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there's a light. killian x luce.
 @mamabutterfly There’s a light, it flickers - Killian watches his wife circle it, a look of exasperation mottles her face. The hallway lightbulb, it was another something he had promised and not gotten around to. He watched her turn it on and off, each glow of the bulb illuminating a new line of frustration. Their house had so many knocks and notches now from a variety of f***ery and now it bore the scars of their life there. In truth, he liked it that way, in every crack lay a memory. A fight they made up in. A family moment wherein the Wolfgang zoo had descended onto their patch of paradise.
Albeit it was a ‘man’ way to think of things. For his wife, it was merely something else for her to bleet at him for. It ignited the ever present need in her; to nest, and home make, regardless of whether or not there were children present. Their lives had never been any different, even after all this time.
He watched her ferret from room to room, and knew by now the exact moment she’d snap and call him out for the useless son of a bitch he knew he could be. Killian was his mother’s son, and there was something in him that loved the banter, the opportunity to rise and fulfil the husband character he so loved to play. To prove his point; to make it upto her and force them back into the small box in which they just were, married, and in love with each of their imperfections.
He knew the life they shared wasn’t perfect, it was hardly the sh*t fairy tales were made of but it suited them.
A smile drew over the lines in his face, and he rubbed grubby mit through unkempt facial hair. Luce was made for him, and he her.
Crossing one boot over the other, he leant back in his tv chair, and he watched as his dainty wife shot a look over her shoulder.
Game time.
Dark irises fluttered to the banal on the television, a ticking wheel of some bullsh*t American dream game show. “F*** me, Shirley, the answers f***in’ blue.”
It was just enough, a whisper of change in the air and he watched dainty palm make contact with the living room door. His wife crackled, an electricity to their coupling. To be sure, she was on the ceiling now and probably could have shorted the electrics in the whole house with her temper alone.
His eyes flickered again to meet hers. “What’s wrong baby?” Door handle meets drywall and slots into the last fight hole it made. He runs cigarette end over his lower lip and grasps it, lifting struck match to tobacco.
“Are you yankin’ my f***in’ d*ck Killian?”
He blinked, raising a playful eyebrow.
“And why would I be doin’ that?” He inhaled, slowly, measured, turning his head back towards the tv. “M’ just watchin’ my show, love.”
Anger meets television screen as she launches the laundry basket now perched on her hip at blue glow. “Pyramid?! Ya kiddin’ love - you ain’t watched this with any degree of seriousness since tha’ 90’s Kil.”
She sighs, exasperated, and potters to the hallway. This was it. The finale - she’d make to do it herself, teetering delicately on stepstool, he watched every curve of her under her dress and resigned himself to the fact she’d ruined him for all other women. And he was more than okay with that.
He sighed, hauling himself up off the chair on which he sank. “Baby.”
“F*** off will ya? I’ll do it myself.”
“Baby.” He moves towards her. “Son of a bitch Luce, let me do it would ya? You’re gonna fall and snap ya damn neck, and then I’d definitely be no use at all.”
“Killian I mean it, go away.”
He laughs, a low chuckle; and she blows, swinging for him, but she stumbles and falls, he grasps her hips. And he couldn’t be happier to be right.
Slowly, he props her onto her feet on the floor, and moves to twist flickering bulb from its mount. “Let me do it, Luce, a’ said I would didn’ I?”
She sniffs, resigned, an unexplained smirk on her face. For a second he thinks he’s won, before thumb and forefinger find the heat in the bulb
“Mother f***er.” He spits and Luce crumpled beside him. Shaking his hand he turns. “You little bitch.”
Laughter breaks and he scowls. “Ya f***in’ useless with me even now love. Cmon, rinse ya fingers and do it with a rag next time.” She takes his hand in his and leads him to the sink, tending to the growing redness on his fingertips.
F***in’ perfection.
She won, even when she didn’t. His wife. His Luce, she was a force of nature and would outsmart him even in death.
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