mnt_raph | (no subject)

(no subject)

Raph's shoulders droop as he stands outside the front door to the Tortise.
It's been nearly two weeks since he told Abigail that he'd be right back. Boy was he mistaken. What was supposed to be a simple return to Milliways for a Security shift became...well far more than that.

Originally he stayed at Milliways out of fear of not wanting to have to explain the magic of the bar to Abigail. Of course if asked he merely said that it was because he was sure he'd change back if only he stuck around for Mike's B Birthday. When that day came and went he started to grow...shall we say a bit concerned.

A bit quickly turned to a whole lot concerned the morning he woke up in Mike's spare bedroom to find that his brother attempting to wrap him head to toe in tinfoil, muttingering something about carbonite and the bounty Jabba had promised in exchange for his safe delivery. Things only got exponentially worse from there.

Raph cringes as he recollects just how bad "worse" actually was.
In the end it wasn't fear of Abigail that kept Raph away, but rather fear of what would happen to Mike if he didn't stay.
Thankfully Leo showed up.

"...never thought I'd be thinkin' that again, that's for damn sure," he mutters to himself, pushing the front door open.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"No," Abigail replies, doing something to the back of his shirt so she can get her hands on his skin, "we paid Cloud's usual stall, and the hay loft, and that dark corner of the paddock a lengthy visit when you were here last."

Can he hear her smirk?

"Did we?" he asks punctuating his question with a firm, yet gentle, smack on her behind. Something about the action jogs his memory. "Oh, no wait...yeah, I remember that. Good times. Okay so not the barn."

Here he pauses. He was on his way towards the kitchen...

"Weren't we in the kitchen the time before that?"

"Was that you?" asks Abigail, sweetly.

"Oh ho ho ho ho. The lady thinks she's a comedian. It better have been, for your sake." This time he turns his head and plants a kiss on the only part of her that he can reach from this angle.

"Lady? What -- watch where you're walkin' -- What lady would this be, then?"

Letting out a delighted snort, she wiggles on his shoulder in order to pull his shirt up more.

"Aye, I remember the kitchen now. All that flour. Least there's more room than in storage. Had a crick in my neck for weeks," she adds, solemnly, and lifts her head to check on their progress.

"Yeah, that weren't our best idea ever," he's forced to admit. Such a sight they must be. Standing there in the middle of the main tavern room, both trying to find clever ways of removing the others clothing.

"Okay. I got it. We got an entire tavern to pretty much ourselves, right? Free reign. Let's go somewhere we ain't been in ages."

Beat.

"Bedroom? Yours I mean."

Why Abigail loves Raph, reason number twenty-six: the man can be beastly intelligent when he puts his mind to it.

"Bedroom," she says at almost exactly the same time, starting in on his pants.

After all, there was really only one possible answer.

"What're you waitin' for? Now get!"

"Yes, Ma'am," he says with a cackle that is more like a deep rumble in his chest than anything else. And well, if she's going to start in on his already ill-fitting pants, then surely she won't mind if his hand starts to feel its way up under the hem of her skirt. Right?

She doesn't mind at all. In fact, given her reaction, she probably wouldn't mind even if the room was still full. Blood rushing to her head, she laughs and squirms some more, making it harder for him to walk with his pants drooping that way, and almost flails as she feels her weight shift and slide back.

"Careful," she warns, tone allowing for no mistakes. Her not minding doesn't extend to being dropped on her head.

"Yes," someone adds, dryly.

Abigail's head jerks sideways and the toes of two boots come into sight. Slowly, lips twitching, her eyes travel from boots to legs to -- oh, Goddess -- to the scowling visage of her dear brother Thomas.

Her dear brother Thomas who is casually holding a pail of dirty kitchen water, as if he hasn't quite decided what to do with it.

"Throw that, brother mine, and you'll be wishin' for the Dark God by dawn," she barks.

Thomas bares his teeth in a wicked grin.

Very slowly Raph turns towards Thomas. His eyes narrow.

"If you're even thinkin' what I think you're thinkin'? Know in your heart: I will end you where you stand."

You don't want to be ended by a guy nearly losing his pants, do you Thomas?

...

Wait, don't answer that.

There's a moment when Thomas eyes them and is less sure than he'd been earlier that this younger, hairier man is Raph, but the voice and eyes banish that thought.

Not to mention the way his sister is still trying to remove Raph's leggings. A brother can overlook a great deal, he's found, but this is all a bit much. In the common room. Honestly.

He lowers his arm and swings the pail back and forth until water sloshes over the side. "The satisfaction might be worth it," he decides. "Can you not take this somewhere else?"

Abigail unwisely laughs at him, thinking of all the other nearby places they'd taken it in the past, and finds herself flicked with water.

