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Issues of Epistemic Modality by AC_rules
Chapter 3 : Oxford Commas
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 8


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 Double dates, Molly always thought, were like oxford commas – some people seemed to think that they had a place in life and others thought that they were irritating waste of spaces that should never have been thought up. Both sides usually had to compromise on their argument or otherwise put up with other’s stand point on the thing and both sides usually ended up wound up by the whole process.

Molly was definitely against the use of the oxford comma and even more resolutely against double dates.

“How do you want to play it this time?” Dexter asked, doing up the buttons of his shirt whilst sitting on the edge of their bed. Molly stood in front of the mirror attempting various smiles at her reflection, looking gradually more irritated at the strained results. She tilted her head slightly and let her shoulders slump before pulling out her lipstick.

“How so, Dex?”

“Well,” Dexter continued, “last time we went down the horrific sexual innuendo route and as funny as that was...”

“It made Lucy’s new man slightly uncomfortable,” Molly finished, “and I was truly horrible at it. Really, Dexter, you should know better than to try and make me talk about anything to do with sex. Especially over dinner.”

“Well, we agreed it would be funny.”

“It was funny. Erin and Mark were in stitches but given it was only the second time I’ve met Lucy’s new boyfriend...”

“Well, Roxy and Daniel know us pretty well by now,” Dexter said, stretching out his arms before pushing himself off the bed and getting to his feet, “well enough to know not to force us into another double date.”

“You’d think,” Molly said, watching Dexter in the mirror with her lipstick poised and ready for attack, “then Roxanne always has attempted to inflict self-improvement on me.”

“You’d take some improving.” Dexter smiled, taking in the slight raise of Molly’s eyebrows and beginning to rummage around looking for a clean pair of socks.

“I’m perfect. We’ve established this. Now, let’s move on. We could do the we-just-had-a-massive-argument play?”

“Dull, Molly. We did that at Erin’s bloody dinner party.”

“That was awful,” Molly agreed, “she’s practically perfect in every way, but she really cannot cook.”

“I think we should try to out couple them,” Dexter said, approaching Molly with a pair of clean socks clutched in his left hand, pulling her round and kissing her before she had a chance to apply the lipstick, “you know how Roxanne always likes to be the happiest person in a room.”

“Out couple?”

“Pet names, PDA, sharing each other’s food.”

“That would really freak them out,” Molly said, wrapping her arms round Dexter’s neck, “by being exactly the opposite of how we normally are. Ah, Dexter, you’re the picture of perfection on all accounts.”

“Are you being nice to me today, then?” Dexter grinned.

“I should probably be nicer to you,” Molly admitted, “because, really, this is a very very good relationship. It’s nice not to be riding out a train wreck until the bitter end. I like feeling like we actually fit.”

“As in, you appreciate the fact that I’m mad enough to go along with your ridiculousness?”

“You’re ridiculous too,” Molly countered, “we’ve been in the middle of a continual verbal battle for over a decade – even I wouldn’t talk at someone for that long if they weren’t responding. So yes, pumpkin, let’s out love them.”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” Dexter asked.

“Definitely.” Molly said, fluttering her eyelashes and kissing him again.

“Good, now put your lipstick on, you miserable wretch. If we’re late, I’m blaming you.”

*

Roxanne had been responsible for the choice of the restaurant and Molly noted that it was everything she and Dexter usually tried to avoid (class and expensive food), but she’d more or less expected this and had accordingly spent more than the average length of time in front of the mirror.

“Are they already there?” Molly asked Dexter in a half-whisper, straining her neck to spot Roxanne’s face amongst the customers. “They should be. As we’re very much late.”

“Like I said,” Dexter returned, joining her in a much more suave way in looking for their friends, “I’m blaming you.”

“You started it.”

“I thought we were out-sapping them?”

“We should have practiced,” Molly said, threading her fingers through Dexter’s, “we’re never going to win.”

“I love you, Molly you daft bint.” Dexter muttered, quietly enough that the waiter who’d just returned didn’t quite hear it. Molly found herself flushing slightly. “See,” he added as they were lead to a table, hand in hand, “I’m quite good at it.”

Roxanne and Daniel were already there, as it turned out, and Roxanne had the hand with both her engagement and wedding ring spread out across the table, whole body turned towards her husband, leaning towards him.

This, Molly decided, was going to be difficult.

