Who: Pete & Navi Wisdom What: waking up depowered! TEH HORROR OF IT ALL. Drama! Yelling! Breakfast! When: backdated to the beginning of the M-Day plot Where: Wisdom household Rating: gonna say Medium - because of cursing and nondescriptive nekky breakfast. The Wisdom household doubles as a indoor nudist colony. Status: Complete!
Pete Wisdom was asleep. His mouth was hanging open, his hair was smushed on one side, his arms were flopped out all funny and one foot was hanging out from under the blanket. Oh, Pete loved sleeping, when dreams weren’t involved. Sleeping meant he didn’t have to read or write reports about any really strange shit (some of which pissed him off so he yelled at the computer lots), and it meant his wife got to use him as a bed warmer, because of his very warm body temperature. Bonus points went to him if she didn’t have cold toes and didn’t put them on him, because that made him squiggle and sleep grumble mumble. Extra bonus points for Navi if she did have cold toes, because that meant she had a form of entertainment available to her during bouts of insomnia.
Navi shivered a little, burrowing closer to Pete. The bed wasn’t as warm as it usually was, and she and the baby both kicked their legs a little in mute protest. Her arms went around Pete’s waist, and she whimpered slightly. “Freezing,” she murmured.
"...blughlemurphfffgchle." No one in the history of linguistic anything could make that out, no matter if it was on Earth or some other planet. Pete suddenly scrunched up his entire face like he smelled his own nose hairs burning - which wasn't happening, but that is how horrible his face was - and he grumbled a bit more coherently, "...s'cold. Need heat."
Next he'll grunt out Need meat. Need sex. Pete go smash if not get. That was usually how things went, but today is a different day, and now they are both in a totally unnatural position of him trying to fetal position wrap himself around her and their bun in the oven, to get warm. He burrowed beneath the covers and clung onto her, like a demented lemur hugging onto someone, with his face resting against one boob. Because she's warmer than he is. What's that about?
She nuzzled into his neck. “Y’re cold,” she sighed. Wait, what? Pete cold? “Are you sick?” Suddenly she was spurned to action and attempted to hover over to the bathroom to get the thermometer.
Nothing happened. “Pete! Pete, my wings!”
There had been a grunt of uncertainty at being sick, because Pete felt like his entire body had hit a brick wall made of ice at high speed. One eyelid creaked open, followed by the other, and he tried to blink things into focus when Navi had gone into wifely hover mode. Or not. That made him sit up and take notice, the blankets and sheets (and at least one pillow) flying in every which direction. He even toppled sideways out of bed, landing on the floor, and using the side of the bed to pull himself up onto his feet.
Indeed, now he was in action man mode.
"Wot? Wotwotwot?" Pete pointed at her, then was on her in an instant, hugging onto her while rubbing both hands over her back. "No wings? NO WINGS?" Pete licked Navi from her shoulder all the way up to her earlobe. "No cinnamon toast?" To show how distraught he was, Pete fell back onto the floor, onto his knees, both hands clenched and raised up in defiance of the god that had taken the deliciousness away. "NO! NOT MY TASTY FAIRY WIFE!"
Navi just gave him a Look. “Try to light something on fire.” Now was not the time for theatrics, husband.
For a man with an extreme oral fixation, this was devastating news. ALRITE?!
It was pretty cold on that floor, so Pete heeded his ex-fairy wife's wise advice, got himself up off the floor, and wagged his hands around. Then he really made the grumpiest of grumpy faces, for not a single hotknife or plasma sliver or glowy ember or anything would pop off his fingertips or make his hands look burny. When that didn't work, he accusingly glared at them like his hands had betrayed him. Forevs.
"....buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrry fuckbuckets." Yes, that about covered that.
She bit her lower lip before dragging Pete to his office. “We have to check to see if this is happening all over, and if it is, you have to do your job which is awful so early in the morning do you want tea I can make you tea one sugar this early right I know you like not so much sugar.” Navi was clearly rattled; she only babbled when she was.
Having little choice - given that he was a man zombie if it was any time before 11:30am - Pete was dragged with stompy barefeets all the way to his office, and sat down at his desk, which was piled high with cartons of cigarettes, bottles of scotch, an ashtray, an empty scotch glass, one coffee cup and a purple slug-like plushie that looked like it had the stuffing just about strangled out of it and it's rear end singed off.
If one flipped that plushie over and inspected it carefully, they'd see the faded traces of a crudely scrawled name in black sharpie marker: Lockheed
Pete continued to give the monitor the stink eye before he took the computer off sleep, by slamming one hand, palm down, on the entire keyboard. Luckily, that precise placement was also his password. For this week, at least.
