Finn Callum McMillan (startmyownfires) wrote in bumpinthenigt, @ 2012-12-29 11:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | #dead until dark, 10.31.12, finn, finn & maggie, maggie |
A Princess and a Priest Walk Into a Bar
Who: Finn & Maggie
What: Halloween fun
When: 31st. Surprisingly enough.
Where: Dead Until Dark
Warnings: Swearing. It’s Finn.
Maggie had started back at work a week ago, and she was only now getting into the swing of things. The shifts had become easier, and it had even gotten to a point where she was willing to dress up for Halloween. Natalie had brought a costume for her, and though she hadn’t worn the wig at work - far too long for waitressing, she’d end up with it in the food - she’d been getting compliments on the princess costume all day. Now her shift was over, and she was waiting for Finn. They’d agreed to come out for one drink with her coworkers, and her stomach was doing flips at the thought. She’d let Natalie fix the wig in place, and she felt more than a little ridiculous. Rapunzel. Really. At least everyone was in costume, that helped a little with the nerves.
Taking her coat off when they reached the bar, she headed for the booth they’d reserved, wanting to stay out of the crowd as much as possible. Looking around for Finn, she bit her lip. She hoped he wasn’t late; there was only so long she could cope with a crowd this busy, without someone to hide behind.
Finn hated fucking holidays. He couldn't help it. Work got busier on holidays. People got drunk and stupid or depressed and stupid or just stupid and stupid. Once they had achieved enough stupid, something goddamn terrible happened. There were more accidents and fires and suicides and just out and out shit he didn't want to see or deal with on holidays. It made him twitchy. Made him twitchy working them and made him even more twitchy when he was off. Normally he either volunteered to switch shifts with someone--since his bitch ex-wives didn't think he deserved to ever have his kids on the actual goddamn holiday anyway--or crawled into some hole in the wall bar with Jimmy and drank until the sun came up to herald the end of the shit. This year combined the holiday with the pent up emotions a lot of people had following that bastard political interview that had been on. Christ, he'd love to put that fucking Reems' head on a pole and then piss on it daily. Actually he'd like to set it on fire before pissing on it.
This year was different, though. Maggie'd asked him to come out with her and her co-workers for drinks. The more time he spent with her, the harder it was for Finn to say no to Maggie. Especially when he didn't have any excuse as to why he shouldn't do something. Especially when it was so important to her. And especially when she was actually accepting invitations to go out and interact like a normal person. That was a really fucking big step, and he hadn't managed to tell her that he was proud of her or anything like that because he was just a giant asshole who didn't know what the fuck to say.
So he'd said yes. Hell, he'd even said fucking yes to the costume, which was why he was late. Swinging by Sully's cousins to pick up one of his old cassocks had turned into a bit of a bitching sessions. As always.
Shifting the car into park, he took a drag off his cigarette before grinding it out in the ashtray and then heading into the bar. Oh, he knew the fucking bastards who started sniggering straight off, but they shut up with one look from him. Spotting Maggie, he sauntered over and slid into the booth, careful to keep an appropriate distance between them. "Fairytale princess suits you, Maggie May.” It was almost a compliment. “You drinking anything?"
Maggie had been busy sorting the wig, trying to make sure no one was sitting on the end, for the hundredth time already. The long looping braid was mostly piled on her lap, and the bench beside her, all the better to keep it out of the way. She’d already lost a couple of flowers out of the end. Head down, she smelled Finn coming before she saw him; that comforting mix of cigarette smoke and soot, the lingering trace of ash that always clung to him. She was already smiling when she looked up; the expression froze a bit as she took in the collar, the black. Unsuccessfully fighting a disapproving frown, she tilted her head. “George got me a Long Island Iced Tea already,” she gestured to her full, untouched glass. The charitable part of her wanted to think that Finn didn’t mean any disrespect by going out dressed as a priest...but she already knew him too well for that. Knew what a fan of the Church he wasn’t. Of course, adding to her inner turmoil was the fact that oddly, it suited him. The sombre look of it drew attention to his face, made him look....well. Handsome. Moreso than usual, even. She blushed a little, fiddling with one of her ringlets as he sat down.
There was just a waver, a little suggestion in her expression that she might not completely approve of his outfit. And he got that. Maggie, despite all the shit that she had been through during her life, still believed. The Church was still a giant, revered thing to her no matter how much God was obviously a bastard for letting people get away with the shit they pulled on each other on a daily basis. At least he had been restrained about it. He was mocking the balls off the thing, of course, but he hadn't added some of the touches he'd considered when he'd dreamed the idea up. Mostly because it took too goddamn much time and effort over something silly and dumb.
Her outfit was gorgeous and also a little too goddamn appropriate for his tastes. Beautiful girl locked away in a tower for most of her life and forced to rely on someone with a pretty fucked up version of love. He wondered whether she'd draw those connections yet or not. Even if she hadn't, he wasn't the one who was going to point it out. Didn't need to be said. Especially not when she was socializing in a setting crowded enough to even put his teeth on fucking edge.
Finn ran a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulder as he surveyed the crowd and then looked at her drink. "Not a fan?" It barely looked like it had been touched. "Work alright? Any trouble?"
She tilted her head. “It’s not that, it’s just...really strong.” She could smell the fumes from here. She lifted the drink, taking a tiny sip, then doing her very best not to make a face as she set it down. Strong drinks didn’t suit a were’s constitution. At least, not one that wasn’t used to drinking. She was still getting used to the taste. “And work was fine, thank you for asking.” She smiled. “What did you do without me for company? You must be getting bored of takeout and daytime tv by now...” Look, she could tease and everything. Even dressed as a princess. She’d realised what her workmate’s subtle insuation was, when she’d been given the costume. She was naive, not stupid. A princess, locked up in a tower all her life, only to be rescued by a prince? Well...it fitted. Finn might not have dressed the part, but nonetheless. He’d saved her.
