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Sleds, Snow, and Hot ChocolateProsper would have burst into laughter at the picture before him had he not been absolutely positive that said action would earn him a snowball to the face. Blaire was sitting on bright yellow sled , bundled up in at least fifty layers, wearing the expression of a five year old recently given an ice cream cone. The sled, in turn, was poised at the top of a large, rather daunting looking hill, and Blaire was attempting to convince him to go sledding with her.
"Pleeeeease!" She continued, adopting a pout onto her formerly excited face.
"I'm wearing sweatpants," He pointed out, "Cloth sweatpants."
"Oh, suck it up, you baby," Blaire countered, which impressed Prosper quite a bit, since it usually took a lot more for her to start insulting him.
"What, and walk two miles home in soaking wet britches?" He questioned, "I'll pass on that."
"Fine." She said, sulking, "then at least help me up." She held out a hand to him, which Prosper was a little reluctant to take, since Blaire relenting in so
A Hidden Mischevious StreakThe incessant meowing was going to be the death of that cat, Prosper mused. He wasn't going to be responsible if he snapped and threw it out a window- that meow would bring it out in anyone. He groaned and covered his head with a pillow, wishing Blaire was there to shut Marshmallow up. She had left earlier to go to a class, and, since Prosper had thought she'd been telling the truth when she had said it would be quick, he had foolishly decided to wait for her in her apartment while taking a nap. But here he was, a hour later, and the little demon would not be quiet!
"Oh, what do you want, beast?" Prosper snapped, glaring at the deceptively cute kitten staring up at him from the floor. The cat merely glared (Prosper wondered idly if it was even possible for cats to glare, and then decided very quickly that they, in fact, could) at him, eying him with the distaste only a cat could manage. Prosper knew for a fact that he was laying in the one spot that the insufferable cat usua
FourThe noise in the airport should have been unbearable, but to Prosper it was muted, shoved to the background while he tried in vain to think of something to say. Other passengers were yelling and running past them, but Prosper felt as if the silence stretching between him and Fae was unbearable. She managed a smile for him, but it was strained, and Prosper knew that there was no real happiness behind it.
"This is for the best," she murmured, gently grasping his hands in hers, "but, I'm glad, at least... that we'll get this. Closure. I would never want to end what we've had over the phone, or... well, you know what I mean."
"I..." Prosper couldn't finish the sentence, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he could think of absolutely nothing to say. He didn't usually struggle for a way to put his thoughts into words, so for that usual talent to depart him at a time like this was terrifying. Fear rushed over him, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was making the b
TwoProsper grumpily banged his feet against the solid wood of the examination table he was sitting atop. He knew his mother was ignoring him, and, even worse, not even bothering to hide it, sitting across the room reading one of the many magazines that where piled on the small tables. He hated going to the doctor. Dr. Knowles always ruffled his hair too hard and talked too loud. If he told Prosper that he had to get a shot he was going to run for it. Stubbornly continuing to glare at his oblivious mother, he clenched his fingers around the edges of the table and waited for the stupid doctor to come in.
However, when the door finally did open, instead of seeing the large, obnoxious, slightly balding old man that he had come to expect, he was faced with- unexpectedly- the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with long brown hair and a pretty face.
"Hey there, Prosper," she said with a smile that lit up her face, "I'm Jane. Dr. Knowles is on vacation right now, so I'm going to be helping y
Poor Deprived People"Keep writing." Prosper told Blaire, in a voice that should have meant he was angry, but was ruined by the grin on his face.
"My hand hurts!" Blaire exclaimed, blowing her hair out of her face with an irritated huff, "And I've already written down a million of these!"
"Not enough," Prosper said. "If you're going to have any music and movie taste at all, we've got a long way to go."
"For the last time, my music and movie taste is fine." She looked down at the list of movies and bands before her on the table. Apparently, according to Prosper, her knowledge of movies was so poor that action needed to be taken at that very second. She didn't think it was such a terrible thing, but Prosper had insisted that they make a list of all the movies she had to watch. Then the list had expanded to include music, as well.
The whole stupid thing had started when he had found ("caught", as he put it) her listening to a Britney Spears song in her room while reading a book. In her defense,
Another Quirk"C'mon, Blaire," said Prosper. "Just one more time, I promise."
Blaire crossed her arms and shook her head stubbornly at him. She'd been humiliated enough by this stupid "lesson" that he'd insisted on having.
"Fine. How about a deal? You try again, and I'll tell you where I got this scar." Prosper said, pointing to his eyebrow and holding out the soccer ball with his other hand. Blaire bit her lip. She was sick of looking like an idiot...but she really wanted to know where that scar came from. She had asked him a million times already, but he would just grin at her and change the subject. She huffed irritably and blew her bangs out of her face.
"You'll really tell me?" She asked finally.
"No... but I'll give you a clue." He said, smirking at her in that infuriating way of his.
"Should've known." She muttered to herself. She sighed when she saw him still smirking at her, but they both knew she would give in, just as they both knew that Prosper's "clue" would proba
OneFour-year-old Prosper looked wide-eyed around the waiting room, nervous in spite of himself. His father had urged him to go play with the various toys scattered around the floor in the children's section, but he had refused to let go of his father's hand long enough to do so. Despite his father's assurances, Prosper's eyes were tearing up, and when his father tried baiting him into a game with the large lego blocks, he scooted down onto the floor and began halfheartedly putting together an shapeless lump of legos. After a few minutes of this, though, he toddled back to his father and tugged on his shirt. Without pausing, his father reached down and scooped Prosper up, knowing from previous experiences what Prosper had wanted.
"Don't be so scared, Pros," his father said, chuckling softly at Prosper's tight clutch on his shirt, "we're just here to pick up Mummy and your new baby sister, there's nothing to cry about."
He reached up and wiped away a couple of tears that had slid down Prosp
PaybackBlaire woke with a start, very alert and, for some reason, very cold. Blaire rubbed her eyes wearily and looked around the dark room, realizing after a moment that she must have forgotten to leave Prosper's apartment after he had made her come over to '"admire" his new futon. Honestly, in her opinion, it was more a ragged piece of junk than a futon, but she had to admit that it had been surprisingly comfy. Hence, the reason she had fallen asleep at Prosper's apartment.
Although, she reasoned, it would be difficult not to fall asleep while enduring a every-movie-in-my-apartment marathon that Prosper had suggested- so that they could fully appreciate the futon, apparently. Glancing around her once more, she noticed why she was so cold, and, eyes narrowing dangerously, focused on the sleepily sprawled out man by her side.
Normally she didn't mind falling asleep with Prosper- despite being leaner than most, he was surprisingly easy to use as a pillow- but there was one thing about him that
Love Me DoProsper was feeling mildly awkward. He knew that it was expected, routine even, to meet his girlfriend's parents and family, but it didn't make the situation any less nerve-wracking. He had endured the interrogation from Blaire's father about his life/plans/job/future, her brothers attempting to intimidate him, and her little sister giggling over his accent, and was now convinced that he never wanted to go through anything of the sort again.
Blaire and Prosper were now sitting cross-legged on her old bed with the door wide open, because, as Blaire had put it, both of them behind closed doors would make her father, Tim, "uncomfortable". Prosper was quite sure that he didn't want to make her dad, a large, well-muscled fire-fighter, any form of nervous at all. Especially since her father and brothers seemed to think he needed to be glared at routinely- despite the inevitable warning he had received from them about being with Blaire.
"I know what we can do tonight," Blaire said
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