tb5-hellbound

Prelude 9:27 pm also i have another 2k in TA Kate 9:27 pm and you do not have enough hours in the day Prelude 9:27 pm and they are about to have a Big Talk Kate 9:27 pm OOOOH KHNDFKLVGERUILG i just got SO excited Prelude 9:27 pm no and I have a small person sitting on my lap yelling SUPER JUMP SUPER JUMP and not finishing her pizza Kate 9:28 pm hahshaaha she is my spirit animal except i would have finished the pizza in the first 30 seconds Prelude 9:29 pm hahaha yeah she got distracted by puppy games on her phone Kate 9:29 pm oh well then that is understandable Prelude 9:30 pm the problem is she still sits on my lap and she weighs forty pounds she is 3’6" and people think she’s a six year old Kate 9:31 pm she sounds exactly like my cousin sam she’s going to be TALL Prelude 9:31 pm oh yeah freakish Kate 9:31 pm are you and hubby tall? Prelude 9:31 pm oh yes Kate 9:31 pm both? Prelude 9:31 pm I’m 5’9", he’s 6’1" Kate 9:31 pm ahhh yess Prelude 9:32 pm I’m the shortest member of my family, although that may have changed Kate 9:32 pm but good height comparison between the two of you Prelude 9:32 pm My sister tells me she’s 5’7" I do not believe Kate 9:32 pm i would like to be 5’7" or even 5’5" Prelude 9:32 pm oh no kate are you tiny i write Penelope as very very tiny Kate 9:32 pm yes, i relate like in TA when you wrote that bit about gordon hovering above her i am her height Prelude 9:33 pm ehehehehehe Kate 9:33 pm so i could completely visualize it Prelude 9:33 pm niiiiice i love me a good height difference Kate 9:33 pm i mean anyone can visualize it but i mean i have been there lil lol i like guys at like 5’10" Prelude 9:33 pm Not Too Tall Kate 9:34 pm the 5’9" or 5’10" is great for my height YES EXACTLY Prelude 9:34 pm She wears like crazy high heels also like she’s wearing platform stilettos half the time. Kate 9:34 pm right i used to, i miss heels Prelude 9:34 pm i love a girl in Good Shoes Kate 9:34 pm i like opportunities to wear heels i haven’t in like a full year ME TOO! Prelude 9:34 pm (spoilers gordon is going to discover that he has a bit of a Shoe Thing) Kate 9:34 pm OH YES I AM READY Prelude 9:35 pm hahahahaha you just sit on the sidelines and cheer everytime I say these sinful things about this very good boy Kate 9:35 pm because i am the biggest, biggest fan of said sinful things Prelude 9:35 pm good, you keep me going Kate 9:35 pm really, just the biggest fan Prelude 9:35 pm It is very helpful Kate 9:35 pm i will be your cheerleader i am that peron person that wants the gritty stuff i want the details Prelude 9:36 pm bless your heart but also like I don’t think I’ll ever get to SMUT territory Kate 9:36 pm keeps me going Prelude 9:36 pm I just like writing like Kate 9:36 pm right Prelude 9:36 pm passions Kate 9:36 pm not that i would expect you too Prelude 9:36 pm not that I couldn’t either Kate 9:36 pm but you tow the line like where you are with TA is Prelude 9:36 pm I walk that tightrope Kate 9:36 pm perfect Prelude 9:36 pm the artful cutaway Kate 9:37 pm b/c then it’s really all left up to the imagination to fill in what you please yes! Prelude 9:37 pm the “oh by the way I can hold my breath for four minutes and I played clarinet in highschool” like Kate 9:37 pm i like that more than actual smut Prelude 9:37 pm subtle yknow Kate 9:37 pm LOL Prelude 9:37 pm see, you get it 😉 Kate 9:37 pm but you say things like"fuckfest" and it makes me happy b/c the deed was done, but again your imagination fills in the details Prelude 9:38 pm exactly and honestly the hardest thing about writing this stuff is writing what they’re both actually doing because I can’t just have the pair of them lying there but i’m very bad at visualizing I need like a pair of very bendy barbies artist doll things Kate 9:39 pm i like it when it’s right there, right at the edge, but then you (as the reader) take it there b/c we all have our own ideas and interpretations of events and what should happen and the way it happens Prelude 9:39 pm yeah! Kate 9:39 pm lol right Prelude 9:39 pm like, i will give you all of the bricks and all of the mortar you fit 'em together Kate 9:39 pm yes, love it! Prelude 9:40 pm ahhh but also like Kate 9:40 pm aw dang now i need more, prelude Prelude 9:40 pm well I mean also like, talking about the terms of their relationship and the fact that they’re going to have a relationship or at least see what happens Kate 9:41 pm i need it okay Prelude 9:41 pm oh man kate if I keep it going there’s gonna be So Much drama with Scotty Kate 9:41 pm like romance is also my New Thing okay like WAIT WAIT WHAT ABOUT DRAMA WITH SCOTT Prelude 