If anyone had ever suggested that Finn was some sort of fucking white knight, fairytale prince who had swooped in and saved her, he would have started laughing and probably not have been able to stop until he started choking. It was the idea that was such a fucking joke. Finn was no one's prince. People started expecting that sort of shite from you, and all you managed to do in the end was to be a disappointment. It happened. Maybe you didn't meant it, but when people got ideas in their heads, it was hard for it not to happen. And he was a far cry from being good by any definition.
The teasing made him smirk and run a hand through his hair. "Not much. Drank all the vodka in the house." Before she could fuss at him, he shook his head. "Made the kids little Halloween packages. Candy, cookies, toys. Dropped them off. Not too much." Sena, the twat that she was, had insisted that he drop the kids stuff off at her house during school hours because she was nothing if not steadfast in her dedication to being the biggest bitch who ever walked the face of the Earth.
Tapping the glass, he arched a brow at her. "Want something sweeter? This is pretty much all fucking alcohol even if it does qualify as slightly girly." Mixed drinks inherently were.
Maggie had started frowning, opening her mouth to fuss when he started talking about vodka...and then he shook his head, the smirk on his face letting her know he was joking. She was getting more used to that now; his sense of humor. Finding it easier to respond to his teasing. She was getting there, bit by bit. It was a slow process, but she felt ten times better than she had even a month previously. She considered his offer of a drink, then nodded. “Yes please. Something...simpler, maybe. Less alcohol, more things that...aren’t alcohol.” See, she could tease too. She smiled softly, shifting a little closer.
“Did you get to see your kids?” She asked, tilting her head. She knew what his ex-wife was like, knew how hard Finn found it, not seeing his children. It was...enlightening. She couldn’t imagine her father ever being that concerned for her. Not in a million years. Reaching across the table, she slid her hand over his, squeezing gently. She’d gotten better at casual contact, and Finn had gotten better at not pulling away; at home, at least. She hoped he wouldn’t jump back, not tonight.
Finn still worried about how their situation looked, how it would reflect on all the other shit that was going on, but it was better this way. Maggie seemed calmer, more together. Listening to Jimmy, as right as the bastard might actually be, only would have made everything worse for her. This was she could stay where she was comfortable--although who the fuck knew why anyone would be comfortable living around him for very long--until she was ready to get out on her own, be free and independent and all of that instead of crushed and doubled over by all the fear and abuse that had been doled out by her shitty family. The shitty members of her family anyway. He was too quick to lump them and leave out her sister sometimes.
"I think I got it," he said, as he slid out of the booth to go order. "You want something with more alcohol, right?" It was accompanied by a wink and a shake of the head. Nah, he wasn't that much of a bastard. Last thing he needed was someone round these parts thinking he was trying to take advantage of a girl who really was young enough to be his kid if he had started earlier. He returned with a Shirley Temple for her and a glass of whiskey for himself.
"No," he had to swallow about fifteen fucking curse words before they came shooting out. "Sena asked me to drop the stuff off earlier. She and Margot were apparently taking the kids out. Which is a load of shit because Kier's too old. Hell, Bren is twelve. They'll both bitch the entire time. The only one who would want to go on a family outing like that is Tara. The boys will go for her sake, and she'll have a great time, but. Fuck." He let Maggie's hand linger over his for a moment before pulling away, patting it awkwardly and then running his fingers through his hair. Then he realized how much foul language he had spewed and grimaced. “Sorry.”
Maggie just smiled, pulling her hand away and wrapping her fingers around her glass. She shook her head at him, not even attempting to chastise him for his language. She’d pretty much given up, by now. As long as he tried not to swear, she didn’t glare at him too much when he slipped. Of course, she was still tempted to follow Finn’s mom’s example and put a swear jar in the house, but she didn’t want to overstep her bounds. Situations like this...well, she figured he was justified in being angry. “It’s okay,” she murmured, picking up her drink and taking a sip. She laughed softly, tilting her head as she looked at him. “From the strongest cocktail on the menu, to one with no alcohol?” Pulling the cherry out of the glass, she bit it in half, her gaze moving around the room. She shifted closer to Finn as someone crowded up against the edge of the table, shying away from the taller, slightly intimidating figure. Crowds were still something she was getting used to; drunken crowds, even more so.
Trying to break him of swearing would be like him no longer smoking or drinking or being able to set things on fire with a snap of his fingers and a wicked glare: it just wasn't going to fucking happen. Oh, he tried to sorta behave around Maggie because he knew that it wasn't her favorite thing, but a lot of times the words slipped out anyway. Especially when it came to dealing with certain subjects like his kids or her fucking parents of the court case. Or the shit that Reems had said. Finn was still working on not thinking about that cuntbag because it would make him made enough to burn down the entire goddamn city and every fucking bigot in it.
Shrugging, he smirked at her. "I figured that I'll have them add a splash of something to the next one. Vodka or gin or something. Little bit at a time. If you want. Besides it looked like something a princess should have." When she bit through the cherry, he tried not to stare because, well, there was something about pretty girls with cherries in their mouths that immediately triggered bad thoughts. Instead he swirled the whiskey around in his glass and then took a drink.
When she shifted closer, he looked up, eyes sweeping the bar and then nudged his shoulder gently with his own. "You're alright, Maggie May." Couldn't blame her for being a little skittish. The fucking place was busy enough to set his teeth on edge, and he was pretty sure they were approaching too many occupants for the fire code. But he wasn't gonna hassle Gabe about that.
