Captain Katherine Douglas (
can_finish_them) wrote2013-10-04 11:50 pm
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Outside Milliways
It's a nice day outside, sunny and still but not too warm, and Kaidy has had a long and busy (though not entirely unproductive) week, so she's doing something she always finds calming: she has targets set up on the lawn outside the bar and is practising with her handgun.
She's not a bad shot but it doesn't come naturally to her, which means she has to concentrate. It used to frustrate her that not everything came easily, but these days - now that she's got the knack - she actually quite enjoys having to concentrate on something in order to get it right. It's an opportunity not to think, and the mechanical repetition - load, lift, aim, pause, fire - is oddly soothing.
So she's smiling to herself faintly, as the bullets march closer and closer to the bullseye.
She's not a bad shot but it doesn't come naturally to her, which means she has to concentrate. It used to frustrate her that not everything came easily, but these days - now that she's got the knack - she actually quite enjoys having to concentrate on something in order to get it right. It's an opportunity not to think, and the mechanical repetition - load, lift, aim, pause, fire - is oddly soothing.
So she's smiling to herself faintly, as the bullets march closer and closer to the bullseye.
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To be fair, a sizeable chunk of the reason for the twitching is her need for a cigarette (although it's... probably fair to say that it's a long way off being the only reason) so when they're done, and Maisie Jay's inevitable last interminable question has faded into mutual incomprehension, she lets Ariel and Jack drag her off to the only area where the air con is currently not buggered for a cigarette. Or two.
And possibly there's a certain amount of gossip, and possibly there's slightly more teasing, and possibly that's actually three cigarettes she winds up smoking before the party finally breaks up, with Jack heading off to feed her dogs and Ariel and Kaidy finally heading back to their digs, maybe an hour and a half after they left it. They aren't entirely quiet as they enter - but, in their defence, they're forces: it doesn't occur to them that anyone could possibly sleep later than 8:30 or so.
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He hasn't had a lie-in for a while and he works very hard at both of his jobs.
So it is that come Kaidy and Ariel's return, Martin is still very much comatose. He twitches a little, registering sounds, but deems them far less important than continuing in his rest.
(Sorry Kaidy, but you'll have to try harder than that to turf Martin out of your bed.)
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"You are the worst Muslim ever," she informs him. "Bacon? Really?"
"I'm also half Jewish," Ariel reminds her, because clearly that makes it ALL better. "And more to the point, I just pulled a thirteen-hour nightshift, so shut your ugly Anglo face and pass me the frying pan."
At length, and with considerable intervening squabbling, three bacon butties and three mugs of tea are produced, and Kaidy loads two of each onto a tray and makes for her bedroom.
"I'm going to bed," Ariel says loudly, as she opens the door, "So don't scream too loudly, all right?"
"Fuck you, you doughnut," Kaidy retorts good-humouredly, and closes the door behind herself.
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Martin shifts in the bed, his stomach making its presence known, and helpfully, because it is morning, and he is still on the verge of sleep, his bladder chimes in as well.
He presses his face into the pillow still further, not quite awake, but not able to drift off any more, and refuses to move because he's just found the comfiest sleeping position and he wants to stay in it forever. He's not entirely firing on all cylinders yet, and hasn't really grasped the events that have lead up to this moment.
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"I mean, I'm not judgemental, but..."
She looks down at him and smiles, reaching out to touch his arm. "Morning, Red."
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It isn't until after the first yawn as he lies supine with sheets tangled about his waist that he registers first of all Kaidy's voice and then, by extension, her presence.
He blinks at her blearily, hair flattened on one side and sticking up on the other. He has a crease from the pillow across one cheek. Ah.
He's about to say something stupid like 'Hello', when his stomach firmly announces its presence and does the talking for him. He huffs in amusement and levers himself into a sitting position.
"Uh. Morning." He smiles at her.
It takes a little work not to suddenly flash her. It's all very well that she saw him naked last night, but right now she's got all her clothes on and he hasn't.
That and eating breakfast naked would be really weird.
