Cammie & Kevin | Monday evening
Dec. 14th, 2009 07:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsCammie shows up at Kevin's suite to celebrate her graduation with spatula spankings and syrup coating! Unfortunately Kevin's not really clothed for the occasion, or rather is appropriately unclothed for it to his immense panic.
She was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door. She loved it when people left their doors unlocked. She wasn't quite into invading personal space to the point of wandering in soundlessly and stealing whatever towel Kevin might have in there with him. That wasn't her goal today. No, Cammie's goal was just to have a bit of fun. And to that end she had a spatula and some syrup.
When the door started to open she held them both up and smiled widely, "I brought syrup. And a spatula. Ready to have some fun?"
Kevin walked out of the bathroom in Kevin-friendly socks and a pair of boxers while toweling off his hair. He was distracted by the song stuck in his head, House That Jack Built by Metallica, so he didn't register the voice at first. He didn't even register the presence of another person because he wasn't expecting it. So when he turned a bit to the left and saw Cammie there he jumped. Then his eyes quickly narrowed at her. "You brought...a spatula? For....? Wait, no, Ah don't wanna know."
"Well, I couldn't find the ants, so I figured I'd get a couple of good whacks out of this," Cammie said grinning, the syrup rocking back and forth on one hand lazily, "So, whaddya say?"
His eyebrows shot up in alarm at the word whacks. "Uh...Ah think Ah'm not wearin' much clothes and that's a really dangerous situation to be in when you've got...syrup." His voice went up at the end of that last word, the lilt causing it to sound like a question though it wasn't mean to be one.
"I'll be really careful. And yep, syrup. Maple syrup. Good stuff too, trust me, I'm a very good judge of this," Cammie said simply. "Now, are you going to live a little?"
"Ah'm not lettin' you spank me with a spatula," he told her flatly. Kevin had his towel by the two ends, fully prepared to wind up and snap her with it if he had to.
"Aww, where's your sense of adventure?" Cammie said, moving the spatula easily between her fingers, "I go through all this trouble for you and you turn me down? I'm so hurt!"
"You found a spatula and some syrup. All you needed to do is go to the kitchen to find that. How's that trouble?" Or effort? And why was he still standing there in his boxers while she gave him that look and wiggled that bottle of syrup around? Kevin began to inch off toward his room.
"It's a lot of trouble when you don't normally use this type of crap," Cammie said, inching after him. Inch. By. Inch. Still smiling evilly, "Don't you want to be covered in my sticky love?"
His eyes narrowed at her and Kevin began to inch away more quickly. "Totally wrong kind of sticky love to try to proposition anyone with Ah'm bettin'."
"Well, how else am I supposed to go about getting you all sticky and love covered?" Cammie asked. "If you have a better idea, just let me know."
"You could--wait, no. No. Ah've got no ideas. At all. For anything sticky. Or love-like." He was now wrapping his towel around him so that it covered him like a cape. It was very likely entirely ineffective but it made him feel covered and thus like less of a target for Cammie's syrup-y love.
"Well, then it's plan A. Going to syrup you up and call you my waffle."
Kevin's retreat hastened and soon he was shutting the door to his room and locking it. "Ah'm not bein' your waffle."
"Oh yes you are," Cammie's sing-song voice threatened as she pulled a couple of implements of mayhem out of her back pocket. Picking the locks that didn't require keycards was easy, "I'm coming to get ya, Waffle," she said impishly as the lock went 'click.'
It was the sound, that tell tale click of the lock, that made Kevin pause. He'd gotten as far as pulling out a pair of pants and a shirt and getting a pair of gloves out. The latter two were tossed onto his bed with his discarded towel while his pants were hovering around his knees when he stopped and stared at the door. She wouldn't have. Then he watched the doorknob turn. Oh, she totally would have. He hurried to get his pants up because obviously retreat was needed.
"Here's.... Syrup!" she said, opening the door, holding the bottle through first, "Come on Kevy, I LOVE YOU."
"Ain't no one who calls me Kevy full of love. Ah include Monet in that." Monet, totally hot with an annoying penchant for calling him Kevvypants. Thank God Cammie didn't know that one. He probably deserved the nickname at the time, though. He'd been mighty surly.