“Hi,” Molly breathed, sitting down and trying not to laugh at the all too casual way Dexter’s arm stretched across the back of her chair, his fingers brushing the top of her shoulder as if by accident, “sorry we’re late, Dexter –“

“- Molly,” Dexter interrupted, “thought we’d have time to sort out paying the rent then got so caught up in calculations that she forgot she need to get dressed.”

“–Dexter,” Molly corrected primly, “didn’t tell me when it turned six, even though I specifically asked him to.” She sent him a look for good measure, letting her expression soften slightly as she got caught in his gaze. God, this was ridiculous.

“You finally got rid of your flat then, Molly?” Daniel asked, leaning forwards to talk to them and casually resting his hand over Roxanne’s.

“Took you long enough.” Roxanne smiled.

“An incredible waste of money,” Dexter said, “I don’t think you’d slept there for six months,” he continued, turning to face Molly, “but, of course, whatever makes you happy, love.”

Molly’s stomach turned slightly at the words, but there was something about the twisted charade with Dexter that made her want to laugh. She leant back slightly, letting her head rest on his arm and smiled. It barely took acting.

“I needed to have my insurance.”

“Insurance?” Roxanne asked, smiling, “you’ve always had this way of making love sound like a business contract, Molly.”

“Did she ever tell you about how she propositioned me?” Dexter asked, brushing a finger over her shoulder blade and sending her another winning smile.

“Dexter,” Molly said, warningly, nudging him with her knee, “you dare.”

“Molly doesn’t talk about her love life.” Roxanne said.

“Well that’s clear,” Dexter grinned, “sorry, Molly honey, but it is a really great story.”

“Hit us with it.” Daniel said, glancing between Molly and Dexter. Molly was quite proud of her reputation that she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body and it seemed Daniel and Roxanne were all too keen to find out.

“Molly said that we were epistemic modal auxiliary verbs,” Dexter said, leaning forwards and pouring both Molly and himself a glass of wine, “grammatical constructions indicating possibility, probability or certainty.”

Molly felt herself flushing without needing to act, curling her body towards Dexter to allow her hair to cover her face. She didn’t mind Dexter bringing her the absurdity of her winning line (one which she was quite proud of, on the surface), but with Roxanne and Daniel – the couple of all couples – being subject to how truly awful she was at the romantic-stuff she suddenly felt very vulnerable. It was like being seventeen again, when Roxanne would make some cutting comment about how Molly didn’t understand love and Molly would know that she was completely and utterly right.

“We should order,” Daniel said to cover for Molly’s embarrassment, “the ducks lovely.”

“What you getting, Molly-wobbles?” Dexter asked. Dexter had been calling her Molly-wobbles since she was thirteen and suddenly she didn’t want him to do it in front of people – it seemed too personal, maybe. Too intimate. Too weird.

“Oh, whatever,” Molly said, frowning at the menu. Usually dates with Dexter got as posh as fish and chips wrapped in paper, “erm... the chicken works for me.”

“I’ll get the duck then.” Dexter said, somehow managing to shift his seat closer to her slightly. Molly gave him a don’t you think this is going too far now look and Dexter returned this with a smile and a raise of the eyebrows that clearly said do you want to lose, Molly?

Then Molly realised that they’d just had an entirely silent conversation, that Roxanne and Daniel were watching them and that they were most definitely the cuter couple.

“Molly’s always been a remarkable one,” Roxanne said into the silence, “her first boyfriend...”

“Jack Smythe,” Dexter interjected, “really not your type, Mols. Don’t know what you were thinking.”

“Well,” Roxanne said, turning towards Daniel and smiling, “when he asked her out, Molly panicked and just said yes. Then he followed her around continually for three weeks.”

“I’ve never seen Molly move so quickly as when she was ducking behind suits of armour to avoid Smythe.” Dexter grinned.

“Stop picking on me, Dex,” Molly said, purposefully moving so that his hand slipped off her should and sending him a mock-affronted look, “what about what you were like growing up? He used to think he was quite the catch,” Molly said, “except he could only pull girls too young to know any better.”

“They were a year younger, Molly. I was hardly a cradle snatcher. Molly was quite the little prude.”

“Shut up,” Molly said, “I wasn’t a prude. I was just... uninterested. There just wasn’t anyone quite worth holding my interest.”

“Weren’t you two friends since you were eleven, or something?” Daniel asked.

“Oh yeah,” Dexter said, “the regular friends who fall in love, story. Terribly boring.”

“I saw it coming,” Roxanne said, “didn’t I say, Daniel?”

“Multiple times.”

