"It's difficult, all the double life and bad prescriptions."
Woe to Supes. Woe to all the poor superheroes with their masks or their glasses or their names which clearly implied who they were.
Kicking off the pants around his legs certainly requires leaning against her. Getting into the tub absolutely requires her assistance. But then she'll join him, yes? Yes.
She will join him. Once she's sure he's safely in the tub, she steps back and undresses. Her clothes get piled on top of his, safely out of the way of the tub, and she pulls a couple of towels down from the linen closet too, setting those within reach.
She steps carefully into the tub, lowering herself without tripping over or sitting on any of his limbs. She settles against him, her back to his chest, sighing contentedly.
"The water's not too hot? I didn't set it to my usual standard of 'boiling'."
Rachel Conway is a very distracting woman when she's naked. It counteracts the exhaustive effects of having so much alcohol pounding through his system--and her ridiculously warm water surrounding him in the tub.
The counteraction fades slightly as she climbs in after him and he can get arms warm and right around her. Her hair is the perfect place to bury his nose and purr.
She squirms a little, settling in even closer. She leans back, resting the back of her head against him. It isn't quite tucking her head under his chin, but it'll do.
"If your agent gives you any trouble over turning down work, send him to me. I'll handle him."
"We are a good team." She takes one of his hands and laces her fingers through his so she can use that hold on him to draw his arm tighter across her body. "You have yet to actually meet my boss yet. I guess it remains to be seen if I'm in need of avenging. He's... not really so bad, despite all the shouting we do at each other. It's like... If you took Maks and Pierre and put them together, I guess."
Hopefully that's neat shorthand for "tough on me and sometimes a pain in the ass, but a fatherly sort of figure and a good man, too".
"Put them together?" Give him a second. You're blowing his intoxicated mind. "That'd make... the best human person."
And this best human person purportedly owed him a drink the next time there was team bonding. It's overwhelming. Or, well. Overwhelming when already sloshed.
She laughs, bright and amused. "Is that what it is? Gosh. I'll have to be more careful using words and all."
She shifts a little; she can't quite turn enough to fully face him, but the idea is there. "Speaking of me and all my words, though. Joe took what I've been working on to the managing editors. That whole thing around the ER nurse they think poisoned people? If I can get it all together... They may be willing to let me have a series of articles over a few days or weeks."
So it's both of them, really,mating the first few tiny steps toward what they've dreamed of doing.
He'll be more properly enthused in the morning. Possibly after the painful hangover. For now? There's just sloppy kisses to her cheek because it's what he can reach.
"Going t' get all famous and move up t' a more famous boyfriend?"
No, she's neither going to wait for a reply or settle for just getting cheek kisses. Not after that.
She gently disentangles herself from his arms. Her hands grip the sides of the tub so she can pull away and get to her knees. There's a bit of water sloshing as she turns and then inches closer again, kneeling in front of him. She leans in and kisses him properly, one hand cupping his face, the other holding the side of the tub for balance.
It's just as well, because his only response is a soft affirmative hum--well, at least until she pulls away. Then it turns into a very unhappy hum, because he's ridiculously displeased about her moving away.
Much better when she moves closer again. Much better when he can kiss her contentedly, one hand lifting to tangle properly in her hair.
She hears the more protesting hum; when her mouth covers his she lets out one that's reassuring. See? She hasn't gone anywhere. It's better.
Much better. His fingers in her hair delight her. When she's settled her weight and she's sure she can lean in without toppling over onto him, she does so, her other hand moving to cradle the other side of his face.
For just a moment, her breath catches. For just a moment that lip trembles as his teeth hold it, before she tugs it free to speak.
"I always will. I promise." Because how do you ever forget something like that? Even if he never says it again, hearing it just once is more than enough.
"I know you do." It takes hearing it now, with his words, for her to understand she's known it since he came back. Maybe not that exact sentiment. Maybe not in any way she could explain, or put to words herself. But she's known that when given the chance to go, he came back. He wanted to be here.
It's close enough to what he's saying now. It means just as much. And she understands not being able to say it. She's skated around it herself, said everything but the three specific words she really means.
But she's learned, through him, that sometimes there aren't words, or they aren't needed.
And sometimes they are.
"I meant what I said in that text." She kisses him again, just a fleeting press of her mouth to his. "I know you weren't meant to see it but it's the truth. I am happy, here with you. I'll tell you again tomorrow."
She nods. It's the eyes closed for a moment, head ever so slightly bowed sort of nod he gets when she needs just a moment, just that additional space to actually say the word.
And he knows it. And he can't quite properly express it beyond a worried sort of bumping of his nose against her forehead, because he needs to rest his head against the wall if he doesn't want it to explode.
Which isn't so much what he wants but is seeming to be very much what he needs, at the moment. He needs to curl up with his face against her neck and not think when it makes his entire heart lurch this way and that.