"No tea," Mr. McSulky said in a low voice, "only tar coffee." He sighed a little and looked up at her, before giving her a gentle poke in the baby belly to get her attention. "I love you, Petal. It'll be all right. Let me take a peek-see if anyone else's flailing about, which I've got the bad feeling is wot's happening. B'cos Orange County hates us all."
Navi just nodded, taking his ashtray with the intention of emptying it. “I’ll get you breakfast, too. I ... is it weird if I hope it doesn’t stay this way?” She felt right as a fairy, like what she was meant to be.
"It's bloody well not weird, because I like being your bed warmer and I know how happy you were, with your wings and all of it. This' rubbish. And it's shite." Pete stared at her for a moment, before saying in a much less zombie or grumpy voice, "You don't have to make me breakfast, luv. It should be the other way 'round. Coffee's well enough and then I'll make us a gigantic bacon sarnie summat or other, so we can gorge away our sorrows. Followed by ankle rubs."
He loved her cankles. And the rest of her that the cankles were attached to. It's true. Shuttup.
Navi smiled a little sadly, stroking Pete’s cheek. “I like cooking for you. I’m just used to hovering while I do it.” She wasn’t good at standing so much. Smiling and wandering downstairs, she winced as she walked. “Oh, son of a ... thing that is stupid, I hate my feet.”
His entire expression had softened when she did that.
"I like your cooking, and your hovering," he admitted while watching her go and then subsequently listening to her hating her feet. As he turned his attention to the computer monitor and the network chatter, his voice raised up the further he thought she was, from him. "I think the point is you're supposed to be staying off them!"
“I CAN’T NOT WALK, PETE. I HAVE TO DO THINGS.” Navi loved her yelly household. She started the coffee going as well as frying up some bacon and starting some eggs. Umf. Food.
"THE POINT IS THAT YOU DON'T 'AVE TO DO THINGS. YOU NEED TO LET ME DO THINGS. M'NOT ENTIRELY INCOMPETENT, EVEN THOUGH YOU HAVE TO TELL ME TEN TIMES TO TAKE THE RUDDY RUBBISH OUT B’FORE...oh look, other people are complaining about the power loss, as well," Pete said in a much more conversational tone of voice, as he read some of the posts. He lit a cigarette and coughed to clear his throat, so he could yell without his voice entirely sounding like he was gargling gravel. "ITS HAPPENED AS WELL TO OTHERS, NOT SIMPLY US! FUCK IT. THAT SMELLS DIVINE. WOT'S THE E.T.A. ON IT BEING FINISHED, LOVEY?!"
It was surprising he could smell anything anymore with the amount of chainsmoking he's done in his life, so far.
“PETE YOU KIND OF SUCK AT SOME TH- REALLY? IT’S NOT JUST US? THAT’S GOOD AND BAD AT THE SAME TIME.” She made some tea for herself, humming a little as it brewed. Some ice packs in freezer would help with her ankles. For the moment, some toasty eggs with bacon would help. “COME DOWN AND GET FOOOD,” she screeched.
"I SUCK AT WOT? WOT WAS THAT? WOT BITS DO I SUCK AT, YOU!" Pete was gunning the rest of that cigarette, hot boxing the hell out of it. He finally stubbed it out in the ash tray, before opening a window and waving his arms around to get the smoke out, since he forgot yet again to do that before lighting up. All while yelling wildly. "IT IS GOOD AND BAD! B'COS IT'S NOT SIMPLY US AND B'COS THIS ENTIRE AREA IS A SHITE HOLE THAT'S INTENT ON KILLING US ALL AT SOME POINT OR OTHER, EVEN THE BLOODY GOD OF THUNDER THINKS SO!"
He stomped his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stopped next to her with his hands held out to take whatever it was she needed to throw at him, or hand to him, it was all the same. He even snuck a quick kiss in, before she turned away or hit him with a spatula or a toaster.
"You need t'let me rub your non-existent ankles while you tell me how bad I am at doing housey things," he declared, only semi-snarkily, because he knew that her telling him how bad he was at that stuff, was only going to lead to prospective sexy times. Speaking of sexy times, since they probably slept in the nude and never got dressed after their moment of freaking out, it was safe to say it was yet another morning of naked breakfast times. "M'ready for starkers breakfast. Now let me carry things, or we'll be loud at one another as per the bloody norm."
“FOOD. YOU SUCK AT FOOD.” She snorted. “THOR IS ADORABLE BUT KIND OF PARANOID AND WE’LL BE FINE, YEESH.” When Pete came to kiss her, she swiped a little at him with a spatula.