“I didn’t think it was all that boring,” Molly said, forcing herself to add, “Sugar crumpet.” On the end. Dexter caught her eye and seemed to be suppressing the urge not to burst out laughing.  Molly bit her lip, raising a challenging eyebrow as she delivered one of her well-practiced sweet-smiles.

The waiter arrived, allowing Molly to hide behind her menu for a few seconds and take a well needed deep breath before pulling her chair even closer to Dexter’s on the pretence of handing her menu back to the waiter.

Dexter arm returned to the back of her chair, one of his fingers barely-touching her arm this time.

“How’s work, Dexter?” Daniel asked and Molly noticed with amusement that his arm was now on the back of Roxanne’s chair. Growing up with someone always led to a side order of resentment about something or other and, given that Roxy was practically another sibling, there were plenty tense subjects and areas that had been well and truly scarred by teen experience – for Molly and Roxanne, it was largely the love and sex stuff that still stung slightly. Molly never quite had got the hang of the crude, explicit sex talk which Roxanne and Erin seemed to revel in, preferring instead to offer a more minimalistic approach to things, without half the romance that the other two seemed to be able to inflict on things like sex. Usually, whenever Molly was called upon to join one of the hyper-girlish evenings of budget cocktails and talk about men there were a few terse sentences exchanged between the two of them – Molly would say that she really didn’t need that level of detail, please and thank you, and Roxanne would imply (or sometimes just outright state) that Molly was still holding on to the last vestiges of her prudeish state, when they all knew she’d shed that skin ages ago.

The conclusion was always the same: both of them would say something biting and brought up things that should probably have remained safely buried under the layers of recollection, Molly would redefine her right to remain silent about her sex life, Roxanne would insult whoever Molly was sleeping with at the time, Molly would deliver some cutting psychological slant on Roxanne’s behaviour and, in the end, Erin would have to remind them that they were actually, sort of, best friends.

Lately this tradition had the added step of Molly returning home to Dexter, slightly buzzed from too many of Erin’s overly alcoholic cocktails, bitch for a long time about her cousin, mock the pair of them for their glorified sex talk and start rambling on about how Roxanne couldn’t handle the fact that Molly had been right about Roxanne trying to grow up too fast.

Whichever way you looked at it, Dexter was an absolute genius for this new weapon in their war against double dates – the fact that they could act coupley enough to make Daniel start to try harder mean, whatever else happened, the whole campaign was worth it.

“Good,” Dexter nodded, “been put on a couple of foreign cases. Had to take a trip to Bulgaria a couple of weeks back. Mols was a mess.”

“Was not.” Molly countered. And she hadn’t been a mess. She’d been slightly alarmed by how much she had missed, but she was certainly not a mess. At first she’d been looking forward for this trip away for a bit of time to herself, which was one of the things she liked so much about being single most of the time, and had set out an internal agenda of what she was going to do with their empty flat for glorious ten days of semi-singledom (not that she was going to go out and flirt in bars, but she could crack open a book without Dexter trying to talk to her and eat lots of stuff crust pizza, which they could never order because Dexter didn’t like it; ten days of just being able to think purely about herself sounded marvellous). Of course, then he’d gone and she only got through half her book and couldn’t eat the whole pizza by herself and, after the end of the first full week, the flat had felt a tad quiet so she’d had to turn the volume up to fill the empty space. But that was all.

Definitely not a mess.

“Yes you were.”

“No, I wasn’t, Dexter.”

“Molly,” Dexter said seriously, “you cried.”                                            

“I didn’t cry!” Molly exclaimed, turning to Roxanne for support, “I didn’t cry. There were no tears.”

“Roxy,” Dexter said, “when Molly cries, her voice goes all squeaky for about the next hour, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See, Molly, I know you were crying.”

“He’s making it up.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dexter returned, lip quivering slightly, “poppet.”

Darling,” Molly said, too scared to move in case she burst into hysterical laugher, “you’re deluded, but... I was glad you were back and I did miss you.”

Dexter leaned forward and placed and clumsily kiss on her lips. Molly strongly suspected this was because if he didn’t, he’d be the one to laugh first. This wasn’t a competition between couples anymore; this was a completion between Molly and Dexter – who was going to crack first.