“I think it should be more sparkly,” Maggie teased, smiling at him as she ate the rest of the cherry. She dropped the stem onto the table, taking a sip of her drink. “More sparkly, and pink. I think that’s what princesses are, right?” She tilted her head. “Even princesses that’ve been locked in a tower all their life.” She tucked her feet up under her, leaning into his side a little more. Couldn’t be the alcohol that had made her braver; she’d not touched a sip. It was the crowd that made her skittish, more in need of the comfort of his closeness. Even in unfamiliar clothes, Finn was still her safety net. Her shield.
"Depends on the princess, I guess," he said with a snort. Pink and sparkly, huh? There was no way in fucking hell he could order something like that. He'd gotten a pretty amused arched eyebrow from Hanna when he'd asked for the Shirley Temple. No way was he going to go back to the little goth telekinetic and ask her for something pink and sparkly. She and Nadia would probably laugh themselves sick over it. They wouldn't even fucking care if he set something on fire to try and dissuade the giggles.
"Tara likes Fiona from Shrek, and she doesn't strike me as a pink and sparkly sort of princess. You can be any sort of princess you want to be." There was really no question that she was one, though. "I have half a mind to say something to whoever picked out that outfit, by the way. Although I guess it coulda been worse." They could have picked Snow White, after all. He was rambling and trying really hard not to think about how close she was sitting, what sorta looks they were probably getting from the rabble. The dirty old priest and the princess. Fucking hell.
Maggie laughed. They’d seen Shrek - or two thirds of it, at least - on tv one night. She could see why a little girl might like her. She wasn’t anything like Fiona, though. But pink and sparkly wasn’t her, either. “Maybe I’ll be Princess Leia,” she said softly. “A space princess.” That sounded more like something she could do. His suggestion of speaking to whoever had chosen her costume had her panicking a little, and she grabbed his arm, shaking her head. “No, please,” she murmured. “She didn’t mean anything by it...” She ducked her head, blushing a little. “I might be sheltered, but I’m not stupid. I knew she chose it because that’s what she said my life was like. That I was locked up all those years, and then you rescued me.”
Leia, huh? Well, that wasn't as completely out there as it could have been. Leia's mom was dead, and her dad was an evil fuckwit. She had been separated from her brother at birth and never knew him, which was why there'd been that retrospectively really inappropriate kiss. Plus her world had been fucking exploded, leaving her stranded without a home. And then a smart talking space pirate had come in and sorta, maybe saved her a little. Plus Leia had balls; she wouldn't take shit from anyone. There were worse things Maggie coulda aspired to like Ann Coulter or Sena. "Well. You're going to need a blaster, and the world's most annoying gold robot to follow you around. Think we can convince Jimmy to let me spray paint him." It was always better to take potshots at Jimmy when he was around, but it was still amusing.
Maggie could sway him off a course with just a look and a touch although he did tense a bit when she touched him, just for a moment, before relaxing. It had taken a while, but Finn had mostly gotten used to it. "I think it's in poor taste. And if I, the king of fucking poor taste, think something's outta line, then it's wrong. Doesn't it upset you that she'd blatantly drag that out and remind you of it." He was just gonna ignore the part about him rescuing her. They'd had that run around about how he was a bastard just doing his job, nothing special, and that he'd done what anyone would have. He took another drink. "I just don't want some idiot who isn't thinking about shit to upset you." Not that Maggie seemed upset. Or, well, she hadn't until he'd started talking and knocking the feet out from her Halloween costume anyway.
Maggie shook her head. “She didn’t mean it cruelly,” she insisted, albeit softly. “She’s...she’s my friend.” Natalie and George were about the only people, other than Finn, that Maggie had been able to count on. She couldn’t let that be taken away from her. “Natalie said...” she bit her lip, looking down. It sounded stupid, saying it out loud. But Natalie had said it would be cathartic. That if Maggie could laugh at her situation, it’d help. And considering the kinds of people who came into the diner...she’d heard much worse things, couched as ‘jokes’. She didn’t get some people’s sense of humor, couldn’t understand how coarse and violent some people could act. So dressing up as Rapunzel, poking fun at the image everyone had of her as a perfect little princess...yes, she could do that. shrugging, Maggie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured, picking up her drink - the Long Island she’d declined earlier - and taking a generous sip.
And there he'd gone and cocked it up again. He could tell by the way her voice got softer, smaller. Yep. Finn was a fucking bastard and shouldn't be allowed out around people. Well. Maybe saying that he shouldn't be allowed out around women would be better. Sighing, he pushed a hand through his hair. He should have let it alone because now she was retreating, letting herself get wrapped back up in shell, and it was his fucking fault.
"Christ. Look," he said, drumming his fingers against the table for a moment as he tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make the situation worse. "She probably didn't mean it. What did she say? Tell me. Talk some sense in my thick, fucking dense Irish asshole skull, huh? It's probably just too clever for me." He needed to remember that not everyone was a fucking prat. Some people. Well. Some people weren't out to fucking hurt. It was difficult to comprehend, especially considering everything he had done and seen in his life.
“Stop that,” she said, frowning at him. “You’re not dense.” It was mind-boggling to her, the way he kept putting himself down. Despite what he’d done for her, what a good person he was...he just couldn’t see it. And no amount of compliments from her could ever change that, she didn’t think. Shifting, she piled her hair more carefully on her lap, legs tucked under her, curled up on the bench seat beside Finn. “She said it was good to laugh at things that upset you. That...” she took a deep breath, looking up as she tried to remember exactly what Natalie had said. “It would be cathartic. And that if we can laugh at our fears, it makes them less scary.” It had made sense, when she’d said it at the time. But Finn’s anger was making Maggie doubt herself, now.
Yeah. Well. She could say things like that to him as much as she wanted. It wasn't gonna change who he was or what he thought of himself. Maggie was smart and sweet. She hadn't deserved any of the shit that she'd had to live through, but when it came to him, Finn was pretty sure she had blinders on. Cause he was a dense, rotten bastard. And the majority of the people he knew would agree with that assesment. She could think he was something more if she wanted to, but it wouldn't be true. Not for anyone but her.