“Mmm, rubbings will be nice, and I can do that.” She smiled and kissed him a little as well, assembling his breakfast sandwich before handing it to him. “Come on, let’s eat, and you can tell me what’s going on with the weirdness and the gossip and this place.”
"I will rub you up one side and down the other. So. Gossip. The usual," he informed her, taking his sandwich and a bite out of it, before grumble talking. While chewing. "Some're elated, others are less than enthused. I think we're in that last segment of the population, since I now I have to use a lighter and you can't hover cook. Bloody hell this' good! Wot'd you put in this, then? Meth or summat?"
“Butter, same difference,” Navi murmured through a full mouth. She reached out to put her feet on Pete’s lap, but it wasn’t the same without him being super warm. Still, feet propped up did help. “Well, it could be worse. We still have each other and the bumpling, right?”
"Precisely, to both us, the bumpling, and this butter." Pete was simultaneously eating with one hand and giving her an unwarmed ankles rubbing with his other hand. It really wasn't the same, but it was the thought that counted. "We could've spontaneously combusted, after all. I'd suggest moving somewhere less strange, but I don't think my superior would like that very much. And you'd be sad since this' where you have your house and your business. But wot're we going to do, when zombies attack? Gaffer tape the little ankle biter to one of our backs and start slaying?"
Since that, too, could happen.
“Basically,” Navi shrugged. “Hopefully by then we’ll have our powers back and I can just fly the bumpling up higher up while I carry you and we can just escape that way. I’ve gotta start bench pressing for that plan to work, though.”
"Or," Pete started to say like he was about to tread on eggshells and damn well knew it, "you could simply flutter the baby up with you, and let me provide cover for you two to get away. Then, we find a suitable meeting point while you keep the bumplette safe from zombie drool, and we'll meet there and escape. To Easter Island."
Navi cocked her head. “No no no, you always try to risk things. I want to save you too.” She pouted out her lower lip.
"But you would be saving me, b'cos our son's a part of the both of us, therefore...you'd be saving me, vicariously." Pete made a face like AH HA since he just totally pulled that out of his ass on the fly. "Seriously, Petal? I think if I'd want anything saved, it would be you and our...is it a coconut now, or wot? Our coconut son. That's priority one. Then you can put him in a backpack and hang him from a tree limb, flutter down, and kick zombie's heads off. While I watch. B'cos that's dead sexy. Pun intended, too, b’cos zombies."
Because he's still totally thinking that the more he says son, the more it will make it happen.
Navi folded her arms. “Eggplant, and Pete, I want you to be with me.” She bit her lower lip. “Always.” And then, because hormones were sons of bitches, she burst into tears.
"No. No? No! Why're you crying like that?! M'not going anywhere!" Pete shoved the rest of his breakfast sarnie into his mouth and chewed with chipmunk cheeks. He scooted his kitchen chair closer and gave Navi a hugging onto, cursing the fact he couldn't give her the warm-hands-backrubbing she probably needed right now. He tried to sound reassuring, even with his mouth full, "...ahm nawb goib tew loose yew or owr ewg-pwant."
“I’m not trying to cry my brain is just ... I can’t not.” Navi blubbered a little, wiping her eyes. “That wasn’t English and I don’t ... don’t know what you just said.” She laughed a little, even as she was still crying, snuggling closer to her husband.
In response, he simply hugged her tightly to him and stayed that way, quiet for a long moment. It also gave him time to chew and swallow, without choking. That counted as bonus points, because the wife started to laugh at him. Laughing was much, much better than crying.
"That's your hormones going all over the place, and you're not English, so that's allowed," was his explanation, as soon as he was able to speak again. "And I said I'm not going to lose you or our eggplant. All right? You shouldn't ever worry on about that. M'being careful and I know if anyone came after our eggplant, that you're our last line of defense and offense. The eggplant must survive at all costs."
Now they've just turned their child into some sort of strategic video game scenario. Go them.
Navi nodded, leaning against him. “I’m kind of ready for the hormones to be over. I’d really like to have the eggplant already.” She cupped Pete’s cheeks and kissed him. “You’re the best husband ever, Pete. I love you. I hope you know that.”
"Yes, luv. I know I am," he deadpanned after stealing another kiss. He smiled to let her know he was being his usual smart ass self. "I love you and you are absolutely fantastic. You're not only the best wife, but your going t'be the best mum, with or without wings. Now, time for more snogs before I become a ruddy household drudge and you get to supervise from bed. With your feet up on pillows."
He puckered his lips up and stole a smoochy kiss from Navi, hoping that would set things right again.