((Contains situations of an adult nature.))
Months had passed since John Grimm and his sister had been brought safely to Rhy'Din; since the Chief and his last remaining children had made them fast and secure in their own trust and friendship. As Rory had healed up, they had begun to take minor jobs - escorting merchants who wanted to feel protected, mostly, though there had been one covert operation for the council of Nyan'Din. These jobs had put money into their pockets, given them the means to furnish themselves not only with the tools of their trade, but with a secure place to call home, large enough that the five of them could live together without anyone yet attempting to remove anyone else's spleen through their ears.
But it had been a long few months, filled with hard work and hardship, and finally Ailis had put her foot down. With her brother's reluctant support, she'd informed the Chief that they were all taking a week or so off, to recoup their strength and relax a little. With typical gruffness, their father had realised he was outmaneuvered and given in, even releasing some of the money he was so zealously guarding against the inevitable rainy day to make these days off a little more enjoyable. Sam and AIlis had, naturally, gone shopping on the very first day, leaving Rory moping around because his sister had relieved him of duty and generally irritating the hell out of the two other men he lived with.
And the purpose of that shopping trip" To make themselves presentable for the girls night out they had then indulged in, despite loud objections. It wasn't as though Ailis couldn't protect Sam, after all. But some men - these men - seemed not to like the idea of their women going out on the town in brief dresses with only themselves for escorts. In fact, if Sam hadn't threatened to let Ailis shoot all three of them, it wasn't likely John, Rory, or the Chief would have let them go at all.
John had countered with a threat that he and Rory might visit a strip club, but it was mostly an empty threat, and he'd spent most of the night alone, when he wasn't grumbling to himself, which irritated the hell out of Rory who was irritating the hell out of John and Chief with his moping. John had finally retreated to his room, where he'd tried to watch a little TV to kill the time, eventually drifting off to sleep, leaving the TV blaring some late night informercial, leaving the other two men to amuse themselves.
When the ladies did, finally, stagger back in - and it was staggering, since high heels on cobblestones were a challenge even when the person wearing them was stone cold sober - it was well past midnight, accompanied with a lot of giggling and some very bad attempts at being quiet. Thankfully for them, the Chief had already disappeared to his bed, and Rory was so pleased to see Sam, he utterly forgot to be put out with his sister for taking her out of his sight in the first place. Snickering to herself at the lovelorn expression on her brother's face, Ailis left the pair of them to their awkward conversation fairly quickly, making her way deeper into the house in search of her own bed. The fact that it was already occupied really wasn't an issue anymore, as evidenced by the lack of subtlety she displayed in getting the door open in the first place.
She could hear voices from the other side of the door, muffled and female, but once the door was open, it became clear it was just the TV set. The masculine form sprawled fully clothed on top the bed was snoring loudly, the TV all but forgotten. On a table nearby lay various weapons in various degrees of assembly and disassembly, as if whoever had been cleaning them had abandoned the project before finishing. There was also a half-eaten tunafish sandwich and a couple of empty beer bottles. His boots, at least, had been removed and dropped haphazardly on the floor near the bed, but he was otherwise clothed in jeans and a black t-shirt bearing a Marines logo and the words Semper Fidelis.
She paused in the doorway, making no attempt to hide her smile as she looked around at the disarray left behind by John's evening activities. So much for the strip club, then, she thought to herself, deeply amused that he hadn't been able to stir himself to go out even to spite her for doing exactly the same thing. It was difficult not to love someone like that. Closing the door a little more quietly, she left the light off, moving to turn off the television. "What were you going to do, if you'd been awake?" Ailis wondered aloud, her voice rich with slightly tipsy amusement. "Shoot me?"
To his credit, there were no girlie magazines strewn about - at least, not where she'd be inclined to find them. His snoring stopped momentarily as some part of him - some second sense - seemed to sense something amiss, even in his sleep, or maybe he was dreaming. He sometimes still had nightmares about what had happened at Olduvai, about the monsters and all the bloodshed, but it was mostly the deaths of the innocents that startled him awake.
In the darkness, Ailis rolled her eyes, perching on the edge of a chair to unzip her boots, watching the dark shadow of his form as he stirred vaguely. It was a toss up as to whether he was going to forgive her for laying down the law quite so hard about taking Sam out for the evening, but their frequent arguments never seemed to do any harm. Behind closed doors, they were a good deal more open with one another than their siblings could guess at. Near silent on bare feet, she rose once again, tugging the clip that held her hair back off her face loose as she reached down to pick up the empty bottles, unable to ignore them. The half-eaten sandwich had to go, too - that smell was going to keep her awake if she left it.