9:42 pm oh yeah Kate 9:42 pm TELL ME MORE Prelude 9:42 pm if Gordon gets Penny pregnant, Scott is gonna rip him the fuck in half Kate 9:42 pm BUT LIEK like i don’t care i need it i need to see how it shifts the dynamics for all of them Prelude 9:42 pm oh yes it’s gonna be like, to the point of massive overreaction, almost for a Reason Kate 9:43 pm but that fits with scott i would expect that from scott does it have to do with age Prelude 9:43 pm well, i think for Scott the thing is that he like got a girl pregnant when he was in high school Kate 9:43 pm with scott stepping into dad role OMG YES keep going i am so excited Prelude 9:43 pm and she didn’t keep it, and that was for the best Kate 9:43 pm there are 5 boys in this family you can’t tell me an oops didn’t happen at least once Prelude 9:44 pm But he hates himself for being so irresponsible and stupid and impulsive and young Kate 9:44 pm yes yes yes the scott/gordon dynamic i am fucking HERE for it Prelude 9:44 pm me too But this is also just such a huge thing for Penelope because like her whole life and this was just supposed to be a sort of “well we’ll see” kind of a thing and the first impulsive night they have together, the unthinkable happened and of course she’s not on birth control, she hasn’t been in a serious relationship in a couple of years now And why would he have brought condoms to his grandma’s birthday party and they both should’ve thought about the potential for this consequence, but there’s such an afterglow and it seems more important to think about their relationship and neither of them figured this could happen Kate 9:46 pm right right and passion is like a real fucker that changes everything Prelude 9:47 pm no pun intended Kate 9:47 pm HA Prelude 9:47 pm and they were both looking forward to that courtship phase like Kate 9:47 pm but passion is a fickle bitch, it’s all about the moment she comes for even the most sensible Prelude 9:48 pm the thing that’s going to happen in this chapter is that she’s going to say “okay, let’s do this right. would you rather I took you out for valentine’s day or for your birthday?” “And would you rather go to Paris or Nice?” Kate 9:48 pm oh man grabby hands i’m super excited for the scott parts of this like i love the g/p part too obvs but what scott would go through would be a big Thing he is very emotitonal Prelude 9:49 pm oh yeah Kate 9:49 pm emotional Prelude 9:49 pm I think like Gordon doesn’t know about Scott’s thing And like john or somebody sort of has to take him aside and quietly explain Kate 9:50 pm also, you may not have ever even gone here, but due to my recent obsession, that then makes me think of virgil and kayo if they’re messing around too to be careful shit happens any of them, really, i guess Prelude 9:50 pm oH yeah Kate 9:50 pm i wanna be inside scott’s head when the news comes out Prelude 9:50 pm no they are fanatically careful and they are like Kate 9:50 pm so they are like straight up doing it though? Prelude 9:50 pm no, they’ve been doing this for like a year and a half No one knows Kate 9:50 pm like they are THERE Prelude 9:50 pm Oh yeah They are total fuckbuddies Kate 9:50 pm OH WAIT really? that long?! Prelude 9:51 pm oh yeah Kate 9:51 pm wow, that’s even ebtter better Prelude 9:51 pm no, they have a Thing They have a System Kate 9:51 pm also, i am super impressed that they kept it quiet for that long Prelude 9:51 pm Oh yeah Kate 9:51 pm which makes sense considering kayo Prelude 9:51 pm Yeah, entirely Kate 9:51 pm is special ops or whatever Prelude 9:51 pm I think Virgil’s just like I mean Kate 9:51 pm but like, i dunno, i love it Prelude 9:52 pm I think he’s the place where everybody else goes with secrets Kate 9:52 pm and i kinda like looking at the various dynamics Prelude 9:52 pm but he’s insanely good at keeping his own Kate 9:52 pm of what is and what isn’t YES i’ve always headcanoned virgil that way too Prelude 9:52 pm I think Somebody might know about Virgil hahahaha I also kind of I mean like Kate 9:52 pm wait tell me about the system Prelude 9:52 pm there’s a place I wanna go with Virgil Kate 9:52 pm i am sorry Prelude 9:52 pm haha I don’t know much yet Kate 9:52 pm i hijacked this conversation Prelude 9:52 pm but it’s like no no, it’s cool Kate 9:53 pm from pen and ink to virgil Prelude 9:53 pm No, I gotchu fam Kate 9:53 pm and kayo lol but i have thought lots about the first 2 Prelude 9:53 pm I think they have like Kate 9:53 pm and v/k is new and exciting for me lol WAIT THIS PLACE TELL ME MORE Prelude 9:53 pm hahaha well like I mean, it’s meant to be sort of an overall examination of