“Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?” Gillian says, but she passes it over anyway, and that was probably a stupid thing to do, given the childish look of glee on Donald’s face.
“Because,” he says, head down as he taps away at the touch screen, “I want to change your Twitter picture to something really horrible.”
Gillian rolls her eyes. “No, come on, don’t be stupid.”
“But I thought that’s why you loved me!”
And Gillian can’t help but smile at that, because really, it’s true and it’s even more stupid that he knows it. “Come on, give it back. I don’t even have any stupid pictures of me on there.”
She’s just reached out for the phone when a surprisingly bright little flash goes off right in her face.
“Ha!” Donald crows proudly, briefly turning around the phone so she can see the photo he snapped of her in all her half-blinking glory. “Now you do.”
“Don!” she cries, her voice rising dangerously close to a squeal as she reaches for him again. “Don’t! Give it back!”
He twists and leans away from her, holding the phone out at arm’s length as he desperately pokes at the screen. “No, Gillian, no!”
“Donald!” She’s practically climbing on top of him, trying in vain to wrestle the phone out of his hands.
“Gillian!” he repeats, his tone matching hers exactly, and then he tosses her phone back against her leg. “Ha! Done.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she says sulkily, grabbing her phone and moving back onto her side of the couch. Throwing around words like stupid and asshole might be detrimental this early in anyone else’s relationship, but she’s known Donald for years at this point. He knows that mockery is a sign of affection, coming from her. Just like she knows that teasing and taunting is a form of affection coming from him.
Gillian can feel him leaning over her shoulder as she scrolls through her feed, and he snickers to himself every time she passes one of her own tweets, newly-adorned with Donald’s photography skills.
“You’re such a child,” she mutters.
“I’ll stay in Neverland forever if I can,” he promises her happily. But then he suddenly grabs her wrist, stopping her from reading any more of her feed.
“’DonaldsDad @GillianJacobs love your new look lol’?” he reads out loud, recoiling a little. “Gillian, why is my dad tweeting at you?”
Gillian, surprised, shifts a little so she can turn and look at him. “Your dad tweets me sometimes.” She pauses, a slow grin spreading across her face as she takes in the look of horror on Donald’s. “Why? Is that a problem?”
“My dad,” Donald says slowly, “is a very awesome man. Children all around the world wish to be emancipated just so they can come and live with him. But you two being friends is bringing my head very close to explosion-level temperatures.”
Gillian can barely control her glee. “Oh, yeah, your dad and I talk all the time. Especially about you. We Tweet. Phone. Skype. Facebook. IM. Oh, he loves talking about you.”
Donald’s eyes narrow. “Gillian Jacobs, if you don’t ‘fess up in five seconds to all these dirty lies, we’re going to have to break up immediately. Sooner. Yesterday, preferably.”
She can’t help the little laugh that bubbles out of her as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Why, Donald, you’re right,” she says, “your father is the most wonderful man.”
There’s a face-off between the two of them, both standing their ground as Donald studies her face carefully. Gillian raises an eyebrow, waiting to see how he’ll react. Finally, he sighs.
“Fine! I’ll change your Twitter picture back.”
Gillian triumphantly punches the air as he grabs her phone and removes the new picture from her account. “Ha!”
“You fight dirty, you know,” Donald comments, tapping away at the touch screen.
“I know,” Gillian says proudly, leaning in to give him a loud kiss on the cheek. “That’s why you love me.”