(no subject)

[notabricklayer]

McCoy has fallen into a rhythm in the bar - waking up late (for him), coming down eventually to see if anything particularly interesting is going on, pick up something for lunch, trade in a stack of videos for a brand new stack of videos, and go back upstairs.

This morning, he is downstairs much earlier.

He is in uniform for the first time in a week.

And he doesn't detour at the Bar, striding straight to the door, no pauses, no stops, just a quick trip to the front door, which hisses open obligingly, dragging him back aboard his shipboard life.

If he were to stop, he'd never make it through that door.

Comments

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He chuckles, amused (and not believing) the mental image of Olga duking it out with the young woman he spent a couple weeks brow-beating back to health.

But he won't protest her getting closer. He'll even encourage the notion, with an arm curled around her to keep her close.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She nestles close, and after a moment, sits up to look into his eyes, her grey eyed gaze studying his face.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?"

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He blinks back at her, caught (at least figuratively) flat-footed. Where did that come from?

"Jealous? Of?"

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

"Katya."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"You are joking, I hope." He retorts, eyebrows raised incredulously. Katya? She's... She's.... No.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

"It was an honest question. If the answer is no, then I believe you."

She's not upset, clearly. Just a little confused, a little curious.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"No, of course not." He protests, reaching to pull her closer so he can go on protesting it with a kiss instead of words. One has the potential to be heard through bulkheads, the other doesn't. And it's the more eloquent option.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

This is the kind of protest she can really sink into, and she does, perhaps letting him know that the idea of him with another woman makes her a little jealous, a little possessive.

And that's hardly a bad thing, is it?

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Not at all. Well, actually, it is - if (and perhaps, when) he thinks about it, he might even be hurt, just a bit. Why would he even look twice at someone else?

But her being thorough about a kiss? That's something he can get behind.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

It's been a long time since she's danced this dance of hearts with someone. She's forgotten all the steps. And he's teaching her new ones, day by day.

Her arms wind around his neck, and she pulls him close, tangling her legs with his. The shimmer of her love enfolds him, a heartbeat that is not his own, strong and steady, dark and deep.

And a little too fast for his medical sensibilities, it has to be noted.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He hums happily, smiling against her lips - he'd now be worried if her heartrate wasn't quick after that. The boy learns quick, it has to be said.

"You worry too much. There's only one other girl in my life, and she's knee-high to a grasshopper." He teases, tweaking her hair gently.

His little girl isn't actually that little anymore. But that's how he remembers her.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She hums her easy acceptance of this idea. She knows about his daughter, and she knows how much it hurts his heart to talk about her, so she avoids the subject.

"I don't worry," she whispers, nibbling his lower lip. "I was just curious."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Mmmm-hmmm." It's the ambiguous noise that doctors trademarked as a profession millenia ago. "Feel free to check any time, darlin'. As if anyone else could hold a candle."

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Her teeth fix in that lower lip, gently, but firm enough to make a point.

"Mine," she purrs, and then kisses him again, just to seal the deal, her hands pulling him close.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He shifts, just a bit, just to curl a little more around her. Sure he said (and meant, means still) that if she's uncomfortable in this form, she should go back to being an owl... but he could rapidly get used to her being here, warm in his bed, making the stark impersonal place feel a bit more like home.

He's fairly sure the feathers wouldn't be quite so cuddly.

This may be the first time a Grand Enchantress has been thought of as cuddly.

Of course it took a Georgia boy to think it.