chairxtable (a true love story)

that is MAHOGANY!

So this is either gonna suck or be amazing

(Note: neither Chair or Table are mahogany. I needed a title)

....
//

As Shaniqua, the human owning Chair, rises to their feet, Chair feels butterflies swarm into their wooden stomach at the thought of what's about to happen. About how close Chair will be to Table, without a human body in between. Chair flushes dark oak at the image, gut glenching as Shaniqua's hand takes hold of the back of Chair. Then, as if in slow motion, Chair is suddenly being pushed toward Table, who is standing strong, all four, thick legs supporting that gorgeous top. Chair gulps as it's pressed right up against the side of Table, leg only centimetres from Table's own leg. Chair tries to calm itself, reminding itself that Table isn't interested, that Table has three other oak chairs to chose from. But the way Table smells, and the feeling that Chair gets when their legs sometimes accidentally rub is ecstasy.

Chair watches Shaniqua leave the room, door closing firmly behind her, and manages to spill out a few meaningless words in an attempt to strike up conversation with Table.

"Her ass sure was warm today!" Chair exclaims nervously. It's wood begins to sweat, and Chair's non-existent heart pounds somewhere inside. One of the other chairs pipes up, talking about how many times Pan, or some other ridiculous name, farted, but Chair doesn't care. Chair wants to talk to Table.

"Wh-what about you, Table? How're you feeling?" Chair stammers. Table is silent, as if Chair wouldn't be cool enough to talk to. Kitchen Bench is usually the only furniture Table actually talks to. The rest of the time it stands there and broods silently. It's just playing hard to get.

"Give it a rest, Chair." One of the other chairs mutters, and Chair feels an exceptional need to throw that chair into the firey pits of hell. Why would Chair give it a rest? It and Table were meant for each other.

Chair admires the perfect curve of one of Table's legs right close to Chair's own. Chair is tempted to scoot over a bit, just to be close to that leg, maybe even rub up on it a bit idk.

Chair feels a flush of pure want. Desire. How that would even work is beyond Chair, but it just knows that Table is one of the finest hunks of wood it's ever laid eyes on.

Table and Chair have been 'associates' for what feels like decades. They knew each other in IKEA, for crying out loud. They were together through it all. Through all of the butts being pressed onto them, the shared critisim from people who just didn't like the way Table and Chair looked, or the finish style they held.

They were also together the day Shaniqua bought them.

Somehow, through all of that, Table never once uttered a word to Chair.

The most Chair got was a: "She's coming, try not to break this time" and purposely looked directly at Chair! As if Chair mean for one of their legs to snap in half when one bubble of a human sat on them.

Needless to say, Chair still adored Table.

Even if Table was more talkative than a mime.

They were soul mates.
(Even if wood doesn't have a soul)