Page 4 of O Holy Spite

“Put gallons of lube on the grocery list, Chessie,” Fitz says as he waves his hand. “Voila, Baby Girl. Problem solved. Shall we start with lotus or…?”

“You’re not even using the calendar, you perv,” I mutter as I grab my pajamas. “Besides, some of us are desperately in need of a shower.”

Before I can say another word, Fitz scoops me up in his arms, rising to stand on the couch with a crazy grin. “Excellent idea, Baby Girl. Last one to shower picks up the soap!”

My eyes widen and he takes off with me in his arms, leaving the others to stare in our wake.

Okay, I could definitely die happy if a month of this killed me.

Luckily, only Chessie joined us in the soapy adventure because I’m pretty sure we would have been in there all damn day and I’d be walking funny. Not that I’m complaining about that possibility, but I haven’t eaten yet and the more in tune with my bunny I get, the more fuel I need when I expend a lot of energy. According to the guys, it’s normal, but they’re not the product of an evil, sociopathic mother and female diet culture.

I like to eat and I feel bad for it because I worry about it, then I get mad at myself for worrying about—it's a vicious cycle.

“Ma petite, stop letting the cats distract you! It’s time to eat and I will be very cross if you let my crepes get cold.”

Chess blinks at me, mouthing the word ‘crepes?’ at me and I shrug. “You know he’s full of surprises. Maybe he didn’t want to encroach on your kitchen thing.”

“Who cares? Mopey Mozart came through with shit that smells delicious and I do not give a single fuck why he hasn’t cooked for us before,” Fitz says as he turns to me and pats his back. “Hop on, little bunny. I’m starving.”

Grinning, I do as he says, gripping his waist with my thighs as he runs for the living area with a whoop of joy. “C’mon, Chessieeeee…”

The looks we get from the glowering grumps waiting for us makes me smile. They pretend to get annoyed with Fitz and even more so when I encourage him, but I know they love the levity it brings to our dangerous lives. The gargoyle winks at me playfully, gesturing to the large island.

“We’re not eating on that couch until it’s cleaned off, you animals.” Aubrey crosses his arms over his broad chest and grumbles to himself.

Felix gives him a dark look. “Hopefully someone cleaned the archives before we started using them again.”

“Ha! You lose, Chile Chameleon. Felix yelled at you this time,” Fitz taunts as he lets me down in front of the big spread on the bar. “Baby Girl, the Frenchie is spoiling you—look at this shit!”

Licking my lips, I run my eyes over the plates full of fruity, sugary, and savory crepes on platters for us. “Holy frosted goat balls, Rennie. I don’t even know where to start. Tell me what you made.”

“Here we go,” the dragon rumbles with a smirk. “We’re never going to eat before it gets cold now.”

“Ferme-la, connard,” he hisses at him then turns back to the three of us with a grin. “Pumpkin-apple cinnamon, vanilla bean peaches and cream, Mexican taco, steak mushroom and onion, cheesy chicken, and because I love you more than culinary constructs, Fruity Pebbles and mascarpone.”

I jump on my stool, clapping with glee. “Fruity Pebbles!”

“Of course that’s the one she’d get giddy about,” Felix says with a sigh. “I’m going to kill you for introducing her to that shit, Fitz. And now not only Chess is indulging her, Ren is, too.”

Ignoring my boyfriend when he’s wearing his ‘Pred Games Trainer’ hat, I load my plate up. Fitz arches a brow at me and I pick up two more of the savory, knowing he’s giving me shit about protein. “You’re being a buzzkill, Raj. Rennie said he loves me more than fancy rules—that was the important part of that statement.”

“I’ll be damned,” Aubrey says with a smirk. “You’re right, lunchable. And he loves fancy fucking bullshit.”

Rennie snorts. “If we’re having an international tight ass competition this morning, you will win hands down, mon amour. Though, Felix will likely come in second.”

“I’m letting them fight while we dig in. Everyone knows Fitz and I aren’t winning any rule following contests.” Chess grin as he offers me a bite of his peach crepe and I chomp it eagerly.

“Good plan. I, too, don’t really pay attention to anyone’s rules—even theirs. It’s becoming my thing, I think.” My eyes widen and I grin broadly. “Hey, I’m a rebel now!”

Fitz holds out his fist to bump and I oblige. Today has been the best day so far this week. It started with my lawyer calling about the crazy, narcissistic counselor trying to sell my life story in her tawdry erotica novels and got worse. Unfortunately, the bar is on the floor in hell and the people around me are working their damnedest to crawl underneath it.

“We should play that up a bit in the spring Pred Games,” Felix muses. “Get Zhenga to help you rough up your uniform and maybe…”

“More ink!” Fitz grins, his eyes dancing as he beams at me. “I’ll take you. I want to get some to accentuate these magical tattoo things that appeared when we all…” He makes a porno soundtrack sound and my head thunks on the counter.

“Fitz…” Chess says with a chuckle. “I don’t think our angel is comfortable with porn noises yet.”

“She was comfortable with railing him with a strap-on,” Rennie says with a shrug. “That’s a weird line, non?”

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