Once situated upright and covered to his satisfaction, his concentration sharpens.
"Did you say bacon?" He asks, hoping very much that she did.
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"House? Lights to three."
And with the lights up a bit (not startlingly bright, but good enough to see by), there's at least an improvement in her chances of seeing him naked again... preferably after the hot food has vanished, admittedly.
She grins, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek as he sits up. "I might have done." She takes both plates off the tray, sitting down next to him on the bed with them. "Ketchup or brown sauce?"
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"Oh, er, brown sauce please." He smiles at her.
He'd really quite like to nip to the bathroom and wash his hands and wake up a bit before eating, but realistically this would mean extracting himself from the sheets, as well as actually finding the bathroom.
And his pants. At some point he really should find those. Yep.
(The bathroom is probably the door they didn't come through from the Bar, but he'd rather not take the chance that actually it's a hallway while he's naked.)
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Kaidy laughs, passing him the right plate. "I'd apologise for vanishing on you, but it didn't seem like you missed me."
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"Thanks."
The bacon is still hot, the brown sauce perfect, if a little drippier than is actually useful.
"Be fair, I was asleep." He says, through a mouthful of sandwich.
"I was tired." He adds, a little indignantly a moment later, while licking brown sauce off his thumb.
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Although her own breakfast is also disappearing at a rate of knots.
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He coughs a little and finishes his mouthful before daring to look at her again.
"Well." The blush crosses his face, and his ears start to redden. "Yes. Um." He squirms. (Remembering the night before during breakfast is not entirely conducive to eating that breakfast.) "Er, could you pass- um. Tea?" He asks, waving at the mugs on the desk.
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Aaaaaand hold that thought.
"Gimme a sec," she tells him (also through a mouthful of food, because she is every bit as grown-up as Martin is). She undoes her boots in between bites of sandwich, pushing them off before toeing her socks into the remains of last night's clothing, and stretches as she puts down her empty plate and stands.
It's warm in here - the air-con has had it again; the damn thing spends more time broken than fixed - and frankly Martin looks incredibly appealing right now, all ruffled hair and rumpled sheets. So, before she retrieves the tea from her desk, she peels off first her tank top and then her combats, maybe a little slower than normal but not exactly playing for his attention (although she totally is), leaving her in black bra and boxers as she pads the few steps to the desk and carefully passes Martin his mug.
Carefully, because whilst she is more than happy to show off for him, she'd really rather he didn't spill tea over her bed - especially since she plans on getting back into it quite soon.
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...
Martin watches, somewhat aware that the flush that's covered his face and spread to his shoulders and chest can probably be seen from space. At one point, while she's busy kicking her trousers off onto the floor and he's busy looking with no small interest at the spread of inked feathers and fur across her thigh, he realises that he really ought not to stare, but then he can hardly help it if she's both gorgeous and wearing only underwear.
And then she's handing him tea and he has to balance the plate on his knees while he swigs at his drink, reasoning that if there's less in the mug, he'll be less likely to spill it on the bed. It's slightly too hot for swigging, but he doesn't quite burn his mouth, just stings it a little.
"Thanks." He manages to get out. He's smiling, but he hasn't been part of a lot of morning afters, and he thinks he might have forgotten the rules.
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Kaidy smiles back at him, her grey eyes mischievous as she leans in to give him a kiss, swiping his empty plate from his lap (and giving him a pretty decent view of the tattoo a few inches below her left collarbone) as she does so.
"And you are allowed to look, you know," she reminds him amusedly, before she withdraws to deposit his plate back on the tray on her desk. And, oops, to bend down and pick her own plate up from the floor and pile it on top of the first. "If you're really lucky, I might even do a twirl."
She picks up her own mug, sipping from it as she watches him. Well, if Martin's allowed to look at her then she's definitely going to look at him, and besides the blush (now approaching at least mid-torso; she really must test out her earlier hypothesis at some stage) she's rather intrigued by all those freckles.
Well, she didn't have much opportunity to study them last night.
