cunningas: (other: flame in his hands)
"Don't you dare say a word," she warned. "Not in the mood for your bullshit." Not right now. Not for this.

He watched her for a moment and there were many things he could have said. Many things he had said in the past to others about loss and learning. But he kept his mouth shut and his arms open.

With a little, barely restrained sob, she ran into them.

Still, he kept his mouth shut as he rubbed a hand over her back. Even he was good for comfort, sometimes.

And for that? She was more than grateful.
cunningas: (other: flame in his hands)
"You," she sniffed and wiped ineffectually at her nose with a tissue, "are a pain in the ass."

He smiled, "you're only saying that because you're sick and hate it and need to take it out on someone."

She glared at him, "also 'cause it's true."

Likely he was just mollifying her but he did nod and repeat dutifully, "also because it's true."

Thus appeased, she turned her attention back to scowling and rubbing at the back of her neck, "feels like a damn rock," she muttered.

"I'm telling you, you could let me-"

She tossed one of her wadded up tissues at him, "fat lot of good you'd do."

A too-charming smile was her answer, "you never know till you do it."

"Don't you mean try?"

"Don't you think if I did I would have said so?"

"Mmmm," she went back to rubbing, this time on the other side of her neck. And apparently, he had no further comment, remaining silent. That should have been her first warning. But having a cold was hardly conducive to one's mental abilities so she let out a startled noise when a warm hand covered her own.

"I said," his voice sounded very close to her ear now, "let me do it." Maybe she tried to open her mouth to protest and maybe he put up a finger to forestall anything she might say. "Just let me do my work, dearling."

Slowly, she let her hand come down to her lap, he made a pleased sound and began massaging her neck and shoulders. His hands were strong and his fingers capable, he obviously knew exactly what he was doing as he carefully rubbed away tension. He didn't tell her to relax, knowing that to speak of the thing would merely draw her attention to how not-relaxed she was. She'd try too hard. She always did.

No, instead, he started telling her a story with no defineable beginning, middle, or end. It simply was as it meandered along, the sort of story that had lulled stronger souls than hers into rest. As he spun out the threads of the story, so to did the knots in her shoulders and neck unravel, so to did she slowly allow him to draw her down into sleep.

It was, he reflected, a good thing she'd been already sitting on the bed when he'd begun.

a story

Aug. 5th, 2008 09:49 pm
cunningas: (other: wide grin and a smile)
He was laughing at her, she knew it.

Oh, it wasn't out loud. He didn't want to have something thrown at his head -- for all the good it'd do, she thought uncharitably. But he was laughing at her, nonetheless, she knew what that twinkle in his too-green eyes meant.

"You could help me find it."

"Oh no," he said, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter, "I wouldn't even know where to begin looking."

She let out a frustrated snort and pushed a lock of hair from her eyes, "uh huh. You think I know? Ever since the move. Can't find anything." It was possible she was dangerously close to sulking.

He walked over behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Is it really something to get so worked up over, lovely?"

"Don't start charming me," she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "I'm working up a good snit here."

He chuckled and she could feel the vibrations of it against her back, "oh, forgive me. I hadn't noticed."

There was no point in directly replying to that. So she merely stated accusingly, "if you'd just gotten some of those invisible servants to keep everything neat-"

Now he was laughing as he spun her around to face him. "Oh yes, it's all my fault, isn't it? Invisible servants, hmm? Would you like a castle with that?"

She made a face at him, trying not to crack a smile. He'd totally ruined her snit. Or maybe she'd let him ruin it. Whichever. "It couldn't hurt."

"I'll see what I-... Hmmm, lovely?"


He was looking over her shoulder, "isn't that your checkbook lying on top of your purse?"

Her eyes widened and she whirled about, disbelief evident on her features, "but I totally looked there! Twice!"

He started laughing again.

The result of this conversation )


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