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"I like me so much better when you're naked."

Who: Hunter Clarington, Santana Lopez and (eventually) Sebastian Smyth
What: That awkward moment when... dick
Where: Lopez-Smyth apartment
When: About a week after Santana and Tina's hook up

Hunter had been in Miami for four weeks now, and he still couldn't decide whether he liked it or not. It was a seachange, and yes, there was a sea there with a beach, and heat, and seagulls that shat on things. He had an apartment within walking distance of the beach, but that was something he couldn't utilise yet. He still had more work to do before leisurely walks on the beach could be on his agenda. He had just reached the six month anniversary of his physical treatment following the bad turn of events he had faced in Afghanistan. His first month as a qualified Sergeant and before the calendar had even turned pages, he was in the midst of a battle with the enemy forces where he had to shoot a man dead or be killed himself. It had affected him more than he thought possible... especially when he saved a guy in his troop from death by getting shot through the back into the hip himself during the same battle, only to have the same soldier blown up by a landmine two days later. It left Hunter without the use of his leg and he thought he would be crippled for life. He was given an honourable medical discharge from the forces, but left in a wheelchair and with psychological post-traumatic stress disorder. That was over six months ago now, and it had been a fantastic physical therapist, just newly qualified at the time, by the name of Santana Lopez who had helped him out of the wheelchair and able to walk short distances with the use of a stick now. But it was still very much a work in progress, though Hunter's psychological treatment had began to wane and he fell into a depression, which began to affect his physical development too.

It was when his therapist suggested a move or a change of scenery with a fresh start away from the drab post-service world he had gotten himself into in Washington. He was bemoaning the suggestion to his physical therapist one day when he was being really uncooperative even with her, and it was Santana who suggested Miami for a seachange. She had been considering moving there to start her own business away from the large clinic she had trained with because she had friends there, and suggested that if he made that his new location, she could continue his treatment and it wouldn't be a complete new everything for him. He thought about it for all of a week before he was selling his awful boring bachelor pad he had shoved himself into during his recuperation when he didn't want to go home to Colorado Springs, and with his mother's help, found a bright, airy and sunny beachside apartment that he signed for without even thinking about it. He had been here a month now, and Santana had continued his treatment as promised, though she seemed to tune into his still-low mood during their latest session and invited him back her own new place for a coffee.

He settled at the kitchen table, rubbing at his hip a little when he sat because it was sore from the session and gave her a grateful smile when she brought him his large mug of coffee with chocolate cake. "Chocolate? Better than chicken soup for the soul or something?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

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Hunter would always hold a special place in Santana's heart. That much was true without a shadow of doubt, because he'd been the first patient that she'd worked with long enough to see the long term results. She'd been there the day he got out of his wheelchair the first time after his injury, and taken his first steps, and it had only reassured her that she was in the right line of work... that she'd found her place in the world. There had been times along the way in school when Santana had really questioned whether or not she was on the right path. But being able to actually help people and see the results had been something amazing for her. Hunter was a good guy, and they'd hit it off well, despite his bitching that she was there to torture him and not help on the days when things really got tough. In the end, they'd developed something of a friendship, which may or may not have pushed the limits of what a medical professional and a patient really should've had together. In general, Santana never would've been having a patient over for coffee, but Hunter was the exception, rather than the rule.

She, Sebastian, and Jeremy had only recently moved into their apartment in Miami together. It was a great place, spread out, with plenty of room for all of them without bumping elbows too much. The three of them were all close, but that didn't mean that they all wanted to be in each other's back pockets all the time. That really just wasn't the case. And for that reason, this apartment really was perfect for the whole lot of them. And it meant that, this particular day, when Hunter had been her only patient for the morning, and she had no one else coming until late afternoon, they could easily come back to her place for coffee. Hunter knew early on that Santana was a lesbian. It was never something that she kept hidden, and when they'd had discussions, however brief in the early days, about their lives, she'd been pretty open about that with him. So she was relatively sure that in this situation, nothing would look sketchy about her inviting him over for a chat. It wasn't like she was taking him home to have her wicked way with him, and he would know that.

Santana turned a playful smirk on Hunter at his question. "Honey, chicken soup for the soul is so '90s. Chocolate's the only way these days. Did you want cream or sugar?"

