#his grandma shouldn't be seen as completely evil

[cult-of-the-eye]

undiagnosed autistic jonathan sims as an 8 yr old being raised by his traditional south asian grandmother who thinks autism is either rude geniuses or children with "mental issues" so she just thinks jon is different. so she tries to change him, she tries to hammer the rules she got taught to assimilate into an entirely different society into him, where you must always excuse yourself from the table and never eat rice with your hands. she tried her best. but so did he.

[willow-salix]

This little piece came about after a conversation with @myladykayo and a couple of post/prompts.. I'm only going to include one here until everyone has read it otherwise it'll ruin the whole thing.

This is what happens when my two want fluff and a little spicy time together... Let's heat up this Monday morning.

"Rotzlöffel!" 

Selene paused, the wagging finger of doom pointing right at his chest. "What did you just call- don't yell at me in languages I don't understand!" 

"Well don't be one then!" 

"Don't be a what? What did you just call me?" her eyes narrowed dangerously. 

He had two choices, stand his ground or retreat and try to make things better, but if there was one thing he'd learned from spending almost two years of his life with a mad witch, it was to never back down. 

He squared his shoulders, looked her dead in the eye and answered her honestly. "A snot spoon."

She blinked. "A what now?" 

"It's loosely translated…" he waved his hand vaguely. 

"And it means?" 

"A brat."

"You just called me a brat?" 

"Yes."

"Well don't do that!" 

"Don't act like one then!" 

She bit her lip, trying very hard not to laugh. She failed. 

"A snot spoon? Seriously? That's what you came up with?" 

"Alan never knew what it meant either."

"You're an idiot."

"An idiot that you love," he shot back, an evil grin beginning to form. 

"Urghhh," she stopped pacing and flopped backwards onto the bed. "When did we move from arguments that turn to kissing to arguments that turn into childish insults?" 

"Around three table decorations and a cake ago."

She raised a hand. "I would like to put in a formal request to go back to the former, thank you."

John caught hold of her hand, lacing their fingers. "That could be arranged," he squeezed her fingers lightly. "But, you did just call me an idiot."

"My idiot," she tugged on his hand, pulling him down on top of her. "So, kisses?" 

"Kisses are good."

They both moved closer, moving instinctively from much practice. Their lips met, softly at first, little warm up kisses that were sweet rather than sensual. 

Her tongue dabbed softly at his lips, trying to tempt him to open and allow her to deepen their kiss. 

She moaned happily, letting her hands get in on the action, one travelling the length of his spine, nails scraping lightly through the fabric of his shirt, the other journeying upwards to tangle in his hair. 

Their kiss deepened, lazy kisses, taking their time, just enjoying a rare moment to be alone together. Selene could feel her heart speeding up and her breath becoming a little ragged as the fluttering butterflies of arousal began to multiply from their ever present "damn my guy's hot" to "gotta have him now."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven for shouting at you in German?" 

"That depends."

"On what?" 

"On how else you're going to use those hot language skills of yours." She kissed her way to his jaw. 

"Does my lady have any requests?" 

"Dealer's choice, I just like listening to you. Surprise me."

"Mm, I'm sure I can come up with something." He turned his head to capture her lips again. 

Using her grip on his hair she broke their kiss, stopping to rub her nose against his. 

"Talk to me," she pleaded in her most seductive voice and he was powerless to resist. 

He broke away to kiss his way down her neck, nipping lightly here and there, nuzzling her soft skin. He worked his way up to her ear as one of her hands found its way under his shirt to stroke bare skin. Well, that wasn't helping, was it? How was he supposed to concentrate while she was doing that? 

Her legs lifted, wrapping around his waist to pull him closer so she could feel his hard length through his jeans. 

"Tell me what you want," she encouraged, her own lips attacking the side of his neck. That was not playing fair. 

Thoroughly enjoying her current mood and in no way wanting to jeopardize that he said the first thing that came to mind although it was cheesy as hell. 

"Est-ce que ton père a été un voleur? Parce qu’il a volé les étoiles du ciel pour les mettre dans tes yeux." 

