Performance anxiety is pretty common, especially amongst first time fathers. We also provide magazines to in case you need any assistance. DEAD DEAD DEAD. AT THIS BEING HOW PREGNANCY TESTS ARE DONE.
"Remember fifth grade? When I sat you down to have the talk? You could've just told me the birds were unnecessary--" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT I WANTED TO C/P EVERY PAIN IN THE ASS TEXT, BECAUSE PAIN IN THE ASS BUT I AM RESTRAINING MYSELF A LITTLE BIT.
"Uh," Cook says, remembers Archie above him, eyes glassy-dark, lips parted, fingers digging hard into his hips, his arm, whispering, "is this - am I--"; remembers clenching his jaw, his fists, his stomach, white sparks exploding behind his eyelids as he moaned, "yeah, yeah, just--fuck--" and blows out a long breath. LAKSJFALSDKFJALSDKJFLSDKJFLKD SJFLKDJF. REMIND ME WHY YOU DON'T WRITE NC-17 AGAIN.
Cook spends the next couple of minutes listening to the dial tone, blinking hard, till the burn at the back of his eyes subsides. AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Just like that, Cook feels the awkwardness vanish. (On his part, at least; he's pretty sure Archie's going to be awkward for pretty much the rest of his life.) THIS THIS THIIIIIIIIIIS.
"Well," Cook says, mouth twitching involuntarily. "I mean, since you got me milk and everything, I guess that'd be okay with the thirteen other people taking up my guestrooms." "Oh my gosh, shut up," Archie says, already flushed. "Milk is totally good for you." MILK. HE BROUGHT HIM MILK WITH A BOW ON IT. OH MY GOSH.
(he still remembers that night in Manila, Archie flailing so hard he'd almost taken out Cook's eye with his mango) a;lskdfjlskfjsdk
he isn't totally happy with me living in a den of s--um, I mean-- oh my gosh, quit laughing at me! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JEEEEEEEEEEFF
till Cook's crafty enough to be able to give up his $5000 handicap OH MY GOD $5000 HANDICAP.
Cook says, hastily tossing the newly-made sock-puppets over his shoulder. SOCK PUPPETS. AND ARCHIE BEING LIKE, ARE YOU BUSY? WHEN COOK IS PLAYING WITH SOCK PUPPETS.
Pain in the ass: ...why the hell are people calling in to ask me about michael johns' underwear fetish? askdjflsdkfj HAHAHA.
"Um," Archie adds, helpfully. I JUST HAVE SUCH A THING FOR WHEN ARCHIE ADDS UM HELPFULLY.
He sounds completely guilt-stricken, and Cook almost laughs, because Archie would apologize, and of course he'd do it four months in. ARCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE.
Cook's stuck in the middle of Michael, Jason and Andy, who are arguing the merits of "Michael", "Jason", and "Andy", respectively. (Neal's long gone, in search of "a party with actual fucking booze".) HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHA. HA.
humming lullabies under his breath, which is. He has one warm palm tucked against the base of Cook's stomach, and he punctuates his sentences with quiet laughs and murmured 'I love you's. oh. my. god. ARCHIE. OH MY GOSH THIS MAKES ME WANT TO CRY NATALIE HE TALKS TO THE BABY AND IS ADORABLE AND SWEET AND ARCHIE ARCHIE ARCHIE.
Archie doesn't even falter at the non-sequitur, doesn't pretend he doesn't know which conversation they're having. "Oh," he says. "I was--" He stops as abruptly as Cook started. Scared, his face finishes, for him. Confused. "Busy. Um. Sorry?" Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, bb
Pain in the ass: jesus christ, you're huge. what the hell are you feeding that baby? lol!
ALSKDJFLSDKFJLSDKFJDSK THE FIGHT D: D: D: AND ARCHIE MAKING SOUP AND AWWWWWWWWWWW TALKING TO BETH AND AWW AWW AWWWWWWWWWWW.
AND THEN THE FUCKING TOILET OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD. DEAD. ASKDFJLDKFJD. AND LOVE LOVE AND THE END AND FOUR KIDS AND ALSKJDFLASDKFJALSDKFJASDLKFJ;LDSKFJ. DEAD.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 09:44 pm (UTC)DEAD DEAD DEAD. AT THIS BEING HOW PREGNANCY TESTS ARE DONE.
