as_damaged | ☤ twenty-nine

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☤ twenty-nine

[Openest Action that Ever Actioned]

[Cameron is an atheist, but in some ways she's all for the holidays. They're an excuse to be happy. Sometimes you need one. So she doesn't think anything of the Christmas decorations everywhere, on buildings and lampposts, garlands around doorways and lights in the trees. How she makes it into work without being assaulted by smooches is anyone's guess. But she does.

Her luck? Her luck is bound to change, at work, after work, on her way home, wherever you might like to imagine you might encounter her.]

[ooc; SCREAM please. imagine this was hours ago ;_; we've company from out of town so my computer access has not been optimal today |D ilu all. um. open for EVERYONE, srsly, the more the merrier imo >D backdating is likely sob sorry ILOVEYOUPOLY

ETA; 3 am where did you come from. more when i'm awake ;.; <333]

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[His chin tilts with the same trajectory, upward, checking, and then he looks back and laughs to see her doing the same.]

I think we're clear. You must have had the same kind of day I have.

[It's not a question, not really. Knowing in this case might not be much better than the gnawing curiosity he's living with now, and he'd definitely sooner not admit to her some of his own encounters. Besides, he's more than capable of nursing faceless jealousy, if need be. It's less likely to get him into a fight.]

Heading home?

[She meets his eyes when he laughs, and nods with a faintly embarrassed little smile, still wary. Clear isn't always clear. It's like the stuff is growing out of the walls; but for the moment it seems safe.]

Yeah.

[It answers both the question and the statement. You're better off not knowing, Chase, really. She doesn't show the experience nearly as badly as he does-- her hair still neat, or perhaps just quickly rearranged for the sake of propriety. The City's seen her at her worst too many times already.]

You, too?

[He is heading home, and they both know that his home should take him in a different direction round the clockface from the way she's set. So it's with a hint of a shrug that he turns heel, not answering the question with anything other than intent.]

I'll walk you.

[Not knowing is one thing. Prevention another.]

[He doesn't leave her much room for protest, and for a second she pauses and watches him walk, trying to find an excuse. There's an easy excuse at hand, of course-- that in this case there isn't really safety in numbers-- but the implication that she wants to be rid of him so they don't end up victims of mistletoe is convoluted and ultimately rather weak.

It isn't that she doesn't want to kiss him; she doesn't want him to kiss her unless it's because he wants to, wholeheartedly and without complications. Given the overabundance of complications here, she's just about given up on sorting it out to her satisfaction, and so she'd rather err on the side of caution, which in this case is the side of abstinence.

Her first few steps are a little hurried, catching up to him. Nearly side by side, though she's hanging back a little.]

It is kind of pretty, isn't it?

[The decorations, not the trouble-causing waxy white berries popping up everywhere. She sounds a little wistful. She'd like to talk about anything other than the curse. She doesn't want to know where he's been any more than she wants him to know whose lips she's met.]

[It's his peace of mind he's concerned about tonight, not hers. This is one curse where he hasn't made contact because, though he guesses sending the usual text warning could have been fair enough, adding and stay away from House might not have seemed like selfless concern.

And he's not just walking her to ward off other suitors. He likes walking with her, likes being allowed, considering there have been plenty of times in the city - some all too recent - when she'd have backed him off without a moment's thought for how it sounded. There have been too many people to avoid recently, it's tiring and it's unseasonal. Chase likes Christmas, for all that he's let it pass uncelebrated in his own home over the last decade or more. Yes, he can point out all the places where its message of enforced benevolence falls down, it's an easy target to tear apart, so he doesn't. Even if it's just a commercialised excuse for a party and a smile... sometimes it's an excuse people need.]

You should see my hallway, it looks like Santa's Workshop had a storage problem. I think I like this more.

[He stops long enough for her to catch up with him, turning his head toward the strung lights and greenery around the edges of the square.]

It is pretty.

