theeyeofra (theeyeofra) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-03-20 22:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | bast, t'challa (black panther) |
Who: Bast & T'Challa
When: St. Patrick's Day post all the drinking
Where: Her house!
What: T'Challa helps her get home and in bed safely b/c she's drunk
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete when posteeeed
Bast felt warm and happy. She knew this meant she’d had just a little too much to drink, but she also didn’t regret any of it (at least not yet). “This must be how Sekhmet felt when they died the beer red and told her it was blood and then she drank and drank and drank until she fell asleep and was defeated.” The words were a little slurred, but she couldn’t really tell. She definitely would be in no shape to protect anyone now, but she wasn’t expected to fight Apophis for an unending amount of time until she died. Worse than died.
But she didn’t want to think about that, so she focused on T’Challa. “Did I mention I was sorry for being so drunk?” She had. About five times already. “I’m glad you came tonight because it was very fun.” She leaned against him, nuzzling against him. He was warm and he smelled nice. She looked up quickly before asking, “Did you think it was very fun? I don’t know if I asked you.” She had. She just didn’t remember that part because it had melted into everything else she’d rambled about between then and now.
“Do you think I’m still attractive with cat eyes?” Because that was the thought that popped into her head at the time. Gamora had complimented her eyes, but she knew it was weird for other people.
Strangely enough, dealing with a drunk person was not something new to T'Challa. Thanks to his dreams he had plenty of experience dealing with a much more alcoholic Tony Stark than the one that existed here. But he was surprised Bast had allowed herself to get intoxicated; it didn't seem like her and in his personal opinion was unbecoming of the Cat Goddess. Not that he would ever dare to say so to her, of course.
She was holding onto him as they walked from his car to her house. Normally her touch felt nice but in this instance it filled him with a small measure of worry about her well being. The repeated questions were getting tiring but he answered them the same way he had the first time, as he was a man of patience. He had chosen not to drink as he had never cared much to do so, and so by default became her designated driver.
“I did have fun, yes, goddess.” He said, his soft voice and African accent a contrast to her slurred (and slightly loud) speech. Indeed he had been most shocked to discover that the people they were meeting were from his dreams! Peter Quill and Gamora both of all things; he knew them as members of the Guardians of the Galaxy. He’d seen their posts on Valar sure, but this was the last thing he'd expected. Small world.
When she asked about the cat eyes he chose to change the subject. He was still trying to absorb the surprise. “We are home, Bast. May I have your keys?”
Unbecoming or not, Bast was still partially human. Or maybe that was just in her mind. Either way, she was a goddess of music, dance, and joy as well as her other godly titles, so she couldn’t really be upset with herself. She’d had fun and T’Challa was a delight to be around. Even if he was avoiding her questions.
Pouting slightly, she fumbled for her keys, dropping them on the ground before letting go of T’Challa to bend over. “Oh, that was woozy. Bad idea.” But she still came back up with the keys and held them out.
Once they were inside, she carefully found her way to her room (or was it T’Challa’s help that got her there? She wasn’t really sure at this point). “You’re not leaving, are you?” She knew she probably sounded very much ungoddess-like, but he was her...whatever it was that he was. He was something because they’d slept together and gone on dates now. At least one. “Just stay...at least until I fall asleep.” And yes, she was just going to tug him toward the bed while also trying to get out of her shoes.
His concern grew after she dropped the keys and got lightheaded; T’Challa was suddenly grateful she had asked him to be her companion on this little adventure instead of someone else. The very thought of anyone taking advantage of Bast in the condition she was in instantly flooded him with a sense of overprotectiveness. He went with her every step of the way as she wobbily navigated her way to her room. He sensed her cat was quietly trailing them and a quick glance found the shape of a cat just barely visible in the shadows of the dark room, which was illuminated solely by the pale hue of moonlight and streetlights outside.
“I will not leave you, no.” he said with solid assurance as she sat down on the edge of the bed and started to fuss over removing her shoes. “I will stay as long as you wish.” He watched her quietly for a moment. “Do you...need any help?” It was amazing how motor skills went out the window under the influence of alcohol.
Bast looked up at him quietly for a moment before nodding. “Please? I’m apparently very bad at shoes right now. And everything else.” For a brief moment, she felt that maybe she’d gone a little too far, but there wasn’t anything to do about it now when she felt like she was floating in a sea of beer. “My dress is too tight,” she said after a moment, letting out a sigh. “Help me, mighty Champion. Your goddess is in need of assistance.”
It sounded stupid coming out of her mouth, but she decided not to think about it too much. “Also she demands that you let her curl up next to you until the room stops spinning because it is very fast.”
T'Challa slid off of the bed and onto bended knee to help her with her shoes. They were a bit tricky, being heels with what he perceived to be the world's tiniest straps. It took him a slightly embarrassing amount of time to figure it out, especially in the dark, but he managed. As he slipped off her shoes and placed them to the side his hand lingered a moment on her ankle. It was slender and delicate, but he knew Bast's prowess in their sparring and knew just how nimble she truly was. Then he heard Bast complaining about the dress. T'Challa softly cleared his throat, moving his hand from contact and standing. He banished from thought the memory of their previous intimate encounter, with a good degree of self scolding. She was inebriated and he was not, he had to remember.