“You just say that because you haven’t felt my hard, soft, conflicting adjective love for you in syrup,” she said, arm following the bottle followed by an evilly grinning face, “Come on, Keeevvvvvvyyyy.”
"Ah hate that name," he told her and swiftly pulled his pants up the rest of the way. Zippered, buttoned and definitely not falling off, that was important. He reached for his gloves next because not decomposing random things while he tried to flee was important. Kevin thought maybe he should have too much dignity to flee a girl and her syrup, but clearly he didn't. Why was there not a fire escape at his window? Why couldn't he have cool powers that involved flight?
“I can add ‘poo’ to it if it makes it better,” Cammie said, blocking the doorway. “Does that make it better?”
"If we were kin Ah'd disown you for that." The second of his gloves was pulled into place up by his elbow and then he reached for the shirt. It was long sleeved with a hood. Normally there was a shirt under it and another over it but he didn't have time for that as he began to inch away carefully. But where was he going to inch to?
“But I’m your soulmate, so you know you can’t disown me,” Cammie said. This was too much fun, “Come on, you and me and this bottle of syrup and this spatula get to celebrate.”
"What're we celebratin'? My future as a pancake? That mean you're gonna find someone to eat me with a fork before the syrup decomposes, too?" He was still inching but Kevin knew the wall was coming up. That was going to be problematic.
“Well, we could celebrate that but it might be a bit too toxic for my tastes. How about I r a high school grad-u-ate?” Cammie said, “We can celebrate that with all the assembled things.”
Those being her, him, the spatula and the syrup. “It was either this or those spiffy whip like things.”
"You are not whipping me." Kevin pointed a finger at her in warning, eyes narrowing. "Or pouring syrup on my shirt. 'Cause that's just sticky and gross." Clothing, it made everything better.
“Oh come on, it’ll only be there for a second or two,” she said blithely.
"Shirt!" He even grabbed a bit of the material at his chest and pulled it out in case the word wasn't computing. "Sorta gets in the way. And you're not pouring it down the inside of my shirt!" Kevin's back hit the wall. Uh-oh.
She happily took a few steps forward, “See, the shirt’s going to have to go. At least if we want to do this right.”
"Uh...no. The shirt's happy where it is." His eyes shifted back and forth, seeking a way out. If she was coming closer it meant that the door would become open and as long as he could get around her he'd be okay. Everything in the room was Kevin-friendly. He was athletic enough to have quick reflexes. The problem was he wasn't sure how quick hers were.
“No, it told me it wants to be taken off so we can have our happy-fun times,” Cammie returned, stepping in closer.
"Your happy funtimes," Kevin corrected. "Ah don't think bein' covered in syrup and spanked with a kitchen utensil is goin' to delight me or anything, y'know?" He inched a little to the left, which was the direction of his bed.
“Sure it is. I mean, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Cammie said, herding him in that direction.
"How 'bout Ah cover you in syrup instead? Y'know, to see how enjoyable it is so Ah can be won over." Though, admittedly, Kevin had seen Cammie naked. He remembered that image all too well. Add syrup and, yeah, he might need to retreat for a private moment. Another step was taken toward the bed.
“Only if you promise to lick it off,” Cammie said smiling too widely, rocking the bottle of syrup back and forth, “Though my skin might be toxic. But yours is all deadly and stuff, so it’s a fair trade.”
"You're not planning to lick it off me, though." At least he was really hoping she wasn't. Cammie, Kevin was sure, did not have some weird masochistic streak that involved losing her tongue.
“You kidding? Maybe if you could control your skin powers,” she said, “I like talking,” she added, “But if it was possible? I so would.”
"Not actually my skin," he pointed out. "It's my sebum, the stuff that keeps your skin hydrated? Yeah, that stuff." His leg nearly brushed against the mattress of his bed. Kevin promptly scrambled over the bed and off the end of it and sprinted for the door.
Cammie laughed as he took off, giving him a bit of a head start before calling out, “But it’s all for my love for you, KEVVVVYY!”
Kevin made a beeline for the door to his suite. Opening it slowed him down but if he was lucky it'd swing shut before she got to it and Cammie would be slowed as well. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going to hide from her. Kevin just picked a direction and ran.
