ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100 -- For Tommy Gavin

"Nope, nothing that I can feel right now, but I might feel something tomorrow, but that'll probably feel a lot better than having fallen off the bed or getting bit on the ass."

It's then that he notices that her eyes are moist, and he frowns a little.

"You okay?"

She nods.

"Yeah. M'fine."

She'll definitely feel something tomorrow, whether or not Tommy does. But the discomfort doesn't worry her much; it'll get easier, that much she remembers. Right now she just feels boneless, and a little hollow, like everything she's been holding onto so tight for the last several years has left her in one great flood, and there's nothing to fill the void.

"Alright..."

He eyes her for a bit, still holding her hand.

There are several things he can do right now. And he's not sure which one to go with. Which one she'd want.

The tears kind of threw him off.

He rolls over a little and plants a kiss on her shoulder, his lips lingering for a bit.

"Want a glass of water?"

Just to buy some time.

"Mmm."

She combs her fingers through his hair, brushing those unruly bangs away from his eyes.

"I'd love one."

He presses his lips to her shoulder again, his eyelids falling closed for a moment as she brushes his hair away.

"'Kay."

His fingers slide from hers, and he rolls back over to scoot off the bed, pulling his pants up at the same time.

He hasn't even taken his boots off either -- it's a habit. Just in case whoever he's with decides to kick him out.

Taking a drinking glass off the desk, he heads to the washroom when he pauses with his hand on the knob.

"Guess I can let the cats out, huh?"

She watches him for a moment, her fingers brushing his spot when he rolls off the bed. Taking a quick look around, she spots his discarded t-shirt.

While his back is turned she reaches for it, tugging it on to cover her nakedness. She's just pulling her hair out of the neck when he reaches the bathroom door.

"Unless y'wanna have another romp later."

Her lips twitch, and she glances away, wiping the rest of the dampness from her temples.

He blinks thoughtfully, eyebrows raised.

"We'll see," he then says with faint smirk.

He could automatically take advantage of the implied invitation, but the way she rubs at her temples gives him pause. Still, he'll leave all options open. And leave the cats inside.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he slips inside and quickly shuts it behind him. He finds one cat huddled on the toilet seat lid. The other cat...is being a ninja, apparently.

Tommy glances around warily before he turns on the sink faucet, letting the water run cold. He fills the glass and chugs it down. After refilling it, he splashes some water on his face, and reaches for a towel to dry off.

(Her towel smells like her.)

Glass in hand, he turns back toward the door and--

"Jeez!"

The ninja cat has suddenly appeared, sitting on the floor in front of the door.

"The hell did you come from?"

Ninja cat only stares up at him.

With one foot, Tommy gently nudges the cat out of the way, and despite its curious nosing and pawing, he gets it far away enough from the door for Tommy to open it and squeeze out of the room without the cat following.

Kate's arching an eyebrow at his back.

"Roz givin' you trouble? I know he's intimidatin' an' all, Tommy, but I'll have you know I don't tolerate bullishness under my roof. If y'need me t'step in an' defend you ... "

She held onto the straight face as long as she could manage, but now it's everything she's got not to start chuckling.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbles through a sharp but good-humored smirk as he crosses the room back toward the bed.

"In case you forgot, I have the glass of water right now." Holding it high above her, he threatens to splash her with it.

Those blue porcelain eyes go just as wide as could be. No baby deer could hold a candle to Kate right now.

"You wouldn't."

Edited 2012-08-18 05:32 (UTC)

There's a long pause.

He may or may not be taking her eyes into consideration.

"Nah, I wouldn't."

He grins and hands the glass of water to her.

"Besides, you're wearing my shirt and I'd hafta wait for it to dry."

"I'm glad y'have your priorities in order."

Her tone is as dry as the Sahara. She takes the glass from him and drinks about half before attempting to speak again.

"Thank you," she sighs. "You in a hurry t'get your shirt back?"

He gives a non-committal shrug.

"Not really."

It's her call.

His gaze wanders idly up her bare legs, pausing at the scar on her thigh. And then shifting up to the accompanying scar on her bicep.

"What's this?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed by her hip, he reaches over and runs his hand lightly down her arm, stopping at the inside of her elbow, where the pad of his thumb fits almost exactly over the oval-shaped bruise.

"Shit."

He notices the same kind of mark on her other arm.

"Did I do this?" he says, apologetic. "Was it during the last time we-- y'know, when we were out by the barn and the rabbits attacked? 'Cause I remember-- well, I hardly remember exactly what happened, everything was such a blur. I must've grabbed you hard. Was it when we fell? Or before that, when I was on top of you and--? Probably when we fell."

She's just waiting for him to run out the door. She doesn't know what to expect; she's never done anything like this before, and, when it comes to men who keep a number of women on their hip, she's lost.

But he isn't running. Not yet, anyhow. She shifts to accommodate him when he sits beside her, eyes dropping to the graze on her bicep.

"That's when I was shot, out in the stables — "

His hand stops at her elbow and he curses, and she realizes he hadn't meant the scar. Her eyes flick to the bruise. It takes a minute for her to answer, and in that time he starts talking so much she isn't sure how to interrupt him. She shakes her head.

