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

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OOM: Room #100 -- For Tommy Gavin

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It's late.

Dug hasn't shown up tonight, and the cats are curled up on Kate's bed sleeping soundly. She might have joined them already if Tommy hadn't said he'd be coming by.

'I just wanna see you tonight. That's all.'

She's curled up in one of her armchairs reading The Jungle Book, dressed comfortably but still very much clothed. Tommy won't be seeing her in her chemise, thank you. Her guns are laid out on the chest at the foot of her bed.

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During the course of his workday, whenever Tommy could spare the time, he would duck into Milliways to get some fresh coffee. But the result of his last visit ended up weighing heavily on his mind and almost ruined the rest of his day. Fortunately the two car accidents, the choking lady, the homeless guy trying to make a bonfire on a rooftop, and the kid with his head stuck in a fence helped distract him.

But not by much.

So when he comes back into the bar, he's tired and a little grumpy, but there's still Kate upstairs. And he remembers how he doesn't want to go home just yet.

She'll clear things up. He's sure she will.

(Either that, or Voodoo is truly a dead man.)

He orders a small cheesecake topped with strawberries from Bar, like they make it at Veniero's in the East Village. It appears in a white bakery box, along with two forks.

Giving the door to room #100 a couple of light knocks, he leans against the doorframe as he waits.

She doesn't make him wait long.

The room is dimly lit. Just the light she'd been reading by is on, leaving the rest of the room in pale, warm light, or shadow. Her hair is in a fresh braid, and she smiles when she opens the door.

"Hi, you."

"Hey."

As he steps inside, he gestures at her clothes with a lopsided smirk.

"No see-through nightie?"

"Is that what women sleep in where you're from?"

She casts him a bemused look.

What she's wearing is fairly modern. Soft pants, hoodie, camisole underneath. She refuses to call them 'sweatpants', finding the expression a little vulgar.

She locks the door behind him.

"Everythin' all right? What've y'got there?"

"Only the ones who're expecting someone else to take it off." He gives her another good look in the soft light. "But I like this on you anyways," he adds with a grin.

He sets the bakery box and the forks on the desk before shedding his jacket. "Things're-- fine. 'M just a little tired, is all. And that? Is only the best cheesecake in New York. Via Bar, of course. Thought I'd give you a little taste of what you can get when you visit the city..."

A beat, as he sidles up close to her and leans in to murmur wryly against her ear,

"...and then maybe you can try the cheesecake."

A grin blooms across her face. She gives his shoulder a half-hearted shove, fixing him with one of those 'oh, stop' looks that really mean the opposite.

"Glad t'see bein' tired hasn't taken from your spunk."

She'll know the day Tommy Gavin stops being playful and inappropriate is the day something is very truly wrong.

As he sheds his jacket she gathers it up, dropping a kiss to the place where she shoved him before turning to hang it up. It's as loud an agreement as he's going to get.

"Don't think I've had cheesecake before."

"Yeah, well, I gotta keep my spunk up if I'm gonna hang around with you, honey."

Equal parts shoving and kissing. Tommy likes.

"And you've never had cheesecake? Really?"

He tugs the string off the box and lifts the lid to reveal a cheesecake just big enough for two, topped with whole strawberries, red and ripe and coated with a sweet glaze. Offering Kate one of the napkin-wrapped forks, he pulls the chair out for her as if they were at a fancy restaurant.

"Well, you're gonna have it now."

Her lips twitch in response to his first remark.

"You haven't the faintest."

The spark in her eyes could be a challenge. It could be a warning. Then again, it could be an invitation.

She takes the cutlery from him. The cheesecake looks good, and she has to admit he's scoring some points with his gentlemanly side. She curtsies, mostly to tease him, and takes a seat.

"We're eatin' straight from the box?"

A challenge, a warning, an invitation -- these things are honestly, sincerely, and truly all the same thing to Tommy.

Smirking with good-humor at her curtsy, he pulls up another chair and sits down. He unwraps his fork and then folds down the sides of the box.

"Yep. A cheesecake this good don't need plates. Go 'head, dig in."

Her teeth catch her bottom lip.

She doesn't indulge in sweets too often, so she's caught in that moment of childlike enthusiasm where she has to decide where to begin. She's tempted to go for that big, beautiful strawberry directly in the center.

But she's sharing. Which means being polite.

She cuts into a corner of the cheesecake, and has her first bite.

Tommy has a lot to live up to, if he has any hope of dragging a moan as pleasured as that from her throat.