relationships in the family Kate 9:53 pm yes yes Prelude 9:54 pm and how some of them know some things about each other and some of them know other things and some things are secret Like, Scott/Jane have a secret relationship, but I think like Alan knows or something Alan also still kind of has a thing for Kayo, but he’s aware that it’s dumb and he needs to get over it but he’s still gonna be really hurt if he finds out about her and virgil Kate 9:54 pm awww yeah Prelude 9:54 pm And then like I waaaaaant like Kate 9:55 pm poor ala alan just in general Prelude 9:55 pm like, there’s sort of two major ships with Virgil are V/B and V/K. and I kinda wanna go both places. I think Virgil is bi, but people tend to assume he’s gay. And I think maybe for a while he and Brains were kind of a thing, but also with that same sort of secrecy, and not like, in the fuckbuddy kinda way. I think they did more like traditional dating, just out of curiosity. But that hasn’t been a thing in ages, and they basically came to the conclusion that they’re happier as friends. Kate 9:57 pm hmmm would you try to explore both within this universe? Prelude 9:57 pm I think so. Kate 9:57 pm like the TA universe? wow! girl, you’ve got your work cut out for you! Prelude 9:57 pm Mostly just because I want Gordon to get mad as hell at Virgil, for having fooled around with the only two people on the island that they’re not related to, “you enormous lumberjack slut.” like, i want FIGHTS Kate 9:58 pm hahahahahha Prelude 9:58 pm “you beefy plaid whore” Kate 9:58 pm i don’t know why, but i have a hard time seeing brains in any sort of relationship with anyone Prelude 9:59 pm Yeah, that’s fair Kate 9:59 pm maybe it’s because i never formed an attachment to him? Prelude 9:59 pm I hear you Kate 9:59 pm or because he’s always like WORK SCIENCE OOPS Prelude 9:59 pm I mostly like the idea of Virgil being secretive about his personal relationships to the point that people assume he doesn’t have them. Kate 9:59 pm but also i LOVE the insults from gordon you beefy plaid whore HHAHAHAHA so virgil/kayo would end up coming out? Prelude 10:00 pm “you flannel strumpet” “there are two people on this island you don’t share dna with and you fucked both of them” (he didn’t, actually) (also scott knew about virgil/brains being a thing and this is why he thinks virgil is gay) Kate 10:00 pm like a total accident? how would gordon know? i wanna see this fight Prelude 10:00 pm Oh yeah, they’re in better shape than anyone else Kate 10:00 pm hahahaha Prelude 10:00 pm I think it comes out in one capacity or another Kate 10:00 pm hahahhahahaha the insults are amazing how would scott feel about that? Prelude 10:00 pm Either Virgil owns up for some reason, possibly to keep Scott from really tearing into Gordon Kate 10:00 pm with his whole secret jane thing oooh you know that is EXACTLY what virgil would do try to reason Prelude 10:01 pm i think there’s a massive blow out Kate 10:01 pm ooooh no i’m getting even more invested in v.k now Prelude 10:01 pm and Virgil grabs John and is like “okay, I’ll take Scott, you take Gordon.” Kate 10:01 pm like, what happens from there OOOH OOOH Prelude 10:02 pm i think V probably goes to Kayo and says “okay, i think I need to talk to Scott about us” Kate 10:02 pm KEEP GOING TELL ME MORE Prelude 10:02 pm And she’s like “MMMMMMM NOT SURE I DIG ON THAT, THERE IS LITERALLY A SMOKING CRATER WHERE GORDON WAS STANDING” “yeah but that’s why we gotta” I think John’s a bigger factor for Gordon vs the whole potential parenthood thing because I’ll always write him as aro/ace But he’s also the person with the closest analogue to a child, in EOS Kate 10:04 pm okay okay although, scott too Prelude 10:04 pm Oh yeah Kate 10:04 pm kinda assuming father role Prelude 10:04 pm Oh totally Kate 10:04 pm oh man oh man sarah Prelude 10:04 pm “I’m just telling you what Dad told me when I did this” Kate 10:04 pm you have no idea the kind of feels i have right now OH OOOH MAN Prelude 10:05 pm Gordon being like “excuse me, I did not knock up a cheerleader I’d known for three weeks in the back of Grandpa’s truck when i was seventeen” Prelude 10:06 pm “if the great state of kansas had an age of consent any younger than sixteen, what you did would’ve been statutory” then probably there’s some punching Kate 10:06 pm ooooh shit lol yeah yeah, there’s definitely some punching Prelude 10:07 pm hahaha oh man i just wrote a line Kate 10:07 pm OH DID YOU NOW Prelude 10:07 pm “Not much for sleeping late, then?” she inquires, curious more than she is critical. “Personally, I’ve got a terrible fondness for a good lie-in.”

