gobrookeyourself | Room 512, Thursday evening

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Room 512, Thursday evening

Brooke was currently torturing herself. Namely, she was surfing the websites of the stores she used to shop and designers she liked and it was resulting in a sort of occasional whimper as she once again remembered she couldn't have any of it. She was beginning to wonder if she could sell blood at the clinic. Yeah, it had been gross and she'd felt all light-headed afterwards last time she did it, but she'd spent way less money on drinks, and clothing was an investment.

This is what she was doing at least until Rock of Love finished downloading.

[Open.]

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"She," Brooke corrected. "And seriously, you spend a week with her and not get all bizarrely attached. I wonder if I can sue the school if I need therapy."

"Maybe Barney will let you keep her," he said. "Since you're so attached and all."

"Oh, hell, no. She's still cramping my social life and I'm not having that for longer than a week," Brooke said, shaking her head vigorously.

"Aw, come on, she's a Casablancas," Dick said. "I'm sure she would have been able to handle the bar scene."

"Which is all fine and good until the tiny fluttering teacher equivalent of Child Protective Services shows up."

"She'd be pissed until you explained that bars house very creepy people and you were teaching Suri the importance of not talking to strangers," he said.

Brooke stared at him. "Where the hell were you a week ago for that rationalization? I could have done stuff."

"You never asked," Dick said with a smirk.

"Well, I was busy raising and boiling our fake daughter," she pointed out. "And dressing her pretty. Oh my god, I need a life."

"I'm not about to argue with you," he said. "Don't worry, after tomorrow you can forget this ever happened."

"You just told your single fake babymama she needs a life," Brooke told him.

"My single fake babymomma does need a life," he said with a grin.

Brooke reached for Suri's little pillow- proof enough that she did, in fact, need one of those life things- to throw at him.

"Hey!" he said, ducking down to avoid getting hit. "Now where's our precious little baby going to sleep?"

"What, that one can't get picked up?" she challenged.

"You don't want me to pick it up," he warned. Cause it was gonna get thrown straight at her head if he did.

"Why not?" she asked, unfortunately incapable of knowing that would be coming.

"This is why not," he said, bending down quickly to pick up the pillow and chuck it at her head.

She ducked at the last second, though it did hit her. With an exaggerated gasp, she said, "I am holding our child!"

"I thought you hard boiled it--her!" he said. "I'm sure she would have been fine if you dropped her."

Dick shouldn't be allowed to have kids.

"So not the point!" Brooke said, though while she'd ducked, the egg baby had been completely at risk of pillow-hittage. "I don't think I can manage the makeup that would be needed to cover up a cracked shell when we hand her back in tomorrow."

"You were the one who started the abuse," he pointed out.

"That was not abuse. That was... cushion-throwing. Completely different. Yeah, my argument's not going to hold up, is it?"

*facepalms* I was busy breaking up with my fake girlfriend omg

"Not at all," he said. "At least our precious egg-baby wasn't hurt."

I saw! *hugs*

Brooke reached down to get the cushion, even making a show of fluffing it before placing it on the desk, and Suri on top of it. "And she almost looks comfy, even."

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surferboy-09er.livejournal.com - 2008-02-01 04:34 (UTC) - Expand

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gobrookeyourself - 2008-02-01 04:40 (UTC) - Expand

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