He wasn't angry so much as, well, protective. From the outside all he could see was someone parading her around as their own personal joke. It never occurred to him that Maggie might be trying to take all that shit, reclaim it and fuck if he knew, do something else with it. Take the sting out of it maybe. "Does it make you feel better? Wearing it?" If it helped, it helped. Who was he to question it.
“Yes and no,” Maggie admitted. “It’s...strange. It’s as if how I look matches what people think I’m like inside.” She wasn’t. Not at all. Despite the jokes Natalie had made in the past about her being a Disney character, singing and baking and being the perfect princess in the making, she didn’t feel like that at all. She was broken, in a lot of ways. And Finn was the only one who got to see that. The only one who knew about her nightmares. Knew everything that her family had done. “It makes it easier, to joke,” she said. “But I wouldn’t want to do it all the time.” She picked up the Long Island again, taking another sip. The taste was starting to grow on her, moreso than the bitterness in the Shirley Temple. Maybe it was mixed wrong, she didn’t know. But it didn’t taste sweet enough for her liking.
The fact that she could joke about it, could see a lighter side to it, though, that was good. Right? Finn wasn't some sort of fancy headshrinker, but it seemed like a step forward to him. At least it was better than her avoiding everyone, looking so hurt and sad and worried about what every fucking person around her was gonna do, how they might hurt her. Though that was still in there, too. There were still nightmares and years of abuse that Maggie carried around. They all had their own fucking crosses to bear. Some of them just got shitter one than others, one they didn't deserve.
"Probably a good thing cause that's a shitload of hair to drag around," he said after a moment, keeping the tone light. The fact that she was drinking the Long Island hadn't escaped him. It was actually sort of amusing. "You just be whoever you wanna be, sweetheart, and if anyone has a problem with it, you let me know."
Maggie grinned, stroking her hand over the braid, hanging over one shoulder. “Yeah, I didn’t wear it at work,” she admitted. “Thought it might get in the way.” She was getting kind of attached to it now, though. It was easy to hide behind. She was better than she had been, when Finn had first pulled her out of her cage. But she still had moments, still took things to heart that she shouldn’t. She was trying her best, though. A chorus of laughter from the next table had her jumping slightly, looking around. The packed bar was starting to get to her, but she was determined to stay until she’d finished one drink, at least.
After draining the last of his drink, Finn reached over to touch the fake hair. "Yeah. Your customers might have had a beef with finding one of these hairs accidentally wound round their food like something out of a night terror about Medusa. You're prettier as a brunette anyway, sweetheart." And, yeah, he really shouldn't be saying or thinking shit like that, but it was true. The dark hair set off her pale skin and her big, bright eyes. The blonde didn't make such a stark contrast. And now he was fucking gazing at her like some sort of fucking schoolboy. Thank Christ Jimmy wasn't there.
When she started, he slid an arm around her shoulders. It was one of the smaller gestures of comfort he had managed to internalize over the months, and it still made him a little uneasy, especially in public places. "You just say when you want to leave, and we're outta here," he said, low but he knew she'd hear with that fancy were hearing of hers. No sense in her pushing herself too hard.
Maggie blushed, ducking her head as he complimented her. She still wasn’t used to the compliments, even after a couple of months. They still made her blush, though at least now she smiled. She liked it when Finn said she was pretty; she just didn’t quite believe him. She was surprised when he slid his arm around her, but immediately relaxed a little, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m okay,” she insisted, reaching up to squeeze his hand where it rested on her shoulder. “I can do this.” She was determined to stick it out, at least a little longer.
"I know you can, Maggie May. You're a strong princess for sure." Had to be what with all the shit that had been done to her. Finn might cock up ninety percent of the compliments that he tried to give, with that statistic being on the low side, but he had always been vocal about how strong he thought she was. Even if Maggie had a hard time believing it. It was easier for him to say how capable she was, how she had managed so well considering, and it was a whole hell of a lot rougher for him to tell her that she wasn't just pretty; she was fucking gorgeous. And people looked at her a lot. Way fucking more than he was comfortable with cause he knew what the guys were thinking about when their eyes trailed over her face and body. Shit. Those were things he shouldn't be thinking about.
"You might outlast me. These morons are putting my teeth on edge. Be right back," he said, squeezing her shoulder gently before sliding out of the booth and making his way back to the bar. He both did and did not need more to drink. Did won out every time when it came to booze, though.
Maggie just nodded, letting go of him and watching as he moved through the crowd towards the bar. She wrapped both hands around her glass, focusing her attention on that rather than the crowd. It was easier, if she didn’t have to meet anyone’s eye. Of course, her luck didn’t hold out for long. A man dressed as...some kind of superhero she guessed, considering the spandex, sat down in Finn’s seat, grinning at her. “Hi there, gorgeous,” he said, leaning in close. Maggie shied away from him, her cheeks flushing bright red. “Hi,” she replied softly, looking past him, seeing the back of Finn’s head at the bar as he waited to be served.
"Did you really have to go there?"
Finn looked up and grinned at Hanna, who was standing there, hands on her hips and giving him a teasing glare. "Right, kid. I always forget about your soft spot for the Church. Mostly because it's misguided and disturbing."
The girl rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. "I wouldn't think your girlfriend's too happy about it, either," Hanna said as she placed a scotch and a Long Island Ice Tea in front of him.
And there it fucking started again. "You know damn well and good that she's not," he started, but he was cut off mid sentence by the goth telekinetic.
"You might want to go play Prince Charming or whatever now, though. Looks like Superman got an upgrade to Superperv."
