thatsamilkshake | Room 505: Saturday Morning(ish)

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Room 505: Saturday Morning(ish)

They did not, in fact, break the bed, and thank God they'd both been too busy trying, to bother listening to the radio.

And now it was Saturday, after a long week of longness and Francine and Katchoo totally deserved a nice long lie-in of longness to match.

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

[OOC: for kids, co-parents, and Certain Annoying Elder Gods]

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Sad to say Katchoo's powers of headstrongness were no match for this morning.

"Are you too sore for another round?" she asked sleepily, tracing circles on Francine's hip with her fingers.

Which wasn't to say she wasn't going to try.

"Does it involve getting up to out on the leather outfit?" If so, yes. There were limits to how much Francine could wake up, even for that, even when Katchoo was doing that.

"What's the point?" Katchoo asked lazily. "It'd just come right back off anyway. We can just pretend it was there."

"Okay. This time. Can't do that all the time, though, or Dite's would go out of business." There was logic there somewhere; she just wasn't quite awake enough to explain it.

"Only if we end up ruining that one." It was probably interesting having an artist drawing patterns on your hip, wasn't it? "I frikkin' refuse to let you out of this bed today, Francie."

"Mmm, sounds good. Wait, what about, you know?"

"The hell with food," Katchoo half-growled. "I can keep you distracted enough to forget about that kind of eating."

"Katina Choovanski!"

"Why, Francine Peters. Was it something I said?"

And this would be Katchoo trying to pounce on her, as the start of something that nobody had damn well try to interrupt if they knew what was good for them.

Shouldn't tempt fate like that, Chewie.

"Since when do--"

"Mommieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Whatever Francine was about to reply, it probably wasn't that.

You probably also shouldn't ask how Lillian M. Peters-Choovanski managed to be running across a room whose door they had most certainly locked last night, to jump on their bed. ('Cause she'd get in trouble either way, for the magic, or picking the lock.)

Edited 2010-04-10 22:22 (UTC)

"DOOR!" Katchoo howled, ever so coherently. (Did Aunt Tambi teach you that lock-picking thing, kid? Did she?) "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM -- oh. Oh, geez, this is happening again?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's breakfast time, Mom. It happens every day. Or you don't get big an' strong like Aunt Tambi!"

That .... might answer that question.

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That "Mommieeeee, I want my mommieeeeee!" from outside the door was much less pleasant-sounding this time. As was the lack of knocking that preceded it being flung open and Illyria stomping in with a small boy over her shoulder.

"Take this." Said small boy was dumped .... rather gently for Illyria, really... on the bed. Which at least no longer contained any unclothed girls.

"No!"

Said small boy, clutching a bedraggled white rabbit, immediately rolled off the bed, and... ran over to cling to Illyria's leg.

That would be Francine staring.

"There is no way you and I have a child together." And yet she found herself heading over to try to pry him off, because... Illyria. Small boys were not a balanced breakfast either.

"Try not to be a simpleton!" Illyria shot her a look, then devoted her own efforts to the prying. "I brought him to you because you care for children, not because he's your offspring."

When exactly 'it' had become 'him,' she wasn't sure, nor did she care to retrace the steps.

"So... he is yours?" He didn't look blue at all. Or in any way resemble an alien stick-monster. "You can't just... I mean if the choice is that or you eating him, of course I'll watch him, but--"

Edited 2010-04-11 00:21 (UTC)

"NO EATING ME! NO!" Stupid puffy leather stuff on the lady who looked like mommy but said she wasn't. It totally blunted the force of his kicking. And... was slippery enough to make clinging hard.

Look, he was three. It was confusing, and she looked like his mom, and she sounded like his mom, just... not quite. "She said she'd take me to my mommy! Liarliarliarliarliar!"

"Wow, he's loud," said Lily, helpfully, from the floor where she was trying on Francine's feather mask.

Which had Katchoo wondering if this kid was related to her somehow.

Gyeah, scary thought.

"What, dumping your droid baby off on us wasn't enough?" she asked, glaring.

"He isn't mine," Illyria said, half scorn and half something. It shouldn't have been half.

"Then whose is he?" Francine asked, giving up on prying him away herself.

Don't you dare. Don't you dare tell that boy what you did to me.

Illyria took a breath, then another, then bent down to put her hands on the child's shoulders. "Let go. I require private speech with this one."