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"Oh Eddie, be a dear and pass me some bog roll would you?" Richie yelled, voice slightly muffled from behind the door of the downstairs toilet.
"When have I ever agreed to being your -dear, Rich?" Eddie shouted back, scowling at being asked to potentially get up and do the bastard a favour.
"Well..er...I suppose you haven't done, no, but it's just one of those British niceties isn't it? One of those things people say to be agreeable. And as British citizens, that's exactly the sort of thing we should be doing really." He snorted. "That amongst other things."
"Sounds a bit gay to me, matey, if ya don't mind me saying."
"Oh!! Oh!! I don't know what you're insinuating there, but joining in on good old British customs isn't poofy, Eddie! I don't know where you got that idea from! And you still haven't passed me any bloody paper!"
"Ughh, piss off. Won't that old sheet of newspaper I left in there suffice?"
"No it fucking won't! I'm still trying to read it actually, and I don't reckon the lovely face of Princess Di that's printed on there would particularly thank me for using her for...toilet business. Now pass me some bloody loo paper or there'll be hell to pay, in the form of me not making you any dinner!"
"Oh thank god, I was hoping you'd say that. Quite frankly I don't think I can stomach another one of your mixed-meat casseroles." Eddie shuddered, beginning to get up from his settled position on the sofa, resigned to the task of getting the greasy bastard some paper before he shit the place entirely or refused to shut up for the next hour. In the worst case scenario - pretty likely actually - both would happen, and that was definitely an experience he was hoping to avoid.
"What? You don't like them?"
"No offence Rich, but last time I happened to be slightly sick in my mouth before I'd even finished chewing the first bloody mouthful."
"Well I am offended actually! A lot of love and care went into that dish, y'know. A lot of time and effort on my part."
Eddie groaned, grabbing the final roll from the cupboard by the stairs and nearly trapping his hand in the door in the process. Paper acquired, he plodded over to the toilet and waited by the door. "Shame it was well and truly wasted then, wasn't it? Anyway sweetheart, I've brought the bloody bog roll now, should I chuck it 'round the door?" He asked, deciding to do the gentlemanly thing and give the wife some privacy, for now at least.
"Yes, yes, go on, god I'm practically dying here with shit-filled boredom." Richie wailed, reaching out to grab it from the clammy hand reaching around the door. It took him another good minute or so to fully process Eddie's entire statement, but then register it did. "Hang on, Eddie-"
"Hm?"
"What d'ya bloody mean, -sweetheart?"
"What about it?"
"...I thought we agreed on no pet names, on account of them being, well, sort of gay."
"Well I agreed to nothing, matey. Thought you said they were only British customs, anyway?"
"-I really think it depends on the context, and the way you say it."
"And my version was a bit too homosexual for you then?" Eddie replied with a grin at Richie taking the bait as always. "It was only a bit of language usage, Rich, nothing to worry yourself about. Just keep wiping your arse, eh?"
"I'm not worried!"
"You should be. The smell's starting to seep out from under the door."
"Not about that!! About the other thing!"
Eddie sighed audibly. "What's the bloody problem then?"
"Well nothing, I suppose." Richie cringed in equal parts at the sentiment this conversation had taken a turn into, and the fact he'd used almost half the roll already. Thankfully though, the worst of it was over; for the toilet situation at least. "It's not like it's bad or anything. Pretty good to hear you take my advice for once actually. And yes, like you said, it's just language," He cleared his throat awkwardly.
Eddie crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall; primarily to stop himself from taking a drunken stumble. "Precisely, dreamboat, just a bit of new language. You done in there yet? Think I need it myself actually, those five cans are starting to kick in a bit."
Over the sound of actual tap-running and soap, Richie finally got round to flushing the chain. "But don't you think you're overdoing the language customs a bit?"
"Not at all, treacle-cake, it's great fun this word stuff. Very useful." He added with a grin.
"For what?" Richie questioned, finally pulling open the door, hinges squeaking as always.
"Does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just want to improve my English skills a bit, surely you can't object to that, Richie."
"Yes, that's great and all really. Though I suppose when you say that many variations upon, it could potentially sound the slightest bit poofy- to the bypassing stranger at least."
"But I'm not saying it in public, just to you, here now."
"-Obviously, yes, I know…"
"And so what if it sounds like that? We are fucking married Rich, incase you forgot."
"I was under the impression it was more a marriage of... convenience, purely so you could get my money that time."
"Who says it can't be both? Convenience and poofy stuff? Wasn't it just twenty minutes back when you were sobbing at not having a single bloody shag in your entire depressing existence and lamenting your permanent virginal status?"
Richie nodded sheepishly, cringing, not even trying to refute the allegations. Even he wasn't that un-self-aware.
"But I thought you were heterosexual, through and through Eddie. What about Ethel Cardew?"
"What bloody difference does that make? I'm desperate, you're really fucking desperate, and I can just about see that pathetic stiffy of yours already. You want a shag or not..." He paused, thinking. "darling husband?"
It took Richie all of thirty seconds to weigh up the decision in his head, thirty seconds of his hard-on not caring who it happened to be with; a lovely bird from down the pub (a very hypothetical bird) or his bespectacled, currently grinning, evidently newly poofy housemate of twenty something years, standing infront of him. And he supposed, the latter was his husband. Apparently. If that marriage contract was as real as it had looked at the time.
So with a great amount of reluctance enthusiastic nodding, he glanced back at Eddie's amused expression. "Oh honestly, alright then, if you insist. Your bed or mine?" He shuddered, looking down at his nearly visible, very full erection. "On second thoughts, better make it quick if you know what I mean."
Eddie grinned lecherously, with an added eyebrow waggle. "Whatever you say, dearie."