goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Right, then we're starting with Bond and moving on to Terminator, and then we'll see where this takes us." Movie nights are not usually so cuddly for him. But he can certainly make the exception here. "You look happy," he notes of the picture, and why wouldn't he be. "All of you. It's a good look. How long ago was this?"

"Can do." He actually rolls a dice from the side table to pick the Bond Movie (Tomorrow Never Dies) and cues up the first Terminator film. Popcorn can wait. He blinks a little at his desktop- it's been awhile since he used the damn thing, and smiles. "Coupla years. We're all still around."

A beat.

"Well. Almost all of us. Everyone else is still running in the other Shatterdome. I wasn't welcome."

That is cute that he has a die just sitting there. He'll have to ask about that later. "Wasn't welcome? Why not?"

"Clair's father runs the Dome." He shrugs. "Kinda didn't want me there after. The twins kicked up a fuss- I think Maine and Sigurd said some shit they probably shouldn't have- hell even Reggie wanted me to stay but..."

"But after what happened, he put his foot down, as a grieving father." Understandable. Unfortunate, but understandable.

"Well, you've got your good memories, too. And we'll make new ones. Come now, let's not dwell."

"Mhmm." He flops back on the bed, legs crossed at the ankle, and offers Mal one of his pillows. "I am all for making new memories."

This is cozy. A little uncomfortably so, but he eases up as the first movie goes on. Malcolm is not usually one for commentating, but Bond movies? He's commentating. He's seen them all so many stupid times. They make popcorn and curl up for the next movie, finishing cold stale coffee and maybe sharing the rest of that jaeger blood, wincing or laughing at certain flavours that come up. They won't get drunk off sharing the rest of the flask, and Malcolm loosens up a lot.

A lot.

Even just this, popping in a third movie (might as well Die Hard, right), he's really starting to feel connected to Taylor on a level only Trip had been able to get on before, and even still, it goes deeper than that. It becomes nice. It feels like they've done this every week since York's gotten here.

Maybe drifting shouldn't be so frightening. Once this feeling fades, the fear will come back, he knows, but this feeling of rightness is pleasant. Once they drift, won't it feel that way all the time?

Terminator is full of stories, anecdotes really. Shit he and the others did, shit he tried as a kid. Comparing the machines in the movie to jeagers and muttering how Lockdown was better even if she wasn't so big. The popcorn is buttery and the coffee is bitter but the blood is sweet and easy between them.

It's nice.

Better than he thought it could be and he's well on his way to invading Malcolm's personal space, arm looped casually around his shoulders, cheek resting against his hair. Warm and comfortable like he hasn't been in forever. "Okay, trufax: My family and I would marathon these for Christmas. Every year."

"Mm, no, my family is only big on more...traditional traditions. Mass on Christmas. And a lot of food. Sometimes I'd do a Bond marathon in my room for New Years, but that's about it, I suppose."

"Alright then. Christmas this year, Diehard marathon, New years, Bond marathon. We got the important shit figured out." He shrugs.

"Any other marathons I should be warned about?" he asks with a sly little grin, tilting his head a bit to look up at York. "Maybe we should spread them out over the year. I doubt kaiju stop to celebrate major holidays at the end of the year, if they even know what a year is."

"Lethal Weapon is for Easter." A beat. "No idea why, it just is. Speed is for the fall."

Movie marathons throughout the year, he can get behind that.

"This is ridiculous." But his tone says in the best way possible. "Got along with your family, did you? To make movie marathons for the holidays a tradition of yours."

"Yeah, they still keep in touch when they can. I probably should write them sometime." It hasn't really been a priority.

"You can tell them you found a new partner. Share the good news."

"Oh god mom will knit you a sweater. But she's shit at it so you're gonna have to pretend you love it, okay?"

"I'm--I'm sorry, what? No, she doesn't have to do that. Tell her not to do that. I don't need any sweaters."

"Nope it's gonna happen." He scrubs at his eyes. "It's how she shows affection. Are you gonna tell my mother you're too good for her sweaters?"

"Maybe! If I ever meet her! Which I won't. Why does she do this."

"Cuz it gets cold in the dome and she worries."

"Your mother knows she's not, in fact, Mrs. Weasley, right?"

"Nope, she's Doctor Murray and she'll knit you something ot keep you warm if it kills her." He snorts a laugh, elbowing Malcolm. "Come on, what's the harm?"

"It's a bit silly. And, I don't know...something about spontaneously getting gifts from your mother just seems like it's a little...familiar? Did you pick up knitting from her?"

"She's mad I'm better at it than she is." His sweaters turn out fantastic, even if they take forever to make. "You're my partner. That makes you family."

"It makes me your partner. Though I suppose if I know every little thing about you, then I'd be something like family by default."

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