"Y/N I SWEAR ON MY ANIME SHRINE IF YOU DON'T GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" Your boyfriend, Dan, warned as he chased you through the flat.
"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH MEEEEEE!!" You yelled in victory, having successfully hidden his flat iron.
"FINE, THEN WE WON'T GO SEE CIVIL WAR TODAY," he yelled back.
You stopped in your tracks, halfway through the lounge, whipping around to meet your boyfriends glare. You stomped forcefully towards his tall figure, pushing him down onto the sofa, placing a hand on his chest, and leaning over him.
"What did you say?" You asked threateningly. It was all fun and games until it got in between you and Marvel. Then it was war.
"You heard me," he said, his poisonous tone momentarily phasing you. The whole act was so utterly silly, you wanted to burst out laughing. But you stood your ground.
"You wouldn't dare," you pushed with a dangerous edge, making sure to annunciate each word clear and sharp.
"Oh, I would," he pushed back, just as sharp.
Then you lost it. You fell on top of him, laughing hysterically. He joined you, his laugh being music to your ears.
"You know, you can sound pretty scary when you really try," you giggled.
"Did I scare you?" He asked, genuinely concerned for a moment.
"Of course not!" You laughed even harder. His expression relaxed.
"Now where's my straightener?" He asked sternly.
"What straightener?" You questioned back innocently.
"You asked for it!" He exclaimed, suddenly flipping the two of you over (with strength you didn't know he had) so that you were under him.
"I'll give you three chances to tell me," he bargained, "where is it?"
"Where's what?" You teased.
"Strike one," he announced, "where is my flat iron?"
"What's a flat iron?" You asked with a smirk.
"Strike two," he warned, as if he were chastising a child, "Y/N, where is my straightener?"
"I have no idea," you lied.
"Strike three!" He said triumphantly, poising his fingers over your sides.
Feverishly he moved his fingers up and down, causing loud, boisterous laughs to bubble up out of you. He tickled you with such force that your sides hurt, but yet that was probably from laughing so hard.
"Where is it?" He asked.
"I'll never tell!" You squealed, writhing under his touch.
"Tell me or I'll never stop!" He warned.
"Fine, fine, FINE! It's in the kitchen with the cooking irons!" You shouted.
"Finally!" He exclaimed victoriously, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before walking to the kitchen.
Stealthily, you made your way to the front door. It was actually now laying on his bathroom counter, though you wished he would leave it curly. It looked extremely attractive on him.
"Call me when you find it!" You called cheekily.
With that you walked out towards Starbucks.