It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d competed in something stupid like this, as sometimes Molly felt their whole relationship was based on some vaguely childish game or other: Dexter had tried to embarrass her as much as possible when he met her parents, delivering the cheesy ‘you must be Molly’s older sister’ line with a wink to her mother, disagreeing quite passionately with her father’s views on politics and getting dangerously close to bringing up how often Molly slept in Dexter’s flat before Molly called a cease fire. In return, she’d acted like a complete bimbo in front of Dexter’s older brother, the successful and far too clever Spencer, with the intention of coming off as a piece of arm candy (Dexter’s brother was seven years older, had a better job and was slightly better looking – a inferiority complex didn’t even cover it), but had failed when she’d corrected Dexter’s grammar. So he’d won that one too.

She was, however, definitely going to win this out-coupling lark and considering that Dexter regularly mocked her for inability to understand romance and act like they were a couple in public, the victory would be extra sweet.

Molly pulled away from the kiss, letting herself be pulled into leaning against Dexter’s shoulder and returning to the dinner conversation feeling distinctly and utterly amused. This was exactly why her relationship with Dexter was the first she’d had that stretched beyond the year mark – the whole state of their relationship was, in itself, a cause for amusement.

The food arrived just as Roxanne was telling the pair of them about her new microwave, something which Daniel – having come from a muggleborn family – had been insisting they invest in for years.

Dexter whispered something in Molly’s ear (the something being shall we add sweet talking to the list of things you can’t do? To which Molly whispered a return of shall we add me to the list of people you can’t do?  which prompted a few moments of shared laughter between the two of them). Dexter placed a hand haphazardly on her knee. Molly hooked her feet around Dexter’s legs.

Game on, essentially.

*

When the bill arrived and Dexter addressed her as, ‘sugar plum’ that Molly finally lost it and was unable to breathe through her laugher. Dexter joined in after the first second, his arm still wrapped around her as they dissolved into a giggling mess together. “Sugar plum?” Molly questioned, feeling her eyes well up slightly with the threat of humour-tears. “Dear God, Dex, could you be more moronic?”

“Why is Sugar Plum so much worse than Sugar Crumpet?” Dexter grinned, the palm of his hand closing over her shoulder as they continued laughing.

“It’s just awful.”

“You fed me.” Dexter said, and then Molly was creasing up all over again, water streaming down her face as she wondered how the hell she’d succeeded in presenting Dexter with pieces of chicken via her fork without embracing the hysteria. Molly nodded an affirmation, collapsing on to his shoulder as she tried to silence her laugher.

“You started telling childhood stories.” Molly muttered defensively into his chest.

“You bloody fed me.”

“Christ,” Molly said, taking a deep breath, “can you imagine if we were actually like that?”

“You were... putting that on?” Roxanne asked.

“Of course we bloody were!” Molly exclaimed, wiping the moisture off from under her eyes and shaking her head at Dexter’s grin. “And I didn’t bloody cry when he came back from Bulgaria, you shit. And if there were tears, they were probably after I realised what a tosser I live with.”

“Ah, Molly. You may not have cried, but the stream of insults lasted for three days. You definitely missed me.”

“I don’t have the capacity to miss you,” Molly said, “you’re just too crap.”

“Do you realise you broke first?”

“Do you realise you’re wearing some of my lipstick?”

“It probably looks better on me than it does on you,” Dexter said, shaking his head and kissing her forehead, “Sugar plum.”

“I will poison your wine,” Molly threatened, “if you so much as think of another pet name.”

“You two are actually insane.” Roxanne commented, her eyes slightly wide as she assessed the pair who were sitting even closer than ever as the giggled to each other.

She’d been told on several occasions that her relationship with Dexter didn’t fall into the category of normal, but she’d accepted this as being a very good thing and had moved on. It merely surprised her that people still felt the need to comment on it, when it was quite obvious that she knew.

“Molly wobbles.” Dexter muttered into her left ear. Molly frowned and attempted to send him a severe look.

“Sorry,” Molly told Roxanne, feeling unabashed, “it’s our defence mechanism against double dates. Did Erin not warn you after the last fiasco?”

*

“Pants, Roxy is annoying,” Molly muttered, sitting down on the bed to pull off her stupid shoes and fall back on the mattress, “it’s inconceivable, how someone can have so much concentrated personality.”

“You’re one to talk,” Dexter said, casually pulling off his tie and sending Molly an amused glance, “I’ve never met someone quite so... violently unique.”

“I’m not violent.” Molly said, her eyes fluttering shut as she took a moment to appreciate how utterly happy she was: messing with Roxy’s mind, just a little, laughing with Dexter as though they could laugh forever, returning to a place where she was allowed to bitch just as much as she wanted and Dexter would still understand that Molly really did love her cousin. Quite perfect.