Cammie followed him happily, calling him all the way. It was the little things in life.
She was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door. She loved it when people left their doors unlocked. She wasn't quite into invading personal space to the point of wandering in soundlessly and stealing whatever towel Kevin might have in there with him. That wasn't her goal today. No, Cammie's goal was just to have a bit of fun. And to that end she had a spatula and some syrup.
When the door started to open she held them both up and smiled widely, "I brought syrup. And a spatula. Ready to have some fun?"
Kevin walked out of the bathroom in Kevin-friendly socks and a pair of boxers while toweling off his hair. He was distracted by the song stuck in his head, House That Jack Built by Metallica, so he didn't register the voice at first. He didn't even register the presence of another person because he wasn't expecting it. So when he turned a bit to the left and saw Cammie there he jumped. Then his eyes quickly narrowed at her. "You brought...a spatula? For....? Wait, no, Ah don't wanna know."
"Well, I couldn't find the ants, so I figured I'd get a couple of good whacks out of this," Cammie said grinning, the syrup rocking back and forth on one hand lazily, "So, whaddya say?"
His eyebrows shot up in alarm at the word whacks. "Uh...Ah think Ah'm not wearin' much clothes and that's a really dangerous situation to be in when you've got...syrup." His voice went up at the end of that last word, the lilt causing it to sound like a question though it wasn't mean to be one.
"I'll be really careful. And yep, syrup. Maple syrup. Good stuff too, trust me, I'm a very good judge of this," Cammie said simply. "Now, are you going to live a little?"
"Ah'm not lettin' you spank me with a spatula," he told her flatly. Kevin had his towel by the two ends, fully prepared to wind up and snap her with it if he had to.
"Aww, where's your sense of adventure?" Cammie said, moving the spatula easily between her fingers, "I go through all this trouble for you and you turn me down? I'm so hurt!"
"You found a spatula and some syrup. All you needed to do is go to the kitchen to find that. How's that trouble?" Or effort? And why was he still standing there in his boxers while she gave him that look and wiggled that bottle of syrup around? Kevin began to inch off toward his room.
"It's a lot of trouble when you don't normally use this type of crap," Cammie said, inching after him. Inch. By. Inch. Still smiling evilly, "Don't you want to be covered in my sticky love?"
His eyes narrowed at her and Kevin began to inch away more quickly. "Totally wrong kind of sticky love to try to proposition anyone with Ah'm bettin'."
"Well, how else am I supposed to go about getting you all sticky and love covered?" Cammie asked. "If you have a better idea, just let me know."
"You could--wait, no. No. Ah've got no ideas. At all. For anything sticky. Or love-like." He was now wrapping his towel around him so that it covered him like a cape. It was very likely entirely ineffective but it made him feel covered and thus like less of a target for Cammie's syrup-y love.
"Well, then it's plan A. Going to syrup you up and call you my waffle."
Kevin's retreat hastened and soon he was shutting the door to his room and locking it. "Ah'm not bein' your waffle."
"Oh yes you are," Cammie's sing-song voice threatened as she pulled a couple of implements of mayhem out of her back pocket. Picking the locks that didn't require keycards was easy, "I'm coming to get ya, Waffle," she said impishly as the lock went 'click.'
It was the sound, that tell tale click of the lock, that made Kevin pause. He'd gotten as far as pulling out a pair of pants and a shirt and getting a pair of gloves out. The latter two were tossed onto his bed with his discarded towel while his pants were hovering around his knees when he stopped and stared at the door. She wouldn't have. Then he watched the doorknob turn. Oh, she totally would have. He hurried to get his pants up because obviously retreat was needed.
"Here's.... Syrup!" she said, opening the door, holding the bottle through first, "Come on Kevy, I LOVE YOU."
"Ain't no one who calls me Kevy full of love. Ah include Monet in that." Monet, totally hot with an annoying penchant for calling him Kevvypants. Thank God Cammie didn't know that one. He probably deserved the nickname at the time, though. He'd been mighty surly.
“You just say that because you haven’t felt my hard, soft, conflicting adjective love for you in syrup,” she said, arm following the bottle followed by an evilly grinning face, “Come on, Keeevvvvvvyyyy.”