[You don't have to approve of the commercialization or even the religious messages to appreciate the ideals that ought to be there; peace on earth and good will to all, or even just a reason to find a warm place to pass the snowy evenings, reminding friends and family that you love them. She doesn't celebrate, not really; except to join in others' celebrations, sending a card or two back home and putting in an appearance at the hospital's party. That being said, she's oddly susceptible to the holiday spirit. Especially here, where excuses to be happy are usually outnumbered by reasons to hate life.]

Really? There's next to nothing in my building...

[If nothing else, you have to give the City that; it tends to go all out on holidays. She turns to say something else, and doesn't-- fighting the urge to do the obvious thing and look up. This has happened enough that she knows exactly what this feeling means.

And so she just looks up at him, hopeless and quiet.]

[Cameron's building doesn't have an artist in residence who, to give her her credit, does at least usually manage to make gaudy look good. Chase might not decorate himself, but he's in favour of the more traditional side of the holiday. Green boughs, white and gold candles, red berries. Even mistletoe, on normal days when walking under it might be an excuse for a quick peck on the lips, not a compulsion to stick your tongue down the throat of perfect strangers.

Compulsion is the word for it. At times today he's felt like a puppet with someone else's hand at the strings, making him bend one way when he'd sooner walk another. The same surrender of control turns his head down toward her now, makes his arms reach out, one to trail fingers in a whisper's brush against her cheek, the other to take her hand. This hand he lifts just high enough that he can bow his head and press lips to knuckles - he may not be a prince, but there's chivalry to the act - before, his part of the deal completed, he places his palm against her shoulder and shoves. If he's got it right, he'll have pushed her just out of the curse's influence.]

[Rationally, she appreciates the gesture. But curses aren't governed by reason; nor are emotions, though mainly it's the latter guiding her hand right now. There's an awful, unconscious part of her that doesn't want to stop anyway, an urge she'd never listen to; the primal possessiveness that breaks down doors and sinks teeth into what she considers hers. It's a part of her that wants him to know what he's missing, even when she's the one withholding it.

She takes a step forward and reaches to grab him by the collar, pulling him roughly towards her. Having surrendered to the impulse, she's gone; there isn't any hesitation as she strains upward while dragging him down so their lips can meet in the middle.]

[Whoever taught Cameron to dance never mentioned letting anyone else lead. Of course Chase should have expected that she, and the curse, would have a counter to any move he made, however uncharacteristic. It's no secret to either of them that he'd been willing to take advantage before. He has his reasons for resisting now, but any faltering resolve crumbles the moment she draws him in.

He moves to meet her, hand catching at the small of her back to support that precarious tiptoe as he kisses her with eager urgency. No thought now about why they shouldn't do this. Chase kisses her like he's making up for lost time.]

[She's never faulted him for coming over when she called him, for staying when she asked him to. Here there's a convenient excuse, the City's all-too-apt take on the devil made me do it, and she doesn't fault him now for giving in, his urgency matched, arms slipping around his neck as she teases his lip with the tip of her tongue. There's every reason not to do this, but it isn't stopping her.]

[He teases in his own way, pulling back just enough to let the cold air sting at their lips before covering hers again in a series of gradually deepening kisses. Parting his lips to whisper the stuttered syllables of her name into her mouth, he walks her slowly backwards in his arms.]

[See, she can let other people lead, now and then; once the situation has been established, under her control. When he pulls away she strives toward him, fiercely and mindlessly grinning against his mouth, fingers curled in the back of his collar, oblivious to the cold or the people edging past them. Taking short steps, she trusts him not to let her stumble as he guides them back.]

[Mindless... isn't what he's looking for, although this helpless rush of want is dizzying, disorienting. Dark blue eyes are unfocused when he looks at her, resting his forehead lightly against hers. The rough scratch of brickwork against the back of the hand clasped around her shoulders announces that there's no where else to go, and shoppers immersed in window displays pick semicircles around them where they stand.]