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"It's difficult, all the double life and bad prescriptions."
Woe to Supes. Woe to all the poor superheroes with their masks or their glasses or their names which clearly implied who they were.
Kicking off the pants around his legs certainly requires leaning against her. Getting into the tub absolutely requires her assistance. But then she'll join him, yes? Yes.
no subject
She steps carefully into the tub, lowering herself without tripping over or sitting on any of his limbs. She settles against him, her back to his chest, sighing contentedly.
"The water's not too hot? I didn't set it to my usual standard of 'boiling'."
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The counteraction fades slightly as she climbs in after him and he can get arms warm and right around her. Her hair is the perfect place to bury his nose and purr.
"'s perfect. Honest."
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She squirms a little, settling in even closer. She leans back, resting the back of her head against him. It isn't quite tucking her head under his chin, but it'll do.
"If your agent gives you any trouble over turning down work, send him to me. I'll handle him."
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In a million ways. He could rattle them off if he were more sober. Maybe. If he were more sober but still feeling this generally uninhibited.
"Handling each other's bosses like... dunno. Avenging angels."
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Hopefully that's neat shorthand for "tough on me and sometimes a pain in the ass, but a fatherly sort of figure and a good man, too".
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And this best human person purportedly owed him a drink the next time there was team bonding. It's overwhelming. Or, well. Overwhelming when already sloshed.
"You've got t' bring me with you next time."
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Her hand drifts to his knee, resting on it, her thumb tracing a little circle where it lands.
"He may interrogate you, though. Hazard of the profession."
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"Hazard of dating you and all your words."
Or just a hazard of not being a word-y person, perhaps. Clearly, at this level of intoxicated he wasn't one.
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She shifts a little; she can't quite turn enough to fully face him, but the idea is there. "Speaking of me and all my words, though. Joe took what I've been working on to the managing editors. That whole thing around the ER nurse they think poisoned people? If I can get it all together... They may be willing to let me have a series of articles over a few days or weeks."
So it's both of them, really,mating the first few tiny steps toward what they've dreamed of doing.
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He'll be more properly enthused in the morning. Possibly after the painful hangover. For now? There's just sloppy kisses to her cheek because it's what he can reach.
"Going t' get all famous and move up t' a more famous boyfriend?"
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She can't at all reach to give those kisses back. All she can do is squirm happily and receive them.
"There won't be any moving anywhere. I'm going to get published and you're going to have your opera produced and I don't want anybody else."
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"Y' know? Neither do I."
Which he will resume not admitting to freely when he's sober.
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No, she's neither going to wait for a reply or settle for just getting cheek kisses. Not after that.
She gently disentangles herself from his arms. Her hands grip the sides of the tub so she can pull away and get to her knees. There's a bit of water sloshing as she turns and then inches closer again, kneeling in front of him. She leans in and kisses him properly, one hand cupping his face, the other holding the side of the tub for balance.
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Much better when she moves closer again. Much better when he can kiss her contentedly, one hand lifting to tangle properly in her hair.
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Much better. His fingers in her hair delight her. When she's settled her weight and she's sure she can lean in without toppling over onto him, she does so, her other hand moving to cradle the other side of his face.
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And there's just enough sobriety in the back of his mind to know that, as his teeth sink briefly into her lower lip. "...remember that, mm?"
Even if he didn't say it again in the morning. Or for a lot of mornings after that.
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"I always will. I promise." Because how do you ever forget something like that? Even if he never says it again, hearing it just once is more than enough.
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Which is important for her to know--to hear. Hear properly from him with his words.
"It's just... tricky."
Saying it sober. She understands, surely.
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It's close enough to what he's saying now. It means just as much. And she understands not being able to say it. She's skated around it herself, said everything but the three specific words she really means.
But she's learned, through him, that sometimes there aren't words, or they aren't needed.
And sometimes they are.
"I meant what I said in that text." She kisses him again, just a fleeting press of her mouth to his. "I know you weren't meant to see it but it's the truth. I am happy, here with you. I'll tell you again tomorrow."
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"Will you?"
Because that felt, for some reason, important. Almost worryingly important. Wonderful and happy-inducing, but also...
Would he be able to say it again in the morning? Affirm it the way that felt easy enough just now?
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"Yes. I promise I will."
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And he knows it. And he can't quite properly express it beyond a worried sort of bumping of his nose against her forehead, because he needs to rest his head against the wall if he doesn't want it to explode.
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And she smiles then, her usual properly warm one reasserting itself. That fades after a few moments, her expression tinged with concern.
"Do you need some water? Or anything else?"
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Which isn't so much what he wants but is seeming to be very much what he needs, at the moment. He needs to curl up with his face against her neck and not think when it makes his entire heart lurch this way and that.
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Ooc;
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Re: ooc;
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Re: ooc;