InsaneJournal

Nicholas Harrow stared at his luggage with an expression of displeasure. For as neat a picture as he tended to appear, the secret truth was that he was something of a shopaholic pack-rat. It was a deadly combination, for not only was he skilled in acquiring a lot of junk, he was unable to get rid of it. Not only that, but he had souvenirs for people that he'd had yet to distribute.

It was a predicament, and one that Nick wasn't eager to solve. With a snerl of displeasure, he shoved the suitcase to the side, running his hand through his hair. What he should be doing besides not unpacking was be a social vampire, but he wasn't feeling social. The atmosphere at Caer Dubh hadn't been right ever since his fight with Morgan. It hadn't been okay, really. The trip to France had been an unexpected vacation, what with the skeletons trying to kill him and all. Nick much preferred deadly skeletons to sulking MacDougals any day.

Morgan hadn't been sulking, but the fact that she'd been busy with work and than worrying about the situation with Benjy. Alice was more than capable of handling it, but, from a purely female and concerned Order-member stand-point, Morgan was a worrier, even if she didn't show it.

The gun range had proven empty. The same with the gardens, the library, the smoking room, most of the bathrooms. No sign of Nick anywhere, and there was one last place she could think to check: his room. He probably wasn't there, and so she didn't bother knocking before flinging the door open and stopping just as suddenly as she'd started this venture.

"You're here. I --" she turned and glanced down the corridor, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "I thought you might have left... or something."

Nick gave a slow blink, hand still at his hair. He'd heard Morgan come, of course, but he hadn't expected her to come inside his room like that without knocking. "It's a good thing I'm clothed," he said dryly, determined to be as normal as possible in a difficult situation. He wasn't at all happy about Morgan not wanting to take things further than friendship, no. But he had all the time in the world to change her mind, and acting like a bitchy three year-old wouldn't get him anywhere with someone like Morgan. "What's going on?"

And because he was Nick and he was without fail polite, he gestured toward the seating area. "Won't you have a seat?" Even though she looked like she'd prefer pacing.

Morgan returned with a funny look, tilting her head. He was always polite, and she knew she was over-analysing it -- which was not one of her habits and it vexed her. Jesus, even Nick's lingo invaded her brain.

Leaving the door open, she leaned against the opposite wall. "Probably would have been more interesting if you hadn't been clothed," she quipped, attempting levity. And just because she was a relation to Angus MacDougal, she dove right in. "Just talked to Angus. I've got a galleon that says you can guess what we talked about."

"I'm guessing it wasn't to discuss Mandarin philosophy." Nick took a seat on the edge of his bed, his hands splayed open on his knees as he regarded her. She was flushed. He could hear her heart from here. What had she been doing, running about the castle? "Did he recant his previous stance?"

Nick tried not to hope that that was the case. It didn't matter to him what Angus thought. It mattered what Morgan thought.

"Yeah, he did. Told me I should beg you for another chance, if I wanted you." Probably too vague, she realised. She pushed off the wall, hips first, her shoulders the last thing to leave the cool stone.

Hmm. This was the difficult part. Did he even want her back? "Not in the habit of begging, Nick. Hell, I'm not even in the habit of putting myself on the fucking chopping block for a bloke. Can I just skip the begging part and ask if there's still a chance?"

He regarded her with that completely obnoxious expression that was nigh-impossible to read. Nick may have been a lousy cards player, but his poker-face was down pat. Did she still have a chance? Well. Of course she still did, but he wasn't certain that making her grovel a little wasn't in the cards. She'd smacked him across the face.

...and sure, he could be stabbed through the heart with a metal knife and not die, but priorities.

That poker-face warmed up by several degrees, and before too long, he was grinning at her with mischief in his eyes. Nick wasn't complicated, and Morgan would know it. If he was smiling, things were fine. "I don't know. Are you going to slap me again if I say no?"