“Not physically,” Dexter smiled, “verbally, you’re a feisty one.”

“Don’t try and flirt with me, Dex. You know I’m hopeless at reciprocating.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Sod off, you shit-head.”

“You had fun tonight,” Dexter said, “admit it.”

“Yeah,” Molly agreed, opening her eyes and watching as Dexter unbuttoned his shirt – not that he was doing it for her benefit, she was just enjoying the view, “I’m not denying it was funny.”

“You just like having dinner with me.”

“Particularly when you pay.”

“We have a joint bank account, Mols.”

“Urgh, when did we get so domestic and practical?”

She was thinking about Roxanne’s new microwave. Yes, she liked the practical side of things, but the fact that Roxy thought Molly would actually be interested in how she defrosted her chicken was really beyond her – the sort of ‘look at how domestic we are’ sign which made Molly’s head hurt slightly.

“Molly, we just spent an entire evening acting loved up for the shits and giggles.”

“Yeah, well...”

“What did Roxanne say about that?”

“She was mad at me,” Molly admitted, reaching for the zip of her dress and pulling it over her head, “but not because of the whole taking the piss thing. What she said was priceless, though, she thought we were doing it because we were like... emasculated by their coupledom. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing again.”

“You’re not jealous of them?”

“No,” Molly said vehemently, “I still don’t think they should have gotten married. Roxy hasn’t ever really gotten over the whole incident with the woman-at-work – she doesn’t trust him and goes out of her way to flirt with guys when we go out. It’s silly.”

“Whereas our relationship is functional and great?”

“I’m never going to understand other people’s relationships,” Molly concluded, “people just don’t know when to admit things aren’t working and move on.”

“Love?” Dexter suggested.

“Well, yeah,” Molly said, “love is important, but... you can love anyone, if you let yourself.”

“You believe that?”

“Dexter,” Molly said, standing up and throwing her dress in the direction of the laundry basket, “I fell in love with you – anything can happen.”

“I don’t think love is like that. I think if you love someone, you’ll always love someone.”

“I think love is...” Molly began, ferreting around in the draw to retrieve something she could sleep in.

“– careful what you say, Molly wobbles, don’t go wounding my ego.”

“I love you crazy amounts,” Molly said, “I want us to work out. A lot. I think even if you did something stupid, or if I did something stupid, I’d want to try and work it out, but... if a relationship is destroying you then, well, I don’t think love is enough.”

“Is it love, if you’re destroying each other?” Dexter asked, hovering in the doorway to hear her response before disappearing to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Too many different kinds of love,” Molly said, frowning, “I love Roxanne, even though we’ve been driving each other crazy since we were kids. I love Erin. Definitely more in an affectionate way than Roxy, because it’s easier to find her antics endearing but... point a wand at their heads and ask me to pick and I couldn’t.”

“I won’t.” Dexter said, slipping out the room. Molly sighed, pulling one of Dexter’s old T-shirts over her head before following him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Then I love Lucy in a frustrated, motherly sort of way. I must have loved Phil and Greg, on some level. Obviously not my smartest level. Then there’s you –“

“- let’s talk about me some more.” Dexter said as he reached for his tooth brush.

“Well, you know I’ve always loved you Dexter. Right from when I was twelve and you said that I was the worst type of person with a smile on your face; I was affectionate towards the idea of you. Of course, that manifested in a slightly unconventional way, but... I liked you. You were one of those people that, well, you were never my best friend but the idea of not having you in my life seemed ridiculous. And that’s love. Looking forward to our stupid conversations and wondering how you’d insult me next, that was love. Obviously, it’s not the same anymore, because you wheedled your way into being more important than I could have anticipated at that age. But still, if someone had told my twelve year old self that I might end up married to you, someday, I don’t think I would have been disappointed. Confused, probably.”

Dexter spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, “Molly, think about what you just said,” Dexter advised, “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Molly frowned, watching as Dexter resumed his teeth brushing duties with a glint in his eyes. I might end up married to you, someday.

I said might.” Molly said quickly.

“Good,” Dexter said, “because anything more definite would be a bit presumptuous. Another Epistemic modal?”

“Stop reading my grammar books to impress me. Or at least get it right. Deontic modal,” Molly said, feeling her face flush, “and anyway, Dexter, there’s nothing wrong with what I just said... say if we stay on the path we’re on, we might get married. It would be a logical progression, if things stay as they are.”

“No need to be so defensive.” Dexter said.

“Stop being such a self-satisfied tosser!” Molly snapped. “You know what I meant.”