Turning on his heel, Finn left the drinks at the bar and beelined straight for the booth and the dipshit who had decided that Maggie needed a little drunken frat boy company. It was obvious even without knowing what was being said that it wasn't appropriate or wanted. Also it was pretty apparent that the guy just couldn't take a goddamn hint. Now things were getting interesting. "Hey, asshat, you want to clear out and leave the lady alone? Also those tights are royally screwing over your sperm count, which is probably for the best because I'm damn good and sure that we don't need cunts like you reproducing anyway."
Maggie calmed a little when she saw Finn approaching, no longer shrinking back against the seat as if she was trying to slide under the table to get away from the man. He was blocking her exit, and that in itself was making her panicky. Let alone the way he was looking at her, the way he smelled. JD and lust, and it was bringing back way too many memories. “Can we go?” She asked Finn, before the other man had even opened his mouth to reply. Grabbing her coat and purse, she clutched them to her chest, eyes a little wider, a little panicked-looking.
Looking between them both, the guy snorted. “Whatever,” he muttered, getting up and walking off. Maggie slid out of the booth, looking like she was seconds away from just clinging to Finn, damn propriety. “Can we go home?” She asked in a quiet voice, her gaze darting around the bar, looking for an exit.
There was a not so small part of Finn that had wanted the guy to do or say the wrong goddamn thing so he could start and end the fight in one swing. Punks like that were never good for an actual fucking fight. They tended to have glass jaws or weak punches or just didn't wanna screw up their perfect little faces. Not that Finn gave a shit. The guy was apparently not so wasted that he couldn't take a hint, though.
Glaring at the fucker as he slunk off, Finn turned his attention to Maggie who definitely looked shaken up. Christ. It figured. Just when she was having a good time out so goddamn idiot had to show up and cock it all up. At least it hadn't been him. Reaching for her hand, he nodded. "Course we can. Come on, sweetheart."
As he threaded a path through the other people in the bar, he kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Maggie was still there. It was stupid. Of course she was there. He could feel her hand, which was noticably cooler in his, but he kept getting worried that something might happen if he couldn't see her.
Unlike larger mammal weres, birds tended not to run quite so hot. Maggie was cold at the best of times; compared to Finn’s unnatural warmth, her hands likely felt like blocks of ice. She followed Finn out of the bar, holding piles of hair against her, her coat little help when they got outside. She’d gotten a lift to the bar, so she had no idea where his car was parked, letting him lead the way. Climbing into the passenger seat, she started taking the wig off straight away, sighing as she removed the pins from her hair, one by one. Brunette curls tumbled around her shoulders, the blonde wig left piled in her lap.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking across at him. “I just...panicked. It was so busy, and then he wouldn’t leave me alone, and...” her breath hitched in her throat, and she reached across, squeezing his hand. “Thank you,” she repeated.
As soon as they were in the car, he had it started so it could warm up. Finn didn't need it, of course, but he didn't want to freeze Maggie out. It had taken him awhile to remember that. He'd been on his own for so long. Adjusting to other people's differing temperatures was still slowly filtering back into his habits.
Since they were still parked, he reached over with his free hand and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "S'not your fault, Maggie May. That guy was just being a typical drunk asshole. I wouldn't have let him hurt you." He wouldn't let anyone hurt her if he would help it. Which probably meant that he shoulda stayed as far away from her as possible cause if there was one thing that Finn was good at, it seemed to be hurting people. Especially when he didn't want to.
"Want to go straight home or swing through a drive through? Get a milkshake or a burger or something?" Junk food was comforting, right?
She stilled as he tucked her hair behind her ear, fighting the urge to lean into his touch, press her cheek to his palm. Skittish still, she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to react. How normal people reacted.
“I’m alright,” she said. And then hesitated, biting her lip before asking, “Can we get donuts?” Diner food she could get any time, but donuts were a treat, still. Hell, any kind of food was a treat. But donuts were definitely her favorite. She put her seatbelt on, tucking one leg up under herself, skirts spread out right across the seat. It wasn’t a practical outfit, by any means. But she’d had fun wearing it at work, and seeing his reaction to it.
That got an actual guffaw out of him. Rubbing his chin with his hand, he grinned at her and nodded, retrieving both of his hands for driving. "Of course. Donuts and hot chocolate maybe." Well. Hot chocolate for her. Finn would get himself coffee and maybe add something to it when they got back to the house. "What kind? Regular glazed or cream filled or jelly filled or something with sprinkles. I know the best donut shop around. Jimmy told me about it." Because cops like donuts. What? He was allowed a little transparent humor every now and then.
“Sprinkles,” she said, smiling as she tucked herself more into the corner, holding her hands out towards the vents for warmth. “Pink, since you didn’t get me a pink and sparkly drink.” Oh look, she was teasing. It was another sign of how far she’d come - she could make jokes, now. Pretty much exclusively with Finn, but it was a start. “And marshmallows,” she added. “In the hot chocolate.” Yeah, she was going all-out. Mostly because she knew Finn would indulge her. She watched him as she drove, streetlights illuminating the collar of his costume, casting stripes across his face as they passed into shadow. “It suits you,” she said, managing not to smile. Mostly because she wanted to see if he’d think she was serious. See how he’d try and get out of insulting the church.
Noticing the way she went for the vents, Finn cranked the heat up a little bit and then directed the rest of the vents her way. The fact that she was back teasing was good, though. It showed that she had managed to spring back from being bothered by that douchebag in the bar. "You're really out to ruin my reputation, aren't you, sweetheart? Fine, fine. Next time I'll see if they've got something pink and sparkly for you to drink. Although knowing Gabe they might not even stock it. Donuts and hot chocolate it is," he said, turning down one street and then another, focus on the road, looking for any of the dumbasses that were certain to be out and about raising hell, causing havoc and just generally making life fucking harder for the rest of them. Once upon a time that description woulda applied to him.
