francis lyon ♚ francis de valois (frahncis) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-11-05 21:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * jamie, c: kiera malone, r * jaclyn, r: francis lyon |
log;; 2017 11 04; late morning
WHO: Francis Lyon, Kiera Malone
WHEN: November 4, 2017
WHERE: Francis' house
SUMMARY: Francis is working on Lucy's Christmas present (a carved lion statuette) when Kiera comes over for a stay-in date because she's actually not a vampire, but then the universe decides they can't have nice things and Francis has his first seizure in front of her. However, he recovers the happy mood with three very big little words. 😮
WARNINGS: Flirty innuendo, description of seizure
PROMPT: 🦁
Though he knew she was coming over, Francis’s many talents included the ability to completely lose track of time when inspired by a project. Instrumental music played, some classical, some modern, from speakers on a shelf in his backyard shed-turned-workshop, lulling him into a sort of work trance, his nimble fingers working the tools as he steadily coaxed a shape from the hunk of wood on his work table. It would be some time before it was complete, but the complex shape already betrayed the final design: a bust of a lioness, noble and ever vigilant. It was large enough to show the detail in the eyes he’d carved, but small enough to go on a shelf in Lucy’s home. Because he was so engrossed in his work, he was rather startled by the sound of the door opening and jumped a little. Luckily, he didn’t mar the wood, though it likely would’ve been incorporated into the statuette and given it character if he had. He turned, looking almost surprised to see Kiera, looked at his phone to see the time, then flushed lightly and gave her an apologetic smile. Forgetting that he was covered in sawdust and wood shavings, he crossed to the door and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her nose. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got rather caught up…” "It's all right," Kiera smiled, completing the embrace with her arms circling around Francis. When she hadn't received an answer at the front door, she had assumed that he had to have been in his workshop. A part of her that usually grew increasingly worried when familiarity started to breed in her relationships had perked up at the simple thought that she'd known to circle around the house and into the backyard to find Francis, but she had thus far squashed the concern. Even the act of willfully ignoring her concerns and worries about true commitment would have been reason for her to worry, but she wasn't. Instead, she simply tipped her head back and beamed up at Francis with that warm smile. A second later, though, she noticed just how covered with sawdust he was and she laughed. Rather than disentangling herself to brush the shavings from her own clothes, she pulled him a bit tighter in and pushed herself up on her toes so she could return his kiss to her nose with a brush of her lips to his cheek. "Someone has been busy at work, hm?" “Yeah,” he answered with a lopsided sort of grin. He turned with her still in his arms, wood shavings clinging to her cardigan now, so she could see. He had been working on it since only shortly after moving here and discovering Lucy was here, too, but he hadn't had it out yet any of the times Kiera had been in the little shop. “It's for Lucy, for Christmas. Lions are a thing in our family, for obvious reasons. They're on our crest.” "Wow," Kiera breathed, stepping out of Francis's arms just enough so she could lean in and get a good look at what he was working on. "Francis, that's gorgeous." Though she desperately wanted to tease him about the fact his family actually had a crest and that she was sure it would have had aardvarks on it, rather than the lions that matched their surname, that impulse was overshadowed by the gushing she always seemed to do whenever she saw something his hands had crafted. Reaching out, she gingerly brushed her fingers over the wood, brushing away some stray sawdust that was lingering there. "If I had even an ounce of your talent, I'd -- well, I don't know what I'd do, but it probably wouldn't be working on small town local radio." Francis gave a soft laugh, stifling the urge to warn her about splinters since she removed her hand a moment later and she'd been careful. “If you had my talent, sweetheart, then who would be the eye candy of the relationship? We need your deceptively cool aura for balance.” He caught her curious hand in one of his calloused ones and brought it up to kiss and then nip each fingertip. “We also might not have both found ourselves in the same tiny, magical little town and that would be an absolute tragedy because my life was far less beautiful before you were in it.” Kiera's lips twisted into an amused smirk, an attempt to not appear just as won over as she was by his words. They were a little bit on the corny side, but somehow he was able to pull off corny in a way she hadn't ever been able to appreciate before. Maybe it was the accent, maybe it was because he was as cute as he was, or maybe it was simply because they were so genuine; Kiera didn't know. But what she did know was that she liked being on the receiving end of his attentions. "Mmm, sure." Abandoning the lion, she stepped in close to him, snaking an arm around his back. "I'm sure you'd have a whole line of local yokels up to your front door if the mysterious woman from the west coast wasn't scaring them away." “Oh, you do?