((Contains reference to adult activities.))
Some days are really good. You wake up in the morning, and feel great; everything you touch turns to gold; you go to bed feeling like a million dollars. Some days are okay. You get through with a mixture of laughter and boredom, and usually fall asleep with a smile. And then there are days that suck. That was the kind of day Elena was having. She'd woken up with a pounding headache, climbed out of bed, and immediately stubbed her toe hard against the as-yet-unpacked boxes crowding their new apartment in Luks Condos. Suffice it to say, that did not set a good tone for the rest of the day, and her mood ....had not improved since.
Unfortunately for Michael, he was the closest person, and sadly, that made him a bit of a punching bag for her bad temper. She wasn't intentionally being a bitch, but a full day of being snapped at for no reason wasn't exactly going to endear her to him in any way. So she'd made an attempt to put a little distance between them, taking herself into the kitchen to continue unpacking the various bits and pieces from the boxes in there, only for her efforts to be ended by an almighty clatter as one box gave up the ghost entirely and dropped its entire contents of pans directly onto her feet. "Son of a bitch!"
Michael, too, had his good and bad days. Sometimes those days were in sync with Elena, and sometimes they weren't. Sometimes her bad mood would set him off, sometimes it was the other way around. There were days when the desire for a drink was almost too much to bear. Days where it was so bad he could think of nothing else. Those were the worst days, and if she was feeling the same, it was a lethal combination. Today had started out well enough, but Elena's bad mood had finally sent his own mood spiraling downward, and before long he had retreated to the spare bedroom to busy himself setting up his office, leaving her to have her snit in private.
She knew how to find him if she needed him, but he saw no point in trying to talk to her when all she did was snap at him over every little thing. It was as if he could do nothing right, and though he knew it was just a mood, he thought it better to give her some space. It wasn't until he heard a crash in the kitchen that he found his way back out to check on her and make sure she wasn't hurt. "You all right?" he asked as he poked his head into the kitchen, his face etched with concern.
"Oh, yeah, it's all good," Elena's snippy response came back to him as the last gloing-gloing of a rolling pan lid came to a halt. "I was just having so much fun, I decided to throw the contents of the heaviest box in the kitchen on my own feet." She shifted, swearing as her foot caught on one of the fallen pans and slammed her knee into the cupboard opposite her. "Dammit!"
"Pardon me for being concerned. I'll just go hide in my office again so you can have your tantrum in private," he said, and without another word or look, he turned on a heel and retreated to his office, slamming the door behind him. He was angry at himself for doing so, thinking he should probably have tried to help her instead of taking the coward's way out, but she had been poking and prodding him all day, and he was tired of it.
"Oh, sure, I'm the one having a tantrum," she called after him, not even wincing when the door slammed between them. "At least I'm actually doing something to get us settled in here, you know! What did you unpack today, your pride or your I'm a delicate little flower complex?"
Even through the closed door, he could still hear her, and he winced, clenching his jaw, more hurt than angry. He thought she didn't really mean that, couldn't really mean that. He'd tried to help her unpack, was more than willing to help her, but he was no longer able to ignore her constant snapping and sniping. Michael pulled open a drawer, reaching inside to take out a small velvet box, rubbing his thumb against the soft velvety fabric before flicking it open. Inside lay the loveliest and most spectacular pink stone he'd ever seen. He'd bought it for her with the first royalty check from the sales of his book, but he had yet to find the right time to give it to her, keeping it safely hidden here in his office where she'd never dare to come looking for it. Her words wounded him, even knowing she didn't mean them, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Unfortunately, the problem for Elena today was one they shared, and rather stupidly she hadn't told him that was the core of her bad temper. She didn't want to make him feel as though he had to be available to her whenever her cravings took hold, trying to deal with the aching desire for something she didn't dare have again by herself for once. The fact that she was failing spectacularly wasn't helping her temper one tiny bit. But despite the bad temper, she had gotten quite a lot done since getting up that morning, and it didn't take her long to finish with her box of runaway pans and move on to the next one. What she found in the next one, however, just made things worse, and the first Michael was aware of it was the sound of glass shattering against metal.
He heard the crash of glass and without another thought in his head, he was rushing back into the kitchen, the velvet box still clutched in his hand, heart racing worriedly that she might have gotten hurt this time. He came to a sudden halt once again in the doorway, pausing a moment to survey the scene. "Elena, are you all right?" he repeated for the second time in the last ten minutes, looking as worried as he had before, forgetting her harsh words in wake of his concern.
As he came rushing into the kitchen, she was backing away from the sink, brushing roughly at her arms to get rid of the clinging splinters of glass that had erupted toward her when she'd thrown the bottle of wine her sister, Tess, had packed for them to share against the metal. "Bitch," Elena hissed, ignoring the tiny nicks that were bloodying her shaking arms as she thumped against the wall at her back. "That bitch packed us wine!"
"Wine?" Michael echoed, only then realizing he was still holding the little velvet box and shoving it into a pocket of his jeans before snagging a dish towel and gently taking hold of her arm to brush the fragments of glass into the sink. "Why would she do that' She knows we're both on the wagon."
"Because she's a stuck up cow and she's not allowed to poke at 'Taya any more," she snarled, hatred for her eldest sister very evident in her eyes as she let him clean the tiny fragments of glass from her bare arms. "That was the last thing I needed to see today." As she let this slip, her voice shook, angry with herself and feeling stupidly tearful for the way she'd been treating Michael all day. "And I know I'm being a bitch, okay' It's ....it's just one of those days."
