IKEA Anger Management//BasicallyIDo407
Wowie it's been a while since I've last written ;D
Scotty sat on the carpet flooring of his and Marcel's living room, staring blankly at the instructions that were held in his hands. The white paper was written in small black print, so small that Scotty had to squint and lean his head forward to see any of it.
The box which held the instructions was discarded, flattened on the floor, the image of what was supposed to be the object laying face up so that he could see.
A simple lamp meant for this very living room he sat in.
So why, why did it have to be so goddamn motherfucking difficult to put together.
Scotty crinkled the paper a threw it behind him, unaware that that very action would put him in a world of hurt.
He stared at the pieces of the lamp, four legs in total spread apart, screws being separated in a small baggie. Scotty had the screwdriver prepared, holding it in his right hand, ready for its use. But for what, he still wasn't sure.
He started by holding one leg up, staring at the small hole that the screw would supposedly fit in. He grabbed at the bag, ripping it open with the sharp point of the screwdriver, causing the nails to bust out in a small explosion of metal.
"Shit!" He yelled out, scrambling to grab the screws as they bounced against the carpet. He managed to wrap his hands around one, fumbling with it so that he could push it into the small hole.
His finger flinched however and he knocked the screw back onto the floor. Scotty sighed and stared down at the single screw that betrayed him.
"This is gonna be a long day, isn't it." He said to the smaller object.
"FUCK SHIT DAMMIT, MOTHER FUCK-!"
Marcel winced as he heard a string of curses enter his ear as soon as he opened the front door, hoisting a bag of groceries on one hip, his hand holding his small house key.
"Babe?" He called out, slamming the door shut behind him with the toes of his foot. "Scotty, I'm home!" Marcel gently placed the paper grocery bag onto the floor, hanging his keys up on one of their many hooks by the door.
A disgruntled groan followed his greeting, causing him to toe his shoes off and walk into their living room, where the source of the sound came from.
There, Scotty laid facedown on their dark green sofa, normally flat brown hair stood up in crazy spikes, his blue shirt tousled by the collar and a few screws sticking out of the cushions of said couch.
"Scotty?" Marcel approached his boyfriend cautiously, unsure of wether or not he was in the mood for his teasing antics.
Getting no response, he moved closer, setting Scotty's longer legs aside and sitting down, avoiding the sharp screws.
That's when he noticed the flattened box that laid across the floor, the word IKEA stamped across it.
Marcel couldn't hold in his snort.
"The fuck you laughing at pussy boy?" Scotty raised his head up, glaring at his boyfriend who sat above him. He follow his eyes and grimaced when he saw the box again, letting his head fall back into the soft comfort of the couch cushions.
He felt a warm hand rake through his messy hair, pulling at some strands so that they would lay flat. "Rough day?" Marcel spoke, dipping down so that he was right next to the shell of Scotty's ear, rubbing his other hand up and down the others back.
A mumbled response was all he got, and apparently was all he would get as Scotty sat up suddenly and glared some more at the floor. Marcel chuckled softly before pressing a gentle kiss against Scotty's temple.
"I'll make dinner then." He said before standing up, hearing another grunt for his response.
Marcel walked back to the door, grabbing the grocery bag as he did, before striding into the kitchen, turning on the stovetop as he passed it. He put the bag on the counter before digging through it, grabbing the necessary ingredients he needed.
Grabbing a pan from underneath the stove, in a drawer, he put it on the heater and poured some oil into it. Waiting for it to bubble.
He flinched as he felt arms wrap around his torso, encasing him in the middle. Turning his head around slightly, he saw the still tousled hair of Scotty, his face pressing into his back.
"Hey, your finally up. I'm making stir fry." Marcel whispered, putting his own hands on the arms of his boyfriends.
"Fuck IKEA." Was what he got as an answer.
Laughing only a bit, he turned around and bent down a bit so that he could give Scotty a well deserved kiss.