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and pretending to crane around her as though he'd see some warily approaching through the window. “Would they be as fit as you are? What are my options, hm?” "Oh, shut up," Kiera laughed, pulling him down toward her to kiss him squarely and distract him from any of the fictional local women that might have been giving him second looks. (Though, she knew that there probably were some real ones that were doing exactly that, but she wasn't one to be threatened.) He grinned against her lips, his arms going around her immediately. He was, indeed, distracted by her maneuver, his hands moving without shame to cup her bottom, something he was rather fond of doing now. When it broke, he nipped her lip playfully before kissing her nose again. “I need a shower,” he told her in a low voice, keeping her close still. “Perhaps you could join me…” "Well, you did get me all covered in sawdust," Kiera pointed out with a lethal combination of a smirk and raised eyebrow. Her nose scrunched up playfully when he kissed it, then she tipped her head up to steal another kiss, this one ebbing more on the side of gentle than before. "I think the only solution here is a shower." “That seems quite clear,” he agreed, putting in his serious face and nodding, as though it was a regrettable thing they had to do. Keeping his arm around her, Francis abandoned his work for the time being to focus instead on his beautiful girlfriend and his plans for their time together, time he hoped he could trick her into extending over the entire weekend. Of course, he couldn't quite help his teasing nature as he opened the shop door and suddenly grabbed her, pulling her back from the light. “Careful!” At her confused, alarmed expression, he explained with a grin, “Vampires burn up in the sunlight, don't they, sweetheart?” It still took a couple of moments before the confused look on Kiera's face cleared and she rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you'd know if I was a vampire," she teased, baring her teeth to him in an exaggerated grin. "It's the full moons that you need to be worried about." She started toward the sunlight again, then stopped short to turn and add, "Please note that I'm being the bigger person here by avoiding the obvious sucking joke." Francis laughed, following her and catching her around the middle as they stepped onto the grass. He spun her a little before answering, “You can make the joke, love, but you have to follow through.” "Well," Kiera grinned, taking his hand and tugging him closer to her side. "It's a good thing I didn't make the joke, then." “I think I hear the yokels calling…” he teased back, immediately moving back away from her as though he would wander off in search of them. Kiera kept hold of his hand, laughing as she stepped in toward him herself, rather than pull him to her. "Don't make me start kissing you again," she raised an eyebrow, then glanced behind her in the general direction of the street. "All those yokels will start getting jealous and I don't know if I can fight off a riot of jealous suitors." “It might be worth that risk. I'll protect you.” He stole another kiss there in the light of his airy back garden, pulling her back against him and wondering if they would ever make it upstairs to his shower. Not that he'd mind too terribly if they didn't… The kiss broke and-- A wave of heat took him over and a flush took over his skin, his vision swimming. He knew exactly what was happening as his stomach tried to turn over, but it always came on too fast to do anything about it or say anything. And, of course, his right leg decided to join in this time, so he couldn't get to a chair before the jerking and spasming sent him to the ground in front of her. He landed with a soft grunt, but was unable to do more than squeeze out a slurred, “Don’ -- pan’c.” The change in his expression first clued Kiera in that something was wrong, but his fall to the ground confirmed it. "Francis," she gasped, a wave of panic going through her despite his words. She knew of his illness, of course, and the seizures that could plague him because of it; it had been almost easy to file it away, though. Outside of the medications that she'd seen in his bathroom and even witnessed him take a couple of times when she'd happened to spend the night and been in the right place to do so, it didn't seem like he had epilepsy at all. Still, he had told her about it during that long conversation that was the precursor to their defining the relationship and she had spent the better part of the following afternoon on the internet, looking at everything from WebMD to Yahoo Answers to make sure she was properly prepared should this exact situation ever happen. Kiera took in a breath, pushing away the panic as she dropped to her knees. She wasn't right next to him, giving him space as she brought her hands together to grip tightly in her lap. As she watched him, she started counting mentally, though her lips moved with each number. Some websites had suggested timing the seizures, but she found that the simple act of counting helped calm her and center her focus. It didn't ebb all of the immediate worry and terror she was feeling, but it helped. Francis managed to feel some relief noticing that she was not, in fact, panicking, but mostly he couldn't focus very much at all. Everything was distorted and he closed his eyes, letting the seizure run its course and doing his best to relax the muscles that weren't currently jerking. He hated the helpless feeling and hated even more that Kiera was here for this. He hadn't had a seizure in a year (and he was now fairly certain that they weren't what caused that strange vision since Kiera had one, too), but he would never forget the feeling. He just should've known better than to let his guard down and get his hopes up that they'd found meds to stop them all together. When the seizure finally ceased after more than a solid, agonizing minute and a half, the first thing to stop was the uncontrollable smacking of his lips, before little by little the rest of his body followed suit. Though his vision wasn't entirely back to normal and he wasn't entirely certain yet that he wasn't going to vomit, he knew the worst was past, stretching out his hand to find hers, turning his head to look at her. “I love you…” Though she could see that the seizure was coming to an end, the tension didn't leave Kiera's shoulders. Her fingers were still tightly linked together and she only separated them when she realized that his own hand was looking for hers. She reached down, taking Francis's hand between both of hers -- and then his head turned, he looked at her, and he spoke. Kiera experienced something that she could only call emotional whiplash. She went from worry and concern to shock and panic of a whole different type. No one, outside of her brother, their parents, and Danielle, had said those words to her before. She had never said them to anyone but those four people herself. Though she had been in many relationships, none of them had reached that point, nor was she willing to use love as a manipulation like that. She wouldn't say it to someone unless she knew it wasn't a lie. Francis, though... it slowly dawned on her that it wouldn't be a lie with him. The terror she had just felt hadn't been born simply of seeing someone experience a