rogue. (absorptions) wrote in age_of_miracles, @ 2008-05-26 15:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | pyro, rogue |
Log: Pyro and Rogue
Who: Mr. and Mrs. Allerdyce who need more Saran Wrap
When: May 26, 2008
Where: Their new apartment
What: John and Rogue are unpacking their new kitchen, only to realize that they don’t have any kitchen… stuff. Except Saran Wrap. And then everyone realizes that K.D. and Mel have both watched Pushing Daisies.
Unpacking and setting up their new kitchen should have been a fairly simple job. But not this simple. Because the very obvious truth, once they started trying to fill up the cabinets, was that they really didn’t have anything to put in their cabinets.
Which sort of made the job difficult since Rogue was determined to make this place as homey as possible.
“John. I told you that we couldn’t just register for vibrators when we got married,” Rogue said with a frustrated sigh, banging an almost empty box on the counter. “We’re going to be eating off of paper plates. Assuming we can afford them.”
"Ohhh, whatever," said John with a dismissive wave of his hand. The apartment was half full of boxes; the other boxes were still at the Lair. They had no kitchen stuff because they always lived in a dorm-like situation with a kitchen where none of the stuff was theirs. "I mean, we'll accumulate it. We just need, like... food and shit."
He was leaning up against a bare counter, smoking a cigarette and really not being all that helpful. He'd carried most of the boxes up into the apartment. He was resting, damn it.
Rogue glared at him --- fully recognizing that he was being useless… and conveniently forgetting that he’d done most of the heavy lifting. “We don’t have that either.” It wasn’t that she suddenly thought that this was a bad idea, but there was the sudden thought that they were in over their heads… or at least that they had overlooked a few details.
“…Are you really planning on smoking inside?”
"Uh..." John looked around the kitchen. "I always smoke inside." Was this new? Did the rules change when they got their own place?
“Yeah but… now… it’s… going to smell like cigarette smoke all the time,” she said with another sigh, abandoning their pitiful box of kitchen items and moving to open up a window. “And cigarette smoke doesn’t really cling to metal the way it does to wallpaper.”
When the window didn’t budge, she smacked the base of it with the heel of her hand to get it to un-jam. “We are so screwed.”
John rested the cigarette between his lips and went to help her. For once. He half-assed it, tried twice, and decided the window wouldn't open. "I thought you liked the cigarette smell. It's all homey. It's like your husband. Don't you want the apartment to smell all like your husband? You love me."
“You smell like an ashtray,” Rogue retorted, giving the window another frustrated smack. “Okay. We’re going to have to get a… crowbar. Or something. Do we have that anywhere?”
John retreated from the room without a word, dug through a box in the bedroom. When he came back, lo and behold, he was actually carrying a fucking crowbar. "Will this do?"
Rogue opened her mouth to snap at him for being unhelpful when he left the room, then promptly shut her mouth and blinked when he came back with the crowbar.
“Where… did you get that from?” What? Was he planning to bludgeon her in her sleep or something?
John handed it to her easily. The fuck he was gonna do the work opening the window. Please. "When you're a terrorist you have this shit lying around, honey bunch."
“You’re not a terrorist anymore, sweetums,” she said with a roll of her eyes and taking the crowbar from him before attempting to jam it under the window.
"Uh, yeah, I am," said John with a scowl, going back to rummage through boxes of stuff that had little to do with the kitchen. "We're just on a break right now. I'm still a motherfucking terrorist. Whenever we get more terrorists then we'll start up again."
“Okay, you can be a pretty terrorist if you want,” Rogue mumbled, still concentrating on the window… but apparently not well enough, because the crowbar slipped and almost cracked the windowpane.
“Maybe we just don’t use the kitchen.”
"Hey! Hey, now. I know how to cook and shit." John exhaled smoke and tapped the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor. Typical. "I can make spaghetti and hot pockets. Does that work for you?" He grinned and looked back up at her. "We'll use the kitchen. Look." Reaching into the box, he pulled out a roll of Saran Wrap.