“I get nervous when I don’t know what time it is,” he admits, a little sheepishly. “I mean—it doesn’t matter. S’just…I dunno, I’m all hungover. And we’re supposed to be outta here by noon. And—and I don’t mean to keep coming back to it, but my entire family, Penelope. Right outside your bedroom door. My grandmother. We weren’t supposed to get her anything, but like…happy birthday, Grandma! I slept with our London Agent.”

“Well, if it helps, it was well after midnight before anything of consequence actually happened.” Penelope tilts her head slightly (adorably), and seems bemused by the concept. “But then, it does beg the question—is that something she would consider a gift?”

Gordon shrugs. “There’s a reason Grandma rhymes with drama.”

S: I need to see you.

J: ooh I kinda hoped you might <3

J: Room 301 @ Aerotel Singapore ;)

J: bring me a bottle of whiskey or I'm not letting you in

S: Not like that.

J: oh.

J: Is everything okay?

S: Can't talk about it. Unsecured comm. I'll be there in an hour. Talk then.

And then nothing else. There's not much to go on, and she knows better by now than to try and press Scott for information when there's something bothering him, and she knows something's bothering him by the way he's terse and sharp and short. Whatever it is, it must be serious enough to warrant such strict privacy.

An hour is a long time to lie alone in the dark wondering what exactly her boyfriend's problem is. Initially she scours the news for any mention of any sort of disaster requiring the involvement of International Rescue and Thunderbird 1 by extension---but there's nothing. Nothing that's been publicly reported, at least. It's not in Jane's nature to worry about things she can't change, and so she puts it resolutely out of her mind. She passes the time reading recipes that she never intends to make, and browsing idly through the latest offerings from the tabloid press, though the "news" is all fairly stale and none of it sparks her interest.

She's dozing a little bit by the time there's a knock on her door, hard and loud enough that she starts awake, briefly bewildered before she remembers she's expecting company. There's an insistence to the second knock on the door that makes it more of a pounding, and she mutters uncharitably under her breath as she climbs out of bed.

The hotel room is cool, and it's late enough that it's starting to be early. Outside, the first suggestion of dawn creeps into the sky, a reminder that she really does need to be fresh and well-rested for her next flight, and whatever's brought Scott to her doorway right now had better be urgent.

Even though she's expecting him, natural caution has her stop and tap a fingertip against a touchscreen embedded at eye-level in the door. Just to be safe. This activates a camera to reveal a view of the hallway, and grants her a glimpse of Scott in an unguarded moment. The weariness and the worry in his bearing stifle any inclination she might have to tell him off for pounding on her door. He's rested one of his forearms against the doorjamb, and leans against it, looking worn out in a way he usually doesn't. He's also in full uniform, which isn't exactly uncommon, considering the usual manner of their meetings. Every now and again their schedules will overlap in such a way that she can join him somewhere where they can both be in their civvies---but tonight her uniform hangs pressed and ready in the closet by the door, and he's still in brilliant IR blue when Jane opens the door.

She only just catches him straightening up and pushing a hand through his hair, and if he doesn't quite smile when he sees her, some of the tension around his eyes seems to soften slightly.

"Hey," she says, and offers a smile that's gentle where it might otherwise be wicked, if this were their usual flavour of rendezvous. "C'mon in."

"Hi," he answers, but something about the way he says it seems almost absent, perfunctory. He's visibly distracted as he steps into her hotel room, moves swiftly past her as she closes the door behind him, and when she turns, he's made a beeline straight for the minibar in the corner of the room. A glass hits the countertop, and there's a melodic chime as the mini fridge swings open, and then three tiny bottles of liquor cluster around his chosen glass.

"I was kidding about the bottle of whiskey," Jane volunteers, watching as Scott deftly twists a tiny lid off a tiny bottle, and pours himself a shot of straight tequila. For Jane's part, her current employer maintains a strict zero-tolerance policy for drugs and alcohol, and there's a twelve hour delay required betwixt bottle and throttle. "I'm due back in the air in nine hours, I won't be joining you."

"Wasn't planning to share." Shots of rum and vodka join the tequila, tinting the concoction into a light amber colour. Scott reopens the mini fridge, frowns into it briefly, before closing it again. Before Jane can comment any further, he's picked up his drink and thrown it back, in the manner of somebody who'd better not intend to fly anywhere in the next twelve hours. This accomplished, he abandons his empty glass on the countertop, and turns away from the bar to drop bodily onto the waiting couch at the far end of her suite, tipping his head back and closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Jane, having watched this dramatic little one-man tableau from the doorway, takes her cue to pad across the room in her bare feet, and seats herself gingerly on the sleek coffee table in front of him. She doesn't say anything, quietly expectant, and waits patiently for Scott to set the tone with whatever he decides to say first.

To his credit, he doesn't make her wait long. "...Sorry." He lifts a still gloved (gauntleted, really) hand to rub his fingertips against closed eyes, and then drags his palm down his face.