He made a noise in his sleep, hard to tell if he was dreaming or starting to wake up, twitching a little as he was wont to do when he was having a bad dream. If she woke him now, he would most likely wake cranky, but it was hard to tell with him, his moods somewhat unpredictable. One thing was certain - his bark was far worse than his bite, unless you were an enemy.
After a couple of months sharing his bed, Ailis knew enough not to wake him unless he was obviously in distress. He'd knocked her off the bed a couple of times in the past when she'd tried at the wrong time. Still, she paused in the midst of cleaning up his mess to stroke her fingers gently against his face, from temple to jaw. "Easy there, John," she murmured. "Don't punch me tonight, I'll punch back." And given that the last time she'd done that, she had broken her hand on his jaw, she could only hope he was paying attention somewhere in there.
Her touch seemed to do the trick, his eyes flying open as he awoke with a start, jerking awake and upright, but there was no fist or gun pointed her way. He only caught her by the wrist before realizing it was her and slowly relaxing. "Jesus Christ, Ailis. One of these nights, you're going to regret waking me."
She chuckled, letting his reflexes recall he was holding onto her still before gently moving to reclaim her hand. "Been there, done that," she reminded him cheerfully. "I wouldn't have to wake you up if you didn't sprawl all over the bed like some bearskin rug, would I?"
"I wouldn't sprawl all over the bed if you were here to share it, would I?" he countered, though he didn't really want to argue. He shoved his fingers through his hair and leaned back against the headboard, asking through a yawn, "What time is it?"
"You sprawl even when I'm there with you," she laughed at him, shaking her head. She was tipsy enough not to take instant offence at everything he said tonight, even if she wasn't tipsy enough to ignore his mess. There was a thump as she tipped his unfinished sandwich into the bin. At his question, her eyes sought out her watch, left on the windowsill before she'd gone out. "About twenty to two," she told him, expecting a protest at how late she'd brought his sister back.
"Two"!" he echoed, narrowing his eyes at her in the darkness. "What have you been doing all night, besides getting drunk and hit on by strange men?" He threw his legs over the side of the bed, needing to get up and take a leak, probably from all the beer.
She snorted with laughter, knowing that tone intimately well. He wasn't really angry, just put out that she hadn't told him in detail exactly what she was going to do and how long it would take. "Dancing," she told him merrily, dropping her hair clip on the table and groping for her brush. "Talking. Women's things." This last was added in a ridiculously over-done tease of a tone, fully expecting him to take offense even as she chuckled once again.
Months had passed since John Grimm and his sister had been brought safely to Rhy'Din; since the Chief and his last remaining children had made them fast and secure in their own trust and friendship. As Rory had healed up, they had begun to take minor jobs - escorting merchants who wanted to feel protected, mostly, though there had been one covert operation for the council of Nyan'Din. These jobs had put money into their pockets, given them the means to furnish themselves not only with the tools of their trade, but with a secure place to call home, large enough that the five of them could live together without anyone yet attempting to remove anyone else's spleen through their ears.
But it had been a long few months, filled with hard work and hardship, and finally Ailis had put her foot down. With her brother's reluctant support, she'd informed the Chief that they were all taking a week or so off, to recoup their strength and relax a little. With typical gruffness, their father had realised he was outmaneuvered and given in, even releasing some of the money he was so zealously guarding against the inevitable rainy day to make these days off a little more enjoyable. Sam and AIlis had, naturally, gone shopping on the very first day, leaving Rory moping around because his sister had relieved him of duty and generally irritating the hell out of the two other men he lived with.
And the purpose of that shopping trip" To make themselves presentable for the girls night out they had then indulged in, despite loud objections. It wasn't as though Ailis couldn't protect Sam, after all. But some men - these men - seemed not to like the idea of their women going out on the town in brief dresses with only themselves for escorts. In fact, if Sam hadn't threatened to let Ailis shoot all three of them, it wasn't likely John, Rory, or the Chief would have let them go at all.
John had countered with a threat that he and Rory might visit a strip club, but it was mostly an empty threat, and he'd spent most of the night alone, when he wasn't grumbling to himself, which irritated the hell out of Rory who was irritating the hell out of John and Chief with his moping. John had finally retreated to his room, where he'd tried to watch a little TV to kill the time, eventually drifting off to sleep, leaving the TV blaring some late night informercial, leaving the other two men to amuse themselves.
When the ladies did, finally, stagger back in - and it was staggering, since high heels on cobblestones were a challenge even when the person wearing them was stone cold sober - it was well past midnight, accompanied with a lot of giggling and some very bad attempts at being quiet. Thankfully for them, the Chief had already disappeared to his bed, and Rory was so pleased to see Sam, he utterly forgot to be put out with his sister for taking her out of his sight in the first place. Snickering to herself at the lovelorn expression on her brother's face, Ailis left the pair of them to their awkward conversation fairly quickly, making her way deeper into the house in search of her own bed. The fact that it was already occupied really wasn't an issue anymore, as evidenced by the lack of subtlety she displayed in getting the door open in the first place.
