They were both sitting quite innocently on Tony's bed, browsing movies and Calvin and Hobbes books, when Rosemary suddenly grabbed a pillow and hit Tony in the face.

"Gotcha!" Rose hooted, and Tony fell over with an "ack" sound. Then he managed to snag a pillow and belt her with it, eliciting her version of an "ack," which was actually more like a "GAH!"

"Gotcha back!" he cried gleefully, and proceeded to tickle her. Rose squealed and beat him a few more times with the pillow until he was forced to let go and retaliate in kind. Back and forth it went for a while, both of them shrieking (well, Tony didn't really shriek, since he was a very masculine sort of guy, but still) like small children, until Tony's mother yelled up the stairs at them.

"Hey kids, what's going on up there?"

"Nothing!" they chorused in unison, and fell about chuckling and giggling. Then they listened very carefully for any more calls from downstairs, but there were none.

"I haven't had a good pillow fight in a long time," Tony mused, looking at his pillow. He remembered having such fights with his sister when they were younger, and one time one of the pillows had burst and they'd had to clean up the feathers. His mother had banned pillow fights after that, but that hadn't stopped them.

"Me neither," Rosemary agreed, and then hit Tony in the face with the pillow again. Tony yelped and threw his pillow at her. "Ha!" Rosemary cried triumphantly. "Never throw away your weapon!" And she proceeded to beat him senseless--or, at the very least, until he cried mercy.

"Mercy! Truce! Truce!"

"Agreed," she said, in the grand manner of a fine noblewoman. "Now give me a shoulder rub."

"All you had to do was ask," he grumbled good-naturedly. "You didn't have to beat me into submission or anything." But he gave her the shoulder rub quite willingly, finding the knots in her shoulders and back with his thumbs and kneading them until they came undone.

"But beating you into submission is so much more fun! Besides, I have to assert my femin. . . ooooo." She purred and melted bonelessly against him, eyes closed in a catlike expression of contentment.

"Assert your what?" Tony asked, smugly.

"Less talk. . . more rub. . . mmmmmmmmm." Melt melt melt. Tony thought he was going to have to scrape her up afterwards.

"Are you going to do that every time I rub your shoulders?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Melt."

"Yes," she said, quite peacefully. "Ooooo, right there."

A few minutes later, Tony decided that he had done quite enough. If Rosemary got any more relaxed he'd have to mop her up. She didn't say anything as he stopped, just reached up one arm and scratched his head. Tony hunched, to give her better access, and Rosemary looked up and laughed at his happy expression. "You're just a big puppy, aren't you?"

"Less talk, more scritchies," he admonished her. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Sure," she said, scratching him behind the ears. Tony made a sound that could be most closely described as a "murr." He only got his head scratched for a few more seconds, though. Then she beaned him with a pillow.



Back