Normally Hunter just went sugar, but after his session today, he was feeling it. "All of the above," he replied, shifting in his seat a little. It was obvious the apartment had just been moved into because there were no personal touches yet. There was still a few boxes here and there that would need unpacking, and there were no photos around. It was just an apartment with people in it so far. It was nice, though, and not all that dissimilar to his own but this was just a lot bigger. He had opted for something smaller with a single room so he didn't need to move around too much. The bathroom already had rails in it in case he had bad days, and the block had a concierge and elevator, because there would be no battling large flights of steps yet. "I wouldn't be opposed to harder than cream too," he had to add wryly.

He was hot in this place, even if the weather was in the cooler months. It was just a hotter climate he had to adjust to and he was down to jeans and a tank top after he took his leather jacket off, and still wore his dog tags around his neck. He also had a prominent tattoo on his toned bicep of the American flag with the US Army motto underneath, 'This We'll Defend'. It seemed beyond ironic to him now when he looked at it. He wasn't going to serve in the Army again and even if his dad was still one of the highest ranking soldiers these days, Hunter felt like he had failed. A lot. It was a lot of what he was trying to work through with his therapy and the psychologist had been trying to coax him to thinking about taking up hobbies or studying something new, but so far it was a hurdle Hunter wasn't ready to face while he was still relatively on the disabled side with a lot of things. "You don't have to do any of this, you know. Bringing home stray patients who sound pathetic enough to make you push the professional boundaries. Although, if anyone asks, I'll just tell them I've known you for years or something. It's not like I'm directly paying for my treatment, so I can't even claim mate's rates. Are you settling in to Miami okay now?"

Santana smiled at his comment with a shrug. "I do have Bailey's," she said, grabbing the sugar bowl and a creamer server from the kitchen before walking back out into the dining room with them. "But it's just a bit early for booze, and I do have another patient this afternoon, so I can't booze with you... Which puts you breaking two rules of boozing right there... Never drink before 5 o'clock, and never drink alone." She gave him a warm smile, though. She definitely wasn't judging him on any level. She knew that he was still in pretty serious pain sometimes when his injury acted up, and physical therapy was no cakewalk. It took heart, effort, nerve, and yes, sometimes pain, to get someone to a place where they were able to use parts of their bodies that had been hurt and damaged. Hunter had put in a ton of hard work to get as far as he had, and it was a constant uphill battle for him, but he wasn't backing down or giving up. Santana had to admire his commitment.

"Hey," Santana interrupted him, holding up a finger to stop him short. "Listen... I don't have to do anything I don't want to, and most people who know me will tell you really quickly that I don't. I'm not nice enough for that shit. If I invited you over to hang at my place for a while, it's because I actually wanted to. Plus, let's be really honest here. We moved to the same city so that you didn't need to have another physical therapist. We're pretty well fucked on the professional boundaries thing anyway. That being said, though, you're a likable guy, and you don't have a lot of friends around here. I do, but most of mine are all wrapped up in some crazy drama right now, so things are kind of strange on the friendship front. I'm settling in really well, though. I like it here. It's really cool for me to be somewhere with a lot more Latin American flavor, too. Granted, most Latinos in Miami are Cuban, but it's still sort of a connection that I haven't felt in many places. But just the same, you're my favorite patient. You have been ever since that day you called me a cruel, heartless bitch in one of our early sessions... I thought it was sweet how well you knew me before we'd even really hung out." She was only teasing, and she laughed just a little at her own joke. "But how are things for you here? I mean, I know you got a nice place, you told me about that... Have you gotten out any? Made any friends?"

Hunter raised his eyebrows and then pointed into his cup with a nod, indicating that he very much wasn't going to say yes. He was on a large regime of painkilling medication so he wasn't a big drinker these days by any means (as tempting as it was to become an alcoholic, but the first time he had tried to trash himself after he was discharged, he ended up sick as a dog for three days straight following it) but sometimes, a guy just needed a bit of something. "Don't be shy with it either. And it's time I started breaking the rules anyway. I've lived by someone else's strict rules my whole life, maybe it's time to just live a little. Emphasis on the little, because it's not like I'll be going out clubbing for hours on end or buying a Harley to ride across America any time soon. Even if Billy Connolly made it look extremely appealing."

