Characters: Angrboða/Riley (griefbringer) & Pothos/Eric (yearnling) Date/Time: Backdated to the afternoon of September 15. Rating: PG13? There's swearing! Yes! Warnings: Swearing?
"Huh, you're one of the first kids I know who didn't automatically crack some joke about lions when I said where I’m from," she said, giving a slow clap. Riley was sure most people knew she hadn't spent her youth running away from wild animals, but they all assumed they were hysterical when they brought it up. They weren't. "Good call, I couldn't see you dying for love anyway, but I do kinda see the point. Like, I could see dying for family, or kids, but not for some dumb bitch you've known less than a week. That's mental." A smile -- a real, true, friendly smile -- spread across Riley’s face. “No need to apologize, that movie was awesome, and that actor killed it. He and Tybalt were the best part of that whole flick.”
Eric might have thought she was saying all these things to trip him up on purpose, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Riley was a terrible liar, which should have been obvious considering how visceral of a person she was. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, and much as she didn’t like it that meant she didn’t bother trying to bullshit people. Sarcasm was different, but Eric wasn’t giving her many opportunities to indulge her inner snarker anymore. “Hey, I was just throwing it out there,” she clarified.
He was going to believe what he wanted to, just as she had the opinions she would cling to for as long as reality allowed her to, and there was no logical way either of them could make the other see their line of reasoning. When it came down to it, Riley had made the choice after things ended with Jon that she wasn’t going to allow herself to form deep bonds with anyone she didn’t already have them with -- Aimon, Jake, her kidlets, Jazz, Morris, Jon (if he wanted), and maybe even Loki (possibly) -- and that was that. She’d go back to the days of doing whatever and whoever she wanted whenever the mood struck, back when she was happy and nothing had come between her and Reeve. “Who’s saying this has to be more than a one-night thing? I like you, but I doubt it’s enough to wanna see your face around here all that often. It’s just sex.” Nothing more.
-
“Well I can’t imagine you wore a penis sheath while chasing lions, so!” And there it was, the humor. Not that her in a sheath would matter, he’s able to swap things up, get a little jiggy wit’ it. This is definitely not his best retort on South African or lions that he could come up with, but for some reason it stuck. Like a sheath, and it could also be because he picked up and associated the oddest things. “Right, but you gotta see, Romeo had hormones. Who knew how often he could let those out of the codpiece and run around? and it was a drama, so someone, well, everyone had to die.” It’s true, they had codpieces. Eric matched her smile with one of his own, all teeth and cheek. There isn’t enough smiling in the world, especially not recently around Montenegro. “I’m glad I don’t have to apologize for my shitty taste in films for once.”
The last time someone threw out the idea of premarital relations, it happened, and he found himself waking up with a champagne hangover of the century. Who’s to say that this couldn’t easily follow that path? So many complex and crossing feelings happening inside at once, it would be nice if his mind could just pick one and follow it to the end. “I... get that, I do. Unabashed, no strings attached, sheer fun and, maybe you won’t be attached. But what happens if our powers come back and we’re wasted and I accidentally use them on you and suddenly you’re drawing hearts around my name, putting my pictures up on your walls, collecting my hair for a shrine and stalking me? I mean, I can probably deal with being your shining idol, but after awhile I think I might get tired of the gifts you leave at my door,” Eric went on a little, his smile just getting wider and wider until he found himself suppressing laughter by the end. He didn’t expect this of Riley, she was too straightforward and not as princess-y as some lady folk are. “And you might want me around after you see what kickass pancakes I can make.”
-
“Who needs a penis sheath when you can just be naked?” she asked, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. She wanted to say that she’d expected him to come up with something better, but that would give him the impression that she had certain expectations when it came to him which she most assuredly did not. “Juliet had hormones too, but they were all laced up tight in that corset of hers. You think she liked just sitting around like some stupid fucking pawn, with her father marrying her off and shit?” She was ranting, about Romeo and Juliet. What had the world come to? Riley felt a blush come over her cheeks and was thankful for the darkness as she lightly hit him on the leg. “Who told you that was a shitty film? Tell me, so I can find that asshole and kick some sense into them.” She shook her head. “Shit, now I wanna watch it.”
Her pleasant mood over finding common ground in Leonardo DiCaprio movies faded quickly as he shifted the topic back to more emotional shit. Ugh, what was his deal? Here she was, throwing out the idea of them hooking up for shits and giggles, and instead of going for it he was being all smart and cautioning her in his own lighthearted way about the potential that what started out as something fund could turn into a feels explosion. Maybe it was because that’s exactly what happened between her and Jon, or because it’d been such a stupidly long time since she’d felt attractive to anyone (fooling around with Jake didn’t count because technically nothing happened) but Riley decided she was going to push the issue. “I think... you’d be too scared of what I might do to you if you used your powers on me, accidentally or not, and even if you did and I got all weird it’d wear off eventually and we’d be back to me wanting to kick your ass.” The pancake comment did intrigue her though. “I dunno, I can make my own pancakes.”
