Annabelle Blishwick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forkedroad) wrote2017-02-03 09:56 pm
forkedroad) wrote2017-02-03 09:56 pm
BONER AU: DAY AFTER
Annabelle had always been a decent sleeper, but whenever she and the Tanners were due for some excitement, she often slept restlessly. The previous night had been different, despite her excitement; she'd pretty much fallen asleep the second she'd flopped onto their bed into a deep, hard sleep, soon drooling pretty ungracefully.
And the next day, they all awoke more or less frantically—or at least, Lauren and Annabelle certainly had. Lauren, out of anxiety, and Annabelle out of excitement. The three of them had done their thing, aiding the nice town they were in with their talents.
Now that all the excitement is over, the three of them have been paid for their efforts. They've been invited to a boundless meal, as well as wine and ale, in the evening, because the town, frankly, loves to party, and has a great reason to celebrate. But that invite, though accepted, doesn't help them soon enough, and so they've found themselves at a pub for some lunch.
They're seated at a communal bench table, and the brothers are sitting next to each other across from Annabelle. Annabelle has been desperately trying not to look at Lauren more than she would normally, which has made her realize she has no idea how often she does or doesn't do that kind of thing. Right now, her jaw is set against her palm, thin fingers curled into her dark, wild hair while her eyes are lid downcast at her food, which she's kind of just. stabbing relentlessly (but not so frantically so as to make a pub-wide scene) with her fork.
It's not that she's in a bad mood, or anything—she's been quite chipper, if somewhat stilted and odd. At the moment, she's just lost in reminiscence. She's trying to find what the hell had come over here the night before. She bites her lip, and the fork slips, causing an unpleasant squeak against the porcelain.
And the next day, they all awoke more or less frantically—or at least, Lauren and Annabelle certainly had. Lauren, out of anxiety, and Annabelle out of excitement. The three of them had done their thing, aiding the nice town they were in with their talents.
Now that all the excitement is over, the three of them have been paid for their efforts. They've been invited to a boundless meal, as well as wine and ale, in the evening, because the town, frankly, loves to party, and has a great reason to celebrate. But that invite, though accepted, doesn't help them soon enough, and so they've found themselves at a pub for some lunch.
They're seated at a communal bench table, and the brothers are sitting next to each other across from Annabelle. Annabelle has been desperately trying not to look at Lauren more than she would normally, which has made her realize she has no idea how often she does or doesn't do that kind of thing. Right now, her jaw is set against her palm, thin fingers curled into her dark, wild hair while her eyes are lid downcast at her food, which she's kind of just. stabbing relentlessly (but not so frantically so as to make a pub-wide scene) with her fork.
It's not that she's in a bad mood, or anything—she's been quite chipper, if somewhat stilted and odd. At the moment, she's just lost in reminiscence. She's trying to find what the hell had come over here the night before. She bites her lip, and the fork slips, causing an unpleasant squeak against the porcelain.
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"I don't get it either." Maybe she was mad at him? Did she regret what happened? Was he acting weird towards her? He'd been trying to act normal, but it was hard when you couldn't necessarily remember what normal was.
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"...I think I made a mistake."
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"What do you mean?"
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"You sort of were right, about me and Anna."
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"But, did you fight, or kiss?" It was kiss, right? That's what he guesses at least.
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"...Don't tell her I told you."
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"I won't!"
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"Are you okay...?"
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"I don't know."
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"I'm positive she liked it."
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"I don't know why you guys are being so weird then."
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Helpful. He just sort of slumps onto the table.
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"Do you want me to talk to her? Maybe I can figure out what's wrong!"
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"It has to be me."
There wasn't any point adding in another person. That only risked further complication.
"I just wish it were easier."
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"If I can help, then just tell me."