He glanced at her, lips pressing together wryly. "So, what you're saying is that you're not usually nice, so all of this with me is... the sympathy vote? Like, I'm the stray you picked up and didn't have the heart to send to the shelter? Don't worry, I know I'm pathetic. I'm still trying to figure out how to move on from the depths of pathetic and more into the realm of slightly miserable. Mom keeps having a go at me for wallowing and spending too much time alone, but it's one of those situations where until you've gone through shit like I did and saw the shit that I have, it's really hard for people to get that I'm not in the mood to be out and happy and sunshine and roses all the time. I don't want to bring anyone else down, either." He just had to laugh a little at that. "Well, if you and a lover ever need sperm or something one day, give me a shout and maybe I can return all the favours you've done for me. Which I do appreciate, you know. I know I moan and complain a lot, but I do appreciate all the help you've given me, and I'm not just talking about the physio. And nope, barely gotten out. Couldn't be bothered. The places I'm capable of going and being for a length of time are nanas and grandpas social scenes. What about you? Any special girl you have your eyes on?"

For some reason or another, Santana thought maybe she should be slightly surprised that Hunter was going for the Bailey's at this time of the morning. But then again, it was always five o' clock somewhere, right? With a shrug, she walked back to the refrigerator, where they kept the Bailey's chilled. If Hunter wanted a drink, he was an adult, right? Who was she to stop him? Finding the bottle, she brought it back to the table and set it down next to his mug. "Help yourself, babe," she offered as she turned to go back to the kitchen one last time to pour herself a cup of coffee and cut herself a slice of cake. There was a great bakery down the street, and Santana and her roomies were pretty major fans of sweets in general -- San and Germ much more than Sebastian, though. "Hey, nothing wrong with living a little. Let's be honest, babe... You really do need something to get your mind on besides the things that you're dealing with. Otherwise, you really will end up lost in a ball of misery, and nobody wants that.

"Bitch, please," Santana replied with a sassy gay head wobble that would've made Sebastian either very proud, or very amused. "I don't do the sympathy vote. I bust your balls all day long in therapy, don't forget. If I were a sympathetic person, I'd suck at my job because I wouldn't have it in me to push people through the pain like I do. But there are certain people I'm nice to in general. You're one... My roommate Jeremy's another. He's a sweetie. Just one of those guys you can't truly be mean to, because he's so sweet in general. Not that you're a fluffy marshmallow or anything, because you're not. You're honestly one of the toughest guys I've ever worked with. But on the other hand, I know what it's like to be in a new place and not have friends. It's kind of how I was before I came to Miami. I loved my job, but life isn't just a job. there's more to it than that. I needed people in my life that mattered to me, and I'm pretty sure, if I'm not mistaken, that I'm the closest thing you've got to that here. I know you're not in the mood for it, Hunter, but sometimes you have to just take steps, even when you don't want to, to try and find your way through it all." She laughed out loud at his offer of future sperm as she stirred her coffee. "Pretty sure that's such a long time off my ovaries might actually be completely useless at that point anyway. There's things you can do that don't involve grandparents, though. It's just a matter of getting out and finding them. But I'm off my soapbox at this point. Well... I did have a pretty epic hookup a week or so ago. Turns out a chick I went to high school with is here. I thought she was straight... she was even married at one point to a guy... But now she's pretty much full on into chicks, and we had a great time. We haven't caught up with each other since then, though."

Sebastian had a really, really big night out. He hadn't necessarily had a lot to drink, but he definitely partied hard. Then he went home to some random guy's place for a hook up, fucked his brains out, but left before sunrise to come home and catch up on some much-needed beauty sleep. He had crashed out into a heavy sleep once he got home and took a shower. He might like sex, but he wasn't a huge fan of letting any stranger's bodily fluids stay on him for any length of time. It wasn't like he was probably ever going to see them again. But he woke up out of his deep sleep out of the blue, finding himself thirsty from probably a bit of dehydration from the night before. He was downing the water on the way home, but his body needed more. He pulled himself up from bed with a yawn, scratching at his nether regions when he made his way across the tiled floor of his new beach-view bedroom and out into the hall. He had never in his life, even fro man infant, had any shame about being naked. He used to strip off his clothes and diapers and do nudie runs through the house when he was barely even walking. He spent basically his whole terrible twos naked because clothes weren't to his favour, including a full strip in the middle of a Walmart aisle one day, much to his mom's embarrassment... whilst Germ sitting in the trolley just laughed his little butt off when his twin got chastised. It was his apartment, and he could walk around naked in it if he liked.