"This should go in a kitchen, right?" Look, they had something.
“Oh, yum. Everyone loves your spaghetti.” Considering how notorious John’s spaghetti nights were. And not necessarily in the good way.
She gave him another blink. “Yeah, I guess. Who packed the Saran Wrap? We don’t own Saran Wrap.”
"Uh, yeah we do," said John. "I mean, I think I stole it from the kitchen to wrap a sandwich and then never put it back."
“Great. That would be great,” Rogue said, putting – okay, banging – the crowbar down. “Except we don’t even have sandwiches.”
John tugged a long strip of Saran Wrap from the box and held it up to look at it. "Yeah, but it's a kitchen thing and it goes in the kitchen, so it's like ... we didn't know where to start, but now we've started, so... now we need sandwiches, and we can keep things fresh. There are lots of uses for this shit."
“I’m pretty sure I can use it to suffocate you in your sleep,” she mumbled.
"Hey! Rogue. Babe. Sweetheart..." John pouted, sidling over to her. A big, exaggerated pout. "I'm trying to be optimistic here. Look at me, being all optimistic and gung ho about our moving into our first apartment together... come on, babe, be nice to me..."
And then he held up the Saran Wrap between them----covered her face with it, really, so it might have seemed like he was trying to kill her. And then he kissed her. Through the plastic.
“This is me being nice to you.” That was mumbled too and she had to resist rolling her eyes at his pouting. Couldn’t he see that she was majorly stressing out about all of this? They didn’t even have utensils.
In that split second before he kissed her, once he’d put the plastic wrap over her face, Rogue’s eyes widened, like she actually thought he was going to try to suffocate her, and then she made a surprised sound once she realized what he was doing --- and that his lips still felt warm, even though the plastic.
There wasn't that rush that came from kissing her, but there also wasn't that vaguely sick feeling that would put him in a coma if he kissed her for long enough. There was a plasticky film between them but he could still feel the contours of her lips, could still kiss her... and he could kiss her without getting hurt.
He couldn't put his arms around her because he had to hold the plastic, but... he could kiss her. A chaste, innocent kind of kiss, just enjoying the fact that he could do it without weird shit happening. If you didn't count the plastic wrap as weird shit.
Well… the plastic wrap was sort of weird shit, but that was just fine with Rogue, who’d thought that John would be weirded out by something like this. And, since he was the one holding the plastic wrap, she slid her arms over his shoulders. There wasn’t that burning, searing, tongue-tangling passion that tended to happen when they got caught up and tried to ignore the fact that she was draining the life out of him. Instead, this was more as though they were two fifteen year old kids experiencing their first kiss.
But she was just fine with that too.
Giving him another soft kiss, she barely moved back --- not having to, which was nice, because her lips just brushed against the Saran Wrap when she spoke. “Where’d you come up with this idea?”
"..I think I saw it on TV once," John mumbled, leaning in for another kiss. Had they ever had a lingering kiss that was sweet like this? He didn't think so. They never had time for it, because Rogue drained his powers and got all horny and John got all sick ... and thrilled from the dangerous rush.
“You watch weird TV, then,” she said right before he kissed her again, which immediately made her shut up. There’d been the few months when she hadn’t had her powers, but there’d been something frantic about that, not leisurely and relaxed. This was probably what normal people were like… you know, without the plastic wrap.
This was nice. This was a good thing. This was bizarre, but... he was kissing his wife, and it was... it was nice. It was cool. And he sucked on her lower lip through the plastic... alternately weird and cool.
Rogue just thought it was cool… but maybe that was because she had no choice in the matter when it came to not touching anyone and she thought anything that allowed her contact was cool, no matter how outlandish or bizarre. She sighed, soft and content, and mumbled against his mouth, “Okay, fine, this is a good start to the kitchen.”