He snorted at her observation. "It does, does it? Yeah. Well. The Irish look good in black cause our best parties are at wakes." Fucking terrible thing to say? Check. Then he grimaced. "Sorry. Bad joke."
“I won’t tell Jimmy about the sparklyness if you don’t,” she promised, mock-solemnly. She sighed as the heat started blasting out of the vents, unbuttoning her coat happily. She’d far rather walk around with the heat on full, wearing thin clothes, than put a sweater on and turn the heat down. But she had to get used to the compromise, considering Finn got warm way too easily. His crack about wakes made her frown a little, giving him a slightly scolding - yet still affectionate - look. “I think it’s more of a cliche,” she pointed out. “And it’s good...wakes....” she shrugged, looking down at her hands. “They should be celebrations of someone’s life. Not...not mourning them.” Not like her sister and brother’s had been. She hadn’t gone to the wake, just to the service; hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near her parents for any length of time. Even the service had been hard enough.
Somewhere out there was a happy fucking medium. It existed in all things apparently. Or at least some twat at the substance abuse meetings said that. Sometimes. When Finn bothered to still go. The only happy medium he cared about at the moment, though, was temperature. He and Maggie had pretty much gotten there. For the most part.
"Cliche or not, it's also sorta true," he said, but he knew that he'd gone too far, mentioned something that would inevitably trigger something way fucking worse in her mind. And he had. Of course. "The best ones are. But everyone's mourning. One way or another. Whether it's being somber and sad or bringing the house down with stories. You shoulda seen my sister's. We almost got thrown the fuck out." His jaw clenched and a small spark seemed to dance its way through his blood. It still hurt, talking about her. It always fucking would.
Reaching over, he patted Maggie's knee gently. "It does get easier, you know, and you're doing a lot fucking better than I ever did. With the loss. And, well, everything. Shit. I shoulda just kept talking about donuts, huh?" Story of his life.
Maggie smiled, placing her hand over his on his knee, sliding her fingers between his, gently squeezing his hand. “You’re doing just fine,” she assured him. “I think we’ve pretty much exhausted the conversational possibilities of donuts, anyway.” It had gotten easier, even now. Easier to talk about her sister, not to just break down crying. Jimmy had helped; there was a picture on her bedside table, the one she’d asked for. Herself and her sister, dressed up for Halloween. It had been her sister’s favorite holiday, and it was part of the reason Maggie had been adamant she was going to dress up and go out.
"I don't know about that. Apparently you can bake the bastards instead of frying them. And some weird hippie places put bacon on them, which I'm actually pretty okay with. What's better than a donut with bacon on it? Maybe one with Jack Daniels cream, but that's gonna make a difficult sell because of all the regulations."So sometimes he fell asleep with the Food Network on. It wasn't a crime, and there was piss all else on in the morning. Food Network or cartoons. Cartoons reminded him of his kids.
He glanced over at her when they stopped at a red light. "You're doing just fine, too, you know. Better than fine. Even when dealing with douchenozzles."
“Bacon donuts?” Maggie looked at him disbelievingly, making a face. Yeah, she’d wandered through a couple of times when she couldn’t sleep, found him passed out in front of the Food Network. Even teased him about cooking stuff he’d been watching, a couple of times. But some of the things were just too wierd to think about. Like, for example, bacon donuts.
“Mostly doing okay because of you,” she admitted softly, smiling at him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was the reason she wasn’t more of a mess right now. And she’d always be grateful to him for that. She wasn’t sure how long things could go on like this, how long Finn would tolerate her staying with him, but she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, now.
Yeah, he couldn't help but smile at the face she made. "Just think of it like dipping bacon into the syrup on your pancakes." Surely she had done that. Surely there were at least a few happy, normal goddamn memories and experiences her fucking parents had allowed her although considering what he knew, Finn wasn't about to hold his breath waiting for one. His childhood, for all the worrying about his dad and the yelling, setting small fires, being made to go to Mass, had been, well, pretty normal all things considered. It was when he started to get older, out on his own, that the shit hit the fan. A fairly continual goddamn stream of it, too.
Turning into the parking lot, Finn eased the car into a spot and then turned it off, looking over at her for a minute before reaching out to touch her shoulder. He always sort of felt like he was gonna be struck down by the hand of god the bastard when he touched her. Seemed the sort of thing an asshole like him should be smote for. "Sweet that you think so, Maggie, but I'm not doing anything special." Probably anyone woulda been better at it than him to boot. Someone else wouldn't say or do the wrong thing so fucking often. Someone else wouldn't feel so lost as to how to help. "I'm really just making everything up as I go. Bullshitting my way through it, you might say." And trying not to break her more.
Maggie cherished every touch from him; even more so when it was freely given, when she hadn’t had to ask him to hold her, to comfort her in some way. He hadn’t even tensed, which was a miracle in itself. “Everybody does,” she told him. “Leastways that’s how it seems. No one really knows what they’re doing, everyone just pretends like they’ve got a plan, like they know exactly where they oughta be, what they oughta do.” She shrugged gently, not wanting to dislodge his hand. “Trick is learning how to fake it.” She was learning, slowly. Getting better. Reaching up, she squeezed his hand gently, before carefully undoing her seatbelt and getting out of the car. “C’mon,” she said, leaning back down and tilting her head sharply, looking across the car at him. “You promised donuts.”
He was getting a little bit better at the comfort thing, it was true. Still a far cry from being anywhere near goddamn good at it, but at least he wasn't as failing and awkward as when he had first started looking after her. That was something. Old fire elementals apparently could learn a few new fucking tricks even if dogs couldn't. Good on him.
"Learn to fake it or learn not to give a good goddamn about it," he said, rubbing his free hand over his chin. It was true, though. Most of the time, Finn walked a fine line between the two. The rest of the time, he just drank.