She could hear voices from the other side of the door, muffled and female, but once the door was open, it became clear it was just the TV set. The masculine form sprawled fully clothed on top the bed was snoring loudly, the TV all but forgotten. On a table nearby lay various weapons in various degrees of assembly and disassembly, as if whoever had been cleaning them had abandoned the project before finishing. There was also a half-eaten tunafish sandwich and a couple of empty beer bottles. His boots, at least, had been removed and dropped haphazardly on the floor near the bed, but he was otherwise clothed in jeans and a black t-shirt bearing a Marines logo and the words Semper Fidelis.
She paused in the doorway, making no attempt to hide her smile as she looked around at the disarray left behind by John's evening activities. So much for the strip club, then, she thought to herself, deeply amused that he hadn't been able to stir himself to go out even to spite her for doing exactly the same thing. It was difficult not to love someone like that. Closing the door a little more quietly, she left the light off, moving to turn off the television. "What were you going to do, if you'd been awake?" Ailis wondered aloud, her voice rich with slightly tipsy amusement. "Shoot me?"
To his credit, there were no girlie magazines strewn about - at least, not where she'd be inclined to find them. His snoring stopped momentarily as some part of him - some second sense - seemed to sense something amiss, even in his sleep, or maybe he was dreaming. He sometimes still had nightmares about what had happened at Olduvai, about the monsters and all the bloodshed, but it was mostly the deaths of the innocents that startled him awake.
In the darkness, Ailis rolled her eyes, perching on the edge of a chair to unzip her boots, watching the dark shadow of his form as he stirred vaguely. It was a toss up as to whether he was going to forgive her for laying down the law quite so hard about taking Sam out for the evening, but their frequent arguments never seemed to do any harm. Behind closed doors, they were a good deal more open with one another than their siblings could guess at. Near silent on bare feet, she rose once again, tugging the clip that held her hair back off her face loose as she reached down to pick up the empty bottles, unable to ignore them. The half-eaten sandwich had to go, too - that smell was going to keep her awake if she left it.
He made a noise in his sleep, hard to tell if he was dreaming or starting to wake up, twitching a little as he was wont to do when he was having a bad dream. If she woke him now, he would most likely wake cranky, but it was hard to tell with him, his moods somewhat unpredictable. One thing was certain - his bark was far worse than his bite, unless you were an enemy.
After a couple of months sharing his bed, Ailis knew enough not to wake him unless he was obviously in distress. He'd knocked her off the bed a couple of times in the past when she'd tried at the wrong time. Still, she paused in the midst of cleaning up his mess to stroke her fingers gently against his face, from temple to jaw. "Easy there, John," she murmured. "Don't punch me tonight, I'll punch back." And given that the last time she'd done that, she had broken her hand on his jaw, she could only hope he was paying attention somewhere in there.
Her touch seemed to do the trick, his eyes flying open as he awoke with a start, jerking awake and upright, but there was no fist or gun pointed her way. He only caught her by the wrist before realizing it was her and slowly relaxing. "Jesus Christ, Ailis. One of these nights, you're going to regret waking me."
She chuckled, letting his reflexes recall he was holding onto her still before gently moving to reclaim her hand. "Been there, done that," she reminded him cheerfully. "I wouldn't have to wake you up if you didn't sprawl all over the bed like some bearskin rug, would I?"
"I wouldn't sprawl all over the bed if you were here to share it, would I?" he countered, though he didn't really want to argue. He shoved his fingers through his hair and leaned back against the headboard, asking through a yawn, "What time is it?"
"You sprawl even when I'm there with you," she laughed at him, shaking her head. She was tipsy enough not to take instant offence at everything he said tonight, even if she wasn't tipsy enough to ignore his mess. There was a thump as she tipped his unfinished sandwich into the bin. At his question, her eyes sought out her watch, left on the windowsill before she'd gone out. "About twenty to two," she told him, expecting a protest at how late she'd brought his sister back.
"Two"!" he echoed, narrowing his eyes at her in the darkness. "What have you been doing all night, besides getting drunk and hit on by strange men?" He threw his legs over the side of the bed, needing to get up and take a leak, probably from all the beer.
She snorted with laughter, knowing that tone intimately well. He wasn't really angry, just put out that she hadn't told him in detail exactly what she was going to do and how long it would take. "Dancing," she told him merrily, dropping her hair clip on the table and groping for her brush. "Talking. Women's things." This last was added in a ridiculously over-done tease of a tone, fully expecting him to take offense even as she chuckled once again.