Jesus Christ, that long drawn out moment on nothing with that blank expression sent a tonne of cold castle stone tumbling into her stomach, and for a moment, she looked absolutely crest-fallen. And then the smile sent her in several different directions all at once. Was he going to eat her? Was he going to enjoy telling her no? Was he smiling because he was fucking HAPPY at this turn of events?

"Fucking hell, I only slapped you because you'd said the exact thing that Angus said to me!" Morgan answered, a little flustered, because, while she knew that Nick didn't smile like that for no reason, deep down, she wasn't sure that she deserved another chance. "If you said no, not gonna lie, I'd be gutted, but I'm not gonna slap you again."

"I don't think my face could've taken another round." Nick stood then, the mattress creaking as he did so, and walked over to her. When he had been alive, he'd been quite tall for a man - 5'10. In this modern age, he was barely average. And now he looked down at Morgan, that smile fading into a slightly smaller, but no less pleased variety. His hand drew up to touch the side of her face, and he searched her eyes for something. Apology, perhaps. Want.

He must've found it. "Of course you've still got a chance with me, Morgan."

"Oh good, because I never said I wouldn't kick you in the shin or punch you in the crotch," Morgan said, clearly relieved and trying not to be uncomfortable by the impressively soft fingers at her face.

She still looked a little worried, though, aside from relieved and more than eager to kiss him again. Morgan began leaning forward, as if to cement the "deal" with a kiss, but paused just before getting there. "Promise me something, yeah?"

He'd already begun to pucker up, and the abrupt stop caused him to raise his eyebrows, mouth still open. "....what am I promising?"

"Whatever happens, we're not going to fuck shite up. If it doesn't fucking work, then it doesn't fucking work." Nick had to know what she meant, right? He'd seen it happen in her love life over and over again. Inevitably, it would fail, and then their whole system -- everything that worked around here -- would come tumbling down.

Her fingers had found their way into the hair at the back of his neck, and she was beginning to tilt her head. Bumping noses wasn't exactly on her agenda for the snog. Her lips brushed ever so lightly against his. "All right?"

Nick got it, or at least, had a decent inkling. "I promise that if things get shaky, we'll reconsider," he said, leaning forward to plant a light kiss on the cupid's bow of her lips. "I also promise that if you get cold feet again because of Angus swinging a sword about, I'll personally toss you in the lake."

He... likely was speaking metaphorically. But he might not have been. It didn't matter much in the moment, not with the way she felt against him. It had been too long since they'd last talked, much less snogged. Nick reveled in the opportunity, drawing out the long moments before he pressed his lips to hers, close-mouthed, bruising.

Morgan couldn't exactly reply to his lake-tossing comment immediately, and honestly, she didn't care to. Her hands were rough in his hair, and she kissed him just as hard. Somehow, a little over a week felt more like decades, ages even. She was surprised to find herself so needy, and soon enough her arms wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

Kissing a vampire was like kissing... well, something that didn't need to breathe. Morgan, unfortunately, had to and broken away slightly to catch her breath. "You're coming in the lake with me then."

He gave her a chance to breathe, his lips curiously redder than usual thanks to the kissing. "Yes, please," he murmured, shooting her a dark grin that wasn't in the least gentlemanly. Nick couldn't help it; he wanted to kiss her again, and as soon as it looked like she'd caught her breath, he moved in for another snog, eyes closing as he pulled one between them slow and sweet as saltwater taffy.

And abruptly pulled away, beaming. "Oh! I've a present for you!"

Morgan was, curiously, leaning in for another snog when he made his sudden announcement. No presents! Not now. She would have stomped her feet, had she been a little more with it. Instead, her brain was a haze of MORE SNOGGING PLEASE. "Huh? It can't wait?"

Nick considered. Presents versus snogging. Predictably, presents didn't even put up much of a fight. "Well. It can probably wait." And promptly leaned in for another snog, his hands snaking their way down her throat and down her back, pulling her closer with a jerk. For as polite as he was in other things, Nick didn't waste time kissing.