“That you want me to propose?”

“I wouldn’t say yes.” Molly said.

“Sure,” Dexter returned, “so when I go talk to your twelve year old self next week...?”

“Tell her to be really mean to you.”

“You could have been much meaner,” Dexter said, “you could have actually slept with me that time I dropped the L bomb and still gotten together with Phil.”

“No I couldn’t,” Molly said, “I’d have felt bad.”

“Anyway, carry on talking about how much you love me, would you? My ego could do with a boost. I felt terribly emasculated by Daniel.”

“Brunettes aren’t my type. Blondes, for definite.”

“When I’m old and grey, will you still love me? When I’m your husband, I mean?”

“Shut up,” Molly said, knocking him with her hip and taking over the space in front of the sink, “you’re an arse.”

“You’d know.”

Molly took up her toothpaste. “Your turn.”

“To talk about how much I love you?” Dexter asked. “Well, I’ve always thought you were great, Mols. Sarcastic, bitter little you. After your battles with teenage angst I wasn’t exactly attracted to you, really – you’d have been quite the undertaking and I wouldn’t have been able to handle to you. I don’t think you’ve mellowed out, exactly, but you’ve definitely grown up since school. I’ve always thought you were magnetic. It was only a matter of time until you were sexy, too, and by that point I’d more or less fallen. The second as I accepted you as an object with a sexuality, then, well, all the abstract nouns.”

Molly spat out the remains of her toothpaste and sent him a look. Swilling out the sink before turning to face Dexter, her Dexter, with a small trace of a smile.

“I think we’re really good, Dexter.”

“You never said what Roxanne was mad about.”

“She was mad,” Molly said, “because I hadn’t told her that I was in love with you. Well, that we loved each other. She seems to think we’re a together-forever sort of couple, and that I should have mentioned this to her.”

“She has met you, right?” Dexter grinned. “You only just threw this marriage bomb at me ten minutes ago. I feel the need to go pick out my dress for the wedding... or was that not a real proposal?”

“Joking aside,” Molly said, slipping her arms around him, “am I singular in thinking about our future? Can it be a plural sort of conversation?”

“You got rid of your flat and merged out bank accounts, I assumed it was a done deal,” Dexter returned, smiling, “I’m not planning on letting you walk out my life, Mols. Not for anything.”

“What if I did something bad?”

“What would you do?” Dexter asked. “You’re not capable of cheating on anyone, let alone someone like me and everything else I can just ignore, mostly. I know you, Mols. I’m not expecting you to turn into a fabulous, cooking, housewife. I’ve watched you grow up and there’s nothing I’ve discovered yet that’s put me off you – so I doubt there’s anything that could.”

“Likewise,” Molly said, “I know every godamn stupid thing you do, Dex, and I don’t even care. And that’s most definitely love.”

“Okay, love aside,” Dexter said, “happiness – what are we thinking about that?”

“We’ve got that,” Molly said, “definitely. The stupid games, the banter... you, well, you can always cheer me up. If you want to, anyway. I’m very happy.”

“Lust?” Dexter muttered into her ear. Molly half-laughed.

“No serious complaints.”

“Minor ones?”

“No one’s perfect,” Molly said with an amused smile, “especially not someone as irritating as you.”

“Beauty?” Dexter suggested, “I think you’re pretty beautiful, Molly.”

“You sicken me,” Molly grimaced, pulling Dexter around to face the bathroom mirror, “but, I don’t think we look too bad together.”

“We’d look smashing on the front of a wedding album.” Dexter grinned into her ear.

“Your nose would look smashing on a small child,” Molly quipped back, “or is that too far for you to joke about, still.”

“We’ll call the first child sarcasm.” Dexter said, pulling her closer towards him as they looked at their reflection in the mirror.

“The second cynicism.”

“The third can be bitterness. The forth?”

“Fuck off,” Molly said, “I’m not giving birth four times.”

“That’s hardly a very appropriate name,” Dexter said, “imagine them reading it off on the register?”

“If you want four, you can give birth to them,” Molly said, “and what about escalation?”

“Prefix.”

“Coordinating conjunction.”

“Definite article.”

“Concrete noun.”

“Preposition.”

“Declarative.”

“Ellen,” Dexter sad, his lips brushing Molly’s hair line, “what? It’s a pretty name.” 
 



I don't think you can understand how much I've loved writing this. I'm sailing the Dexter/Molly ship to an absurd degree. Thanks for reading and please review guys :)


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