goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

She needed it.

[ Honestly, he did too after days spent awake, planning the next leg of his job. But it's easier to say that Clair needed it, that it was for her than it was to admit he might've slept better than he had in years because she was there. Not that they ever really got around to sleeping in the same bed all that much before.

It was different. It was good.

He could use more of both. ]

What can I say? My bed is magical. Also you. [ He lifts the whisk from where he's stirring the waffle batter, gesturing in the blue dude's direction. ] Okay, am I correct in remembering that Clair called you Epsilon?

[ He can't speak for Carolina (well, he could, but even Epsilon isn't about to risk it), but York looks well. Better than he had the night before, and all cleaned up like that? Definitely looks more like the someone his partner used to rely on back in the day.

Nothing else happened, of course, but if Epsilon were a betting AI, he's pretty sure he needs to schedule an extra day here.. ]

"Yeah, she did. Normally, she wouldn't get it."

[ And here come the question he was half expecting last night. He flickers a moment, before coming to hover at the end of the whisk; the suit's projectors have pretty decent range in the kitchen. ]

"That would be me. And before you ask, no, I'm not crazy. [just a taaaad defensive] "any more. Been a long time since that happened, wasn't exactly my fault either. As it is, I don't hang out in her head, since you probably haven't noticed."

Wouldn't LET herself get it. Some things never change.

[ It helped to have a partner that could talk her out of it or at least physically drag her away. York gets the feeling Epsilon does what he can but- he's only one dude. It's hard when someone's pretty stubborn. ]

Wasn't gonna say. If you were? She wouldn't be working with you. And you're damn right it wasn't your fault. None of it was any of your fault. [ An old man, his grief, and his poisonous ambition. ]

So you're the last one, huh? [ The others got wiped out. He'd heard that much. ] ...How is Wash doing?

"Yeah, that too. She has her reasons though."

[ He seems to relax a bit as he watches York whip the batter into shape, prepping it for waffle creation. Stubborn was most definitely a family trait. ]

"..Yeah, well, she's changed too. And that's a good thing. Moving on's a bitch, but here we are.

Something like that, can thank an EMP for that. And Caboose. Reds and Blues got my storage unit out of range of the Meta. Wash is doing great! You know. Looking after our box canyon idiots. He..and I don't really talk much, I leave that to Carolina."

Leave what to me?

[ Asks the barefoot woman stepping into the kitchen, toweling off her hair. She's not wearing a grifball shirt - the long sleeves of the plaid flannel shirt have been rolled up to her elbows, and while it fits her frame otherwise, the body is long enough to reach to past mid-thigh. Which is good, because she wasn't going to wear his undergarments and the spare drawstring pants she could find? Were a tent on her.

It's not remotely revealing, and oddly comfortable, and yet Epsilon is DEFINITELY grinning. For someone who has a helmet and visor for a face. ]

"Conversation. Like this one. Morning C, later C."

[ And off he logs, leaving the two humans to each other. ]

Edited 2015-09-14 20:12 (UTC)

[ Epsilon's got some kind of ulterior motive- but honestly? It's working out in their favor. So York lets the hasty retreat slide in favor of...admiring Carolina. SHe looks good. She looks rested, clean and for half a second he can pretend there's no civil war. That there wasn't a long stretch of time he thought she was dead and she thought him dead- that they'd run off together like he'd always wanted.

Flew through space for a new life. Maybe a couple of kids with green eyes.

God he's still got it bad if he's thinking like that. ]

Waffles are on.

[ The iron's sizzling away while he sets the batter aside, grabbing butter and syrup from the fridge. ]

And coffee's in the pot. You look good, Clair.

Coward. [muttered softly at the retreating digital back, before she offers York a smile] So I can see. And here I thought you were teasing me about them.

[Her hair is given one last toweling before she folds said towel up, draping over the back of one of the chairs. Her lips quirk at the corner to see he's paying a little more attention to her than strictly necessary, which is. Well. It's very flattering, actually. That he'd still look at her like that, like he tried to on the sly back during their Project days.

Makes a girl wonder. Makes a girl hope. Just a little.

Feet pad quietly along the floor until she's over by the coffee pot, sidelong glances watching him handle the waffles. ]

Older and greyer, perhaps. [beautiful, he'd said this morning. Does he remember that?] ..Not looking so bad yourself, though.

[Slightly rumpled always did suit him.]

I am a man of my word, you know that.

[ One set out of the iron and onto a plate- the first of many. Which he hands off to her without missing a beat, already pouring another set into the sizzling mold. Guests eat first. Also, waffles are the way to a woman's heart, right? right. THey totally are.

God Epsilon is probably laughing at him. ]

Like a fine wine. Better with age.

