The Apartment, New York, Sunday

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle was in her element. Not only was her boyfriend home – and not just visiting for the day but on actual break – but she was also cooking for him. That's right, their kitchen was a happy mess of various kinds of ingredients and pots and pans with ––

With, well, something cooking in them. It was honestly hard to tell what it was by the smell. Or the ingredients strewn about the counters. Or the way it looked, even. Maybe... maybe it was some kind of stew?

Whatever it was, Isabelle looked happy to be making it.

[ooc: NFB, and expecting a ton of SP, omg.]

Comments

[seveninchmotto]

"... No."

What a liar. What a lying liar who lied. She tried pulling her foot away from his hands, with a laugh.

[flickofthewrist]

Flick held her foot fast, clamping his fingers down around her ankle and feathering his fingers against the bottom of her foot quicker this time.

[seveninchmotto]

"Jon, no!" Isabelle wailed, giggling. Her hands were holding on to the sides of her chair for leverage in her fight to free her foot. (She was holding back, though. Otherwise her foot would have been free already. But where was the fun in that?) "Nooooo!

[flickofthewrist]

"Jon, yes!" Flick replied, stroking his fingers quickly and lightly against the sole of her foot, back and forth and up and down, trying to keep a hold of her foot even if he knew she was holding back. "You like laughing, what's so wrong with this?"

[seveninchmotto]

"Stooooop!"

So, she didn't have a good argument to present against that. She was laughing. And squirming so much she was at risk of falling right off her chair. Or tipping it over.

[flickofthewrist]

"Isabelle, you're going to fall on your ass," Flick said but that didn't stop him from continuing the tickle attack against the sole of foot. "Come on, it can't be that bad!"

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle couldn't answer. Sorry, she just couldn't. Her stomach was starting to hurt from laughing, and there were tears in her eyes.

Hadn't fallen off, though, so that was a plus!

[flickofthewrist]

Flick tickled the bottom of her foot for a second or two longer before he finally stopped and just pressed his palm against the sole of her foot.

"How you feeling, baby?"

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle inhaled deeply and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, leaning back in her chair. She wiggled her toes.

"Like I just fought a demon. And won."

So, good.

[flickofthewrist]

"You equate getting your foot tickled to fighting and beating a demon?" Flick shook his head at her and said, "You're so weird."

[seveninchmotto]

She snickered. "You asked how I felt!" she objected. "I feel like I've been through something physical but ultimately fun!"

[flickofthewrist]

"Are you going to do the dishes now and think that's like fighting a demon too?" Flick teased, wiggling her big toe.

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle rolled her eyes and tried to nudge him with the foo he was holding. "Does that seem like even remotely the same thing? Something that makes me laugh so hard I teared up, versus doing the dishes? I know you're teasing but step up your game, Jon."

[flickofthewrist]

Flick gave her foot one last tickle before he gently put it back on the ground and stood up.

"Fine, I will do the dishes," he said, reaching for the bowls. "I'm incredibly nice like that."

[seveninchmotto]

"Oooh, does that leave me free to keep drinking wine and ogling you while you do housework?" Isabelle teased, already reaching for the bottle to pour herself more. "Because I can live with that."

[flickofthewrist]

"I had no idea that was a kink you had," Flick said, smirking at her. "I don't mind being ogled while I wash dishes. Do you want me to take off my shirt?"

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle leered at him. In an exaggerated fashion, but there was some truth to it too.

There always was. "Would you?" she asked, and waggled her eyebrows.

[flickofthewrist]

"You're so predictable," Flick said while he reached for their bowls. "But yes, I will."

[seveninchmotto]

"I'm not predictable, I'm just greedy and opportunistic," Isabelle retorted, pouring herself a nice glass of wine. "And you love that about me. You know it nets you sex with me."

[flickofthewrist]

"Predictable," Flick chanted, disappearing into the kitchen. He dropped the bowls into the sink and then pulled his shirt off, leaving it in a heap on the kitchen counter.

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle got up, and grabbed her chair in one hand, with her glass of wine firmly in the other. She brought the chair into the kitchen, and set it down where she could sit on it backwards, resting her arm over the back of it.

"Mmm."

[flickofthewrist]

Flick laughed as he started the water and reached for the dish soap. He glanced back at her and shook his head.

"You look like you're about to watch a striptease or something."

[seveninchmotto]

"Who's to say I'm not?" Isabelle retorted, tilting her head and smirking lazily at him. "I mean, I've seen you do sexier things than wash dishes, but you're here and you're shirtless, so mmm."

She approved.

[flickofthewrist]

Flick reached for his shirt and tossed it lazily at her while he let the bowls soak in the water. He went past her out to the table to grab the stew so he could bring it back in and settle it on the counter.

"This is the rest of your life, Izzy. Hope you like it."

[seveninchmotto]

She caught his shirt.

Also used that same hand to smack his ass when he went by because she had zero shame.

"Oh, I do."