Spoilers for OUAT 2x13

[benimble]

What the hell. It's bad enough that the show doesn't expose Charming for the douchebag he is, but not only do they make me into a woman, but chick-me was sleeping with Prince Charming's brother!?

Fucking hell. At least I'm hot as a chick. I'd do her. Even if chick me is sleeping with her uncle.

Comments

[originaljackass]

I would if you wanted me to. [But he's pretty sure she doesn't. Despite what she says.]

[herotypical]

...That's a slippery slope of an argument if I ever did hear one.

[ and - yet - still not a concrete answer. still not an argument. ]

[originaljackass]

You're not disagreeing.

[herotypical]

...I'm disagreeing with my eyes. [ she gestures at said organs with two fingers. a modified i'm watching you kinda deal. ]

[originaljackass]

They're not doing a very good job of it. [To make a point, he casually flexes some muscles.]

1/2

[herotypical]

[ oh all the powers above give her strength to overcome this hulking ass of a dish. ]

2/2

[herotypical]

[ buffy shifts her whole body and fixes her gaze rather pointedly upon the ceiling. excellent, non-tempting tiles. she counts them and remembers how to breath. ]

We need to find you a shirt.

[originaljackass]

You don't like what you see?

[herotypical]

It's that I really don't need to be seeing it, right now.

[ huff. in point of fact, the exact opposite problem is true: she likes what she sees, and that could only mean trouble. ]

Perhaps we can find you something nice and baggy and not-muscle-clingy.

[originaljackass]

That would be a disservice to women everywhere, Buffy. Are you sure you can have that on your conscience?

[herotypical]

[ she'd rather it on her conscience than the indiscretion she's otherwise risking by too often availing herself glances at his physique. ]

I've already been to Heaven. I think that -- in the wake of that -- my conscience can do with a bit of weight.

[originaljackass]

Now you tell me that. Of all those times I could've used those "Did you just fall out of heaven" lines...

[herotypical]

It's not exactly an advertising point. I try not to walk around with a neon sign, y'know? 'Ex-angel' blinking in hot pink. Not my style.

[ angel's ex, on the other hand... ]

[originaljackass]

You should. It'd bring out your eyes more.

[herotypical]

My eyes don't need bringing out. My eyes? Are lovely limpid pools of oceanic green. They bring themselves out. They're very independent.

[ and still at risk of roving. dear lord, doesn't this man get cold? mildly chilly? ]

[originaljackass]

[He doesn't even shiver!]

Did I ever tell you I love green eyes?

[herotypical]

...I'm finding you a shirt. A poncho, if I have to. One of those freaking big yellow rubber jackets.

[ and she makes the effort of turning away and rifling through a conveniently present box of...whatever. doodads and whatsits and rags and hopefully something that'll cover that hunk of ego up. ]

[originaljackass]

Shouldn't you buy me dinner before asking me to put a rubber on?

[He makes an effort to not help at all. He does a very good job at this.]

[herotypical]

You can never be too safe...

[ she finally hauls an utter disaster of a sweater out of the box, fully aware that getting him into it is going to be more than half the battle. ]

[originaljackass]

... I'm not wearing that. Ever.

[Not even when he's dead.]

[herotypical]

You'll wear it or I'll make you wear it.

[ an odd threat, to be true. ]

[originaljackass]

I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more.

[herotypical]

Trust me -- [ she rather threateningly started to bunch up the sweater's fabric, as if to make it ready for donning ] -- if you end up enjoying it? That means I didn't do it right.

[originaljackass]

Then I'll look forward to you getting it wrong.

[He crosses his arms.]

[herotypical]

[ ...a few problems strike her. y'know. right off the bat. one happens to be the man's taller-than-her status. that's gonna be an issue. the next is the part where his arms are still rather crossed. but -- not to be deterred -- she sets her jaw and grabs onto one of his wrists. ]

I hate you.

[ she gives his arm a hard, strong tug. aiming to draw it away from his body and introduce it to a waiting sleeve. ]