seizure. Yes, it was part of it, but more was the utter helplessness she felt at watching him go through this and knowing she could do nothing to ease what was happening to someone she truly cared for. But still, a dash of disbelief went through her. Could someone as wonderful as him really love someone like her? Was this just something that happened when these sorts of things occurred? "Francis?" Her voice was quiet, laced with a whole score of emotions that started with shock and ended with concern. He smiled softly, gently at her, squeezing her hand and bending one leg so his knee was pointed toward the sky, foot flat on the ground, easing the awkward, uncomfortable flatness of his back on the grass. He could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes and wished he could calm them for her, make what he'd just admitted easier. He wished he knew what those thoughts all even were, but he was surprised with himself to realize that he wasn't panicking in the face of her indecision. It should scare him that she wasn't responding, and then that she wasn't responding with a return of the sentiment, but it didn't. “If I've said too much and made you panic, sweetheart, I can convincingly pretend it was delirium from the seizure.” Despite herself and despite everything that she was feeling at that given moment, Kiera smiled. It was a real, genuine smile that wasn't just blossoming out of relief for that ordeal to have been over, but because he seemed to know what to say to ease her tension -- he always knew what to say to make her feel better. They had only known one another a little over a month, yet sometimes it felt like he understood her better than she understood herself. It wasn't to the extent of that understanding that she and Niall shared, but theirs was something that could only be forged through sharing a womb and spending twenty-six years at one another's side. This was different, after all. Francis seemed to just get her. She shifted, moving off of her knees so she could sit closer to where he was laying. Kiera let go of his hand just long enough so she could slip her scarf over her neck, her hair dropping around her shoulders as she leaned forward. Gently, she put a hand to his head to direct him to tip it up, the scarf sliding under his head to cushion it from the ground. They were on grass, but the concern of making him comfortable was immediate and a little overwhelming. That taken care of, she settled back next to him and found his hand again. Kiera smiled down at him. "It's too late for that." She hesitated a moment before she continued, "Before I say anything, I just want to make sure you're absolutely positive that you know that I'm crazy and can do far better than me." Jerking her head toward the street, she added, "Don't forget those yokels." The scarf was an extra touch that seemed to warm him from within, and not in the uncomfortable way that the seizure had made and was still making him hot. But her words make him laugh, one of his clear, full laughs that were rare compared to the soft ones and the amused chuckles he normally employed. “I'm covered in sweat and sawdust, Kiera. I've just fallen to the ground in the back garden after snogging you and had a seizure long enough that I'm still waiting on the energy to get up. How on Earth am I the one of us that can do better?” "I could write an essay on how," Kiera answered, shrugging one of her shoulders. She turned his hand in hers, her thumb pressing small circles into his palm. "But I'll spare you that right now." Reaching forward with her free hand, she brushed his curls back from his brow. That done, her gaze dropped down to meet his own. She wasn't purposely stalling and hoped that the little actions of care didn't come across that way. But, after a silent moment, she returned, "I love you." Hearing it from her lips was more beautiful than he could have anticipated. His stomach fluttered, but it was nothing like the nausea of before (which was finally beginning to subside). His smile grew. She loved him. Her -- fiery, charismatic, fierce Kiera. She was actually his and she actually loved him. Certain now that the chance of an aftershock, as he'd called it as a child when he'd get another seizure following the initial one, was too low to worry, the real reason he was still on the ground, he sat up slowly. “I've never actually confessed love before,” he told her quietly, smiling adoringly at her, “but I believe I'm expected to sweep you off your feet and carry you to a bed to have my way with you. I hope you'll forgive me, my love, for abstaining for now, considering the circumstances.” He reached up to touch her cheek, affectionately brushing it with his thumb before leaning in to capture her lips in a slow, tender kiss. Leaning in to meet him halfway into the kiss, Kiera returned it at the same pace. Slow and gentle, but with that undercurrent of electricity that seemed to have existed between the two of them from the moment she first responded to him on the town's network. Part of her wondered if she should be asking him if he was all right or needed something, rather than encourage the kiss -- but apparently her selflessness only extended but so far. The kiss did break eventually, of course. Kiera raised a hand to cup Francis's cheek, a warm smile splitting her face. "No one's ever told me they loved me," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I mean, except for my family," she corrected, counting Danielle among that header. "It's a little surreal." That thought in mind, she leaned in for another kiss; he'd had one and seemed to be fine, so she assumed another wasn't going to hurt. He wouldn't turn down another kiss, letting this one go deeper than the first. He felt light, bubbly even, though even his masculinity would be challenged to hear the word used to describe how. She loved him. That feeling he'd been fighting since nearly the beginning, the connection he'd seemed to know instantly… it was real and she felt it, too. “Then you've only dated fools,” he told her when the kiss broke, keeping her close. “It's lucky for both of us that I'm clever then. Because I do love you, very much, Kiera Malone.” Kiera let herself lean forward, her forehead resting on his shoulder. She kept her weight mostly off of him, just a soft press of contact. This wasn't how coming to podunk Virginia was supposed to go. When she had agreed to move with Niall, she'd assumed that she would