[ That's a line, right? Please say that's a line. That it works. He grins, crooked and easy, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. ]

Hobo chic. Can't really get my hair cut, people too close to the implant makes me twitchy.

[ Plate of waffle is accepted, mug of refilled coffee left in exchange. If she remembers nothing else, she remembers how he liked his coffee back in the day, from during the downtime between early PT and the first day's reports.

(There's not so much as a snicker from the suit of armor.) (But he probably is, yeah.)

There's something like a laugh that bubbles up at the mention of fine wine, and a playful swat - not at his arm, no, a little lower than that, before she steps away, moving to set her plate on the table. It may not be a very big one, but as last night showed, room enough for two. And plenty of syrup besides.

She'll at least wait for him to have some to eat too. She has some manners. ]

Mmm. Well, it suits you. Though I can imagine it's a bit troublesome in some weather. [that she manages with hair as long as hers under her helmet is due to practice - and being practical, when your hair grows back as fast as hers does.]

A fine red wine- hey! [ Did she just?

SHe did.

Oh. Wow. Maybe all those dreams weren't out of reach? Maybe it'd all work out? Hope is a dangerous thing, he's learned, but...it's Carolina. They've both learned to let go and that life is too damn short to not reach for something. Suddenly nervous he licks his lips, waffles almost burning while he makes up his mind.

Okay.

He's- he's gonna go for it. Be cool, York. Be smooth. Be suave. ]

If it gets to be a handfull I shave it off. Grows back quick enough. [ He shrugs and slides across from her, hooking his foot around her ankle all over again. ] Maybe you can braid it for me after breakfast.

You've not tried me yet.

[ Stated smartly, before Carolina quickly gulps down some coffee. York isn't the only one capable of reeling out a line, she'd been the one to open with one when they'd met back at Errera after all, but with her back to him, she can't see him work himself up past nervousness.

She looks up as he sits himself down finally, brows twitching upwards slightly - though whether at his foot, or at his request, is unclear. Or would be, if the hint of interest from the earlier slap didn't still linger in her eyes.

She'd almost been uncertain of his reception of that when he'd yelped. But that he's started with the foot teasing again? That. That's a good sign, she thinks. She waits a little before carefully turning her foot, running it against his ankle in kind. ]

Maybe I can. Pass me the syrup?

Not for lack of want'n to.

[ Cards on the table. All of them, really. And it seems like she's down. Like she's okay with this, like it's something that can happen. He doesn't want to spend the next ten years wondering what if.

He'd rather know. ]

Sure.

[ He slides it over and leans with it, leaning against her side for a moment. All this causal contact he never got to enjoy. And she's reciprocating. It's not so hopless a thing as he'd thought a few days ago. ]

..I know.

[ Her answer is a little husky, from memory, from regret. She holds his gaze a moment, before letting it follow his movement, letting him lean into her space, stay there as long as he wants. A week ago, he was dead and she was alive and on a mission. Days ago, she was still reeling from the shock of his survival, and now, here they are, flirting in the kitchen, and there's such promise in the way he's looking at her.

And York is most certainly a man of his word.

She murmurs 'thank you' for the bottle, popping the cap and pouring the syrup over her waffle, perhaps a little too much by normal standards, but there's more than one reason for that. Once she's done, she swipes over the nozzle to clear any excess dribble away, before setting the bottle back between them.

And licks her fingers clean absently. ]

[ Oh good. She's on the same page.

Wait. She's on the same PAGE. It's an OPTION. They're both DOWN.

Why are they still eating breakfast again? He blinks at her for a long moment, trying to gauge when it would be appropriate to lean in and finally, finally kiss her when she does that thing.

That thing with the syrup.

And her fingers.

And her mouth.

And his mind flatlines for a second. ]

...you're trying to kill me.

I'd rather not. I only just found you again.

[ Said sincerely, and entirely deadpan - how can someone stay so straight faced at a time like this? Knife and fork are lifted, because there are waffles to eat, and her foot is lightly grazing his ankle, dragging up under his pants leg a little.

Sugar and waffles are energy. Even after a good night's sleep, it doesn't hurt to refuel before engaging in other long overdue activities. Fortunately, it really doesn't take her that long to eat anyway.

She waggles her fork at his plate. ]

It's getting cold.

[ No fair. It's supposed to be HIS turn to be all smooth and shit.

Well fine.

If she's gonna be like that, the next time she takes a bite full of waffle he catches her wrist and leans in, taking it off her fork with an exaggerated play of lips and tongue along the tines. ]

Not from where I'm sitting.

[ Now who's being unfair?