He just didn't account for the fact Santana might have company. And company she did have. He made his way into the kitchen in all his naked glory, only to find Santana sitting at the table there with... ohhhh, hello stranger with an extremely ripped body in a tank top and tats. Sebastian paused, a sly grin spreading on his lips and basically completely ignored Santana as his eyes lit up at the eye candy sitting right there in front of him. "Hello there. Are you a burger? Because you can be the meat between my buns," he drawled with a wink and then gave a laugh. "Look at me, I can't even think straight." He held the guy's gaze for a moment and then went over to the fridge to lean over and dig out a bottle of the chilled water on the lower shelf.

Hunter had been about to comment to Santana, encouraging her to get in contact with her old friend because it might be a good thing she had there and she didn't want to miss out on the chance. He had been rid in the midst of opening the Baileys bottle too, and he had just started pouring it into his coffee when suddenly there was a very naked dude appearing in the kitchen out of nowhere and it caused Hunter to pour a hell of a lot of booze into his mug to the point that as soon as the pick-up line was tumble out of this guy with ease, Hunter's mug was overflowing and he had to quickly put the bottle back down on the table to made a grab for some napkins to mop up the flood around the mug. But his eyes were stuck on naked guy, and pretty unwaveringly too. He was sort of gaping but accidentally semi-perving too. Trying not to, of course, but the dude was naked! Give a guy a break.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. This was bad. They followed this guy silently over to the fridge, and then he was bending over and Hunter was copping an eyeful of naked ass, and holy shit, what a naked ass too. Now he was staring, and that was really embarrassing, so he forced his eyes back away to look at Santana and found her with this smug look on her face. Hunter just cleared his throat and pretending to become extremely interested in wiping up the spillage, breaking the eye contact from her too. Jesus, he couldn't remember the last time he saw anyone naked, let alone a hot gay dude like this. Was this the Jeremy she was just talking about, because he really wasn't getting a sudden air of innocently sweet by any means. All he was really getting was a whole lot of NAKED. How the hell many room mates did she have?

Sebastian walking around their apartment in the nude was hardly a shocker for Santana. In fact, it was pretty fucking common. Hell, even before they'd moved in together, when they'd all lived close to each other before the whole Miami shakeup, Santana had lost count of the number of times she'd crashed out on Seb and Jeff's couch when they'd been roommates, and the roommates in question had decided on a late night romp, which inevitably led to Sebastian getting up for coffee or water in the buff. It was such a common occurrence. And Santana, even as a lesbian, couldn't deny that Sebastian had an amazing body and, yes, was well-hung. Lesbian didn't mean blind. And speaking of blind, she would've had to have been just that not to notice that Hunter was perving, however involuntarily it might have been, on her fag, as Seb oh-so-smoothly used one of by far the worst pickup lines that she'd ever heard. And she'd heard some pretty bad ones. She just rolled her eyes at Sebastian and his oh, so predicable manslut ways, before glancing back at Hunter, with a smirk of amusement.

As if Sebastian had just walked in from work, fully clothed, Santana just shook her head a little and waved her hand back and forth, indicating first Hunter, then Sebastian -- or at least his bare ass very purposefully positioned right in Hunter's line of sight. She could try to put on an air of offense or shock, but it would be pointless, and if she were honest, this was actually kind of funny, so she continued with that motion, saying, "Hunter Clarington, meet Sebastian Smyth. One half of my roomie situation. Sebastian, Hunter... My favorite patient... Both of you can put your tongues back in your mouths at any time... Or... you know... in each other's mouths... or asses... whatever floats your boat and tickles your pickle. I'm not here to judge. I mean, I can always go out to the beach for a while. Really. Yes? No? Maybe?"

From inside the fridge, Sebastian just smirked. He wasn't foreign to Santana's dry sense of humour, because it was just like his. It was why they got along as well as they did all these years. He gave his own ass a small pat for emphasis. "Open all hours, all access pass too," he offered before he grabbed the bottle of water and nudge the fridge door closed again with his hip. This guy was definitely brand new news. Sebastian would have remembered if Santana had brought this one home before. He twisted the bottle of water open, taking a sip as he sauntered back over to them and looked down at the guy with a smirk, holding his hand out to him. "Sebastian, but you can scream anything you like in the bedroom." He quirked an eyebrow in Santana's direction with an appreciative nod. The guy didn't seem to know whether to shake his hand or not, so Seb just gave a little wiggle of his fingers. "They're very experienced, I assure you." But he didn't push the handshake. He quickly drew in the guy's very noticeable tat along with the dog tags hanging around his neck. Fucking military. That would be a nice tasty morsel, to say the least... but why was he Santana's client? That did ring a few warning bells. He really wasn't a fan of baggage. That was more Blaine's forte, or even Germ's.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Hunter Clarington. If you ever feel the need for a bit of physical therapy that a blatant and well-honed lesbian can't offer, you know where to find me," he added with a wink and then went on his way back to his room. He wasn't done sleeping yet, but now he knew he was going to have even more pleasant dreams than what he managed earlier on, and there was no denying he was going to be interrogating Santana for more information - namely cock size - as soon as he had the opening.

