ColdWest prompt
“Now hold on a diddly darn minute. Why aren’t you dressed?” Iris huffs, her hands on her hips in a show of absolute displeasure. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
Len makes a show out of carefully placing a bookmark in his Blue Meridian: The Search For The Great White Shark. It was a birthday gift, and Iris is now contemplating turning it into a murder weapon as the infuriating man raises his eyes to her like he’s hearing about this for the first time in his entire life.
“You mean, you’re leaving, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Leonard, I told you that you’re coming with me, like it or not. You can play nice for a few hours, it won’t kill you - but I might, if you don’t get your pretty ass off that couch, stat.”
“Ooh, violent, aren’t we?”
Iris wishes his smirk weren’t that attractive - she could be properly angry instead of mildly irritated then.
“Something about you just makes me want to commit extreme violence,” she sighs. “Come on, I can’t ditch my father’s wedding.”
“Your detective father,” Len drawls, like this is an argument they haven’t had at least fifteen times over the past months. “And his district attorney fiancée.”
“They’re not going to prosecute you over the salmon.”
“Might opt for shooting me instead,” Len smirks again, but he’s rolling off the couch with his usual grace. Iris chuckles and slaps his chest when he brushes past her, on his way to the bathroom to make himself presentable like a good boyfriend he actually is, despite all of his attempts to salvage his ‘tough criminal’ reputation.
He rubs at his chest with an exasperated grimace. “After all, violence obviously runs in the family.”
“You can include that in the toast, now hurry up or I’ll make you the designated driver for the night,” she threatens one last time, for good measure, and presses a loud kiss onto his cheek, leaving a smear of red against his stubbly chin.