Dan was exiting the shower when he heard the suspicious noise from the bedroom.
"What are you doing in my nightstand, woman?" he demanded, hurriedly walking towards the sound of betrayal.
"Nothing," lied Lizbeth, scrambling away from his advancing form across the bed.
Abandoning the scant modesty provided by his bath towel, he lunged forward, managed to grasp a thrashing feminine leg, and held on for dear life.
"I detect the telltale rustle of a chocolate wrapper," he hissed accusingly. "You wouldn't be attempting to sneak away with the very last candy bar, now would you?"
"Certainly not," Lizbeth protested, managing to sound both guilty and outraged, "I was going to share it with you."
"Of course you were," Dan crooned, disbelief evident in every syllable. He had finished scaling her leg, and satisfied that he had brought her escape to a halt, was sprawled across her lower half, head resting comfortably on her belly.
"Okay okay," said the nightstand burglar, "let's play a game."
"Ha," scoffed the damp and towelless one, "you already made your play, and lost."
"Yes," coaxed Lizbeth, "but if you win the game, you could get all four squares of rich almond chocolate, as opposed to the measly two you'll get from a fair share."
"The crisps are better than that dark chocolate crap," he grumbled, "but fine, what's this game of yours?"
"A quote off," she answered triumphantly, brushing the fragrant chocolate across his cheek.
"A wha?" he started to ask, both hands surging upward.
"A quote off," Lizbeth repeated, easily eluding his grasping fingers. "Now listen up, or you'll miss it."
Conceding defeat, he rolled off her, and flopped spread-eagled on the bed, shameless in all his naked glory. "Bring it!"
"The category," Lizbeth announced, ignoring his display of earthly wares, "is actor, and the quote is, 'Am I now supposed to go on Oprah and cry and tell you my deepest, darkest secrets because you want to know?'"
"Oh good grief," he complained, rolling on to his elbows, "I watch less TV in a year than most people watch in a week, and you give me something like that?"
"Don't whine," Lizbeth chastised, "I made sure to pick an actor you both like and admire."
"Grrr!" He scratched the back of his neck contemplatively, and then said, "Morgan Freeman."
"Kevin Spacey," Lizbeth corrected. "Woot, woot!"
"I hate you," proclaimed the blind man, collapsing on to his stomach.
"Don't hate me because I'm smart and beautiful," advised Lizbeth, unwrapping the end of the candy bar, "hate the Usual Suspects instead."
"Hilarious," Dan growled, levering himself into a sitting position. "Hey, you can't eat that!"
"Sure I can," she responded calmly, breaking off one square and popping it into her mouth, "your loss is my win."
"I think this Candy Land game is rigged."
"Well, now it's your turn," Lizbeth challenged, "say the category, and then the quote."
He pondered the possibilities for a few seconds, and then a wide grin spread over his face. "The category's the same as yours," he told her, "an actor. The quote is, 'Clearly I have defeated this earthworm with my words - imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists.'"
"Seriously?" Lizbeth snickered. "Only a guy would say something that stupid."
"Sure," Dan agreed, "but which guy?"
She considered for a few seconds, and then said, "Richard Gere."
"No no no," he exclaimed in mock horror, "not our Billy Flynn. All he cares about is love, Sweetie!" Slowly, he extended his right hand, palm up.
"Who is it then?" demanded Lizbeth, tossing a morsel of chocolate into his expectant paw.
"Charlie Sheen," he revealed, masticating the hard-won chocolate, and writhing in mock ecstasy. "Nobody bring the crazy like Charlie."
Lizbeth grunted in disgust, but then did and said absolutely nothing. After swallowing the treat and going through an elaborate finger cleaning ritual with his tongue, Dan finally asked, "So, you're next, got anything else?"
"The category," she said with deliberate relish, "is activist."
Dan hummed appreciatively on a rising note.
"Your quote is, 'Nobody can ride your back if your back's not bent.'"
"Oh, that's MLK," Dan said instantly.
"Shit," cursed Lizbeth, "how the Hell did you know that?"
He shrugged, "Dunno. I obviously read it somewhere, but couldn't tell you now what it was from."
Resigned, Lizbeth offered him the next to last piece of chocolate, but he was already shaking his head.
"I got a proposition for you," he murmured, changing position so that he could lean against her. "I'll let you keep the rest of the candy bar, if ..."
Lizbeth sighed theatrically. "I'm going to be late for work again, aren't I?"
"Oh yes," Dan affirmed, his warm breath tickling her neck, "very very late!"Author's Note:
- The preceding story was a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual residents of BrownCatraz is entirely coincidental.
- Lizbeth and I have played a game similar to this, but the rewards came from a cheese/meat/cracker and veggie tray, and involved trivia questions we had previously researched online.
- At the moment, we are buried under those damned World's Finest Chocolate fund raising candy bars, but I'm certain that eventually the last one will materialize... Someday!
Crossposted from Dreamwidth