Once Sebastian was gone, and took his dick right in front of Hunter's face with him, Hunter was actually able to think a little more... straight wasn't even the right word, but it was all he had now. He had used too many napkins to wipe up the mess of Baileys he had spilled and they were now sitting in a somewhat neat yet soggy pile beside his overly boozed-up mug of coffee. He blinked, trying to fathom that a naked dude had just been right there and carrying on a conversation like it was a normal everyday occurrence to walk around with nothing on in front of guests. Maybe it was their norm, but Santana was a lesbian, and this dude was only one half of her room mate quota? And now Hunter was as confused as fuck, not to mention horny, but luckily he was pushed far enough under the table that his physical reaction wasn't embarrassingly obvious. It had been a long time since he had sex, so it wasn't his fault. Not really. It was some guy walking around naked right in front of him!

When he looked back to Santana, his forehead creased up and the o.O emoticon was a perfect replica of the face he was giving her right now. It was definitely a WTF moment, but he was still her patient and whatever she did in her spare time was really none of his business. It was her home, and if she was a lesbian who had a parade of naked guys on stand-by, then that was her prerogative. Strange as all fuck, but still her prerogative. "I am pretty sure there isn't a single appropriate comment I can make about anything at this particular juncture," he had to point out as he casually twisted the lid back onto the top of the Baileys bottle. "Should I, um... leave you and your room mate alone, or...?"

Sebastian was literally a walking pickup line some days... or every day. Santana was convinced he'd been in gay bars for so much of his life that he'd forgotten how to carry on normal conversations with other gay guys. They always came out in a string of innuendos and pickup lines. It was something Santana had grown used to over the years, and at this point, she barely even batted an eyelash at it anymore. She and Seb were a lot alike in a lot of ways, and they both had a very strong appreciation for good looking people. Which Hunter was. There was no doubt about that. There was an almost gratuitous nature to how long Seb leaned over to get water out of the fridge. The fact was (and Santana well knew) that there were a couple chilled bottles of water on the top shelf of the refrigerator... But that would've denied Seb the opportunity to show off his ass in all it's glory. And whatever it was he was doing, it was very clearly working on Hunter here. She almost felt bad for Hunter, but there wasn't a hope in hell at this point of rescuing the poor guy from her roommate's advances.

But then just as quickly as he'd appeared, Seb was gone, that little smirk on his face that said clearly that he was very much pleased with himself at the moment. And poor Hunter was left trying to make heads or tails of what had just happened, while Santana was biting her tongue to try at least to stifle the laughter that was fighting like hell to escape her. "No... No, you're fine. That's just Seb. He didn't know you were going to be here. He was out last night, and... Well, he's not exactly the biggest fan of being clothed. You get used to it. My other roommate is his twin brother. They're chalk and cheese, they just look the same. Germ's straight, and modest. But Seb? Not a modest bone in his body... He's usually too busy trying to get somebody else's bone in his body. He's sort of the fag to my hag... and my lesbro all at once. But... um..." She paused, turning to look at Hunter, complete with his pile of soaked napkins. "You liked what you saw, huh?"

Edited 2013-01-06 13:58 (UTC)

Hunter was flustered per se, he just was really wondering what the patient-therapist boundaries were here, or if they even mattered because they were in her private home with her not-so-private room mate doing a nudie waltz in all his glory right there in front of them. It was more Hunter's privacy he was wondering about and if discussing his sex life... or lack therefore, was appropriate. All his brain was letting him get to for these few initial moments were, however, something along the lines of 'There are two of them?!'. One was straight and modest and the other was Demi Moore in Striptease, only male and gay. What the hell happened if you got them mixed up? How did she not get them mixed up, more to the point. And now he was probably just letting his mind wander to procrastinate over her questions, which could open up a rather shameful can of worms. The way Santana was watching him intently, though, he knew she wasn't going to let him off without some sort of response. His coffee was probably ruined for drinking now, so he just pushed it away a little and then met her gaze.