And eating her own food, too. Isn't your own breakfast good enough for you? Never mind that her eyes follow exactly the path that teeth, lips and tongue take to eat her slice of waffle. Never mind the tingling in her skin at the grasp of his hand on her wrist. ]

If you wanted to share, all you had to do was ask first.

[But no. He had to go cross the line. She waits until he sits back, relaxes his grip on her wrist a little, and resumes as she did before. Making a point to flick a little dribble of syrup along his wrist. She's quite adamant about not losing about bite, however. ]

Maybe this is me asking.

[ He licks the syrup from his lip and loosens his grip on her wrist, settling back to cut himself a bite one handed and then, syrup. On him. Well that's not fair. He crackles a soft laugh and lets go, tipping his head to the side and drawing his tongue up in a long line to catch the entire drizzle of syrup that ended up on his skin.

Maybe lingers a little longer than he should. ]

[ she's paying you no heed. Just so you know. None. Nope. Just her and her waffle, and her foot most definitely not withdrawing as he licks up the syrup - only to scoot along the inside of his leg instead, teasing up muscled lower leg, trailing toe up and down.

It doesn't take her long to finish her breakfast, at least, licking her lips languidly once she sits back in her chair. Wondering what York's counter-tease might be.]

[ Nofairnofairnofair.

He tries to keep it cool. To play it smooth. It is not entirely possible, damnit. He finishes his waffles quickly and neatly, sitting back for a long moment just to look at her.

God he loves looking at her. Loves that she's here TO look at.

He could tease or he could cut to the chase. As it is he leans forward enough to close the distance and get the thing they're both waiting on over with.

Sticky from the syrup and twice as sweet, he presses their lips together and oh. It's her skin, her hair, her everything curled warm in his chest, gone as he'd ever been.. ]

[ They really have waited long enough, haven't they?

She's still, he's all movement, and she leans in just a little as he closes the distance. Sticky, sweet, and soft, there's something very satisfied in the sigh that escapes her as she pulls back briefly. Nudges his nose with hers, as eyes remain half lidded.

Then, she's moving forward, all for one purpose, sliding off her chair and onto his lap, half straddling one of his legs as she presses her lips against his much more firmly. Moves to wrap her arms around his shoulders, about his neck, kissing him with a slow burning hunger for something more than breakfast. ]

[ So goddamn long. Why didn't he do this sooner? The war, the project, stupidity? Probably a combination of all three but now he's not thinking of it when he's got her here, warm and solid and real. Not a dream. Dream Carolina never lasted past the first kiss.

She vanished, usually, but this? Isn't stopping.

York settles back into his chair, hands sliding to curl in her hair and around her waist, pulling her close. Letting her take the lead because honestly when has he done anything but follow her? He's got half a mind to carry her to bed but-

They have time. No rush. It's easier to tip his head back and pull her with him, open his lips and tease her with his tongue in a lazy swipe. ]

[ This, this is so much better than any dream. There's a solidity to the body beneath hers that no dream could replicate, muscles shifting beneath the thin cotton of his shirt as she presses up against him, mouth parting to welcome the tease of his tongue.

Here he is, just letting her do whatever she wants to him, egging her on and making her willing to test just how far he'll go - and she's willing. No doubt to be had here, not with how her body's all but thrumming with desire-- ]

"Could you guys please get a room! [a beat]"A different room!"

[ Never was an AI more squeaky with embarrassment than Epsilon. Unlike before, however, Carolina does not jump away, merely slows her ardant assault, laughing softly as she pulls back, then leans to press a kiss to York's chin, to the edge of his mouth. ]

Hmmm, I suppose we could go do that..

Edited 2015-09-15 23:46 (UTC)

[ Yes? Yes. Yes please. Yes good He's more than happy to let her take any and every liberty, already has a hand slipping down to her thigh to slide under the hem of the flannel shirt to feel more of her and while in a chair wouldn't be the first choice? He is not about to complain.

Which.

Doesn't stop someone else from complaining. ]

Epsilon...

[ Cockblocked by an AI. Not cool, bro. Not cool. Still. She's laughing and still so close so he'll take it as a mild win. ]

Hang on?

[ Upper body strength is a thing, he hefts his hands under her thighs and stands, pulling her with him. ]

[ There's a whine sound from her armor, and Carolina just laughs a little more to hear York's reponse to her AI. But she's evidently more than able to hang on as requested, mindful to wrap her legs around his waist and watch her balance as he moves.

Her muscles flex under his hands, and her head turns, nuzzling his cheek, lips murmuring into his ear. ]

Try not to drop me, and I promise only to be a little bit distracting..

I have half a mind to move to the sofa. [ Right across from where the suit's set up. Give him a REAL eyefull. On the other hand he's happy to walk with Carolina clinging to him, all powerful thighs and teasing promise. ]

How distracting is only a little distracting?

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