end up spending most of her time in DC. It had been total luck that they were hiring in the local radio station, her credentials from LA securing the job almost immediately, but the town was tiny and she had assumed she'd crave real nightlife. Instead, she'd spent the last several weeks spending many of her nights after work with Francis, watching television or movies or watching him work. It was almost a domestic shift in her life, given that her nights in LA were at clubs, getting drunk, and throwing up in an Uber. She didn't think that the settling down of her lifestyle had everything to do with Francis, but she did think it was inspired by him. Kiera wanted to be the person she felt he deserved -- and she was almost embarrassed of who she was in that context. Though she hadn't done a complete 180, she (and her liver) seemed to think that she was making progress. Straightening back up, Kiera looked to Francis and raised her eyebrows. "Not to keep you from saying good things about me, but do you need anything? Is there something else I should be doing other than sitting in the grass with you?" “Well, I still need that shower,” he answered with a chuckle, affectionately touching her cheek. “That can wait, though. Honestly, other than my head being a little sore--” he touched where it had hit the grass, though the only damage would be the slightest bump for a few days “--I'm completely fine. Just tired, and that will wear off. What would you say to laying in bed and watching very stupid television?” "Okay," Kiera agreed. She turned her face, nuzzling into his hand that was at her cheek as she released a slow breath before teasingly smiling. "I suppose I can always give you a sponge bath later, if you need it." He grinned. “That might be something I need,” he agreed. He leaned in and stole another kiss before climbing to his feet without assistance, just to show he could. There was some lingering dizziness, but he didn't let it show and he knew it would pass. When she was also standing, he took her hand before they could head inside. His expression was more serious now. “Kiera, are you alright? Seeing it… for the first time…” His eyes drifted away, Francis trying but failing to hide the shame he still felt regarding his condition. “I know that could not have been easy for you, my love.” Kiera's gaze lifted to Francis's face and she recognized the shame that he was attempting to hide. Her own expression grew serious and she jerked her head once toward the house before leading him by their linked hands toward the door. It was cool outside, but the sun was shining and she wanted to get him inside, out of the vision of any nosy neighbors and so he could sit and recover. Even if he was standing and had gotten to his feet on his own, that didn't completely erase her worry. Once inside, with the door firmly shut behind them, Kiera immediately stepped in and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Too often she touched him to be teasing or simply idly, but this wasn't that. He'd asked her if she was all right and, in the grand scheme of things, she was. Still, he had been right: it hadn't been easy. She didn't know if it ever would, should she witness it again, which she knew there was a good chance she might if she got to stay in his life as long as she wanted to. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm okay, really. I just…" She didn't know how to finish that sentence, so she let the words fade into silence, rather than try to string something together. Francis kept her close, arms tight around her. The hug was different, not entirely foreign for them but still unusual. It was appreciated. “I know. I… I know.” He stroked back some of her long, dark hair from her face. “Nearly everyone leaves after. Some before, in fact. It's why I didn't wear my bracelet on that first date.” Kiera immediately straightened up at that, her gaze meeting his. In a sort of vehemence that surprised even her a bit, she said, "I'm not going anywhere." The feeling inside of her echoed that of when she'd told him that she loved him while they were still outside. All warmth and surety in a way she'd never experienced before. To soften the strength of that sentence and her tone used, she gave him a small smile. "I wouldn't say I'm particularly clever, but clearly you've only dated fools before, too." “You're cleverer than you give yourself credit for, Kiera,” Francis told her, finally separating from the embrace enough to lead the way into the living room. He was more worn out than he wanted to let on and the idea of climbing the stairs just then seemed a little too daunting. The couch would do just fine. He took his shirt off and tossed it to the floor and then brushed his pants off before sitting, tugging Kiera close so that she was sitting against his side, head by his shoulder, her legs pulled across his lap. “Life with me… might be difficult for you at times,” he warned her. “I'm not proposing today or anything, but this confession lends itself to some heavy thinking. I may have to give up driving altogether if they're going to become frequent again. It might even be required by law. It was absolute bollocks trying to get my license back home and I don't know that I'll be able to actually get one here. That would make me dependent on you or a chauffeur since there's no real public transportation here…” He realized what he'd said and gave her a lopsided grin. He doubted she'd ever had a chauffeur in her life. “My privilege is showing again, isn't it?” "A little bit, yes," Kiera replied with a lopsided smile. She tilted her head to the side, letting her cheek press to the sofa cushion as she reached out and pushed his hair back. "Life is a lot easier in that regard when you live in a city big enough to have Uber or Lyft. I barely even used my car in LA, unless I was just driving to work." Her hand fell back into her lap, but she kept her head where it was, her eyes lifted to look at his face. "We'll make it work, Francis." “I just want you to be sure you really understand what you're getting yourself into,” he told her, trying to still sound casual and having a harder time of it. “I have the money so that it doesn't matter if I work or not and I can afford the medical part of things, but…” Kiera straightened up, reaching for Francis's hand. "Of course I don't know what I'm getting myself into," she said honestly, her thumbs pressing into his palm and up his wrist in a