Her request for 'her champion’ to help her out of her clothes and to cuddle struck him as amusing, however, and he smiled softly. “As you wish, goddess.” He was not sure about undressing her but he would have to do his best to simply keep himself in check. Perhaps thinking of Ororo, his ex-girlfriend would help. But as soon as the thought occurred he realized no, that would not do, as the reason he'd slept with Bast the last time was due in part to that very thought.
Fingers found the zipper to the back of her dress and he finagled with it, as it was getting caught on some of the fabric. Tugging it gently it came loose and slid down smoothly, revealing the smooth curve of Bast's back. “The room is spinning?” He asked, concern in his voice as he let the fabric slide down her shoulders. She had better not throw up on him, that would be most unpleasant.
Bast trusted him. Even when she was drunk. But that was probably because he was a good man. He was very attractive, but very good. Also very serious. She squirmed free of her dress before stumbling to find a pair of pajamas. After a few rather unsuccessful attempts while standing, she decided to crawl onto the bed and just pull them on there. And then crawl under the covers. “Spinning,” she agreed after a long moment.
She patted the bed next to her, closing her eyes a little to keep herself from noticing that the room was spinning. If she’d been thinking more clearly, she would have asked for him to get her some water, but she wasn’t really thinking about anything but sleeping and stealing T’Challa’s warmth as she slept. If he’d stay long enough for her to do so anyway.
He'd turned away as she'd dropped the dress and searched for pajamas, and ended up staring at the face of her cat Muffin as a result. He could swear it was judging him as it stared at him with the unflinching honesty of a cat. “I will take care of her.” He said softly before feeling the movement of the mattress as Bast flopped down on it. Glancing over he watched as she fought to put on her pajamas, and was grateful she hadn't removed any undergarments in the process. Once she was snuggled underneath the covers he lay down next to her, propping himself up on an elbow. He hadn't burrowed beneath the sheets, figuring she just wanted him nearby. He had to admit, as beautiful as she looked beneath the golden rays of the sun, she looked even lovelier under the pale hue of the moon. Even with her eyes squeezed shut against what he perceived to be things spinning.
He placed a hand gently on her brow and smoothly ran it back along her hair, stroking her head to soothe her. “Do you need anything? Tea? Water? Coffee?”
Bast leaned into his hand, making a small noise of comfort. Yes. T’Challa really was very good. If the room weren’t spinning and she weren’t so tired, she might have tried something, but the room was spinning and she was very tired.
And then his question caught her attention. “Water is good. Too much beer dehydrates. I don’t want to wake up as Hathor,” she said sleepily. “I want to stay Bast when I get up.” At any other time, she probably wouldn’t have said that, but it had happened. Sekhmet got drunk on beer and became Hathor.
T'Challa chuckled softly and said, “I will get you some water.” And he slipped off the bed and quietly made his way through her house to the kitchen. This was the first time he was really seeing all of her home. It was nice and cozy. It took him a few tries but he found the cabinet with the glasses and filled it with some cool tap water. As he made his way back through the darkened house, his thoughts drifted to the evening. It had been strange for him to sit opposite a human version of Gamora - although strangely enough a lot of her features seemed to stay true to character including her fierce eyes and high cheek bones. Peter was also similar though here he felt he looked a touch older and grizzlier than he remembered him last. Then again, that last memory was of him sacrificing himself to help defeat Doctor Doom on Battleworld. That set of dreams had yet to give T'Challa any closure on the fate of so many.
Arriving back in Bast's bedroom, he walked around the foot of the bed and leaned over her. “Goddess,” he said softly. “Here is your water. Come and sit up a bit.”
Bast had started drifting when T’Challa was gone, but the moment he came back, her eyes opened. She sat slowly up, fingers reaching out to take the glass. She spilled a little on herself, but she managed to drink some of the water before she pushed it away.
She looked up at T’Challa, smiling a little. “You’re the best Champion ever.” She waited for him to put the water down before pulling him close enough to steal a kiss. “Time to sleep. We can be awake tomorrow...which is not now.”
He brushed away and dabbed at some of the water she spilled on herself with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to keep her from sleeping in a wet pajama top. He was as much a gentleman as he could be, having been raised by his adopted parents to always respect women.
He was also somewhat averting his gaze from Bast's cat eyes. He'd tried to get used to them all night but every time she looked at him it felt more like his dream version of Bast - a far more intimidating and demanding version - was looking into his soul than the woman he'd called a friend and...something more? He wasn't sure on that front.
The stolen kiss however, reasserted that it was indeed something more. He returned the kiss and smiled down at her. “Yes, sleep sounds like a good idea.” He personally wasn't as tired as she was but he knew she'd settle down more with him there. So T'Challa kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, then slipped beneath the sheets next to her.
Bast waited for T’Challa to get under the covers before she moved to curl up next to him, head on his shoulder and arm across his chest. It didn’t take long before she fell asleep, breaths evening out as she did.