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Isabela of Rivain (rivainipirate) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-01-02 19:12:00

Who: Isabela & Atton
When: New Year's Eve/Day
Where: Isabela's flat
What: Presents and changes.
Rating: Pretty darn tame. Teen?
Status: Complete!



Isabela was sitting on her couch, cuddling her cat. Churchill had been recuperating at the vet after surgery, and now she was holding him like a baby. Atton was coming over soon, so she’d been discussing the matter with the cat. “He’s a good sort. I still love you best, of course. But really, give him a chance.” The cat made a grunting noise, turning its head to lick Isabela’s wrist.

Atton rang the bell, a gift wrapped in blue and silver paper in his jacket. He wore his favorite red muffler as well, bouncing a little bit in the cold. It wasn’t snowing, but it still wasn’t warm either.

“Coming.” Isabela called, setting her cat on the couch, where it yowled at her. “Baby.” She went over to the door, opening it and smiling. “Evening. Come in before you freeze.”

Atton smiled, handing her the present and taking her hand and kissing it. “How’re you? Where’s the dictator that I have to meet?”

Isabela chuckled. “His Lordship is on the couch.” She took the box, laughing as she kissed his cheek. “Jewish paper. Nice touch.” She came in behind him, watching her cat loll on the cushions.

Normally Atton wasn’t one for animals, but this cat just looked like he was lord of the manor. “Okay, that thing is cute. He looks like he’s pissed off that you moved.”

“Churchill, this is Atton.” Isabela chuckled. “You can pet him if you like, he only looks grumpy. He’s never bitten anyone, ever.” The cat yowled, but all he did was flop onto his back, showing his belly to his mistress.

Atton couldn’t help but sit down, trying to speak casually to the cat. “So. Winston - may I call you Winston? Is it all right if I rub your tummy?” He reached down and scritched, wincing preemptively, hoping that his hand would remain unmauled.

“I told you he doesn’t bite.” Isabela rolled her eyes. Her cat was purring like a lunatic, licking his paw.

“You never know, I could be the first. Goddamn, you’re adorable, cat.” Atton couldn’t help but lean over and get both hands into the scritching, grinning. “Maybe I’ll bring you some nip sometime.”

“Sucker.” Isabela grinned. “He’s a shelter boy; no one wanted him because he’s too fat, but I think he’s perfect. He is also, like all cats, a manipulative little shit.” She adored him, though; surely it was obvious.

“He’s adorable.” Atton usually didn’t say that word, but the cat had wandered closer to him and was sitting like a tiny person. There wasn’t a better word for him. “You gonna open your present?”

“Of course.” Isabela perched on the couch next to Churchill, sliding a finger through the fold in the wrapping. She saw the logo of a jewellery store she knew, but kept calm; it wasn’t a ring box. Taking off the lid, she blinked, smiling. “Oh, these are brilliant.” She took out the earrings one by one, putting them in her ears and moving her head, feeling them swish. “I love them.”

Atton grinned at her reaction. “Thought you’d like them. They’re flashy but gorgeous. They’ve got pretty to back up the flash. And they’re not boring flashy.” They were just like her in every way that counted.

Isabela smiled, going over and wrapping her arms around him, going for a snog. “Thank you. They’re really lovely. Though now I feel like an arse as I didn’t get you anything.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Atton grinned. “I like giving presents more than getting them now. That’s how I know I’m old.”

“You’re the most attractive old person I’ve ever seen.” Isabela kissed him once more, resting her hands on his waist. “And before you say it, a blow job is not a Christmas present.”

“Nah, blowjobs aren’t seasonal,” Atton agreed. He wrapped his arms around her in turn, sighing happily. “Still. I’m glad you like them.”

“I do. I’ll wear them the next time I’m out. They’d fit best in that setting.” Isabela smiled, laughing harder as Churchill yowled, looking up at the two humans. “He’s just so put upon,” she told Atton conspiratorially.

“Well, we did stop petting him,” Atton whispered back. He grinned and leaned over to kiss her. “Can I take you out sometime?”

“Of course.” Isabela chuckled, one hand in his hair. “You seem astonished by this, I know, but I enjoy your company.”

“I’m not going to make the mistake of taking a beautiful woman for granted,” Atton smiled. He liked her hand in his hair; it was small and far softer than his.

“Best not.” Isabela kidded. “Did you actually think to bring a nosh, or did that go by the wayside? Churchill was expecting tuna.” She was teasing, of course; honestly, she could just take him to bed if she was so inclined. Call it feeling warm and fuzzy.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. He grinned and stood up to get the door, paying the delivery guy for the (really nice paper) bags of takeout. “Come on, say it. I’m smooth.”

“As the other side of the pillow.” Isabela had to laugh, shaking her head. “You really swear that you had terrible luck getting girlfriends before me?” It didn’t seem likely.

“That’s cool. And it’s not the getting them that’s hard, it’s the keeping them?” He shrugged. “I’m kind of blunt, and I’ve got a checkered past. Girls like that stuff in theory, but then in practice it sends ‘em screaming for the hills.” He chuckled when Churchill smelled tuna and began yowling at his feet. “Give me a sec, buddy, I’ve gotta put it on plates first.”

“Honestly, if you haven’t murdered and eaten a baby, not much scares me.” Isabela shrugged, though it turned into a grin when Churchill came almost running for the food.

“Are we at the point where we start telling each other those things? I mean... “ He sighed, not wanting to say the phrase where are we in this relationship, if only because he was scared if he did he’d lose his Penis Operator’s License.