gentle massage. "I'm probably the least capable person right now to be getting into any of this. But, I'm willing to learn, because the other option is not having you in my life and I don't like that option at all." She sighed, her fingers stilling at his wrist. "I know that it's probably easier to be with someone with some sort of experience with this kind of thing. And if you'd like something easier… I wouldn't really blame you for it. But if you're willing to be patient with me and not begrudge me for spending hours on Google, reading through every page on epilepsy there is, then I think we'll be okay." “Oh God, sweetheart,” he murmured, his free hand -- as he liked what she was doing to the other and wouldn't pull it away -- lifting to bring her face to him so he could kiss it all over: lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, eyelids. “The last thing I want is something else, or even something easier. I want you in a way I've never before wanted someone. I'm just so used to being on my own now with this. When Lucy moved away, I didn't have any real support system anymore. My father was a narcissist and my mother is just… insane.” Her fingers began to move again as he spoke; it was both an idle movement as Kiera listened, but also meant to try to relax him. She didn't know if the latter was actually happening, of course; he wasn't telling her to stop, though, so she took that as a good sign. Whenever he spoke of his family, she was always a little surprised. It didn't register on her face this time, though, as Kiera had started to get used to it. She didn't understand how someone like his parents, from what she'd heard from him about them, could have produced someone like him. Though she might say Francis was perfect, it wasn't really the case as no one was perfect. But, he was such a wonderful person and his parents sounded like real pieces of work. Maybe some nannies were involved -- he was rich enough to have possibly had them, she figured -- that helped shape him into him. "Well," Kiera murmured, bringing his hand up to her face so she could press soft kisses to his knuckles. "You have a support system now. I might not be much, but I can sure give it a shot." “Stop discounting yourself, sweetheart,” he told her firmly, brow furrowing. “God, you truly have no idea what a wonder you are, do you?” He'd seen her insecurities early on, but she did her best to hide them with humor and sarcasm. He had the same problem and he knew it about himself, but he wasn't sure she realized quite how much she hurt herself each time she did that. “I am so lucky to have found you. You have such a beautiful heart.” Kiera avoided his eyes at the praise, keeping her head dipped down as she pressed his hand to her lips. It wasn't the first time he'd said such kind things about her and she doubted it would be the last, but this time felt more important, perhaps even more sincere than normal. Not that she doubted Francis's sincerity when he'd complimented her in the past, but it felt heavier, perhaps because it was in the wake of the seizure, those three words, and everything else that she had felt in the short time since she'd found him in his workshop. Discounting herself, though, was just what she did. Despite coming from a family of supportive parents and a twin that she knew she could count on under any circumstance, Kiera had never felt like she was enough. Not for other people, not even for herself at times. It's what had led her to making such poor decisions during her teenage years and why she bounced from relationship to relationship. Though she could fake the confidence needed for people to think that she was confident on a superficial level, it grew harder when she spent more time with them. Clearly Francis had picked up on that. She pressed her fingers to his palm again, spreading his fingers out so she could place it against her cheek as she looked up to him. "I could say the same about you." He turned his hand to cup her cheek, lifting the other up so that he held her face gently, meeting her eyes. He ignored the comment about himself. He knew his flaws a little too well. They'd been repeated by his father often enough. “Kiera Malone, you are objectively, unbiasedly beautiful. Do you believe it?” Every physical flaw that Kiera had ever made a mental list of while looking at herself in the mirror came to mind. Too tall, hardly any curves to speak of, a small chest, too skinny despite all the food she ate. Her jaw had been more defined in her younger years and though headgear and braces had helped with that, it was a fault that she had been unable to let go of. She knew how to dress to her body type, she knew how to wear makeup to accentuate her better characteristics. But that didn't keep her from finding them. And that didn't even touch on her personality flaws that she didn't like. Instead of saying any of that, she leaned in, out of his hands, and kissed him gently because, if she didn't do something to break his gaze, she was worried that she'd do something embarrassing, like cry. Kiera didn't know who had made a mistake somewhere to think that she was worthy of the attention of this man, but she hoped that they wouldn't change her mind. Francis was more than happy to kiss her back, but when it broke he sighed. “Well, you are,” he told her, as though her kiss had been a verbal answer. It might as well have been. “So start believing it. You’re also intelligent, clever, and an engaging companion. I find myself getting carried away thinking about you and what may come. I want you around me at all times. I want to wake up next to you, introduce you to Lucy, show you Oxford, tell you things I keep hidden from everyone -- even Lucy.” He ran his fingers through her hair affectionately -- he loved her hair -- and continued, “I hope if I tell you enough times, you might actually start to believe it, but until then I will pick up that slack: You are amazing and I just might be the luckiest bloke on this bloody planet that you actually fell for my feeble attempt at charm.” Kiera felt like now was probably the time that she should say something. Maybe a thank you for the words, but that didn't feel right. An acknowledgement or agreement to what he was saying seemed even less right, largely because she couldn't do it sincerely. Perhaps he was right and if she heard it enough she might start to believe it. If that did happen, it wouldn't be tonight. Leaning to the side