Heyyy, what's happenin'? You've reached the voicemail of one very fine-lookin' man. Wanna chat? Fanboy all over my mad skillz? Declare your undying love for me? You know what to do. [BEEEEP]
[ Any retorts he has left are drowned by a bout of helpless chuckling-- so very not thug. Thankfully, Wade shows mercy and finally lets him go. As soon as he's able, he rubs at his ribs as if to erase those persistent tingling sensations.
Also not thug. ]
Prick, [ huffed in response, trying his damned best to sound miffed. It doesn't really work. A cuff against his cheek and the warmth behind the exchanged insults has him grinning again. He pokes the guy in the chest and warns: ] See if I ever make you anything again.
[ An empty threat like all the rest. Lesson learned: only ask Wade about his age if in the mood for harassment. He must be fucking older than he seems. ]
Puttin' a gift horse in a headlock, that's what they call that.
I dunno, you seemed to be lappin' up all the praise I was givin' it before. Wouldn't be surprised if you upped your production by at least 50% just so you could get some more ass-kissing, you little compliment hoarder.
[He rubs Jesse's head roughly; affectionately, like a dog.]
C'mon. Let's get some dinner. It's my birthday, but I guess I could make exception and cook you up some grub. Since you went to all the trouble of gettin' me a present an' all.
Oh really now? Shoulda made a recording of that last conversation just now. You were practically actin' like a teenage girl askin' her crush to the Sadie Hawkins dance. It was kinda cute, actually.
[Damn straight his cooking is really good. If nothing else keeps Jesse coming back, it'd definitely be the sick magic Wade can perform in the kitchen.
With all the practiced flourish of a stage performer, Wade takes a pot out of one of the cupboards and tosses it on the stove, reaching down once again to pull out a few cans. He wishes he could make something a little fresher for once, but experience has taught him to just make do with what's given to him. At least he's getting regular meals from Hatchy this time.]
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Also not thug. ]
Prick, [ huffed in response, trying his damned best to sound miffed. It doesn't really work. A cuff against his cheek and the warmth behind the exchanged insults has him grinning again. He pokes the guy in the chest and warns: ] See if I ever make you anything again.
[ An empty threat like all the rest. Lesson learned: only ask Wade about his age if in the mood for harassment. He must be fucking older than he seems. ]
Puttin' a gift horse in a headlock, that's what they call that.
no subject
[He rubs Jesse's head roughly; affectionately, like a dog.]
C'mon. Let's get some dinner. It's my birthday, but I guess I could make exception and cook you up some grub. Since you went to all the trouble of gettin' me a present an' all.
no subject
[ He nudges Wade's hand away, affectionately, a beat much too late. ]
Who says I'm that dependent on your praise? Jesus. [ laugh ] What a conclusion to leap to, just 'cause I gave you a box.
[ But despite all that big talk he is already trailing to the kitchen, hungry for Wade's cooking... it's really good, okay. ]
no subject
[Damn straight his cooking is really good. If nothing else keeps Jesse coming back, it'd definitely be the sick magic Wade can perform in the kitchen.
With all the practiced flourish of a stage performer, Wade takes a pot out of one of the cupboards and tosses it on the stove, reaching down once again to pull out a few cans. He wishes he could make something a little fresher for once, but experience has taught him to just make do with what's given to him. At least he's getting regular meals from Hatchy this time.]
Chicken chili sounds good, right?