Some days are really good. You wake up in the morning, and feel great; everything you touch turns to gold; you go to bed feeling like a million dollars. Some days are okay. You get through with a mixture of laughter and boredom, and usually fall asleep with a smile. And then there are days that suck. That was the kind of day Elena was having. She'd woken up with a pounding headache, climbed out of bed, and immediately stubbed her toe hard against the as-yet-unpacked boxes crowding their new apartment in Luks Condos. Suffice it to say, that did not set a good tone for the rest of the day, and her mood ....had not improved since.
Unfortunately for Michael, he was the closest person, and sadly, that made him a bit of a punching bag for her bad temper. She wasn't intentionally being a bitch, but a full day of being snapped at for no reason wasn't exactly going to endear her to him in any way. So she'd made an attempt to put a little distance between them, taking herself into the kitchen to continue unpacking the various bits and pieces from the boxes in there, only for her efforts to be ended by an almighty clatter as one box gave up the ghost entirely and dropped its entire contents of pans directly onto her feet. "Son of a bitch!"
Michael, too, had his good and bad days. Sometimes those days were in sync with Elena, and sometimes they weren't. Sometimes her bad mood would set him off, sometimes it was the other way around. There were days when the desire for a drink was almost too much to bear. Days where it was so bad he could think of nothing else. Those were the worst days, and if she was feeling the same, it was a lethal combination. Today had started out well enough, but Elena's bad mood had finally sent his own mood spiraling downward, and before long he had retreated to the spare bedroom to busy himself setting up his office, leaving her to have her snit in private.
She knew how to find him if she needed him, but he saw no point in trying to talk to her when all she did was snap at him over every little thing. It was as if he could do nothing right, and though he knew it was just a mood, he thought it better to give her some space. It wasn't until he heard a crash in the kitchen that he found his way back out to check on her and make sure she wasn't hurt. "You all right?" he asked as he poked his head into the kitchen, his face etched with concern.
"Oh, yeah, it's all good," Elena's snippy response came back to him as the last gloing-gloing of a rolling pan lid came to a halt. "I was just having so much fun, I decided to throw the contents of the heaviest box in the kitchen on my own feet." She shifted, swearing as her foot caught on one of the fallen pans and slammed her knee into the cupboard opposite her. "Dammit!"
"Pardon me for being concerned. I'll just go hide in my office again so you can have your tantrum in private," he said, and without another word or look, he turned on a heel and retreated to his office, slamming the door behind him. He was angry at himself for doing so, thinking he should probably have tried to help her instead of taking the coward's way out, but she had been poking and prodding him all day, and he was tired of it.
"Oh, sure, I'm the one having a tantrum," she called after him, not even wincing when the door slammed between them. "At least I'm actually doing something to get us settled in here, you know! What did you unpack today, your pride or your I'm a delicate little flower complex?"
Even through the closed door, he could still hear her, and he winced, clenching his jaw, more hurt than angry. He thought she didn't really mean that, couldn't really mean that. He'd tried to help her unpack, was more than willing to help her, but he was no longer able to ignore her constant snapping and sniping. Michael pulled open a drawer, reaching inside to take out a small velvet box, rubbing his thumb against the soft velvety fabric before flicking it open. Inside lay the loveliest and most spectacular pink stone he'd ever seen. He'd bought it for her with the first royalty check from the sales of his book, but he had yet to find the right time to give it to her, keeping it safely hidden here in his office where she'd never dare to come looking for it. Her words wounded him, even knowing she didn't mean them, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Unfortunately, the problem for Elena today was one they shared, and rather stupidly she hadn't told him that was the core of her bad temper. She didn't want to make him feel as though he had to be available to her whenever her cravings took hold, trying to deal with the aching desire for something she didn't dare have again by herself for once. The fact that she was failing spectacularly wasn't helping her temper one tiny bit. But despite the bad temper, she had gotten quite a lot done since getting up that morning, and it didn't take her long to finish with her box of runaway pans and move on to the next one. What she found in the next one, however, just made things worse, and the first Michael was aware of it was the sound of glass shattering against metal.
He heard the crash of glass and without another thought in his head, he was rushing back into the kitchen, the velvet box still clutched in his hand, heart racing worriedly that she might have gotten hurt this time. He came to a sudden halt once again in the doorway, pausing a moment to survey the scene. "Elena, are you all right?" he repeated for the second time in the last ten minutes, looking as worried as he had before, forgetting her harsh words in wake of his concern.
As he came rushing into the kitchen, she was backing away from the sink, brushing roughly at her arms to get rid of the clinging splinters of glass that had erupted toward her when she'd thrown the bottle of wine her sister, Tess, had packed for them to share against the metal. "Bitch," Elena hissed, ignoring the tiny nicks that were bloodying her shaking arms as she thumped against the wall at her back. "That bitch packed us wine!"
"Wine?" Michael echoed, only then realizing he was still holding the little velvet box and shoving it into a pocket of his jeans before snagging a dish towel and gently taking hold of her arm to brush the fragments of glass into the sink. "Why would she do that' She knows we're both on the wagon."
"Because she's a stuck up cow and she's not allowed to poke at 'Taya any more," she snarled, hatred for her eldest sister very evident in her eyes as she let him clean the tiny fragments of glass from her bare arms. "That was the last thing I needed to see today." As she let this slip, her voice shook, angry with herself and feeling stupidly tearful for the way she'd been treating Michael all day. "And I know I'm being a bitch, okay' It's ....it's just one of those days."