-
“I think that was the female approach in most nudist loving countries. It’s why their chest hangs so unattractively low.” This could be one of his few shallow moments, but it was one of those true turn offs. It seems this whole conversation with Riley was turning into a giant Truth Festival. In a way, it was liberating. “I know, I get why arranged marriages are bad, no need to twist your panties, that is, unless you want them twisted.” He gave Riley his silliest grin, feeling some nostalgia now for the time when his sisters commandeered the television in favor of romance films. “They, my sisters of course, loved movies, but they preferred the older one to the more recent adaptation. So naturally I had bad choice.”
Rubbing his leg where she hit him, Eric put on a pout and realized maybe he was being over dramatic. She was right, he realized, listening to her explain everything he knew to be true deep inside. The fear, the not wanting to hurt someone with an errant power unchecked in the throes. He opened his mouth to speak, but at the worst opportune time, a van with the words LOCKSMITH clearly printed on it’s side pulled up. “Hey, look, it’s your real prince in coverralls. I’ll make you pancakes, and no matter how great you say yours are, mine win. Hands down. It’ll save you from kicking my ass one day, just you see.”
-
“That only happens to the ones with big tits though, shit like that wouldn’t happen to me,” she opined, gesturing at her modest front area. Her lack of boobage didn’t really bother her considering her lifestyle choices, but it had to be said. It wasn’t like Eric hadn’t noticed she wasn’t exactly stacked. “Who says I’m even wearing panties?” She fixed Eric with what she hoped was one of her sexier looks, biting on her thumbnail as she waggled her eyebrows. The silly grin on his face was kinda adorable, but when it occurred to her that she really thought that she wrinkled her nose. “The older one was decent, but there’s something about seeing Shakespeare reimagined with guns, and John Leguizamo’s incredible Tybalt that’s hard to beat.”
Laughing softly at his reaction to her hit, Riley stopped when it dawned on her that he might only be acting so dramatic because he could tell she was crabby about losing her powers. She nearly asked, but then he pointed out that the locksmith had arrived and it killed the mood. “Fucking finally. I bet you’re sick of listening to me jaw on about shit anyway.” She stood up, moving down a few steps and giving Eric a nice view of the slogan ‘Get off my dick’ printed in yellow across the back of her t-shirt before glancing at him over her shoulder. “You gonna stay and hang out once he lets me in, or did you have somewhere else you needed to be?”
-
Riley gestured, Eric looked. It was a natural thing to do , he reckoned, just staring before acknowledging she had put herself down. He hadn’t even managed to croak a sound before she made the other remark and he blanched, then grinned.“What? No? Oh... glad to hear someone takes free balling it so liberally.” It changes things. How, he really couldn’t put into words, but it did and a switch was flipped instantaneously. Now his mind was clouded with rather lewd thoughts. Forgotten were the emotional distress, the Shakespeare discussion.
Slow to rise, Eric remained on his rear when she stood up, slowing his drive and giving this some (a little) thought. How could it hurt? It probably couldn’t. Maybe Riley is the type to not hold attachments and he really did just waltz into the perfect arrangement, and he did bicycle over here, and the wine was getting him a little buzzed. “You can keep yakking if, and this is the clincher, ok? if I can wear that shirt,” then in what was his form of a graceful maneuver, lurched off the ground and sprang forward to do a rat-a-tat-tat bongo tap on her rear, aware it’ll probably get him a swift heel to the nose.
-
Eric stared, and Riley waited for some sort of snide comment that never came. Was he so stunned by how closely her figure resembled that of a twelve-year-old boys that he couldn’t speak, or was it something else? She very nearly commented that some dudes liked girls with smaller tits, but then he finally spoke, causing her to nod knowingly. “Sometimes you just gotta go commando, keeps the air circulating.” To punctuate her statement she patted her shorts. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going anywhere, so why bother getting all fancy?” As everyone knows, underwear is mad fancy.
Riley had no idea what was going through his head, but from the expression on his face it was something important. Deciding to let Eric work through whatever was on his mind, she explained the situation to the locksmith assuring him that he’d get paid once he let her inside. Turning her attentions back to Eric she grinned at his words, and would have answered him if not for the smooth move he pulled. Stunned by his boldness, she just blinked as her mouth hung open. She glared at him. “Y’know, I was gonna say sure, you can borrow the shirt, but now I think you’re gonna have to get it off me.”
-
“Yeah, and sometimes when you’re in the middle of on-coming fall and in shorts, you wear underwear, herr-derr.” To him, this seemed like some sort of female common sense, but how would he know? He too partook in the going commando option, but usually during staged points in time where he knows they’ll be a burden---exception being now, because they’re there and he’s fully aware of this situation. “Fancy or not. I would have thought you to consider these things.”