"Ah hate that name," he told her and swiftly pulled his pants up the rest of the way. Zippered, buttoned and definitely not falling off, that was important. He reached for his gloves next because not decomposing random things while he tried to flee was important. Kevin thought maybe he should have too much dignity to flee a girl and her syrup, but clearly he didn't. Why was there not a fire escape at his window? Why couldn't he have cool powers that involved flight?
“I can add ‘poo’ to it if it makes it better,” Cammie said, blocking the doorway. “Does that make it better?”
"If we were kin Ah'd disown you for that." The second of his gloves was pulled into place up by his elbow and then he reached for the shirt. It was long sleeved with a hood. Normally there was a shirt under it and another over it but he didn't have time for that as he began to inch away carefully. But where was he going to inch to?
“But I’m your soulmate, so you know you can’t disown me,” Cammie said. This was too much fun, “Come on, you and me and this bottle of syrup and this spatula get to celebrate.”
"What're we celebratin'? My future as a pancake? That mean you're gonna find someone to eat me with a fork before the syrup decomposes, too?" He was still inching but Kevin knew the wall was coming up. That was going to be problematic.
“Well, we could celebrate that but it might be a bit too toxic for my tastes. How about I r a high school grad-u-ate?” Cammie said, “We can celebrate that with all the assembled things.”
Those being her, him, the spatula and the syrup. “It was either this or those spiffy whip like things.”
"You are not whipping me." Kevin pointed a finger at her in warning, eyes narrowing. "Or pouring syrup on my shirt. 'Cause that's just sticky and gross." Clothing, it made everything better.
“Oh come on, it’ll only be there for a second or two,” she said blithely.
"Shirt!" He even grabbed a bit of the material at his chest and pulled it out in case the word wasn't computing. "Sorta gets in the way. And you're not pouring it down the inside of my shirt!" Kevin's back hit the wall. Uh-oh.
She happily took a few steps forward, “See, the shirt’s going to have to go. At least if we want to do this right.”
"Uh...no. The shirt's happy where it is." His eyes shifted back and forth, seeking a way out. If she was coming closer it meant that the door would become open and as long as he could get around her he'd be okay. Everything in the room was Kevin-friendly. He was athletic enough to have quick reflexes. The problem was he wasn't sure how quick hers were.
“No, it told me it wants to be taken off so we can have our happy-fun times,” Cammie returned, stepping in closer.
"Your happy funtimes," Kevin corrected. "Ah don't think bein' covered in syrup and spanked with a kitchen utensil is goin' to delight me or anything, y'know?" He inched a little to the left, which was the direction of his bed.
“Sure it is. I mean, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Cammie said, herding him in that direction.
"How 'bout Ah cover you in syrup instead? Y'know, to see how enjoyable it is so Ah can be won over." Though, admittedly, Kevin had seen Cammie naked. He remembered that image all too well. Add syrup and, yeah, he might need to retreat for a private moment. Another step was taken toward the bed.
“Only if you promise to lick it off,” Cammie said smiling too widely, rocking the bottle of syrup back and forth, “Though my skin might be toxic. But yours is all deadly and stuff, so it’s a fair trade.”
"You're not planning to lick it off me, though." At least he was really hoping she wasn't. Cammie, Kevin was sure, did not have some weird masochistic streak that involved losing her tongue.
“You kidding? Maybe if you could control your skin powers,” she said, “I like talking,” she added, “But if it was possible? I so would.”
"Not actually my skin," he pointed out. "It's my sebum, the stuff that keeps your skin hydrated? Yeah, that stuff." His leg nearly brushed against the mattress of his bed. Kevin promptly scrambled over the bed and off the end of it and sprinted for the door.
Cammie laughed as he took off, giving him a bit of a head start before calling out, “But it’s all for my love for you, KEVVVVYY!”
Kevin made a beeline for the door to his suite. Opening it slowed him down but if he was lucky it'd swing shut before she got to it and Cammie would be slowed as well. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going to hide from her. Kevin just picked a direction and ran.
Cammie followed him happily, calling him all the way. It was the little things in life.
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Date: 2009-12-15 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
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