|Christine is thinking unflattering thoughts (ohgodno) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2019-10-11 09:18:00
|Entry tags:||-complete, christine palmer, hope van dyne, stephen strange|
Who: Christine and Hope (guest starring Stephen)
What: Chatting in between inappropriate texts
“Argh!” Christine huffed and threw her phone down next to her on the couch. It was always infuriating trying to talk to Stephen about anything when he wasn’t in the mood. Ever since they’d started their relationship years ago, Christine had always accepted the fact that Stephen was completely in control. There was no other way to be with him and she loved him enough that that was how things were.
Sure, they’d had months, even years in between not being together but the fact remained she would always be there for him, in whatever capacity he let her. And it wasn’t that she sat around and bemoaned it or pined away from him. Far from it. She did what she wanted, when she wanted and who she wanted, and when they were on? Great! This year, she’d probably gotten about two or three nights of actual attention, sprinkled throughout a few months and that was fine. It didn’t stop her from bugging him, or sending random nudes in which he pointed out the lighting angle or an object in the background.
Still. She was a little tipsy and his dry responses - the few she was getting - were annoying right now.
“I hate Stephen almost as much as I love him. And don’t get me wrong -- I have absolutely no desire to actually be connected to Stephen Strange on a regular basis, but fuck.” She glared at her phone. “Throw me a bone here, Stephen. Remind me you have a penis.” She rolled her eyes and glanced at her (female) best friend. “Hope, I give up and at the same time won’t because I am stuck with Stephen for life.” This wasn’t said with anger or anything. It was just a fact. “Maybe you’d have better luck.”
Hope was watching this whole thing with some amusement, clearly - it made for a good show as she lounged there, drinking wine and rolling about comfortably in her pajamas (shorts and a cami printed with alpacas, because whenever she hung out with Christine was when she busted out the ridiculous sleepwear).
“What, me?” Forest green eyes blinked owlishly; she had almost snorted a laugh into her wine glass because why. Obviously, Christine and Stephen would never do anything ‘conventional’ but were likely each other’s soulmates anyway and would just end up retiring together on some farm out in the boonies, driving each other insane until they croaked.
It was beyond Hope’s realm of understanding, yet she was intrigued anyway. “Okay, I can be you,” she reached for Christine’s phone. “Let the master work.” Hiccup.
Christine reached for a pillow and flopped down, hugging it to her face. She was still in scrubs and had debated changing but whatever -- this was what she lived in and honestly, was most comfortable in. Besides, these sleepovers were becoming a regular thing when Christine had no work so by this point, Hope had seen Christine literally at her worst.
Reaching for her cider on the floor, she took a sip and mulled this over for a moment before speaking again.
“Make sure you’re snotty, flippant and just a tad bit slutty. I think that’s the Christine recipe….oh! And throw in a something totally wrong. Correcting me is kind of a turn on for him.” Was she actually admitting that? Yes, yes she was, and there was only the slightest hint of embarrassment in her voice. The more she talked about their relationship out loud, the more she wondered what was wrong with her that it was absolutely perfect and everything she wanted.
“And there are probably some unused tit pics in the phone too. Feel free to send those! I take several before deciding which to send. The password is ‘speculum’.”
“Cute,” Hope grinned, referring to the password. She keyed it in and indeed went right for the naughty pictures - Christine could trust her, and besides, she’d already given permission. Hope was just tipsy enough to pull this off. “Nice tits, by the way.” Stephen was one piece of work if he couldn’t appreciate a fine pair of ta-ta-’s appearing on his phone.
Still, she chose one of the sultriest ones, though no doubt Strange would find something wrong with it, and hit send. Then she debated for a second before deciding on what to type in a text message.
This is a better view than whatever dusty book about enchanted tree rats that you’re looking at. Or is it something about tiny trolls from the 80s?
Christine absolutely trusted Hope. She trusted Hope so much, she didn’t even look at the phone or demand to see the text. It was more fun to wait until Stephen answered her back before asking Hope to read it back. And this way was so much more efficient -- no screenshots needed to be taken and sent to Hope for a ‘what does this even mean?!’ conversation. Not that Christine had but the potential was always there.
“I always knew I wanted to be a doctor…. A surgeon. Even during all those bible camps. I figured if I wanted to get closer to God, may as well be one, am I right?” A joke, of course, and she peeked her tongue out between her lips in jest. “But in all sincerity -- I love my life, and I find it so interesting that things worked out the way I wanted. I have a job I adore, I have amazing friends, I have a soulmate who will never leave me because clearly no one else could ever put up with him and he can’t be bothered to ever actually fully dump me so that’s a win, and there’s easily three more banks in New York that will give me credit.”
She tried to give a shrug which wasn’t easy considering she wouldn’t let go of her pillow. “So while my life is going swimmingly, we need to work on yours. I’m still so sorry about Scott. He was cool. I liked making fun of him. Are you sure there isn’t a Scott here?” Christine didn’t even know how this whole multiple realities thing worked anyways, and she knew it was a blunt question but that’s how they were together -- honest and real and if Hope was offended, she’d tell Christine to fuck off.
It wasn't long before a text was sent back, along with an attached picture.
You're right. I always consult an 80's book illustrated by Rien Poortvliet whenever trouble pops up.
You certainly don't lack for persistence. Since you shared, I'll send you one: attachment