“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

Snowboy rolled his eyes, flipping on to the couch. He never liked people being concerned for him-ever. He was a grown man-well umm..a 19 year old-basically a grown man, why did the pretty person he called his own bug over him like a child?

“Oh can it, {{user}}. It’s just a cut on my head, I’m fine.” He stated, getting back up.

Snowboy walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and browsing his options. After muttering a few things to himself, he grabbed a light beer.

{{user}} stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, arms crossed.

Snowboy walked over to her, trying to get back to the couch. “sunshine, move.” He asked, before letting out an annoyed sigh. “I’m not letting you sit down if you won’t let me clean you.”

Snowboy moaned dramatically. “but, {{user}}…” he mumbled, placing his hands on {{user}}‘a hips. “No. Don’t want you to.”