Always Us

good enough

I got asked for something funny because the show has us grieving through the end of the month, and twitter is/was (idk) fighting.

Now, 'funny' is always a bit of an intimidating request , but I hope this gives you all a little laugh.

_____

"Eh."

"What do you mean eh."

"I mean... it was eh."

Spencer watches incredulously as his girlfriend attempts to shimmy out from under him.

"Can you move? I—"

His hand locks down on her hip. "No ma'am. On a scale from one to ten. What do you give it?"

Olivia's eyes roll up in thought. Seconds tick by, and she sucks her lip between her teeth. Really, truly, considering.

"Woman, stop playing with me."

Her gaze meets his. "A solid three."

"Oh, you're fucking with me today." He lets out an ironic chuckle as his hand slips between her thighs.

"Spencer." She squirms under his grip. "Spencer, stop. I have to get to class. I'm going to be late."

Shocked, he lets go. This is a first. In their two years of dating, he couldn't think of one time she had denied him the pleasure of pleasuring her. It really must've been bad.

"Stop pouting," she teases. While she tugs a fresh pair of underwear up her thighs, her eyes remain steady on him, wounded and silent on the bed. "You got the job done."

"You got the job done," he mocks, scrunching his face up at the ceiling.

Her arm pokes around one of his oversized shirts until it finds its slot. He doesn't budge while she locates a pair of baggy jeans, nor when she leaves the room to pee. When she comes back and leans over the edge of the bed to plant a kiss on his forehead, he's still lying dead as a corpse.

"Baby, relax," she sighs. "It was good enough."
_____

The eggs just barely miss Spencer's plate as he shakes them off the pan. "Shit."

He spins to drop the hot steel into the sink before coming back to rescue his late breakfast off the counter. Why he thought grabbing a scorching metal handle without a towel was a good idea was beyond him.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," he mutters, awkwardly tossing the hot, scrambled clusters onto his plate. "Damn it, Liv."

Looking down at his disaster, he grimaces. Burnt toast. Massacred eggs. Not his best work. Thank God Olivia is on campus.

"Hey, did you make some for—" Jordan's face scrunches when he catches sight of Spencer's post workout meal. "Never mind, I think I'll just whip something up myself."

"Very funny."

Jordan pauses, taking in his friend's sour attitude. "What's up with you?"

"How'd I look today in practice man?"

Confused, Jordan slowly begins to gravitate towards the fruit bowl. He grabs a banana. "Ummm." Spencer's waiting expression stares back at him, and after another second, his friend's eyebrows shoot up. "You looked fine."

Spencer sucks his teeth. It may be an off day, but reading the Bakers is his specialty. "C'mon, be real with me. I can take it." The wide receiver takes another stab at his turkey sausage. "On a scale from one to ten. How'd I look?"

Jordan hesitates, buying time by reading the white labels under the blender's buttons.

"Man, stop playing with me."