“Don’t have to. I mean, unless you really did murder and eat a baby. That’s a bit of a deal breaker.” Isabela shrugged. She liked him - he made her laugh - but she wasn’t the commitment type. At least not right away.

“Oh, no, no baby eating. Too fatty, gotta watch m’carbs,” he joked, patting his stomach. Fuck, she hadn’t taken the bait.

Isabela laughed, but she figured she owed him honesty if nothing else. “You can tell me if you want, but don’t feel obligated.”

“Are we … a thing?” Atton winced when he said it, but he wanted to know.

In retrospect, she felt rather silly that she hadn’t grasped what he meant beforehand. “Shit. I’m sorry.” That had to have been awkward. “Um. Are we a thing.” Isabela smiled up at him. “I’d rather like that.”

He grinned. “Really? Fuck, that means I do have to tell you my shit. Uh. Here, let’s get food first. If you’re going to tell me I suck, I’d rather it on a full stomach.”

“Well, if you’d rather not, we don’t have to be a thing.” Isabela chuckled.

He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I want to be a thing very much. I mean, you did say you don’t scare easy.” He handed her a plate of food, smiling at her and grabbing a small one for Winston and setting it on the floor by the couch before sitting down. “So. Uh, I wasn’t kidding when I said I was in the Air Force. Served for a couple of years, was in Yugoslavia.” He looked down, sighing.

Isabela nodded. “I rather imagine that was both brilliant and awful.” She looked down at Churchill, smiling when he dove into the sushi.

“Emphasis on the awful,” he murmured. “What they were doing over there … I saw things that I don’t - “ He chuckled. “Don’t think they’re good to talk about. Period.” He squeezed her hand. “Then my parents died right at the beginning of my second tour, and when I came home to bury them, I kinda lost it? I guess? I just … didn’t go back.”

“Bloody hell, is that all. I mean,” Isabela added, holding up a hand as if to tell him to slow down, “I was expecting to hear you took part in some awful thing. Deserting the army because you’d had enough pain?” That was not a deal breaker, not by a long shot.

“Well, I served time for it. I figured you’d want to know I’m technically a convicted felon before someone tells you about it. Or before you read it in the tabloids or something.” He wrinkled his nose. He’d been written up a few times.

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Oh, lord, does that mean Rita Skeeter gets to cast aspersions on my choice of boyfriends, my intelligence and my lifestyle? How fun.” Isabela kissed him gently. She didn’t particularly give a rat’s arse. Atton made her smile, and she figured that was the important bit.

“Probably speculate that you have implants.” He chuckled and kissed her back, pulling her a little bit closer. “You’re perfect, though, please never get those.”

“Don’t need them.” Maybe a little snooty, but true. Isabela did get serious for a second, though. “I just have one question. Is anyone after you right now?” She just had her green card. She could still get deported, in theory. If no one was after him, then it didn’t matter.

He lowered his voice. “What, you mean the drug dealers?” Then he laughed. “Nope. I did my time, got out a little early for not shanking anyone, did my year of court appointed therapy, I’m square. Nobody’s deporting you.”

“Good. I’d hurt you.” Isabela smiled, swatting him lightly. “Arse. I’m going to snog you now, if that works.” She didn’t really give him the chance to decline, though.

“Now’s a good time, I taste like tuna sashimi.” He waggled his brows and she cut him off before he could make another joke.

“Could be worse.” Isabela wrapped her arms around his neck. She wasn’t exactly thinking about marrying him or anything, but she liked the idea that he wouldn’t be shagging anyone else. Though she did pause. “Erm. You don’t mind that I flirt like I breathe, right?”

“Only if you mind that I do, albeit stupidly and poorly.” He kissed her neck, running his fingers through her hair. “I get slapped a lot, maybe you can tell people that I have a condition or something.”

Isabela couldn’t help but laugh, even though things were getting romantic. “I really don’t think you’re such a bumbler as you make yourself out to be.” He was smooth. He’d said it himself. “Give me a little credit here.”

“Like I said, I’m pretty good at being smooth with chicks I don’t like. So you’re about to head right into Atton being a dumbass... ville.” And so it began. He couldn’t help it, he just got foot in mouth disease around people he was smitten with.

“Here’s a novel idea. If you’re a twat, I’ll tell you so instead of just hitting you.” Isabela chuckled, raising her eyebrows as if to say imagine that. “Sorry. For right now, I’m afraid I like you. You’re stuck.” And on top of him being endearing, the sex was bloody good. She wasn’t complaining.

He grinned at that. “Aww, and here I was so looking forward to you hitting me.” He chuckled and scooted closer, resuming munching his sushi.

“Didn’t really think you’d be in for all that.” Isabela smirked.

“I’m not, but I like joking about it,” Atton shrugged. He took another munch of his food, amused when Churchill came up to sit on the couch with him, pawing at his arm.

Isabela raised an eyebrow. “You slut,” she told the cat calmly. “Then again, if he’s going to be my boyfriend, you ought to get used to him.”

The word ‘boyfriend’ made Atton grin. He supposed that was what he was, and it made him look down to keep from seeming too eager. “I guess this means you get to come over and see my place sometime, huh.”

“The inside of it, yeah.” Isabela chuckled. “I didn’t have to go in last time, as you didn’t shove snow down my knickers.”

“I’m a nice guy, and I promised I wouldn’t!” He couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning over to kiss her lightly. Wasabi breath be damned.

Isabela returned the favor, setting the fish aside and climbing into his lap. She was going to distract him from the food. His cute smile and his wit and now she had a boyfriend and there was going to be shagging now.