wickedchouette | (no subject)

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[It's been a long, full day of walking, and by the time they reach the house, Alfie is ready to be inside. There's rarely heat in any of these buildings, and the cold permeates them enough that it's never fully warm even behind closed doors - but it's at least warmer, and without the biting wind. He sheds his coat and kicks off his boots, and turns to Fiona.]

I'll check the upstairs if you check downstairs.

[It's a system they've developed, for the nights that they're together - they split the search of the house so that it'll go quicker. Each has learned what items, tidbits, and clues the other might be interested in, and they'll take note of them for each other, to share when the search is done. Over time, they've both come to trust each other not to keep things hidden - and not to steal from each other. Alfie never thinks twice anymore about swinging his pack off his shoulder and leaving it unattended with her downstairs.]

Looks like a big house. Could save some of the searching for tomorrow.

[He always likes to do a once-over to look for any dangers or unexpected surprises, but in-depth supply searches are better done when they've had some rest - especially on the days like today, when his back has been bothering him for miles.]

Tired, Fiona?

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[He gives a little rumble, low and pleased, settling his own arm around her and sinking further into the mattress. For a while he lightly teases his fingers along her sides, once or twice briefly slipping under her shirt to brush against her skin, but eventually he drifts off. He really is exhausted.]

[Fiona lets out a soft, pleased hum at the touch. She was absolutely lying—she's exhausted, but she hasn't been able to sleep much lately. Even when she does manage, it's never restful. She feels like she's constantly vibrating with energy, like her thoughts won't shut off. So, once Alfie falls asleep, Fiona curls her arm under her head and reaches up to trace his scar with her fingertips, doing her best to relax and failing utterly.]

[Despite how tired he is, Alfie doesn't fall asleep completely. He dozes, still just alert enough that he's aware of the feeling of her fingers on his face, the weight of her arm over his middle, and the warmth of her body against his side. It's honestly really, really nice.

He stays silent at first, but after a while - he's not sure how long - he speaks up, quietly.]

Can't sleep?

Not tired.

[It's a lie, and she doesn't even bother to make it sound convincing. She lets her fingers trail down along his jaw and neck, then settles her hand on his chest.]

I'm fine.

[He reaches for that hand, twining his fingers loosely through hers, the metal of his rings still warm from being shoved deep in his coat pockets all day.]

You feel tired enough.

[Her body is heavy, and her voice is weary.]

[She smiles, something warm and genuine at first, and then it edges into a smirk.]

You gonna help me fall asleep?

[In answer, he lets go of her hand and tilts her chin up with a finger, giving her a kiss on the lips.]

[That gets Fiona to relax, shifting to press closer as she kisses him back. One hand threads up into his hair as she lets out another soft, pleased noise.]

[His other arm snakes around her, stroking the small of her back through her shirt as he kisses her lazily. If he were another sort of person, he might worry about starting to like her too much. But he knows himself, and he knows what he wants, and he knows that however much he cares about her (and he cares about her a lot, by this point), he'll be able to make the decision to part ways, if they ever find a way back to their respective worlds. And for him, knowing all that doesn't detract from this moment in the least.

He breaks from the kiss for a moment, but stays close, his face less than an inch from hers.]

Better?

[Fiona cares about him, too, but she's also a realist—there's no way she's going anywhere but home if that's an option. Pandora might be awful, but Sasha is there, and that's all that really matters. She's never been very into the idea of happily ever after, with marriage and 2.5 kids and a dog rolled up in a neat little package, so this is fine by her. It makes things a little bit easier while they're here, at least.

When he pulls back, she smiles again, smoothing her hand through his hair.]

Hmm. If you put me to sleep every time you kissed me, we'd have a problem, yeah?

[Totally mimicking his little verbal tic, there.]

[Which he really likes so good job, Fiona.]

Look at you. You're more relaxed already.

[Are you sure it doesn't work, Fiona? Are you really sure.]

[It didn't work at all, shut up Alfie! Which means time for more aggressive teasing as she wiggles a little closer, of course.]

Don't get all smug on me.

[He pushes her hair away from her face.]

I'll have to try new tactics, then, won't I?

If at first you don't succeed.

[She tugs on his coat a little, letting their noses bump together.]

Let's see what you've got, Solomons.

If you take my coat off, I'm throwing you off the bed.

[IT'S COLD, FIONA.]

[She sighs dramatically.]

I don't need to take off the coat. Might be nice, though.

Nice for you. Very cold for me.

[If she lets him, he pulls her just a little closer, so she's mostly lying on top of him. The coat is big enough that he can wrap the ends of it around her, too.]

Don't be a baby.

[She's fine with him pulling her closer, and she even shifts so that she's pressed flush against him. Fiona leans forward to kiss him again, more briefly this time.]

You don't think we can figure out a way to stay warm?

I've got an idea or two.

[He dances his fingers along her arm, then dips inwards, towards her stomach.]

[She shivers automatically, head dipping down to press a kiss to his throat. Her lips brush against his skin as she responds, voice soft.]

You usually have good ones.

[He knows.

(Sorry, Fiona; he never claimed to be particularly modest.)

He curls one hand into her hair, the other one still traveling down her stomach, towards the clasp in her pants.]

One of these days, right, I'm gonna find you a looser pair of slacks.

[She shifts her hips, just enough to give him more room.]

Trying to ruin my look?

Not to wear all the time, mind you.

[There are definitely situations where he doesn't complain about the tight pants. Hers undone, he gets to work on his zipper next.]

Planning to help me out here?

[She props herself up again, smiling.]

Nah, I thought I'd just let you struggle.

[She's forced to shift her weight to the side a bit, but she gets his zipper down, then leans forward to kiss him again, something hungrier about it this time.]

[He's definitely ready for this, as she'll feel when she gets her hand down there. Once his fly is open, he pulls her back in place, arching up to meet her open-mouthed.]