Eating his own surprise at not being terribly maimed, not even a slight smacking, he resisted the urge to do it again. Smiling ear to ear, he gave Riley an over exaggerated wink, reveling in the moment. “I don’t think that will be a problem, Casteling. I really want to wear that to a bar,” and knowing how his school week was preparing to be, he probably would wear it to a bar and the gym and work. Fingers tingling with excitement, he stuffed his hands deep in his pocket and danced lightly from toe to toe, waiting with impatience while the locksmith did his work.
-
“When you never have to worry about how the weather’s gonna be and you’re just stepping outside to pollute your lungs putting on panties isn’t exactly a priority.” Hell, usually she came outside barefoot too, but she’d stepped on a rock before hence the flip-flops. She was getting sick of telling people that she hadn’t had to deal with being cold since she was fourteen or fifteen, but she forgot only a few people knew it. “Next time I’ll definitely check the weather before stepping out. Promise.”
Sarcasm rang heavy in her tone, and it took all her effort to not stick her tongue out at him. Moving to stand in front of Eric and stared right into his eyes, height difference be damned. “Look, Clawiter, I said I’d let you borrow it, not keep it, so don’t push your fucking luck,” she snarled. She almost cautioned him against wearing the shirt to one of the bars she usually went to since they’d recognize it, but the locksmith spoke up to let them know he was done. Once inside, she paid the guy, remembering to thank him. As soon as they were alone, she smirked. “The ball’s in your court, Clawiter.”
-
“Understood, but you could give some poor stranger a peek at the goods, and then where would you be? up red cheek creek,” he mused, very well aware that while she could handle herself, no one ever really enjoyed giving random peep shows to strangers, not unless they were being paid. In which case, that would change things. Eric, for instance, only gave peek shows on promise of getting one back. He waved his arm dismissively, letting it go for now. He wouldn’t complain in the future if there were more.
“But-” Eric started then stopped, letting her work with the locksmith while taking in her home, setting the backpack, partially drained bottle and horribly folded blanket on the kitchen table. The Blackburn Crescent home reminded him of why he disliked living in a dorm: having your own private space, decorated to your taste and privacy. All the privacy. Using his swag walk, Eric crossed the space to Riley, grabbing her face up in his hands, cheeks smushed between palms. She looked like a fish, a fish experiencing a quick kiss upon the lips, then another, slightly longer, but not letting go of her face. “I’ll take that shirt now.”
- “I’m smart enough to put on underwear when I know I’m gonna be around other people, and even if I bent over in these shorts all you’d see is some thigh. And no lines.” she demonstrated, turning her back to him and bending over, wiggling her backside just in case he was paying attention. And unlike her upper body, her backside was one body part that Riley was incredibly proud of. She was also a fan of her arms, if anyone was keeping track. Her legs, not so much, but that was more because she was short and always wanted longer legs.
Riley didn’t feel like her house was anything special, the furnishings more comfortable and functional than pretty. The furniture matched, and some effort had been made to decorate, but there was no real scheme to it beyond little touches that fit the three occupants of the house. The more geeky objects and comic books were hers, not that he needed to know that. Staying where she was, Riley wasn’t sure what Eric would do, but she certainly wasn’t thinking he’d try and kiss her. She was unprepared for the first kiss, but when the second came she managed to kiss him back. “You heard what I said, get it off me and you can have it. Oh, and give me yours in return.”
-
Eric only smiled and nodded, unable to say anything comprehensible at this moment, while appreciating her little actions. Oh no, he didn’t expect Riley to waggle her rear, but there it was. It was amazing how swiftly he was starting to just feel relaxed and at ease. Amazing what a good conversation and a bottle of cheap wine would do for confidence and general atmosphere. He found difficulty in not repeating his bongo skills, biting back the urge of touch.
This, his brain yelled, is easy. Eric was confident in this matter, knew how to give and take as needed---no, wanted. Letting go of the other stuff, squishing it under his proverbial heel. Who needs emotions when you have physical touch? He was filled with a little surprise when she gave back. Fingers lacing through Riley’s hair, Eric gently tilts her forward to kiss her crown. “Is that how we’re playing this, then?” Letting go, his hands went to the top button on his flannel. He was prepared to do a little tease, here in the middle of the living room.
-
Riley didn’t consider herself the flirty type, at least not in the sense where she could form innuendos and double entendres with ease, but her she was putting on a bit of a show just to get Eric’s attention. She had an itch to scratch and from the moment he offered his help in getting her back into her house she had been considering taking the opportunity to knock out two birds with one stone. He’d thrown out all sorts of signals like he wanted it too, which helped her make up her mind.
There was no thinking involved. Riley was content to use him and let herself be used in return, so long as it got them both what they needed. Emotional ties hadn’t even entered her mind until they’d already been talking and things got more truthful and serious, but Eric’s playfulness helped Riley to shove any sappiness aside. The kiss to the top of her head caused brought about a slight longing for something more to develop, but her hormones were shifting into overdrive even as his fingers prepared to start undoing buttons. “Yeah, that’s how we’re playing this. My house, my rules.” And if he didn’t like it, he knew where the door was.