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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-04
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631
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Not Quite a Lovers' Spat

Summary:

Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: Rube/George
Rating: FRT
Summary: Fighting.
Dis: Not mine. Belongs to Showtime [unfortunately], who cancelled it [bastards].
Author's Notes: For michellek, who pimps me, and to everyone who read the first DLM fic because michellek sent them my way.

Work Text:

Not Quite a Lovers' Spat
by Perpetual Motion

"What do you *want* from me?!"

"I want you to do your job!"

"I *do* my job! You just don't notice unless I do something wrong!"

"Then stop doing things wrong!"

"If I did, would you *notice*?!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Rube jerked back like he'd been hit. He stared at George in disbelief. "*What*?!"

"You only notice what I do when I do it wrong. You *live* for me to do something wrong so you can point it out and fell like a superior *dick*." George threw her hair over her shoulders with an angry shake of her head. "Not that you need any help with that."

"Hey," Rub pointed a finger at George, "I notice when you do good things."

"You never say anything."

"I didn't realize I needed to say anything."

"What, you thought I'd pick up on some positive *vibe* or something?"

"I thought you'd be smart enough to figure it out."

"So I'm dumb now?"

Rube rubbed a hand over his face. "Damnit, Peanut; you're just being difficult."

"I am not."

"You are so."

George huffed and crossed her arms. "Do you even *like* me?"

Rube bit his tongue to keep from immediately responding with something snide. He looked at George. She was scowling, and her hair was falling in her face. He felt the same stripe of *hot* slide up his spine that hit him every time George got into a funk. He wanted to lean over, push her hair off her face, and tell her just how *much* he liked her.

"Quit staring at me."

And he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lean across the table, put his elbow in the small puddle of syrup next to her plate of half-eaten waffles and bacon, cup the back of her head, and kiss her until she couldn't argue with him for a few seconds.

"You're still staring at me."

Before Rube could answer, Kiffany walked over with her coffee pot. "Are you two done with your lovers' spat, or can I sell tickets for the next round?"

"We're not having a lovers' spat." George's voice was flat. She pushed her cup towards Kiffany.

Rube held his cup up and smiled at Kiffany. "She's cranky."

"I am not!"

"You are."

"*Not*!"

"Are."

Kiffany rolled her eyes. "Yeah, no lovers' spat." She topped off their coffee and walked away.

Rube stared into his coffee and closed off the part of his mind that wanted to kiss George. When he looked up, she was dumping creamer into her coffee. "I like you, Peanut."

"Yeah. Sure."

"I do."

"Then you should say it."

Rube took a chance and reached out to touch George's fingers as she dropped in another creamer. "I will, Peanut."

George stared at Rube's hand touching hers like she wasn't quite sure what to do about it. "Okay."

Rube pulled his hand away and curled it into a fist in his lap. His fingertips were tingling. "You do a good job."

"Yeah." She stirred her coffee.

Rube wanted to reassure her again, but he knew better. He yanked up the top post-it from his pad and held it out to her. "Here."

George took the post-it and cursed when she saw the time. "Shit! You never let me finish my breakfast!"

"I'll keep it warm for you."

"Yeah, by eating it, you bastard." George shoved herself out of the booth and ran for the door.

Rube tried to convince himself that the slightly hollow feeling in his chest wasn't because he already missed her. He stole her bacon to console himself.

end