[Squaring her shoulders against the wall she takes a moment to look at him, a little uncertain. She's pressed up against him, oblivious to the amused glances of those who find this display more interesting than the glittery stand of mannequins behind the glass. It's an unguarded moment; Cameron can't tell how much of this is the mistletoe, how much is her own frustrated attraction.

She can't shake the sense that she ought to apologize, but she doesn't. Instead she kisses him again, tentative, less desperate but no less intimate.]

[Unguarded is so rare for her that Chase can't help but take it as something of the curse, though he knows he's looking back at her with unclouded eyes. As uncertain as she is, maybe, but not of his own motives. He's not returning her kisses under the influence of a magical plant, and he's not - can't even think of pushing her away again.

If one of them apologises then the responsibility rests with him. What's uncertain is just how much he can be sorry. He raises a hand to curl into the sleek fall of her hair, setting up another barrier to the world beyond the two of them. The windows are bright behind them, and her face almost silhouetted, though he keeps his eyes open, afraid of missing something.]

[She leans into his touch a little, eyes half-lidded. He couldn't push her away if he wanted to, with her fingers fisted in the collar of his shirt. The longer this goes on, the more certain she is that she could break away, if she really wanted to. It isn't much of a secret that she doesn't.

After a few moments she does pull back, a little, pausing and taking a slow, deep breath. She shouldn't. They shouldn't.]

Robert...

[It's quiet and a little plaintive. She never calls him that. But she hasn't let him go, either.]

[At any other time it could throw him. The pool of people who favour his first name has been so shallow that it's a long time since he stopped turning around upon hearing it called. From her it should be particularly outlandish, but it's too late tonight for anything else to catch him unawares. His expression turns to something in parts questioning and amused, eyebrows quirked up along with the corners of his mouth.

He's not regretful or guilty for once, and, in a sudden rush, he doesn't think he's uncertain anymore, either. But, just to check.]

Hey. Are you back?

[Gentle, and little more than a whisper. More than close enough to be heard.]

[A small, embarrassed smile teases at her lips, an expression that suggests she might never have left. Truth be told, she's mortified; losing control because of a curse is one thing. Losing control just because is something different. The line is too blurred to tell, here.

She lets go, slowly, fingers uncurling and arms falling, brushing the lapels of his coat gently as they do. She's putting an end to this; but what's the point in pretending it doesn't mean anything, if both of them know better by now?]

Yeah, I'm... [She pauses.] Sorry. I'm fine.

[If only because she should know better, and does. Still, there's a little rueful smile. She's embarrassed. She isn't angry. Whether she regrets it... Cameron isn't entirely sure.]

[Losing control isn't as bad as she thinks, in Chase's opinion. Sometimes, when it comes to her, getting out of control is roughly equatable to being honest. He's observed the phenomena a few times, now. Not just the curses, although the startling number of times losing her senses seems to end up with her at his door can't simply be written off as coincidence. No. Back home there was the thing with the drugs; as soon as the responsibility wasn't on her, she called him over. But they both know now, it's not just sex.

Though that part never sucked, either.

In a mirror of her movements he lets his arms drop to his sides, then, because somehow it feels more awkward to be standing there so close but separate and apart, he folds them across his chest. It stops him reaching out again.]

Good. [He pauses, biting down on one corner of his lip and checking the eaves above them for anything that could change matters.] I need to ask you something and I didn't want to get an answer from some magical plant. Do you think we could...

[A hesitation, only because he's rechecking his phrasing, nerves creeping in to narrow his throat.]

Have you ever thought about giving it another go? Us. As an us. I... think I made the wrong decision, before.

[This isn't entirely unexpected, but she's somehow incredulous anyway, looking up at him. It's funny. She wants him. He wants her. And the idea of giving it another go still makes her heart freeze for just a moment, an irrational, internal paroxysm of terror. She doubts he has any comprehension of it, the way it scares her, everything he represents.

She's afraid of breaking him, too, especially right now.]

Chase...

[Which might be enough to infer that she's not going to leap into his arms. It would be so nice if there was an answer that was neither yes nor no. Because she wants him. She does, unquestionably. That ought to be enough, but it never has been.]

