Captain Katherine Douglas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
can_finish_them) wrote2013-10-04 11:50 pm
can_finish_them) wrote2013-10-04 11:50 pm
Entry tags:
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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There's a great deal of good to be said about their current situation - especially the fact of his hands on her skin - but she can't help but feel that there's much that could be improved about it, too. And judging by the sound Martin just made (which also nearly gives her the giggles all over again), he feels more or less the same way.
And guess who just happened to enter the bar through her bedroom this evening?
So she finally - reluctantly - lets the kiss break, grey eyes flicking up at Martin's flushed face and her fingers still playing down through his hair as she smiles.
Softly, "Come back to mine?"
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As the kiss breaks he feels an awful lot like he's just surfacing from a great depth. His breathing is erratic, his heart's pounding, it's all rather dramatic, at least inside his own head. He almost misses her speaking because he's too busy focusing on the pink of her lips, but he sees them move and he hears the words.
He's unsure. Hopeful, but unsure. Does she mean-?
Martin licks his lips and takes a slow breath.
"Um. Do you-? Er... Yes. Please?"
He's not sure about the please, but right now he's not sure other words can actually make the trip from his brain to his mouth, so he settles for a smile and a nod.
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She was actually quite tempted to give him another kiss just for the please, but at this rate they'll be here all night -- and whilst that idea does have its charms, so does its alternative...
"Come along then, Captain," she says, still in that quiet husky drawl, and tugs him back towards the bar. "Don't worry about the targets - they're usually out here."
Note to self, Kaidy: buy Ariel a drink later for having the spectacularly good timing to be on the nightshift this evening.
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He follows Kaidy, hand-in-hand. She called him Captain. And her voice was, well...
If he were thinking clearly, he might also be excited about the fact that he's heading to her world, to the future, but he's got other things on his mind.
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It's rare - virtually unheard-of - for Kaidy not to look around as she enters the bar, but this time she barely spares the place a glance as she makes a beeline for her door. Martin gets one last quick, hard, laughing kiss - and then she tugs the door open and leads him through.
The room beyond is where she'd been going when the bar saw fit to break her journey: it's quite small and lightly furnished, with one wall straight and the other a long arch which forms both wall and roof, as if the room were part of a circular tunnel. The curved wall shows one large vidscreen, currently muted and showing only the time and date - 22:57, 11/08/33 - in large dulled blue characters. There's a vanity mirror and writing desk against the flat wall; the desk is covered by a tumble of papers and books lying slipshod over make-up and framed photographs, with Kaidy's favourite flying jacket hanging from the back of the accompanying chair. A wardrobe, apparently mostly held together by duct tape and photos of planes, lurches unsteadily at the other end of the room to the desk, and a small bookshelf holds a few more books on planes and flying, the Haynes manual for an Aston Martin, and the collected Sherlock Holmes and Jane Austen, bookended by a very large and expensive-looking wooden jewellery box. Above the books, half a dozen little Airfix models of planes (there's a Spitfire, a Sopwith Camel, and a few more recent designs) hang motionless from the ceiling like insects caught in amber. Most space is taken up by the bed, which consists of two big double mattresses piled one on top of the other and draped in a tumble of pillows, rugs, blankets and sheets in a general impression of messy comfort: if any bed could be described as déshabillé, it's this one. There are no windows; it's warm, and light comes gently from the vidscreen and the two upturned wall lights on the one flat wall.
"I'm afraid it's hardly five-star," Kaidy remarks wryly from just behind him, "But it'll do."
She carefully shuts the door on the noise and lights of the end of the universe, clicking the lock just in case.
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Everything blurs into insignificance given that Kaidy has just dragged him into her bedroom. It's clearly her bedroom. There's a bed and everything.
He hears the door click as she locks it, and turns back to look at her. His cheeks are flushed, but mostly from the rushing over here and alright, yes, partly due to the excitement of finding himself in this situation. She probably can't tell the difference. He mostly hopes that she can't tell. Except that he also sort of hopes that she can.
Martin is balancing very carefully on the line between 'oh my god what am I doing, this is going to be terrible' and 'oh my god, this is amazing, more of this now please'.
His smile is a mixture of all sorts of emotions, worry and shock and pleasure bundled up together. Mostly it's a good kind of shock.
"It, er-. It looks alright to me." He says, slightly hesitantly.
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She smiles back at him, her eyes dancing as she squeezes his hand again in what she hopes is a universally reassuring gesture. She's not entirely sure of what to make of that look on his face, honestly, but she's made a career out of 'where angels fear to tread' and it's far too late to change her ways now. Oh well, if nothing else then going slow will be an interesting new experience.
"It's all right," she adds more gently, reaching up to frame his cheek with her free hand and give him a brief, light kiss. "Now, about that nice suit of yours..."
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The kiss may only be light, but it brings him back down from the heights of panic to which he had been climbing. Yes, he is worried, but no he certainly does not want to wreck things with Kaidy, and more importantly he does not want to lose this chance. He breathes carefully and steadily.
Kaidy might have to take the lead on this one, but he's more than willing to be her co-pilot at this stage.
Martin looks down at himself. He'd rather forgotten that he was in his uniform. He smiles at her.
"What about my suit?" He asks, voice unwavering, but cheeks still pink.
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"Well, fond as I am of it, I really could stand to see you in a little less of it," she tells him, and leans in to kiss him again as her hands reach to loosen his tie.
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Even so, he's hardly going to stop her, and well, he is getting rather warm...
He presses into the kiss with no hesitation at all, and makes affirmative sounding noises. His hands gravitate to her waist again, thumbs smoothing circles across the fabric of her tank top.
After a moment or two (or it might have been much longer, he's lost all sense of timing right now) he pulls out of the kiss just slightly.
"In case you didn't, um, realise. I'm, er- I like this plan. Um. Yes." He's torn between embarrassment at his terrible ability to form words, and being pleased that he managed to get any words out at all.
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When he breaks the kiss to speak, his words make her laugh under her breath.
"Good," she says, pressing another light, fluttering kiss to his lips as she tugs playfully at the top button of his shirt; no intent just yet, only toying with it, testing the waters. "Then enjoy it, Red."
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The awkwardness will certainly surface again when things like buttons and shoelaces become an issue, but for the moment Martin is mostly calm and definitely enjoying himself. (And anyway, everyone fails at shoelaces. And buttons are hard when you're not entirely paying attention.)
[OOC: And there we fade to black for the sake of my sanity. Because I am lame.]