"Hit the bottle kinda hard there, champ," Jane observes, keeping her tone carefully light and non-judgmental, at least until she has a better explanation of what's going on. "You're lucky the room gets charged to my company card."

Scott chuckles but doesn't look at her, darkly sardonic in a way that he just isn't, usually. "Just following orders."

That's uncharacteristically cryptic, and something about the way he's said it makes her skin crawl slightly, hinting at something she's starting to suspect, but doesn't want to believe. Three little bottles still sit empty atop the minibar, winking in the low lights of the hotel room and persistent at the edge of her awareness. She'd been joking about the bottle of whiskey, but it's true that some of the best times they've had together have been over beers at a ballgame, or sipping Scotch at some nameless hotel bar. But this is clearly different. And not just because he's on his way to getting very drunk, while she remains resolutely sober. Something's wrong; this isn't like him. Something brought this about.

Jane reaches out to put a hand on Scott's knee, and her voice is gentle and sincere as she asks, "Are you okay? What happened?"

Scott takes a deep breath, and his gaze falls to her hand upon his knee, as though he can't bring himself to look at her when he answers, "...I fucked up." His fingers close over hers with a kind of desperate urgency, like her touch is a lifeline he can't lose hold of. "I mean I really fucked up, Jane, and I came here because I need to talk to somebody, but I don't know if I can even tell you. It's some shit about me and some shit about my family, and it's big and ugly and complicated and none of it's good and I just---I don't know what you'll think."

He falls silent, and Jane isn't sure what to say. Even after two years, vulnerability is rare in the man who saved her life, and truth be told, Jane likes it that way. Not that she'd fault him for it, just that she wouldn't entirely know how to respond. She knows, though they never really talk about it, that Scott's seen some shit. Jane doesn't know how to talk about that kind of thing, because that kind of thing is the kind of thing she renders in terms like "seen some shit". Sensitivity isn't her strong suit. Softer emotions don't come naturally to her.

But then, Scott knows that. They have it in common.

It's some instinct, then, that has her take his hand in both of hers. Idly, absently, she starts to undo the assorted straps and buckles that fasten his gloves. It's easier to talk if she pretends that this task is meticulous and demands more attention than it really does. All she really wants is to get down to bare skin, the intimacy of real contact, and hope it'll help make her point clear.

"I remember when I told you about my dad," she says, not looking up and unbuckling a clasp and loosening a strap, and starting to work the fingers of the gloves loose. This gets a little tricky as Scott's fingers twitch, reflexively trying to clench into a fist at the mere mention of her father. She squeezes his wrist gently and his hand relaxes, so she goes on, "Speaking of 'big' and 'ugly' and 'complicated'. I didn't know what you were going to think, either."

She tugs the glove free, tosses it onto the couch beside him, as he protests, "This is different."

Now her hand clasps his for a moment, before she gets up from the coffee table, and sits right back down, beside him this time. Insistent, she curls herself up on the couch, leans against his chest, tilts her head against his shoulder. "Maybe. But you let me tell you, and you listened, and it helped to get it out, and now you know something about me that almost no one else does. If it would help to get it out, Scott, just talk. Or do you need me to get you another drink?"

"I need you to stay just exactly where you are." His right hand is bare now, and much more deftly than she had, he pulls his other glove off. Reflexively, maybe, his arm wraps around her shoulder, and though she'd nestled close, he pulls her closer still. The bare skin of his palm is warm against her arm, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath when he rests his cheek against the crown of her head and sighs.

Jane tilts her face up and kisses his cheek. For being as brave and intrepid and daring as he is, it can sometimes be hard to get the ball rolling with Scott. More often than not, Jane finds herself initiating things between them. She gives him another little nudge, literally and metaphorically. "Look---I recognize the irony of telling you this while we're in another damn hotel room, but babe, when we decided that this whole thing was going to be more than just hook-ups in hotel rooms, part of that was an agreement to talk to each other about our lives, once in a while."

He shifts beside her, but she refuses to do anything but cuddle stubbornly closer, even if she can hear the discomfort in his tone when he protests, "It's my brothers, though."

She can't help a snort of laughter at this. "You tell me everything about your brothers. The number of times you've come bitching to me at the end of a long day about Alan's whining or John's micromanaging---some days I think I know your brothers better than you do."

The statement is carefully crafted, deliberately phrased so as to needle at Scott's not-so-subtle competitive edge, his perpetual need to prove himself. Still, even thus prompted, it takes him a few long moments to volley back, and there's genuine anguish in his voice when he asks---

1 - champagne and bourdeaux

It’s a strange thing to know, especially as wholly and completely as she suddenly seems to know it. Sitting beside him beneath a staircase, after a day like today, a day so different from the days they usually spend together—realizing that it’s not the silly, childish crush she’s always assumed it was. And it seems like such an enormous, obvious truth, yet it’s hard to know how to react. Penelope doesn’t feel frozen exactly, so much as she feels some essential part of her has stilled, and grown suddenly calm and tranquil, in the presence of something very important.

