[FINISHED]
Story about Lagertha and John. Married couple living in the heart of wilderness in Alaska. Fighting with cruel weather, endless winters, wild animals and sometimes against each other.
Story writen along with my talented friend, one and o...
Time was passing and spring was getting closer. The snow almost melted completely outside, but the bond between them got strong. They were still healing and as for John he didn't care anymore about a child. He decided to focus on what he had, not what he wished to. He was happier with her even without a child. And now it was his turn to save his marriage from his own self. So things between them were better than ever. Of course many times they caught up words and picked up fights with eachother as it was normal, but nothing more than that.
Usually over stupid this like one afternoon about a month later. "God damnit, woman. How many times I have to tell ya to stay out of the hutch? I can't find my tool," he mattered, pissed, as he walked in, cleaning his hands from the dirt.
The moment he walked inside, she finished sweeping and wiping. And as he entered, he left mud on freshly cleaned floor. Lagertha, who stood there with broom, put one hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes on him. "What tool, John?" She asked through clenched teeth.
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"The fuckin' weeder," he sighed and threw the cloth on the countertop. "Why everything was so clean in there? I couldn't find anythin'."
"Jonathan Fitzgerald," she murmured, while her eyes landed on clean countertop with dirty cloth on it. "You woke up today and decided to pinch bear's arse, huh?" She rose her eyes back at him.
"Oh, don't start with this again," he rolled his eyes and took the cloth. "Where's the fuckin' weeder, woman? I need it."
"In the fuckin' stable behind the gate as always," she snapped. "Look at that bloody mess. I just washed this floor!" She said, punching with broom once. "It told you dozen times, when there is more mud than grass in the porch, take off your fucking shoes before you enter!"
"I'm sorry, alright?" He snapped back. "Fuckin' forgot." He said and walked out again mumbling. He sighed for a moment and brush his face. Why he have to be a cunt sometimes he couldn't understand.
"Fuckin' forgot," she imitated his voice, twiching her nose toward a door, where he left, then sighed and came on her knees to wipe that mess again. And as she was cleaning the floor, she frowned. "What is wrong with me? It's just a little mud," she sighed over her behaviour and after she was done with washing, she went to spill out bucket with dirty water and went toward the stable. She found him there and cleared her throat first. "I'm sorry for being hysterical over a little bit of mud."
He rose up, watching her and furrowed brows. "It was more of a surprise," he chuckled as he continued to tuck the hay. "Never heard ya cursin' before." He smirked. "Who taught ya the filthy words, I wonder."
She scoffed quietly, looking down at her shoes. "No idea," she said with a small smile, shaking her head. "Don't you need me to help you with something?" She came closer and stopped by his horse, caressing his head.
"No, luv. There's no need," he mumbled occupied already. He didn't want to bother her any further, since he's already been a pain in the arse again.