"Remember fifth grade? When I sat you down to have the talk? You could've just told me the birds were unnecessary--"
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT I WANTED TO C/P EVERY PAIN IN THE ASS TEXT, BECAUSE PAIN IN THE ASS BUT I AM RESTRAINING MYSELF A LITTLE BIT.
"Uh," Cook says, remembers Archie above him, eyes glassy-dark, lips parted, fingers digging hard into his hips, his arm, whispering, "is this - am I--"; remembers clenching his jaw, his fists, his stomach, white sparks exploding behind his eyelids as he moaned, "yeah, yeah, just--fuck--" and blows out a long breath.
LAKSJFALSDKFJALSDKJFLSDKJFLKD SJFLKDJF. REMIND ME WHY YOU DON'T WRITE NC-17 AGAIN.
Cook spends the next couple of minutes listening to the dial tone, blinking hard, till the burn at the back of his eyes subsides.
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Just like that, Cook feels the awkwardness vanish. (On his part, at least; he's pretty sure Archie's going to be awkward for pretty much the rest of his life.)
THIS THIS THIIIIIIIIIIS.
"Well," Cook says, mouth twitching involuntarily. "I mean, since you got me milk and everything, I guess that'd be okay with the thirteen other people taking up my guestrooms."
"Oh my gosh, shut up," Archie says, already flushed. "Milk is totally good for you."
MILK. HE BROUGHT HIM MILK WITH A BOW ON IT. OH MY GOSH.
(he still remembers that night in Manila, Archie flailing so hard he'd almost taken out Cook's eye with his mango)
a;lskdfjlskfjsdk
he isn't totally happy with me living in a den of s--um, I mean-- oh my gosh, quit laughing at me!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JEEEEEEEEEEFF
till Cook's crafty enough to be able to give up his $5000 handicap
OH MY GOD $5000 HANDICAP.
Cook says, hastily tossing the newly-made sock-puppets over his shoulder.
SOCK PUPPETS. AND ARCHIE BEING LIKE, ARE YOU BUSY? WHEN COOK IS PLAYING WITH SOCK PUPPETS.
Pain in the ass:
...why the hell are people calling in to ask me about michael johns' underwear fetish?
askdjflsdkfj HAHAHA.
"Um," Archie adds, helpfully.
I JUST HAVE SUCH A THING FOR WHEN ARCHIE ADDS UM HELPFULLY.
He sounds completely guilt-stricken, and Cook almost laughs, because Archie would apologize, and of course he'd do it four months in.
ARCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE.
Cook's stuck in the middle of Michael, Jason and Andy, who are arguing the merits of "Michael", "Jason", and "Andy", respectively. (Neal's long gone, in search of "a party with actual fucking booze".)
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHA. HA.
humming lullabies under his breath, which is. He has one warm palm tucked against the base of Cook's stomach, and he punctuates his sentences with quiet laughs and murmured 'I love you's.
oh. my. god. ARCHIE. OH MY GOSH THIS MAKES ME WANT TO CRY NATALIE HE TALKS TO THE BABY AND IS ADORABLE AND SWEET AND ARCHIE ARCHIE ARCHIE.
Archie doesn't even falter at the non-sequitur, doesn't pretend he doesn't know which conversation they're having. "Oh," he says. "I was--" He stops as abruptly as Cook started. Scared, his face finishes, for him. Confused. "Busy. Um. Sorry?"
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, bb
Pain in the ass:
jesus christ, you're huge. what the hell are you feeding that baby?
lol!
ALSKDJFLSDKFJLSDKFJDSK THE FIGHT D: D: D: AND ARCHIE MAKING SOUP AND AWWWWWWWWWWW TALKING TO BETH AND AWW AWW AWWWWWWWWWWW.
AND THEN THE FUCKING TOILET OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD. DEAD. ASKDFJLDKFJD. AND LOVE LOVE AND THE END AND FOUR KIDS AND ALSKJDFLASDKFJALSDKFJASDLKFJ;LDSKFJ. DEAD.