He’ll remember what she does next for the rest of his life, and so it’s very important that she does it slowly and carefully, with absolutely no ambiguity about her intent. Gordon’s hands are still anxiously occupied by the champagne bottle he’s been toying with, and Penelope reaches over to take it from him, sets it gently on the floor between their feet. One of her knees presses against his as she shifts to sit closer, takes his hand in hers, and threads her fingers into the spaces between his.

And, well. She’s probably had just enough champagne for this to be a viable course of action.

She finds she quite likes the way that, even sitting, she needs to turn her face upwards to press her lips against his jaw.

6 - comment and critique

Well. Of course she’s imagined this.

Half the time she runs into him, he’s wearing nothing better than a wet suit. Frequently this is wet. The damn thing sometimes looks like it’s been sculpted onto him, a classical study of the male form in shades of cerulean. He’s a former Olympian. He’s an efficient, compact package of boyish good looks, supreme physical fitness, and real, actual heroism, wrapped up in bright blue with a sunshine yellow ribbon.

She’s only human.

But before now she’s always had to catch herself, always felt rather guilty if her thoughts about Gordon in particular had strayed too far into “cosmopolitan” territory. Penelope’s always had his brothers for context, had to consider him as the fourth out of five. Second youngest. It’s all relative. She’s known him from the very beginnings of International Rescue, when there were questions as to whether he was too young for the job. She’s almost of an age with his second eldest brother—John’s only a few months older than she is, October to her December. But there are three years between her and Gordon and before now, her idle musings about the shape of his hips, or the curve of his spine at the small of his back, or whether or not it’s true that swimmers tend to wax every last bit of hair off their bodies—it’s always felt a little bit wrong.

The incidental answer to this last question is no, actually. Not quite, anyway.

7 - questions and answers 

And then she sits up beside him and stretches, gloriously unselfconscious about her body, not that her body is something she should be even remotely self-conscious about. She’s gorgeous.

And he’d known that, obviously. It’s not like he’s looked at Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward in all her aristocratic untouchability and never gone through the mental exercise of just what she might look like naked. Gordon broadly considers himself to be a good person—but the sort of good person who runs into burning buildings after orphans and who donates millions of dollars to save coral reefs and who drinks eight glasses of water every day. Not the sort of good person who looks at the most beautiful woman in the world and keeps his thoughts about her perfectly chaste and pure.

It’s almost impossible to believe that the reality of her is better than anything he’d ever imagined, chaste or otherwise. By night he’d been enthralled by the feel of her, by the softness of her skin and the warmth of her hands and by the strength hidden behind her essential elegance. He hadn’t expected that. He’s never thought of Penelope as particularly strong. At least, not in a physical sense. She’s always seemed too dainty, too delicate, too ladylike. She’s reasonably fast and impressively nimble, especially for as often as she wears five-inch heels, but he wouldn’t have thought of her as strong, per se.

But then, there are things you learn about a person when their legs are wrapped around your waist, and Gordon’s enough of an athlete to perceive and appreciate what must be a fairly robust workout routine, to give a girl a core like that. Gotta be some yoga in there. Definitely some Pilates.

13 - valentine

It would be fair to say that Gordon’s kissed a lot of people. He could probably number them in the dozens, though he’d be lucky if he could name half of them. It would be reasonable to say that he’s gotten good at it, with a full decade of experience in between now and the first kiss he’d ever had; an awkward, fumbling experience with someone forgettable, behind the bleachers out by the football field, at his dustbowl of a Kansas high school.

This is better than that. This is better than any of the hundreds of kisses that must have come before it, from dozens of people, half of whom he doesn’t remember. This is better by a country mile, and it doesn’t even matter what country. Even if it’s France and the country mile should probably be rendered in metric. Gordon’s usually pretty good at doing the math in his head, but with her lips on his, he’s not sure what that would even be in kilometers. It hasn’t even been a month since the last time he’d seen her—the last time he’d kissed her—and yet somehow it’s like kissing her for the first time all over again.

Gordon’s kissed enough people to know that first kisses are just a means to an end, that is, the means to enable further kisses. He’s kissed enough people to know that she probably only meant to kiss him hello, but then he brought his A-game, and there’s that slight, almost faltering gasp as she draws back for a moment to get her breath back. The hands that had been light and loose around his waist come up, her fingers twisting in his tie as her other hand finds the back of his neck, and this second time is better than the first, not that he would’ve believed that possible. He wonders if that’s always going to be the case, if kissing her is always going to be an experience that iterates gloriously upward.

15 - lover

He needs to stop himself from telling her she’s beautiful, again.