again and letting her cheek rest on the sofa cushion once more, Kiera reached up and let the fingers of one hand run along the rough scruff on his jaw. She didn't know how they had reached this point in the conversation and part of her wanted to talk about anything else, but a larger part of her couldn't keep from just basking in the praise. It might have made her a little vain, but it was hard to turn down from words, especially from someone like him. "You're -- " She cut herself off, as she was about to finish the sentence with too good to me and she assumed that would only inspire him to argue further. Kiera smiled, her fingers still exploring his face gently, tapping his nose just once, playfully. "Nevermind." Francis scrunched his nose in response to the bop. “What?” he pushed, but he knew and had no intentions of keeping her on the spot. “A Prince Charming? Like shagging a god? A savant at picking out the correct wines for an occasion? An angel sent from heaven? The only man who--?” "Crazy," Kiera interrupted, supplying her own answer that was far from what she'd initially been about to say. She smiled playfully, pairing it with a roll of her eyes. “You have besmirched my honor, Mistress Malone,” he scolded, making a playful scowl and pinching her side. His goal was to distract her from the feelings and thoughts of inferiority that had been racing through her head and he had a feeling he was having success. “I challenge you to a duel.” Kiera laughed as he pinched her side, recoiling only slightly thanks to just how ridiculously ticklish she was along her sides. "A duel, you say." She raised an eyebrow, her hand going to protect her side from any further pinches. "Dare I ask just what this duel will entail?" Francis continued to try and sneak in now pinches, but she was successfully guarding her sides. “I… did not think that far ahead yet,” he admitted with a grin, finally changing tactics and getting her stomach instead. “Is there anything I'm better than you at?” Her stomach had been left unguarded -- a poor tactic on her part. She immediately let out a gasp of protest, following it up with giggles. It was ridiculous and she knew it, but she didn't care. Maybe with someone else she might have been embarrassed, but not with Francis. "Nope," she managed to get out as she laughed. It was telling that he'd successfully distracted her as she fell back into her more usual bravado. "Guess you'd better forfeit." “I don't know…” He went for her inner thigh now, having faked her out with a false attempt on her other side. “I seem to be winning at this, my dearest love.” "You're absolutely not winning," Kiera countered, though the way her legs immediately kicked -- careful not to actually hurt him, of course -- said otherwise. "You're cheating." “You can't cheat at a tickle fight,” he retorted, hands hovering as they looked for the best place to strike next. “Especially considering my current handicap as I would normally have pinned you down or tied you up already.” A little smirk appeared at the accidental innuendo. “Which I may have to try when I'm recovered, actually…” Kiera took hold of each of his hands, her fingers slipping through his tightly in an effort to keep them under her control. "You'd have to catch me first," she teased, straightening her legs back out over his lap again. "I'm pretty speedy, you know. I might be too tall and have the curves of a teenage boy, but it makes me streamlined. That's science." Francis rolled his eyes, the two facing each other cross-legged on the sofa now, playfully pushing against each of her hands with his in a slow rhythm. His own fingers were wrapped now, too, so the two were more hand-clasped lovers rather than a woman fending off an attacker -- which he preferred, even if the attack was only tickles. “You may have small breasts,” he said bluntly, “but they’re proportional and beautiful. And that arse of yours is fantastic. Trust me, sweetheart, I have thoroughly assessed it.” She revitalized him to a special degree, his energy returned to about normal and the nausea having subsided. He slipped his fingers free and lightly tackled her, pinning her beneath him on the couch and gently allowing his weight to rest on her, elbows on either side of her ribs. He stole a kiss, but before he could say anything else, a light weight landed on his back and he turned his head to see over his shoulder. The gray and white cat, George, whom he’d adopted a little over two weeks prior. “Why, good afternoon, Lord Kensington,” he greeted. The cat meowed, climbing onto Francis's head so he could look down at Kiera, his claws making Francis wince. “He likes you better than me,” Francis pointed out as George climbed down into the tiny space between the top of Kiera's head and the arm of the couch, settling there and beginning to purr. Kiera laughed as he tackled her back onto the couch; the laugh was born not only out of enjoyment of how playful he was being, but also because it seemed like he'd more or less recovered from the seizure. That was one thing she hadn't known what to expect and she was relieved that he was much the Francis that she knew and -- well, knew and loved. She watched with a grin as George made his way over Francis, navigating his head, and then hopping down to cuddle with her own. Slipping one of her arms up, she found the cat's head and gently scratched his ears. "That's because George and I are kindred spirits," Kiera replied, her grin toning down to an amused smile. "We're soul-bonded or something like that." “You’ve stolen my cat,” he accused with a smirk, watching as George rubbed his head against her hand encouragingly and began to purr louder. “This is another offense on my honor. Or something of the sort, I don’t know. But I suppose I can forgive you if you give me something in return.” "Oh?" Kiera raised an eyebrow, her hand still busy with giving George's fluffy head attention. "What's that?" “A kiss.” "A kiss," Kiera repeated, still petting George despite that it was starting to tense up the muscles in her arm from the strange stretch. Even so, she managed to look considering, as though she might have to haggle such a cost down. That expression didn't last long, though, as she smiled up at Francis instead. "I suppose I can spare a kiss or two. Maybe even three." At that, her hand abandoned George, who didn't seem to mind so much outside of his rubbing his head against her own before settling down once more, and