Alchemy and Taxes
Kimblee narrowly dodged the pencil that threatened to take his eye out. "What are you doing?" He watched Archer warily as he crossed the room.
"Taxes." Archer growled, pushing a haphazard stack of papers away from him.
"And you're frustrated I take it." Kimblee sauntered over to the desk, looking through the forms on Archer's desk.
"How observant of you," Archer snapped acidly.
"What's the problem? They're only taxes. Add here, subtract here, multiply by your total number of brain cells, throw in your first born and you're done."
"The problem is, we're domestic partners now." Archer glared at Kimblee. "As if taxes weren't bad enough before, there's just more fucking forms to fill out now. All those damn tax breaks and exemptions given to alchemists only fuck it up more."
"It's only taxes, not alchemy. It's not that difficult." Kimblee leaned over, picking up a pencil and correcting something on a page.
"If you think it's so easy, you do it!" Archer declared, pushing away from the desk violently.
Kimblee looked up at him. "Someone's grumpy."
"Of course I'm grumpy! Just when I think my life can't get any more screwed up, you do something fucking stupid and make it harder!"
"Aww, you don't mean that baby," Kimblee murmured, returning his gaze to the forms on the desk.
"Yes I do!"
"Why don't you go get some lunch and take a nap. I'll take care of these nasty taxes for you."
"Don't patronize me," Archer growled.
Kimblee looked up and smiled. "Don't worry honey buns. Hubby's got it covered."
Archer's face turned an ugly red as he visibly restrained himself. He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it swiftly. With knuckles clenched, he stormed from the room. He ended up in the shower in an attempt to cool down. A nice relaxing scrub under the warm spray helped. A sandwich with a side of chips and a glass of iced tea enjoyed while listening to the radio in the kitchen soothed him further. Eventually, he felt calm enough to check on Kimblee without going straight for his throat.
He walked into the small office and was not surprised to find Kimblee napping at the desk. He never would understand how that man could comfortably fall asleep at his desk. A neatly stacked set of forms sat on the corner of the desk. He picked them up and flipped through them, surprised to find them all complete and correct. Kimblee had even left little tags where he needed to sign. Archer looked down at the sleeping man thoughtfully. Kimblee might be crazy, but despite his antics, he was no fool. Of course, Archer would never tell him as much, nor would he actually thank his psychotic "spouse". He would, however, leave a sandwich on the desk, neatly cut into triangles, just as Kimblee liked them.
The picture was drawn by the lovely Daeva-kun for my birthday ♥ Yes, my name is Kimberly >_>
Next - Talking Trash