|Albie Potter (albie_potter) wrote in 20somethings,|
@ 2021-09-19 17:28:00
|Entry tags:||c: albus potter, c: maria warrington, d: 2027 09, ~ complete, Ω: rp|
Who: Albie + Maria
What: Day-before-moon-cranky-about-gossip hanging out
When: 19 September 2027
Where: Maria's house
Warnings: Language, likely others
Completion status: Complete
Albie was pissed off. That Gossip Guru post had gotten under his skin in a way he didn’t like. It wasn’t as if he tried to keep any of his tattoos secret and one most days he had his sleeves rolled up to expose the artwork there or the swallows on his chest poking out from the collar of his shirt. It was, he thought, the way the post had tried to link the tattoo to Maria and their… relationship?
That word made him feel itchy, the same way that the word bisexual did every time that his perennial crush on Scorp resurfaced, as if it was close but not right. He’d once sarcastically retorted to someone that labels were for clothes, but considering how many items in his wardrobe were designed for women that didn’t really ring true either.
The fact of the matter was that he had been sleeping with Maria since the end of March after flirting around the topic for months. They had been on actual dates. He regularly showed up at her house after the full moon with care packages to soothe her worn body. And Albie hadn’t dated anyone else in all that time.
Fuuuuuck. He was in a relationship.
And it wasn’t the end of the world? Like, he didn’t hate it?
It was the day before the full moon, a day Albie had selfishly come to enjoy since Maria often wanted to indulge her wilder side. It wasn’t guaranteed that she was going to want to get frisky, though, and after the grouchy texts they’d exchanged last night about the gossip Albie was expecting her to be on the cranky side of things.
He knew the Warrington house well enough by now that he made his own way to the downstairs lounge to find Maria. Since he was the practical sort, he had a bag slung over his shoulder that contained everything from comfort food for reheating to chocolate-scented massage oil; he wanted to be prepared for anything. He felt the bag bump against his hip as he descended the stairs and realised that he knew a hell of a lot about Maria and what she did and didn’t like, her habits, her everything.
He set the bag down and crawled onto the daybed beside her, not even stopping to take his shoes off. “How’re you feeling?”