If she's capable of making a sound like that, then as far as he's concerned, it's just something to aim for.

"So, I'm guessing it's okay?" he says grinning, as he starts work on his side of the cake, a forkful of creamy goodness followed by one of the smaller strawberries lining the edge.

She flicks her dark eyes to his face, licking some of that sweet strawberry sauce from the corner of her mouth.

"Divine."

Strawberry syrup was probably invented just so that men could watch women lick it from their lips. (Same thing with maraschino cherries, which serve no other purpose than to make men stare at women while they eat them.)

"Glad you think so. This much sugar's probably gonna keep you up all night, but it's definitely worth it."

He innocently swipes a smudge of cheese off the back of his thumb with the tip of his tongue. What? This cheesecake is gold. Every morsel must be savored.

"Mm, that wasn't your plan?"

She spears another bite, sneaking an innocent look at him from the corner of her eye. Her lips curl around her fork.

She watches his tongue slide across his thumb.

"Should I get you a napkin?"

He tilts his head from side to side. "Maybe. Maybe not." Flicking her a half-wink, he slides his fork from his lips.

"And using a napkin? Would be a waste of cheesecake. Lou would agree with me." He pops another strawberry into his mouth.

She grins.

She doesn't know if it's the cheesecake, the company, or the combination of the two, but she's actually in rather fine spirits. It's rare that her smiles make the corners of her eyes crinkle, but tonight she can't seem to stop.

"I do believe you're right. He's sure got a sweet tooth, huh? Sweetheart."

Her fork comes dangerously close to invading his side by illegally crossing the Prime Cheesecake Meridian.

"I'll fight you for that big strawberry in the middle."

"Lou is just one big giant sweet tooth in human form." And yeah, a sweetheart, too, but Tommy's not going to say that aloud. He'll stick to referring to him as 'a nice guy.'

He then arches an eyebrow at her, bemused.

"You wanna fight me...for the strawberry? Heh. Sure, why not."

The way he figures it, this could be a win-win situation.

"Y'could jus' hand it over nice an' easy."

She's using her calm, sweet, outlaw voice, carving out a bite around her target. But the flash in her eyes as she leans close, resting her free hand on his thigh, is neither of those first two things.

"I fight dirty."

Hand it over...nice an' easy...

His jaw hangs open a little and his eyes lock with hers as her hand comes to rest on his thigh. A distinct tingle courses down his spine.

That could get him to hand over damn near anything she wants.

"Oh, yeah?"

If there's any challenge in his tone, it's eclipsed by his eagerness to see just how dirty she fights.

"Mmhmm."

She's probably enjoying this a little too much. To be fair, though, her playfulness was almost entirely innocent until she got that reaction out of him.

It's all on his head for encouraging her.

"I could hogtie you ... "

Her eyes dip to his strawberry-pink lips. She slowly leans in, giving the corner of his mouth a kiss so slow it's hard to tell whether her lips or her tongue come first. She sucks the sweetness from his skin.

" ... Leave you outside for the buzzards t'find."

His heart starts racing and his throat runs dry.

Sitting almost absolutely still, his eyelids flutter as she presses her sweetened lips and tongue to the corner of his mouth. His breath is hot and quick on her cheek, every nerve on edge as if she were a rattlesnake holding him enthralled.

"Uh... Maybe not the buzzards thing, but the tying-up thing, I could totally go with that..."

He'll feel her smile first, followed by the hot exhalation against his skin. She laughs softly, opening her eyes to seek out his attention. This close, she could stare into his eyes forever.

"You're not puttin' up much of a fight."

Pulled out of some kind of Wild West fantasy he didn't even know he had, he turns his head slightly, meeting her eyes, smiling and just a little breathless.

He slides one hand around her waist with a fond, light touch. It's different, but infinitely nicer, to not feel a corset under her clothes.

"Would it be more fun for you if I did?"

Her eyebrows arch slightly, that smile spreading until she looks like a kitten in cream.

"I'm jus' talkin' about strawberries."

She's the innocent party, here! Never you mind the way her hand slips to his inner thigh before going around his neck, her movements smooth and languid.

She settles herself in his lap.

"I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout."

"I'm..."

Words. What are they? How do you use them?

His hands inevitably find their way to her waist, her hips, her thighs and back up again, fingertips slipping in between the waistband of her pants and the hem of her hoodie in search of bare skin.

"I-- can't remember what I was talkin' about."

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OOM: Room #100 -- For Tommy Gavin

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