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because fake/pretend relationships are my fucking jam would you do number 34 for sidgeno ?
a kiss… to pretend
“Tell Sid no,” Flower says as soon as Sid opens the door, before Sid even has a chance to say hi to Geno.
Geno raises his eyebrows, but, “No,” he tells Sid as he comes into his apartment, handing Sid the six-pack of beer that is his perennial contribution to their monthly potluck dinners.
“Thanks,” Sid says to Geno, “It’s just us this month, all the guys are busy, apparently.” Then he turns back to Flower, because he’s wrong. “I didn’t even say I was going to do anything.”
“You were on your way there,” Flower retorts.
“I–”
“Have you told Sid no too?” Tanger asks, wandering into the hallway in his socks. “It is unanimous, if you did.”
“It is not–”
“It is!” Cath calls from the living room.
“I’m not even proposing anything!” Sid repeats, exasperated. “I was just stating an issue.”
“Is anyone ever going to catch me up?” Geno demands. In the time they’ve been bickering, he’s taken off his boots and his coat and hung it up, and is now standing looking impatient in his warm-looking cardigan. “What is Sid doing now?”
“What am I doing now?” Sid asks. “Me? Flower is in the room!”
“And I’m not doing anything,” Flower tells him, smiling beatifically. “I’m enjoying it, too. I never get to yell at you for being stupid.”
“I’m not–”
“Someone tell me what’s happening,” Geno demands again. He takes the six-pack back from Sid, and pushes past Sid to head to the kitchen. Sid makes a face at Flower, who makes one back, before he follows Geno into the kitchen.
Geno’s made himself at home in the kitchen, or as at home as he needs to be to know where the bottle opener is and to steal a taste from the sauce simmering on the stove. Sid smacks his hand away, and takes a beer of his own, ignoring Geno’s puppy dog eyes.
“Come on, sit down, Flower and Vero brought these prosciutto things, they’re great,” Sid tells him. Geno perks up at that, as always.
Sid barely manages to sit down in the armchair before Flower starts on him again.
“You can’t do this, Sid,” he says. Sid looks at Vero.
“Can you please control your husband?”
“No,” She replies, patting him on the thigh. “Also, you cannot do this.”
“If no one tell me what Sid doing, I’m going scream,” Geno says, around a mouthful of prosciutto.
“I’m not doing anything!”
“He’s going to hire someone to date him so that the people at work like him,” Tanger inserts, smirking.
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