she reached up to push back Francis's golden curls -- in a rather similar way to how she had been petting George, she might have pointed out had the moment been different. He grinned. “So long as I'm not inconveniencing you, my love,” he told her graciously, leaning in to take that kiss, then a second, then a third, then continuing, unwilling to stop. With her hands in his hair, his thoughts drifted back to their original plans, the ones that had been so dramatically interrupted by his seizure. One hand moved down her body, giving one breast a squeeze (though small, they were enough for a handful and that was just fine with him despite his usual affinity for more ample curves) before trailing down to cup her bottom (which he loved with no caveats, despite how thin she was) and pull her upwards toward him. He pressed into her, encouraging as their kisses deepened, growing more hungry. The cat gave up and wandered off again. But after another few moments, Francis pulled up, away from Kiera, and swore, “Fuck. Bloody epilepsy…” He sat up off of her with a scowl unlike any she had ever seen on his face. He looked away, shame turning into anger within him, though it was not directed at her. “It's--They originate in my temporal lobe, so… I cannot…” He gestured sharply at his lap, still refusing to look at her. Kiera was dazed for just a second as he pulled away, vaguely confused as she'd allowed herself to get as lost in his touch as she always did. But she caught the expression on his face as she sat up herself, a hand going to push her hair back from how it'd been mussed against the couch, and had that not cleared her mind, his words would have finished the job. Internally, she cringed. This was something she'd had to deal with before, too much alcohol always being the fault in a guy or two before, and it never went well. She was quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide what the hell to say that wouldn't make him feel worse. When she spoke, her voice wasn't a whole lot louder than the silence. "Hey." Kiera tipped her head forward and to the side, trying to catch his eye. "Look at me." Francis didn't immediately obey, but when he did, his blue eyes were dark with his shame. “What?” he snapped, fists tightly closed in his lap. “What can you say, Kiera? That I'm no less a man? I've heard it. This won't--It's not just right after. It happens to me… more often than I'd like to admit, alright?” A fire sparked in Kiera, her temper that seemed to rear its head in defense more often than she liked. His tone and words were an immediate trigger, but for once in her life she recognized it and paused. Her instant reaction would have been to lash out and tell him not to talk to her like that, but her therapist in LA was always going on about how she should try not to do that. (Note to Kiera that she still needed to find a new one in this town or DC.) And so, she focused on what she knew: this had not been a great day, emotions were heightened, and could she really blame him? No, she really couldn't. Kiera took a breath and when she spoke, her tone was steady, if not quiet. "I can say that I'm sorry it happens, but I would never judge you for it. I can say that it truly does make you no less of a man, because god only knows you've proven yourself to me more than once in that regard." She moved, sliding off the couch so she could kneel on the ground in front of him, her palms flat against her thighs. "I can say that I love you. All of you. Everything about you." For several seconds, Francis didn't speak. He'd turned his head away again. His knuckles were white, fists trembling a little, as he held in the anger that he wanted to expel onto her. It would be easier that way. It would get it out. He'd feel better. But he knew he wouldn't really feel better. He couldn't do that to Kiera. And with that realization, he seemed to relax. The color returned to his hands and they opened back up. He looked down at her and even though the pain of his embarrassment was still there in his eyes, so was his apology. “I love you too,” he said back, the anger gone from his voice. “I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have taken that out on you. It's just…” He rubbed his eyes wearily. “I avoid relationships because of this. Not that I regret this, us, of course. The only other girl I came close with, though, was Olivia. She and I were on and off for about eight months in uni. I think… a part of me might've loved her. It felt a little like this at the best of times, but it never really got there. Still…” He sighed. “When it first happened… she was supportive, too. Eventually, though, it would annoy her and she got worse and worse at hiding it…” Though Kiera was still leaning back on her heels as she kneeled on the floor, she did raise her hands from her lap to tentatively take his. All she did was press her fingers lightly to his palms, making tiny circles as she listened to him tell her about how his ex-girlfriend had changed. Her lips pressed together at the thought. Not because this Olivia existed in broad terms, of course, but that she might have made him feel bad. "I'm sure that Olivia had plenty of fine qualities," Kiera started, definitely thinking that she probably didn't have the curves of a teenage boy, "but I think we already determined that both of us dated fools before." Her fingers stopped fidgeting with his hands, simply letting her palms press to his. "I can't make promises about the future, because I don't make promises that I'm not completely sure I can fulfill. What I know right now, though, is that I have no intentions of leaving you. Not for this, not because you steal all of the covers at night and leave me to freeze to death, not because you're devastatingly handsome and I could never compare." She managed a smile; it was a small one, but she tried it. "I'm not great with trust, so I probably shouldn't be the one lecturing about it, but... you'll just have to trust me." Trust. It was an easy enough concept on the surface. Kiera had proven herself in every way thus far, including this. But Francis, while giving and accepting and open to all new friendships, had a hard time truly trusting. Even with Kiera, who he'd been most open with of anyone outside of Lucy, he still had trouble accepting the idea that someone could be a safe place for all of his secrets and insecurities and hopes. “Alright,” he agreed, his own ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I