She purred a low moan in his ear and he filed that information away for later, how to stop an argument, grab her, kiss her, whisper in french, got it. 

"Je te trouve belle." 

Her fingers had got to work on the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly, pushing the material off his shoulders. 

Huh, they were now at the stripping part of the proceedings, he was down with that. Luckily for him she was wearing one of her black blouses today, this one decorated with a fine covering of silver spider web, not that he was paying much attention to the intricacies of the design right at that moment. 

He popped open the first two buttons and lowered his head to kiss a path down her neck, pausing to suck lightly on her collarbone. Her shuddering moan was accompanied by a seductive hip roll that almost made his eyes cross. This wasn't good, she shouldn't have told him to say what he wanted. Quick, he instructed himself, think of something else! 

"Mélanger les jaunes d’œufs avec la moutarde, le sel et le poivre dans un saladier." 

Her back arched, thrusting her still caged breast closer. 

"Ajouter tout doucement et peu à peu l’huile sur le mélange en battant au fouet." 

Her fingers played with the shorter hairs on the back of his neck, nails scraping lightly at his skin. 

Honestly, when she had started the day with a full list of shit she didn't care about but Grandma insisted was important, she had questioned the wiseness of dragging her Spaceman home. Especially when it had disintegrated into her tossing his carefully crafted list into the trash and refusing to make another decision again. But now that she'd seen how they could resolve an argument she might be tempted to start one daily. 

One of the things she loved most about her man was how he could be so incredibly sexy without even knowing it, there was no big headedness from John that would make him insufferably smug like some men she knew. 

She loved his voice, it was the first thing she had fallen for, wanting to be closer to him before she had even seen his face and she always found it incredibly hot when he would casually drop into another language like it required no more effort than blinking. 

This was doing all kinds of good things to rev her engine and if he wasn't careful she'd be forced to roll him over and have her wicked way with him before he knew what was going on. 

"Remplir les avocats avec des crevettes et les recouvrir de sauce cocktail." 

She stiffened as the tip of his tongue traced the lacy edge of her bra but she was far too distracted to pay much attention. Had he…

"Dude, did you just say cocktail sauce?" She didn't know much French, in fact she was limited to a couple of cheeses, bread, chicken and French fries, she was very food based, but she had definitely heard that before. 

He froze for a second then sighed, his head dropping to bury his face in her neck. 

"Sorry."

She didn't know whether she should laugh or cry although as usual, laughing won. 

She began to giggle, unable to hold it in. 

He lifted his head to look at her, completely bemused. 

"What the hell were you even saying?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, both from the sudden shift in position as well as the metaphorical bucket of cold water that had been dumped on top of them. 

"Well, at first I was complimenting your eyes, but then I had to think of something a little less exciting and I skipped breakfast -" 

"And lunch knowing you."

"Maybe…"

"And so you were saying…"

"I may have been telling you how to make a shrimp and avocado salad." 

To his intense relief her giggles turned into full laughter which he couldn't help but join in with. 

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight, struggling to breathe but not for the reasons they had first been planning. 

"Gods, I love you," she gasped, trying to catch her breath and not crack up laughing again. She kissed his cheek and let go, pushing him gently to the side. 

She sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes and buttoned her blouse back up. 

"Sorry, that kinda killed the mood," he winced. 

"Rubbish, if we can't laugh then there's no hope for us, it's laughter and love that keeps a couple strong and we've got that in abundance."

She held out her hand to him, dragging him to his feet. 

"Back to the list?" he sighed. 

"Hell no, we're going to the kitchen." She reached out to give his firm abs a loving pat. "I'm gonna fuel my sex machine and then take full advantage of you being home for the rest of the night."

"Sex Machine?" he arched a disbelieving eyebrow as he fastened his shirt. 

She shrugged, unrepentant. "Meh, I thought it'd try it, it obviously didn't work." She sighed dramatically. "Most men would be grateful their girl thinks they are a stud." 

"Good thing I'm not most men then, because that was a terrible line," he followed her to the door.

"This is coming from the guy that just told my boobs how to cut a cucumber."