Title: February: Love Is…
Characters: Sullivan ♂, Murphy ♀
Rating: T" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;" width="32px" /> (L2 N0 S0 V2 D0)
Warnings: It’s Sullivan… Also, external organs. Not a typo.
Notes: I wanted something for February that captured that loving spirit of Valentine’s Day, but … less sappy. More grotesque. I will admit to having toned it down a bit, for print. But, seriously? Typical Sully.
"I’ve brought you a hart, Murphy. Well, I guess it’s my hart, now. And his heart, too. I brought you my hart and my hart’s heart! Is that good enough?"
"Mercy, Sully, you what? … … You’re a sick fuck, you are, and I’d not love you half as much, any other way. You eating this one, or will we hang it up for Brigid?"
"We’ll hang it up. And I should likely be throwing this to the dogs, afore I show you something you don’t want to be seeing."
"I’ve seen things you don’t remember doing, Sullivan."
"And, yet, you’re still standing here. You ever give thought to being my wife for a couple centuries?"
"Finney would break both your hands, and I’d be disowned. And that, in itself, almost makes it a worthwhile choice. But, we’d kill each other in a week, and you know it. I eat vegetables and you’ve got all the manners of a goat."
"I do. And it took me a broad span of years among them to learn those manners!"
"This? My whole point."