shan't doubt your love and devotion.” He flipped one hand over so they each had one on top and prompted, “Ask me a question,” encouraging the beginning of the game they still occasionally played, especially in moments of silence or indecision. This time when Kiera smiled, it was a bit wider, more warm than before. This was comfortable territory, even if it was getting difficult to think of a quality question as they kept playing. "Okay," she started, clearly thinking as she cocked her head to the side, not unlike a dog might when presented with something vexing. A moment later, her eyes lit up and her eyebrows rose. It hadn't been very long since he had first said that he loved her for the first time, but she couldn't help but ask, "What about me made you fall in love?" That was not an easy question, he thought to himself. He let himself think of his answer a moment before trying to put it into words. “Your… grace.” He looked down briefly at the alert bracelet on his wrist. “There're plenty of things I love about you, but I knew, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, that you were the one after I explained the bracelet. The way you reacted was so… unique to me. Your acceptance, your curiosity without having the irritating fascination some do that makes me feel like a creature on exhibit… I don't know, but you're a special girl. And you handled today well, both earlier and… just now.” He squeezed one of her hands in his and asked his question almost immediately, “If you had unlimited funds and never had to work a day in your life, what would you do? Where would you be?” Kiera didn't know why, but his answer surprised her. Maybe it was because she was so used to relying on the physical to gain the affection of the men she let into her life; even with all of the nice things he had said to her earlier still ringing in her ears, it meant a lot for her to hear. "Oh god, I don't know," she breathed, tipping her head back to look at the ceiling for a moment before looking back to Francis. "I'd live on the beach. A proper beach, where I could go out in the morning and surf as the sun rose to the east and then spend the evenings on the porch so I could watch the sun set over the water. I'd find sand everywhere, because my front yard would be all sand. And I'd... do whatever I wanted. One day I'd paint, the next day I'd make sand castles, the next I'd dance." She paused then. "Maybe I'd be a ballerina that lived on the beach. Do you think that could be a thing?" He smiled softly at that vision, reaching to gently caress her cheek. Watch the sun set on the water… He'd seen that before, but on his own coast. The sun rose over the nearest ocean beach to where they were. She meant home, her home, even if she didn't realize what she'd said. “I think that could very well be a thing, sweetheart,” he agreed. “A beach ballerina. And I'm… a riverside artist?” He guided her up and stretched out on the couch so she would lay with him, tucked securely against his body. “I didn't know you paint?” Kiera moved as he guided her, climbing back up onto the couch and molding into him as she always so easily could. Her eyes closed as he spoke and she took comfort in his presence and just hearing his voice. Later on she would probably overanalyze the fact that they had just come their closest to having a real argument and that she hadn't lost her cool and that she was more than comfortable laying with him on the couch again. Right now, though, she just focused on his question. "Not since college," she admitted, shifting a bit as she got comfortable. "I just took some electives. I wasn't very good, but it was a nice change from my other classes." “Skill is irrelevant,” Francis countered. “I'm rubbish at painting and I was absolutely horrendous at smithing when I started. You do it because you love it and if it's meant to be, skill may come.” He affectionately stroked her arm with light fingers. “I think if you enjoy it you ought to try it again.” "Maybe," Kiera conceded after a short moment of silence. She had enjoyed it, though she hadn't realized just how much she had at the time. The paintings from class had been given away as gifts for Christmas that year, thanks to her bank account being less than extensive during those broke college years. Her mother still had them hanging in the house in San Diego, despite that they made her cringe whenever she saw them. As she sunk against him, she breathed out a sigh and let her eyes close, just taking comfort in his presence. "Are you looking for some wall decor for the house? I can probably manage some terribly fake Jackson Pollocks for you." He chuckled softly, his own eyes closed. Filtered sunlight came through his curtains and washed them in a gentle warmth. After the seizure, the heat it had brought had worn off, replaced by a chill, and he had no shirt on. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent deeply before replying in a content, sleepy voice, “I would display each one with pride, my love. I hope you do take it up again. You can do it here if you need the room.” Kiera smiled at his words, even if she still wasn't sure if she'd actually start painting again. Maybe, maybe not. His support made her feel warm, though, even over something as simple as a hobby. It felt nice to have someone encourage her that wasn't related to her in one way or another, to have someone else see that she was capable. "I love you, Francis," she murmured, the words coming out like a content sigh. That made three times she'd said those three words, all in one day. That made three times that he got to hear it from her and it warmed his heart. He couldn't shake his smile if he tried, even though it had a lazy sleepiness to it. “I love you, too, Kiera,” he replied, moving just enough to kiss her neck affectionately through her dark waves. Then he settled again with a yawn and asked, “Sweetheart, are you comfortable? I don't think I can stay awake much longer…” "Mmhm," Kiera murmured, probably the most comfortable she'd been in a while. Despite having just been the observer in his seizure, the afternoon had left her already feeling drained. A nap on the couch sounded amazing. "If I get too warm, just push me onto the ground. I probably won't even wake up." A soft chuckle rumbled forth from his chest and he sized her a little. “I'll keep that in mind, my love,” he agreed, voice growing quieter with each word as he drifted off. |