Honest and True
SFW - you're having period cramps and Tonny wants to help. Shenanigans ensue. For @problematic-adorer hope you enjoy!
You’re lying on the couch in his shitty apartment, groaning. Your period’s hitting you full-force, and it’s unpleasant, as always, although extra crampy this time. Tonny is sitting on the couch beside you, with your head resting on his lap, and he’s flicking through Netflix to find something to watch. He pets your hair absentmindedly, then looks down at you after a particularly loud, long groan.
“Hm? Wazzup?” He looks at you, a quirky smile on his face.
“…Crampin’, fuck’n hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Owwwww…”
He’s silent for a while, then picks something to watch. “Anything I can do?”
“You know how to alleviate period cramps?”
“What?”
“Period cramps? Y’know, shedding the uterine lining monthly? Moon-cycle? Menstruation?”
“I never took sex-ed.”
“‘The communists are in the funhouse’?”
“Oh.”
“Finally. Gettin’ through to you. It’d be harder to get into your skull with hair in the way.”
“Hey…”
“Sorry. I’m just—OW. Ow. Fuck.”
Tonny gets up, propping your head up with a pillow, and grabs his phone, opens Google. He types quickly with his thumbs, then reads for a minute.
“What’re you doin’?” You ask, feeling another cramp seizing you.
“Remedies.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. I can tell you the remedies.”
“What are they?” He turns off his phone and puts it in his pocket.
“Well, pain-killers are a start… tea and chocolate seem to help, too.”
“Do we have any chocolate in the house?”
“I dunno. Ow… ow…”
“OK. I’ll go getcha some pain-killers. Aspirin OK?”
“Alleve works better.”
“Ah, OK.” He vanishes into the kitchen, then comes back with a bottle of Alleve and a glass of water. “Here ya go, drink up.”
You gratefully swallow the water, down the pills, and lean back against the pillows. “Ah, that’s better. Thank you.”
“Of course, baby. Anything to make you feel better.”
“What about chocolate?”
“Oh, right—I forgot.”
“Tch—memory of a goldfish.”
“Hey! Don’t… don’t say that, OK?”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll go see what we have.” He disappears again, comes back empty-handed. “I’ll go out and getcha some.”
“No, honey, don’t worry about it—”
“I’ll be right back, baby. You stay put.”
You sigh, cover your face with your hands, and close your eyes. He returns some fifteen minutes later with a plastic bag that says “THANK YOU” all over it. From it, he plucks out a Hershey’s Special Dark bar, a box of tea-bags, and a Dasani.
“What’s the water for?” You mumble.
“Boil water for the tea.”
“Tonny—what? You—you can get water from the sink!”
“…Oh. Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
You giggle under your breath, but he shoots a filthy look at you. “Don’t laugh at me, OK? I’m sensitive about that.”
“Sorry.”
Insulting his intelligence reminds him too much of his father. Nobody wants to remember that sick old bastard, least of all his son. Tonny drifts out into the kitchen again, and you hear the rattling of pots and water being poured. The stove clicks on, and he returns from the kitchen. He sits down beside you, rests your head on his lap again; he unwraps the Hershey’s bar and breaks off a piece, puts it in your mouth. You close your eyes and chew, smiling.
“Izzat better, baby?” He’s petting your hair again.
“Mm-hmmmmm… thank you. And I’m sorry I’m being a jerk.”
“It’s OK. I still love you.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
He breaks off another piece and feeds it to you. “Yummy?”
“M-hm. Not as yummy as you, though.”
He chuckles. “You get horny during this time, too?”
“Yeah. Hormones swirling, cramps cramping, uterus uter-ing. Same-old, same-old. Ah… the perks of being a woman, eh?”
“Tch—yeah, I guess. Where’s it hurt?”
“Here.” You lightly touch your inguinal region, feeling another cramp waging war. He’s shocked, but also titillated.
“There? Wow.”
“Oh god, that doesn’t turn you on, does it?”
“N-no… I mean, yes, that part of you turns me on, but… not the cramps. That’s shitty.”
“It is. OWWWWwwwwwwww…”
“Should I kiss it and make it feel better?”
“Y-yeah…”
The smoke-alarm starts to go off.
“Oh shit! Water’s boiled over!” Tonny gets up in a rush, runs to the kitchen. You can hear him pouring water into a mug. You still don’t understand why he doesn’t use the goddamn kettle you bought him a month ago for his birthday. He may be an idiot, but he’s my idiot, you think, sitting up slowly. He’s cursing and muttering to himself when he emerges from the kitchen, holding the smoke-alarm in one hand and the mug in the other.
“You always pull the alarm off the wall and turn it off, baby,” you say, taking the mug from him, “and you’re still not using that kettle I bought you. I got it for you so this wouldn’t happen.”
“I… I know. I’m just so used to doing this.”
“But it’s… mmmmm. This is good tea. Thanks, baby.”
“Anything for you, sweet thing.” He rubs your back and kisses your cheek. You chuckle as you sip more tea. It’s hotter than hell, and holding it in two hands is practically burning off your fingerprints. You set the mug on the coffee table, then curl up beside him, resting your cheek on his thigh. He curls his fingers into your hair, petting you.
“It’s gonna be OK, baby, I promise.”
“I know—I’ve been through this since I was a teenager.”
“Wow. How long do you have to deal with this?”
“Until I reach menopause, which usually hits around sixty.”
“Wow. That’s fucked up.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You’re so pretty,” he says softly, “even when you’re crampy and miserable.”
“Aw. Thanks, baby.”
“You’re always pretty. Always so beautiful and radial.”
“It’s radiant, honey.”
“Oh, right. Radiant. Whatever. You’re gorgeous.”
You roll over so you’re facing his belly and lift up his shirt. He giggles, and you press your face against his fuzzy tummy. “Mmmm… so warm and yummy…”
He curls his arms around your neck, petting your hair. “Hey—hey! That tickles!”
You give him a kiss below his navel, bite him a little. “You’re so cuddly, baby.”
“Are the pain-killers working?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Tonny brings his hands to your back, starts massaging you. You melt into his touch, nuzzling his happy-trail, wrapping your arms around his middle. “So cozy…”
“Shhh… shhh, baby, you don’t need to talk.”
“But I wanna talk.”
“Oh. OK. Well, whaddya wanna talk about?”
“Mmm… oh, I dunno. Maybe using that kettle.”
He laughs, starts rubbing your lower back. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you, baby.”
“Nope. Never. Not until you start using it.”
He laughs again, runs a hand through your hair. “You still love me even if I don’t?”
“Yeah, I suppose. I’m kidding! Of course I still love you, baby.”
“Good.” He bends down and kisses your ear, and you give him a raspberry on his tummy. He squeaks, and you laugh. You don’t even notice the cramps anymore.
