Angela Balzac (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
frontierset) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
calpico2019-05-07 11:37 pm
frontierset) wrote in calpico2019-05-07 11:37 pm
Basically, They're Married
[Angela grew up in a very restrictive family. Do this at this exact time, do this later, look down your nose at this person, and never, ever ask any questions. They weren't even rich. They were just jerks.
She's not a kid anymore, so it doesn't eat her up inside or anything, but it's still... strange. Waking up in the mornings and just being able to do whatever. Her job helps - she's tech support for some random start-up at the moment, and that mostly consists of watching some idiot from California fuck up his website for the 2nd time that week and her having to unfuck it. It's the kind of work she can do in bits and pieces over the course of the day, and it leaves her a lot of time to herself.
Or, well, it would, if she wasn't living with a reason why she doesn't talk to her folks anymore. But whatever. Pukin's the love of her life. They'd met in college, laughed about how lame this party was, gotten a little drunk, and then Pukin had... well, look, Angela had still in her 'looking down her nose' phase. She'd joked about girls experimenting in college in a judgmental way.
Joke's on her, because she gave her virginity to a girl she met three hours ago. But it worked out, so whatever.]
Mm, Pukin?
[She's sat on the couch (picked out by her), legs crossed, still only half-dressed - she's got one of her shirts on, shorts (picked out by Pukin, probably, she can't remember but they're small enough that probably, yes), but very obviously no bra. Pukin seems to have noticed, considering the way she's staring. She rolls her eyes over at her girlfriend, sticks her tongue out at her before going back to typing on her laptop, fingers clacking with practiced ease across the keys.
Living with Pukin's a dream, even if Pukin's at work half the day. It'd be easier if Angela had an office job, but considering she works from home, the place feels a little lonely. On the other hand, it means she's always there when Pukin gets back. That's nice. 'Welcome home.' She always feels a little bit like a housewife when she says that, but it's not a bad feeling.
And it means when Pukin does have days off, Angela's always around to spend it with her.
... Pukin's still staring.]
If you're going to look like a sad puppy all day, give me like, thirty minutes, okay, babe? Then I'm all yours. Did you still want to - [And then she follows the line of Pukin's eyes, huffs and readjusts her shirt, makes sure the collar isn't drooping down quite as much. She hadn't realized how worn out this shirt was.]
Okay, I think I can guess what you want to do today, and it isn't checking out that new Italian restaurant.
She's not a kid anymore, so it doesn't eat her up inside or anything, but it's still... strange. Waking up in the mornings and just being able to do whatever. Her job helps - she's tech support for some random start-up at the moment, and that mostly consists of watching some idiot from California fuck up his website for the 2nd time that week and her having to unfuck it. It's the kind of work she can do in bits and pieces over the course of the day, and it leaves her a lot of time to herself.
Or, well, it would, if she wasn't living with a reason why she doesn't talk to her folks anymore. But whatever. Pukin's the love of her life. They'd met in college, laughed about how lame this party was, gotten a little drunk, and then Pukin had... well, look, Angela had still in her 'looking down her nose' phase. She'd joked about girls experimenting in college in a judgmental way.
Joke's on her, because she gave her virginity to a girl she met three hours ago. But it worked out, so whatever.]
Mm, Pukin?
[She's sat on the couch (picked out by her), legs crossed, still only half-dressed - she's got one of her shirts on, shorts (picked out by Pukin, probably, she can't remember but they're small enough that probably, yes), but very obviously no bra. Pukin seems to have noticed, considering the way she's staring. She rolls her eyes over at her girlfriend, sticks her tongue out at her before going back to typing on her laptop, fingers clacking with practiced ease across the keys.
Living with Pukin's a dream, even if Pukin's at work half the day. It'd be easier if Angela had an office job, but considering she works from home, the place feels a little lonely. On the other hand, it means she's always there when Pukin gets back. That's nice. 'Welcome home.' She always feels a little bit like a housewife when she says that, but it's not a bad feeling.
And it means when Pukin does have days off, Angela's always around to spend it with her.
... Pukin's still staring.]
If you're going to look like a sad puppy all day, give me like, thirty minutes, okay, babe? Then I'm all yours. Did you still want to - [And then she follows the line of Pukin's eyes, huffs and readjusts her shirt, makes sure the collar isn't drooping down quite as much. She hadn't realized how worn out this shirt was.]
Okay, I think I can guess what you want to do today, and it isn't checking out that new Italian restaurant.