"He's just jealous," she says, doing her best to pat Raph's shoulder.

"What'd you think we were doin' before you went an' stopped us?"

Yeah, he knows how dumb that sounds. Sadly he had to hear himself say it before he realized just how dumb that sounds.

But it sounds like Raph, which is reassuring. Thomas has no idea what's happened to the man and chooses not to speculate, but it's good to know Abigail is consistent in her impropriety.

"Look at you, two grown people carryin' on like kids not ten and eighteen," Thomas scoffs. "My own sister."

Abigail tightens her hold on Raph's pants and goes still. She's beginning to suspect that some of her brother's ire and indignation is an act. Eyes narrowed, she starts to say so when he turns an angelic smile her way and brightly asks Raph:

"Actin' like this, I don't see how you've a choice so... When're you marryin' her?"

If Thomas was looking to touch a nerve, he's just gone and succeeded. In a big way. Raph's shoulders tense, and those that know him well know that he's working his way down from ten before he forces his jaw to unclench.

Way to go, Tomas. You are officially a buzzkill.
Raph gives Abigail a nudge to let her know he's putting her down before he does so.

"That'd really be between me an' Abigail, wouldn't it?" His voice and tone is even. Too even. It's an even that comes off sounding as a little too forced for comfort.

"But while we're on the subject, when you plannin' on makin' her an aunt?"

Thomas straightens. "Wasn't aware my actions called for producin' offspring."

Abigail sways, unsteady on her feet after so much time upside down. It takes her a moment to process what's happening.

"By the Goddess, why would I want to go marryin' anyone male? The lot of you are pig-headed louts." She looks back and forth, watching them start to square off. "You, back to the kitchen."

She grabs the pail from Thomas, spilling water on his boots.

"And you. Don't you dare think about goin' anywhere but t'bed."

Abigail brandishes the bucket, and they should know her well enough to be afraid of what she might do if the mood strikes.

Ah, family.

At first Raph doesn't move, but rather stay stock still with that purposely expressionless look on his face. Then, without breaking eyecontact with Thomas, he adjusts his pants.

"Oh for..."

The urge to throw water on both of them is nearly choking Abigail. The instant gratification is nothing to sneeze at, but the chances of later gratification might be, well, compromised.

She makes a speedy decision and throws the water on her smirking brother.

"That's for implyin' anyone needs to be shackled to me for decisions I make free and happily." Marching forward, she grabs Raph's hand and pulls. "You can make it up t'me by givin' a free round on the house in my name, once people realize the roof's not smokin'."

Thomas just stares, water dripping off his nose. She'll pay later, sure, but right now Abigail is enjoying herself mightily.

Even Raph wasn't expecting Abigail to dump the bucket. So while he's still staring at Thomas as Abigail drags him away, it's with wide-eyed shock as opposed to a death glare from hell.

Abigail looks back at her brother and walks a bit faster when he mimes drawing a weapon across his throat, the gesture at odds with the slow smirk. She'd just declared war. She knows this as well as she knows Thomas. Luckily their arguments tend to result in entertaining stories, nothing worse.

(Well, except for that once, with the chicken.)

His shirt had looked as if it needed a washing, anyway.

To Raph: "Never let it be said I don't go t'great lengths for you."

At this point Raph is not so much being pulled as he is pushing Abigail further away from Thomas. He knows her brother doesn't mean her actual physical harm, if that were truly the case...well, let's just all be glad that it's not truly the case and leave it at that.

"Understood."

He has brothers. He should understand.

And just to make sure Thomas understands that any and all retaliation is to happen no earlier than dawn, Abigail grins and makes yet another rude gesture at him before slamming her door.

"Now. Where'd we leave off?" she asks, even though she's on him again like the last five minutes hadn't happened.

But...but they did happen.
Raph was there!
He witnessed the whole thing!
Buckets and proposals and threats and....

...
but now there's kissing. Kissing is nice. Kissing is far nicer than thinking. Later. He can think of all that other stuff later.
...
Much later.

Kissing means Abigail doesn't have to dwell on how strange it is to kiss Raph, to know she's kissing Raph, but to feel a leaner body and hair between her fingers.

It means she doesn't have to think about how she has clearly taken leave of her senses at least three times this evening. Or how when Raph is gone, back to his Milliways, she'll try not to think about what it's like and how deep down she wishes he'd ask her along, just once.

Things have changed, both inside and out, but this is constant. This, and the way her fool head'll spin at the looks he gives her (when he doesn't think her mad) and how, since they met, life is just that much more entertaining.

So Abigail smiles as she kisses him and makes sure neither of them thinks too much, and she'll still be smiling when she opens the door just after dawn and springs the silly bucket-over-the-door trap Thomas will have left.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 3 of 3