He smiled at him slightly when she peered in at him and then nodded. "I did, didn't I? Some sort of sparkly pink donut even. Well. Let's see what they've got," he said, climbing out of the car and then popping his knuckles and tugging slightly at the collar of the cassock. "I think this costume wants to strangle me. Must know how long it's been since my last confession." Joining Maggie on her side, he let his hand ghost over the small of her back slightly as they walked.
Maggie tugged her coat tightly around herself as they walked, smiling gently as his hand smoothed over the small of her back, his arm around her, not touching, just...there. “You could take the collar off,” she pointed out, turning towards him and stopping in the middle of the parking lot. Reaching up she unfastened the collar, loosening the top couple of buttons of the cassock as she did so. She had a look of intense concentration on her face, teeth catching lightly at her lower lip as she frowned, focusing on the task. Slipping the collar free she curled it neatly and tucked it into her pocket. “Better?” She asked, looking up at his face, rather than at his bare throat, which looked...surprisingly naked, now. She wasn’t used to seeing him all buttoned up, so the difference was more startling.
When she suggested that he take the collar off, Finn was about to come back with a smart comment about how then he was just gonna look like some twat running around in the ugliest goddamn black dress known to man. But then Maggie had to go and take it off, getting close to him. Close enough that he could tell how damn good she smelled. Her fingers brushing his neck sent even more heat coursing through his veins than normal. Finn was doing his damndest not to react in any way possible cause everything that leaped immediately to his mind was not fucking appropriate at all. The way her teeth caught her lower lip almost fucking undid him, though, so he tried to find something, anything else to focus on.
It lasted forever. It lasted no time at all.
When she pulled away, he took a deep breath and then ran a hand through his hair, the other at his neck again. Okay. So now wearing the ugliest goddamn dress known to man was actually a good thing. "Um. Yeah. Much. Thank you, Maggie May. I, uh, need a smoke. Meet you inside?" He needed a smoke, needed a drink, needed a fucking intervention and time to cool off that was damn sure. Christ. He was going to hell for sure. No ifs, ands or buts about it.
Maggie picked up on his unease, but not the source of it. Looking towards the donut shop - blissfully empty, it was that lull when everyone was either home or out and still drinking - she nodded. “S-sure,” she murmured, clutching at the front of her coat as she ducked into the building, the warm rush of air blowing her hair back from her face as she entered. She headed for the glass cases of donuts, nose practically against the glass as she tried to choose. She ordered a hot chocolate while she was deciding, glancing outside before making the choice not to order for Finn - better not to get anything than get the wrong drink.
It hadn't been his intention to upset her, but Finn just needed a minute. A minute away from those blue eyes and flawless skin and fucking perfect lips to get a goddamn grip on his head. People could and would talk all they goddamn well wanted to, but that didn't make it true unless he let it become true. And he was a bastard but not that much of one. Considering the shit that Reems had been spouting, he probably should've been a little bit more careful, but he didn't care. He lit the cigarette with his powers and then paced for a few minutes, just inhaling the smoke and calming down and pointedly not thinking about how close Maggie had been, the way his skin felt when her fingers brushed over it.
Once he had managed to get himself closer to settled, he took one last drag, ground the butt out under his shoe and then walked into the shop, crossing to where Maggie was. "Coffee. Black," he told the cashier as he passed. "Anything sparkly and pink to catch your fancy? That one has sprinkles, but I think their bats." He squinted, trying to make it out. Damn old eyes. "Little purple bats?"
“Purple bats and orange pumpkins,” Maggie confirmed, smiling at him as she straightened up from examining the donuts. She pointed to one on the top rack, grinning. “I found a pink one, though. No sparkles, but I’m pretty sure it being pink still counts.” And she wasn’t going to be devastated if they didn’t find something pink and sparkly. A donut was a donut, no matter what flavor it came in. She whirled around as the cashier called her name, holding out a hot chocolate with whipped cream piled on top, nearly twice the height of the cup on its own. Smiling, she took it, digging in her pocket for money. She liked being able to pay for things herself; it was still a novelty.
Purple bat and orange pumpkins sounded like a really season specific sort of decoration to him. Pretty goddamn dumb. Although it also sounded like the sort of thing his kids would have liked. Finn was glad when Maggie distracted him away from those thoughts by directing his attention to the pink donut, which looked sorta fucking sad amidst all the normal glazed and chocolate covered things surrounding it.
He would have stopped her and paid for the drink himself, but the last thing he wanted to do was take the wind outta her sails. Maggie enjoyed paying. It was such a little thing, and it was something that even he couldn't cock up. Much. A cashier brought him his coffee, and Finn started pointing at donuts. The pink, the one with the ludicrous fucking sprinkles and then a wide assortment of cream filled, jelly filled, bear claws and even an apple fritter. Halloween was all about costumes and unnecessary sweets. Once he had paid, he grabbed the box and smiled at Maggie.
"Ready or do you want to enjoy one here first?" he asked, taking a sip of the coffee and then rolling his eyes. Weak. Goddamn black water with no body to it. "I think I've got a copy of that ridiculous Halloween movie with the beagle and the imaginary pumpkin god."
Maggie was looking at her own nose, able to see a white smudge which was likely whipped cream. She wiped it off with a finger, licking it clean before taking another, far more careful, sip of her hot chocolate. “Are those all for us?” She asked, wide-eyed as she looked at the box, then up at Finn. She really wasn’t going to be able to eat that much. If she did, she’d be up all night on a sugar high, which wasn’t a good thing either. “And um, we can go,” she said, moving closer to Finn as the shop started to fill up, a carful of loud teenagers spilling into the front of the store, loud and merry. “You mean Snoopy?” She almost bounced, grinning up at him. “Or we could watch Hocus Pocus, you promised you’d watch it with me soon.”