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When she says he's allowed to look at her, he's embarrassed and ducks his head. He does smile though. Embarrassed or not, he's pleased. His eyes flick back up from his tea to see her bending to retrieve her plate. His blush probably couldn't get worse than it already is, but she's certainly not helping it get better any time soon.
He smiles up at her from the bed, and sips his tea while he tries very hard not to think about Kaidy twirling. Or other things that are not entirely helpful while he's only wearing a sheet.
The quiet stretches for a moment or two, before Martin realises that he should probably say something... Too bad he can't think of anything to say. Um...
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After a few moments she moves to sit down next to him on the bed, her mug cradled safely between her hands.
"Oh, and by the way," she says innocently, "Your shooting was very good, too."
Well, she did say she'd tell him later. And she is, of course, only talking about his talents with a gun.
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Shooting? He's almost entirely forgotten what started this whole business, and he's about to take her comment as just innuendo when he remembers that he did, in fact, do some shooting during the evening before. And somehow that lead him here. He's still not entirely sure how.
"Um. Thank you?" It might be a question. His blush really, really isn't going away, though he is still smiling through it. He takes another swig of his tea and tries not to look too sheepish.
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"Mmm, no." She smiles at him, but she does wait until he's swallowed his tea before her arm snakes out, gently turning his jaw to bring him just within range for a careful, lingering kiss.
"Thank you."
Call her crazy, but she suspects not many people have ever told Martin he's good at something.
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Martin sinks into the kiss easily. He does try to keep in the back of his mind that he's holding a mug of tea, but that sort of thing doesn't matter as much as she does.
His expression is a little dazed coming out of the kiss, and then she says thank you, and it's morning and he's not even entirely sure why she's saying it, but there's really nothing left for it but to grin at her, squished morning face and bed hair and all.
Kaidy is definitely not wrong in her suspicions.
He ducks his head, still grinning, and takes another swig of tea. He thinks as he does so.
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He has pretty skin, smooth and warm and pale under the fluctuating blush; soft and unblemished where hers is calloused; paintbrush-flicked with freckles rather than scarred or tattooed. She's tempted to reach out and touch again, but maybe not before he's finished that tea, unfortunately.
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He grips the mug tightly for the last few swirls of warmth at the bottom.
"Um. Sorry, but er, where's the bathroom, and do you have a toothbrush I can borrow at all?"
He's trying not to be awkward, but unfortunately awkward is built in.
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She smirks at him, well aware of what he's looking for. No, she won't be helping him find them - at least, not unless he asks.
(It could be worse - she could have deliberately kicked them under the bed or something. Which, come to think of it, she really should have thought of earlier. Damn.)
Behind the door, the room is small and narrow, walls covered in a hodgepodge of different tiles, with a high, curved ceiling: it's more of a wetroom than a bathroom, with only a shower, toilet, mirrored wall cabinet and sink. It's all very clean, and on the sink there is a toothbrush with a bright yellow sticky note on it.
For your ginger. You can tell me I'm wonderful later - much, MUCH later.
A.
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"Great, thanks." Martin smiles at her, drains the last of his tea, and plonks the mug down on the nearest flat surface. He scootches to the edge of the bed and kicks his feet out from the sheets. He very carefully doesn't look at her as he scans the floor, locates his pants and drags them over with one foot.
Awkwardly (is there any other way) he wriggles them up to his knees and then in one motion stands and pulls them the rest of the way up, abandoning the safety of the bed sheets.
He doesn't want to think about what he looks like, mostly because he suspects 'pasty' and 'scrawny' are the two adjectives that most readily come to mind.
He chances a glance at her and gestures to the bathroom door.
"Right. Um. I'll be, er, right back. I'll just-" He waves vaguely. "Yeah."
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She blows him a kiss when he looks back at her, anyway, and reaches for the plane manual on her desk as he turns to the door... then changes her mind and sneaks up on him, wrapping her arms around his waist and planting a kiss deliberately at the base of his neck before letting go again.
Her expression, as she drops back on the bed and reaches once more for her book, very clearly says so there.
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