe I sort of like you. [The jam is some kind of insufferable seasonal infused nonsense but it just tastes like jam. Good jam, but still.]
It was more than once and yes, it's burned into my memory forever. I have nightmares about it.
I have a voice-mail where you call me a "nasty pervy horny bitch" so there's nothing obvious about it. [But there's genuine amusement in Corrigan’s voice as he says it. He nudges his foot against Kyle's under the table.
And then he sighs, rolling his eyes as the waitress reappears to top off the mimosas and deliver their food.] Or you can rent a camper or a uhaul like a normal person.
Yet you like me anyways. What a conundrum you are, Kyle Broflovski.
[Corrigan says this with a toothy grin, pouring some of the aforementioned pomelo/peach caramel over his pancakes. It just looks like regular caramel.]
[He sounds like this is so far beyond the realm of possibility when it's...not. Remotely. And he'll point his fork threatening at Kyle.] You're lucky you're cute, that's all I'm saying. Eat your toast.
Who lied and told you that? You're the sensitive doe-eyed one and that's that.
[Corry rolls his eyes, but also makes sure the bite has all the good stuff on it -- whipped cream and the caramel and fruit and whatnot. He holds up the heavily loaded fork and gestures bossily.] Open up.
[This is information he should've known earlier, KYLE. But he won't deny the pancakes, sliding the bite into Kyle's mouth very gently, then wiping away a loose drip of caramel from his lip.] Good?
Ah. I would've gone with "Butters" too, then. [...your name is Corrigan, how is that better than "Leopold"??
Corry makes a scrunched-up face of disgust, taking his hand away, but only so he can grasp Kyle's chin, firmly.] I'm telling the waitress you're cut off. No more champagne for you.
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Is it so impossible to believe that I actually enjoy your company and want to be nice to you sometimes?
[Then he bites into the biscuit, smirking.] You still have your hick moments. I don't think you're very aware of them.
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I. No.
[He rolls his eyes and takes the jam.]
Is this because ONE TIME I said I'd buy a truck?
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It was more than once and yes, it's burned into my memory forever. I have nightmares about it.
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Oh come on, a truck is useful! You can haul stuff in it, and it's good for camping!
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And then he sighs, rolling his eyes as the waitress reappears to top off the mimosas and deliver their food.] Or you can rent a camper or a uhaul like a normal person.
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[Looking smug, Kyle sips his now refilled mimosa and smiles.]
Not my fault I'm butch.
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[Corrigan says this with a toothy grin, pouring some of the aforementioned pomelo/peach caramel over his pancakes. It just looks like regular caramel.]
You are not the butch in this situation.
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[Kyle tucks into the 'artisanal toast.' It's just sourdough.]
Uh, I kinda am, dude.
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[Have a look of the MOST indignation.] I'm butch.
[A statement that would be more convincing if he weren't using tiny sparkly silverware to eat his pancakes.]
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YOU? You're a princess!
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I am not.
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[Mimosas are great, Kyle has decided. He feels warm and happy.]
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[He sounds like this is so far beyond the realm of possibility when it's...not. Remotely. And he'll point his fork threatening at Kyle.] You're lucky you're cute, that's all I'm saying. Eat your toast.
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[He does. SMUGLY.]
I'll have you know in a boy band I would be the tough one. So there.
Can I try some of yours?
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[Corry rolls his eyes, but also makes sure the bite has all the good stuff on it -- whipped cream and the caramel and fruit and whatnot. He holds up the heavily loaded fork and gestures bossily.] Open up.
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[Looking FAR too pleased with himself, Kyle opens his mouth.]
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[This is information he should've known earlier, KYLE. But he won't deny the pancakes, sliding the bite into Kyle's mouth very gently, then wiping away a loose drip of caramel from his lip.] Good?
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[Does he make a borderline obscene noise? Yes. He gives Corrigan a sultry look.]
SO good.
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["Borderline" nothing, that was a full-on porn sound, and it sort of leaves Corrigan staring for a second, his brain short-circuiting with horny.]
...you almost done?
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Hm? Oh, uhm, not quite. [He goes back to his omelette happily. And tries a different mimosa.]
You're done?
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[Corry slumps back in his seat, pouting again and returning to his pancakes.] You're a goddamn tease is what you are.
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What? No I'm not! I said I would blow you after brunch!
[NO indoor voice.]
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[Corry chokes on a bite of pancake, reaching out to smush his hand over Kyle's mouth.]
You don't need to announce that!
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[Kyle looks wide eyed, then... licks Corry's hand. Take that!]
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Corry makes a scrunched-up face of disgust, taking his hand away, but only so he can grasp Kyle's chin, firmly.] I'm telling the waitress you're cut off. No more champagne for you.
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the amount of cumface icons I have is absurd
absurd... or perfect?
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truly tragic html on my part wow
My swipe-texting typo filled ass will never judge.
bless ur light
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