I care about you. [Has she said it, even, in such plain terms? He knows she does. But there's a difference between knowing it and hearing it. It's a mark of the gravity of her answer that she does put it so blatantly.] But... You just ended something.

[Something that wasn't casual, something that Cameron has always worried is more important than whatever is between the two of them. Of course, she won't say any of that. She reaches up, uncertain, to rest one hand on his arm. This is always the point at which things fall apart for them, when she tries to tell him something and he hears something else entirely, and Cameron isn't sure she can make him understand what she needs him to know.]

I don't want to question us, if there is an us. I need to know you aren't just with me because you want to be with someone. And... I'm not sure if I can be. Yet.

I've spent more than two thirds of the three years you've known me not in a relationship. I'd think that suggests I can handle being alone.

[Handle it? Chase has made it a near art form, if not initially through any choice of his own. Two foreign countries. Fifteen years with no family worth speaking about. Twenty before the prospect of dating someone had existed at all. Truthfully the prospect of being with someone, seriously being with them is almost as terrifying to him as it is for her, but also something that a part of him craves on a level he could never express. He thinks he could make a good job of it, though, that he's seen enough mistakes to be able to learn from them.

For all that, he's not as stung as he could be by what isn't quite a rejection but is, ultimately, a no. He wouldn't have complained about the leaping into his arms, had that happened, but he can't deny he'd have been suspicious of it. Of anything he earned without putting the work in.

So he nods, just a little stiffly, brow knitting as he considers this less a denial than a prospect. There's at least potential in what she's given him.]

You want me to give you better reasons we should be together. [He nods, and meets her eyes. Phrase it as a challenge and there's not much he won't do to prove himself right.]

Okay.

[It's a no. But only because she's too serious about this to risk either of them getting hurt for something stupid. Habitual loner or not, he wouldn't be the first person to make a mess of things with a hasty relationship on the rebound; and, admittedly, she hasn't wholly recovered her wounded pride.

She doesn't know what's made her bold enough to come this far.]

I'm not leading you on. I promise. It's just... I'm not ready, yet.

[Closing the distance between them briefly, she reaches up to brush her lips against his cheek-- chaste and childlike compared to a few moments past, but given wholly freely. When she steps back again she's oddly awkward, not quite certain how to hold herself, too much bared to recover her composure while meeting his eyes.]

I should get home.

Edited 2009-12-19 03:48 (UTC)

Cameron, it's okay, [he promises earnestly, unable to attribute the slight flush across the apex of his cheeks to the cold, or anything other than the momentary press of her lips. Arms loosening from their awkward grip across his chest, he tucks hands into the oversized pockets of his winter coat, watching her even if she won't look back.] I like you. As long as you can deal with me reminding you of that once in a while, then I'm willing to wait.

[It's like something has fallen away with telling her, or even with just making up his mind. Things are rarely perfect, but if they're not impossible then they have to be worth a shot. It's Christmas. Sometimes miracles happen.]

Come on, it's only three blocks. If we walk a few paces apart we'll be good. And there's this display, with candles, it's only one street out of your way if you want to take a look.

[He's already stepping out ahead, still in her direction and lighter on his feet than he's been in a while. Only pausing to throw a glance, and a smile, back at her.]

Very pretty.

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☤ twenty-nine

its okaaaaay you are having the funs!

i am! getting fresh air and sunlight. except it rained >>

But the outdoors is so big and wiiiide

and, occasionally, very very wet |D

/makes no jokes

.......SOB

I DIDN'T MAKE ONE

b-but i wouldn't even have thought if. fgklfdsjgskldg.

then i apologise for being a terrible person.

/loves you anywaaay <33

/is redeemed by the glory of your love

<33

<33

/late forever and ever ffff what is this real life what's going on

it's okay, just hold on to the computer and you never have to see that nasty real life again.

b-but i had fun |D

sigh sob well then i suppose i can allow it.

<33

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