But that means he’s going to need to come up with something else to say, otherwise he’s going to lose the rest of the night to staring at her. Even after everything that’s brought him to this point—Valentine’s Day, in Paris—he can still barely believe he’s really here with her; that this has happened, and is happening.

What pops into his head isn’t ideal, and probably shouldn’t be the first thing he goes with. But it’s relevant, and something he’s been trying to find a moment to mention. Not that it’s been bothering him. Because it hasn’t. But if it were, she’s gradually becoming the person he wants to talk to about the things that bother him. Not that this has. Because it hasn’t.

“Wanna hear something funny?” he says, as though telling her this as like it was a joke will make that so. “Something else Scott said.”

Her fingers slip daintily between his, clasping his hands. Her sarcasm is perfectly measured, exquisite, as she says, “Oh, I do so love it when Scott feels the need to say something.”

Gordon can’t help grinning at that, that she’d make him feel better about it before he’s even told her what it was. “Right?”

“What was it?”

She’s already on his side, and that’s the best possible feeling in the whole entire world. Gordon almost feels a little guilty, repeating back what Scott had to say, but in fairness, it concerns her, too. “Well, when he dropped me off in Sydney, he said it was nice of you to humour me, on my birthday.”

There’s a beat of silence. Her hand leaves his and goes to her wine glass, still half full of the half glass of champagne she’d talked him into. The rest of this vanishes, and the foot of the glass lands on the white tablecloth with perhaps a little less delicacy than should be employed, with stemware. There’s a flash of fire in her blue eyes beneath their dark lashes, but her voice is so cold it brings the breeze up with it. “Your brother,” she declares, “can be such a prick.”

16 - cunning linguist

It’s funny about French, and especially about this particular phrase in French, just how easy it is to get it wrong. The language of love is something of a minefield, especially when it comes to love. All manner of homonyms and double-meanings lie in wait, lurking scandalously in the vicinity of other perfectly innocent turns of phrase. Penelope has, on more than one occasion, made an absolute ass of herself in French and had thereafter settled for nothing less than absolute fluency in the language. There’s really only one way to properly say I love you in French.

Not, of course, that he’d said it in French.

“Yeah, that.” But though he’s still holding her, sat in his lap, he doesn’t look up, and instead decides to bury his face against her shoulder, and he holds her little tighter as he does so. It’s a tremendously vulnerable sort of gesture, rightly so, and she’s quick to press a kiss against the crown of his head and hug him back, as he mumbles into her shoulder, muffled and embarrassed, “I’m sorry.”

That won’t do.

“No!” she protests, because this is precisely what she’d hoped to avoid, “No—darling, don’t be. Please, don’t be. There’s no need.”

Gordon pulls away and shakes his head, and when he looks up at her, Penelope’s heart gives a little twinge of its own at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have—”

But she puts a finger to his lips and doesn’t let him finish, cutting him off, “Really, dearest. It’s not exactly as though I can’t already tell.”

There’s the slightest spark in his eyes, then, the sort she would’ve missed if she weren’t noticing how pleasing their agate-brown colour is by candlelight. Beneath the fingertip she has pressed against his lips, there’s a flash of a half-smile he can’t quite seem to help, as he comments, “And here I’m usually so subtle.”

“As a brick through a window.”

21 - valentine (reprise)

It's late and the house is dark. The floorboards creak beneath his feet as he proceeds through the front hallway. The hallway opens with the kitchen to his right, pale blonde cabinetry wrapped around a breakfast bar. The dining room is just beyond, a whitewashed trestle table, a hulking wooden thing that his grandfather had built, big enough that it had sat all nine members of their family at its largest—Grandma and Grandpa Tracy, Mom and Dad, Scott and his brothers.

None of them are here now.

The dining room opens up to the living room, wrapped all around with big wide windows with their broad, beautiful view; facing the fields that roll gently beyond the backyard, outward until they run into the wooded break of the treeline that separates the Tracy family's farm from the farm beside it, though the fields immediately around the farmhouse have lain fallow for years now, and those that have been bought up around them are farmed by roving agricultural drones. In the daylight they're a sight to behold, gleaming dark green and gold, John Deere's legacy

As he crosses the room, Scott idly drops his helmet onto the dining room table, where it thuds off the wood and rolls onto its face. "Honey, I'm home," he calls softly into the living room, and after a few moments he's rewarded by a shifting sound from the overstuffed living room couch.

A hand reaches up over the back of it and he gets a vague wave. She's wearing one of his shirts, pilfered from the upstairs dresser, and the sleeve of this drops back from her wrist to her elbow as she greets him, unceremoniously, "You're very late."

Scott feels a twist of guilt through his gut, though he knows by now that she doesn't hold it against him, and that she never will. It doesn't mean he isn't sorry. "I know."

"Late isn't really your thing."