He shrugged, a slightly guilty look on his face. "Hey. This way we have a snack and breakfast. Two birds, one stone sorta thing." And, bingo!, there was the wrong fucking thing to say again. It was nice to see it again. Hadn't been nearly long enough really. Finn didn't have a free hand to run through his hair so he just winced and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm just king of the bad statement tonight, huh?"
The teenagers made him roll his eyes in frustration as he nodded that yes, it was a perfect time to go. Moving toward the door, he smiled at Maggie. "Well. I guess so. If you want. Although between that and this," he lifted the box slightly, "it's gonna be sugar coma time."
Maggie just laughed. “It’s a saying, Finn. I know that. It wasn’t meant badly.” For all that Finn pretended not to care what anyone thought of him, he got very upset at the thought of anyone thinking he’d bad-mouthed them, insulted them, when he hadn’t meant to. She squeezed his arm reassuringly, taking the box of donuts as they reached the car; he’d need to drive, he couldn’t do that while still holding it. Sliding into the passenger seat, she wrapped both hands around her hot chocolate, taking another careful sip. “It’s a good thing neither of us has to work tomorrow,” she pointed out, licking her lips clean. “If we’re gonna be eating all this sugar, we’re not gonna sleep for hours.” Not that either of them slept much in any case...
It was really only Maggie that Finn gave much of a shit about when it came to his normally off color and all around pretty unwelcome comments. Maggie and his kids, but he didn't have to worry about the latter as much considering how tight his ex wives wanted to keep him on that leash. It was important to him not to hurt Maggie, though. Girl had been through way too goddamn much already for him to just go stomping around with his normal fuck all attitude.
Taking another sip of what had to be the world's worst coffee, which meant that it had no goddamn place being in a donut shop, Finn settled it into the cup holder and started the car up. "If things keep getting as fucking ugly as they have been, I might see if they want me in for a few hours." People were not taking the Reems thing well, and he couldn't goddamn well blame them. "Later, though. Night. Just a couple of hours," he added because he knew Maggie'd probably glare at him a little if he considered rushing off all day without any sleep. Hell, they'd probably both fall asleep on the couch watching television anyway. "Nothing to get up for anyway. Lay in days can be good." Not that either of them'd really know. Seemed like both of them had haunted, short sleeping schedules.
Maggie would likely glare at him anyway, if he thought about going into work when he didn’t have to. He worked hard enough as it was, without taking on extra hours. It made Maggie worry, but she couldn’t seem to convince him that even he needed to take a break from time to time. She settled for just taking another sip of her hot chocolate, the foamy cream dying down enough now that she could put the lid in, hold in some of the heat. The rest of the journey home passed in a comfortable silence, and Maggie cuddled the box of donuts to her chest as they walked into the house, setting it down on the coffee table.
“I’m going to get changed out of this,” she gestured to the Princess dress, still holding the long blonde wig in one hand. “You can choose which film we watch first.” Yeah, she was sneaky. She hated being the one to make decisions, if at all possible she’d leave it up to Finn. Tossing the dress in the laundry hamper, she changed into cosy pyjamas, and the fluffy dressing gown Finn’s mom had lent her. More comfortably dressed, she curled up on the couch, picking up her hot chocolate again, drinking the rest of it in a few gulps.
Finn dumped the rest of the coffee down the sink almost the moment they were in the house. "Meet you back in the living room then. Whoever gets out first picks the movie." There was no way in hell he was leaving the fucking priest getup on any longer even if it did provide some decent airflow for the boys. Walking back to his room, he shut the door and pulled it off, wadding it into a ball that he tossed into a corner. There was time tomorrow to get it cleaned and returned.
Settling on sweatpants and a t-shirt, Finn made it out only a few minutes before Maggie and got Hocus Pocus cued up since she had mentioned that earlier. Then he moved to make some proper fucking coffee. "Want any coffee?" he asked as Maggie curled up on the couch. "Just press play whenever. I don't think I'll miss too much." Besides he could see and hear the television from the kitchen anyway.
Maggie shook her head, setting down the empty cup and flicking open the box of donuts, grabbing the remote with her free hand. She did as he suggested, starting the dvd and settling back with a pink donut in hand. She picked off some of the sprinkles, eating them distractedly as the credits rolled, the camera skimming over trees, towards Thackary Binx’s bed in the cottage. She loved this film; it made her laugh, every time she saw it. As a result, she’d watched it a fair few times recently. She needed the mood boost.
Finn was helping with that, too. Watching and listening to him busy around the house was comforting, the sounds of domesticity. There were times she still flinched, still panicked and shifted and flew out of reach, but those were becoming fewer and further between. Setting her chin on her hand, she watched as she brewed a pot of coffee, poured it into an Metro Fire Department mug.
Finn got the cups of coffee prepared and then carried them to the coffee table. Well. What passed as the fucking coffee table. It had seen better years that was for goddamn sure. Being the furniture of a fire elemental was never easy and there were numerous scorch marks marring the surface.
"Alright. So. Remind me. The witches in this one are bad, right?" he asked as he leaned over to grab a jelly filled. Lemon. Sweet and sour. That was the sort of shit that Finn could get behind. True as life itself. Take the good parts with the bad. Spending time with Maggie, though, well, that was all good no matter how bad it made him feel sometimes. What with all the inappropriate thoughts.
“Yes,” Maggie said, smiling. She waited until he was settled and comfortable then laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling up to him as much as she dared to. “But they’re funny. And Bette Midler sings really well, so...” she shrugged one shoulder, breaking a chunk off her donut and popping it into her mouth. She kept her eyes on the screen, letting out a soft, happy sigh. This was a vast improvement on the bar; no drinks, no obnoxious men hitting on her, no crowds...just her, and Finn, and a pile of donuts.