"No. No, this wasn't you. This was jus' an accident. Shh, don't worry."

She breathes a soft laugh, tipping forward to drop a kiss to his collarbone.

Edited 2012-08-18 07:46 (UTC)

He blinks at her, his palm still resting on her arm.

"Oh. Okay."

They still kind of look like finger-shaped bruises to him, but with the work that she does, they could've been from anything.

"What happened? One of your horses got the better of you?" He presses a lightly smirking kiss to her forehead.

"Somethin' got the better of me."

She smiles wanly in response to his kiss, turning her hand slightly to brush her fingers along his forearm.

She considers telling him the whole story, only the whole story ends with her and Voodoo kissing. Tommy's feelings aside, she's still upset about that. And in the deeply superstitious part of herself, she thinks maybe if she doesn't ever talk about it it'll be like it never happened, and Voodoo will stand a better chance of avoiding her cursed bad luck.

She swallows.

"I'm always gettin' bumps an' bruises. At least these are nothin' permanent. They'll fade in a few days, hopefully before Carlotta's weddin'. Guess I'll hafta be more careful 'til then."

She runs her hands down his arms, grasping his hands lightly, and smirks.

"If I'm gonna wear that purple dress."

"Mmm, that purple dress," he purrs into her hair. "Can't wait to see you in it."

He sits back a bit, his hands in hers.

"I think you'll look a lot better in the dress than you do in my t-shirt, but even so, you're still pretty cute in it."

She narrows her eyes playfully.

"Again with the t-shirt. You're awfully attached."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning in to give him a slow, close-mouthed kiss.

Just to remember how it feels, if this is the end of their evening.

"D'you hafta go?"

You're awfully attached.

He blinks a little, and he can only huff out a breathy chuckle at that, his eyes flicking down to her mouth.

But she kisses him first, and he holds on. To the touch of her lips, to her fingers grasped in his.

Running the tip of his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, he shakes his head.

"No, I don't hafta go. I could stay. D'you want me to? To stay, I mean. Or, y'know, I could also go if you wanted me to. I mean, y'know-- whatever you want."

He clears his throat.

Edited 2012-08-18 08:49 (UTC)

She glances from his eyes, to his mouth, and back again. A slight smile tugs at her lips.

Is there a right or wrong answer?

"Y'don't hafta go. If y'wanna stay."

She's toeing the edge of shyness. She's comfortable with where they stand; this connection, this attraction, just seeing where things go. In theory, anyhow. In practice, he's the first man she's taken to her bed in nearly three years, and the only man she's done so with no regard to a proper future. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing and scare him off.

"I reckon you're already here, an' neither of us would hafta change again ... "

"Good point..."

He doesn't make a habit out of blurring the line between the physical and the emotional, but with someone like Kate, it would be surprisingly easy to let happen if he's not careful. Even he is aware of his own bad ideas, sometimes.

But goddammit, he likes being with her. There's enough shit going on in his life to make him miserable. He's not going to deny himself this one thing that makes him feel something better than that.

"I'll stay."

She runs her thumbs over the heels of his palms.

"Okay."

Tugging his hands to her waist, she gently positions them on her body. With another crooked smirk, she bends to retrieve the half-full drinking glass from the floor, and takes another grateful gulp. The fingers of her free hand follow the soft ridges up his forearm, muscle and vein, breaking at his elbow to ghost along his ribs.

She offers him what's left of her water.

"D'you wanna make out?"

See, she's learning.

He tenses involuntarily when her fingers skate over his ribs. She can touch his sides and he'll be fine -- it's only when she uses her nails that might send him into fits.

But as he takes the glass, he pauses with the rim just at his lips as a grin spreads across his face in reply to her question.

Tossing back the mouthful of water as if it were a shot of liquor, he sets the glass back down on the floor, and slips his hand back around her waist, thumb stroking her skin under the t-shirt. He leans in, and for a moment, his parted lips hover a hair's breadth away from hers, savoring the heat, the hum, the closeness between them. And then he kisses her, warm and tender.

She'll just take that as a yes, then.

The grin on his face inspires a laugh out of her, and she's still snickering when he leans in, arms automatically twining around his neck. She savors him in the same way he does her, and when he finally kisses her she's already leaning in to meet him.

She only breaks the kiss once, and that's because her grin is too broad. She breathes a gentle laugh and stretches out on her back, tugging him down on top of her. Maybe in a moment she'll take the time to peel the covers back.

Her kisses sprinkled with giggles keeps a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. This lightheartedness is infectious.

It doesn't take much effort to pull him down on top of her. Once again they find their bodies pressed against one another. Grasping her more firmly around her waist, he rolls them both over so that he's on his back, and she's the one straddling him.

And if she's been paying attention so far, this is exactly how he likes it.

He grins up at her as her hair falls around their faces in a wavy blonde curtain.

"This time, how 'bout you be on top."

He tilts his head up and kisses her chin, the grin barely leaving his lips.

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