27 - in and out

"Hiya," he starts, and in the time he had to wait for her, he should've tried to figure out what exactly he planned to say when she arrived, not that it even the wittiest repartee would've held up against the way she'd kissed him. Still. "How was—"

The pads of her first two fingers press against his lips before he can get any further, and her voice is soft and sultry and appealingly almost sternas she tells him, "No. No, my darling, none of that. No talking, I promise, we've nothing to talk about. Not now. Not after what happened last time. Later, darling. After."

There are very few people on the planet for whom Gordon will immediately shut up and do exactly as he's told, but Penelope Creighton-Ward is one of them. She's probably at the top of the list. Her intent is unambiguous, and there's a familiar intensity about her, as she leans into him again, her lips soft and her mouth wet as she kisses his neck. One of her hands has buried itself in a fistful of his hair, and the other has found its way beneath the hem of his t-shirt (cerulean blue, with an artfully faded logo declaring his allegiance to Lucky! brand jeans), and her fingers are as cool against the skin of his stomach as her breath is warm against his throat. The shiver that follows her touch is entirely involuntary.

This has happened before. This happened on just the other side of her bedroom door, only she'd known exactly where she was going, then. It's only been a couple minutes, she's only just gotten here. She doesn't quite have the lay of the land yet. So when she pauses again, for just a moment, Gordon easily and obligingly sweeps her off her feet into an effortless cradle carry. Less useful during rescue work than one might suppose. Surprisingly useful in this specific scenario, especially when one benches about two-twenty and one's girlfriend weighs about half that. Penelope gasps as he gets a proper grip on her, but his arms are solid behind her knees and around her back, and she relaxes almost immediately, clasping her hands around the back of his neck.

29 - hue and cry

It’s so easy to forget that Penelope’s tiny, really. With her shoes still abandoned by the foot of the bed, she’s over half a foot shorter than he is, slight and delicate. He glances at his watch—it had been 4:17PM NZST when he’d first taken her pulse, and the moment seems to have frozen itself in his memory—but it’s nearing half past the hour, now. It feels like longer, and yet he can still see the imprint she’d left on the plush duvet, and can’t stop seeing the way she’d looked so small and still and fragile and made him feel sick and frightened inside. Despite everything, these are better emotions to hold onto than anger, a better motivation to try and convince her that he’s right.

“Pen, please. I’m not—I don’t want to fight about this, why’re we fighting about this?” It comes out more like pleading than he wants it to, but it’s still better than shouting at her.

“Because you’re trying make me do something I don’t want to do,” Penelope informs him, coldly, turning away from the window to glare at him. “Something wholly unnecessary.”

Gordon’s not sure how often he can repeat the truth without it making the slightest impact, but he tries again anyway, “But, it’s—you were just gone, Penny. You went right out, fast, and then you were barely breathing and your pulse dropped, your blood pressure—your hands were like ice, they’re still like ice. You scared the hell outta me; you’re scaring the hell outta me. This kinda thing doesn’t just happen without a reason, and—”

“The reason is everything I’ve done to get here.” There’s an imperious little stamp of her foot, which would be adorable if she weren’t so angry—an emotion she clearly has no compunction about—and her hands drop into fists at her sides. Her glare moves up a level in severity and becomes an absolute glower. “I’m exhausted,” she continues, apparently indifferent to the fact that she’s not helping her case, and that the little paramedic in the back of Gordon’s brain is helpfully adding fatigue to her growing list of symptoms, along with irritability and altered mental status. “I’ve done so much to be with you, because it’s been awful not to be. I want you; I’ve missed you.”

She says this like it’s an accusation, as though it’s his fault somehow and she’s simply furious with him about it.

excerpt  (nsfw) from - here and now 

“Shh.”

There are very few people in the world who can get away with shushing Penelope, and one of them has just stolen her voice with another kiss, and his hand at the side of her neck, his thumb ghosting over the point of her pulse. This must be racing. His mouth leaves hers and lingers briefly along her jaw, before drifting down to her throat. Her eyes close and her neck arcs backward against his hand, as teeth scrape gently against her flesh, the pressure of his tongue against her throat as she swallows, her mouth falling open as another soft sound of longing escapes.

He pauses again, briefly, hesitant. “Tell me to stop,” he prompts softly, and she just shakes her head, shifting underneath him. At some point, beyond her ability to notice, he’s settled atop her properly, knees at either side of her hips. The hand that hasn’t clasped at the back of her neck has found its way beneath the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing, pushing it upwards, to bare the skin beneath. His palm rests against the curve of her ribcage, but goes no further. “If this is too much—”

“No,” she answers, and her hand fumbles for his, clasping his wrist and pressing it clumsily upward, until his fingers find the tender, waiting warmth of her left breast, and though her breath draws sharply, she still insists, “No, don’t—don’t stop. Anything. Everything. More—oh, god, more. Please.”