"Is that really what you want to know, or are you just trying to lead me into more uncharted territories of conversation here?" he asked. The thing about Hunter's sexuality was that he never particular closeted himself or hit it, but he had been taught to be very discreet with it, especially as he finished military school and enlisted. That was when he stopped putting any real importance in having a personal life and put everything into being a fine soldier, climbing the ranks steadily like his father had. At least, until he was injured to the point he wouldn't be able to fight anymore. That was what left him at a total loss with his life, and without anything else to focus on, it did become a lonely existence. Only, this was the first time in a long time it had almost literally been shoved in his face. He actually couldn't put a time on the last time he had sex because he just couldn't remember. He hadn't while he had been deployed, and when he was sent home injured, he was in too much pain to manage anything physical anyway. But now he had made progress, and there had actually been a dick waving in his face, it was suddenly very much at the forefront of his mind and Santana was onto him. "Let's just say, I'm not a lesbian," he joked with a smirk.

In her defense, Santana's intention in hanging out with Hunter today outside of work hadn't at all been to try and get personal information out of him. He was a really nice guy whom she just happened to really like working with, and he didn't have any friends here in Miami. She did, but she knew what it was like to be in a new place with no connections to speak of. And she liked Hunter. She genuinely did. This wasn't an act of pity by any means. But she hadn't exactly been planning on Seb being Seb and showing off his undeniably fantastic physique right in front of her patient, who not only hadn't been laid in quite some time, but was apparently also gay. Granted, Hunter hadn't yet come right out and said it, but Santana really couldn't have many doubts given the look on his face and the fact that she was pretty sure he really wanted to jump Seb's bones... He had that look... the one that most gay guys had when they saw Sebastian, and it was almost amusing.

"Hey, I'm already way over patient/therapist levels of closeness... Professional lines have been crossed all over, but it's kind of hard not to cross them when your roommate struts his sexy gay ass into the kitchen in the nude right in front of your favorite patient. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to. We've just got ourselves a bit of an irregular situation on our hands, that's all." She shook her head with a fond roll of her eyes. "But seriously... that's just Seb. I think he spends more of his life in varying stages of undress than he does in clothes. You get used to him, though." She was quiet then, waiting on Hunter's answer, and when it came, she couldn't help arching an eyebrow with a little snicker of amusement. "Well, honey, even if you were, you wouldn't be my type," she teased lightly. "Not enough tits for me. No offense. What you do have going for you clearly got my roomie's motor running, so, hey. He may be fond of sleeping around, but the bitch is still choosy. He only hits on hotties, so consider it a compliment." She moved quickly to dispose of the soaked napkins, pour Hunter's coffee out, and come back with a fresh cup and a wink. "You're welcome to try again with the Bailey's... Pretty sure Seb's hung it up for another few hours."

Hunter just quirked an eyebrow,but he accepted the fresh cup of coffee. "Good for him," was his dry, sarcastic and cynical response. He wasn't exactly sure how having his nose rubbed into the fact her room mate had an awesome sex life when he wasn't even sure his dick still functioned to make it through a quickie was supposed to make him feel, but cynical was probably the best description at that point. He poured just a splash of the Baileys into the mug, not spilling any this time, and finally took a sip. Though, he really just wanted to sort of grab the booze bottle and down it now. Was he jealous of this manslut who paraded it around and probably had sex at least three times a day like a staple diet? He didn't want to admit it, but yeah. Of course he was. The last time he shared a bed with another warm body was probably his granny back in Colorado Springs the Christmas before he graduated military school when his nephew pissed on the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in for the holidays. It was depressing. He hated when the depression kicked in just when he was feeling sort of alright.

"Luckily for me, it's not my obligation to get used to him. He lives with you, not me." Then the joke that he wouldn't be her type. She didn't mean it as an extra blow, but that was sort of how he took it. Talk about a coffee date really not doing his ego any good. Now he could feel himself getting on the defence, like he had to somehow defend the fact he wasn't getting laid every day or didn't have tits. "Did you really need to add that little disclaimer? Pretty sure you being a lesbian and me knowing that was enough to establish I'm not your type. I'm pretty sure being mid-twenties and using a fucking walking stick puts me well out of the realms of a lot of people's 'type' but yay for you and cock-at-the-ready for having it on tap whenever you want it. He may have hit on me, but he hardly knows the full story, does he? Guys like him drop dudes like me like a fucking hot potato because they hate fucking baggage... and you know it."

Edited 2013-01-11 01:20 (UTC)

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