Work Text:
Theory yearned for Practice, with every moment of its being, with everything it was. It spent its days imagining what they could do together, its nights in dreams of their passion. Theory knew that their separation was a mistake, that they were meant to be together, that Practice would realize soon how much they had in common, how easy it could all be if they would just try. Theory pined.
Practice used Theory when it was convenient. Practice hated Theory's whining, hated the bossiness, hated being pushed around, but in bed Theory was Practice's bitch. Practice liked nothing more than to stretch Theory out, fuck Theory hard until its whole world fell apart and it was remade. Practice didn't need Theory, but it was amusing to toy with it, to see it under total control, to watch it beg and break and be reborn. It was darkly addictive to have such power, Practice mused.
When Theory discovered it was pregnant with Implementation, it was delighted. Implementation would be the perfect fruit of Theory and Practice's love, and Theory was overcome with joy. Practice skipped town and refused to pay child support; it wanted nothing to do with Theory's bastard child. It could start over again, somewhere new, somewhere far from Theory, where people would accept it for what it was.