eiattu_pride: (older wiser and snarkier then you)
[personal profile] eiattu_pride
Do you know what's boring?

TRACC is boring. And by TRACC, Rial means the interplanetary Trade Relations And Commerce Conference, held annually and basically an excuse for a bunch of stuffy old people to sit around and brag about how rich they are over tiny biscuits and fine brandy. Rial, drinking a lomin ale and telling amusing tales about his wife shooting things during crucial diplomatic moments, has a sneaking feeling that he doesn't exactly belong.

He's also, possibly, exceedingly proud of this fact.

Proud or not, though, it means that the whole thing (a whole week long, ughhhh) is exceptionally boring and by the time he's stepping cheerfully through the corridors of his own familiar palace, where the servants smile and greet him, he's so ready to be home. So very ready, small child and slightly volatile wife noTwithstanding.

He doesn't even bother with a knock, just goes straight in and chucks his bag in the vague direction of the couch, already looking around for Plourr.

Date: 2008-01-17 06:31 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (special - hallway)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
It would be utterly ridiculous if he knocked. It's their apartment, in their palace, on their planet.

There is no Plourr rising from the sofa to make snarky comments, though, or to tell him he missed enormous developmental milestones of Ianna's just to see the look on his face; no baby wailing her heart out.

No, the apartments are dark and quiet, the appliances humming softly in the kitchen and the muted holoprojector still playing a Rodian comedy.

Date: 2008-01-17 06:48 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (any - asleep)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
The lights are out, the bassinet occupied by a peacefully slumbering princess, and the bed by a less peacefully slumbering empress, who looks like she went facefirst onto the bed at some point and just fell asleep like that. Plourr is fully dressed (tunic-dress over leggings), wearing her boots, one leg dangling half off the bed. Her head rests just below the nearest pillow.

It is an exceedingly undignified way to sleep.

She may or may not be breathing loudly, slow and even.

Date: 2008-01-17 07:23 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (p - pretty)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Once upon a time, Plourr would have woken with a start, her fist cocked back and ready to fly. Time is passing, though, and her life isn't what it once was, and so it is that her eyes open slowly. She wades back into consciousness rather than jackknifing, and the first thing that she sees is the pillow.

The second, as she turns her head to the side, is Rial.

One side of her mouth curves, slow and sleepy. "Hey, stranger," she says, her voice low and gravelly and face lined with exhaustion. She rests her hand on his thigh -- the first part of him she can reach -- shifting up in the bed just enough that she can now look up at him with her head on the pillow and her hair pooling around her face. "When'd you get here?"

Date: 2008-01-17 07:49 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (rial - another kiss)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"I was a single mother for a week," she says, as she rolls over. "I'm allowed to take up as many sides of the bed as I damn well please. Too busy to settle for just one."

With the help of the hand on his leg, Plourr tiredly levers herself up, winding up with a broad hand on his opposite shoulder and letting it remain there. The other hand comes to rest on his neck. "If you ever use the word 'loins' in a communication between us ever again," she murmurs, her face close to his, "I'll kill you."

She kisses him, slow and sleepy and warm, because he's weird and a little crazy but he's her weird and a little crazy, and this is the longest they've been apart since -- well, since she flew with the Rogues. Since long before Ianna was born. Since long enough.

Date: 2008-01-17 10:14 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - girlish)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
She punches his shoulder. (What? He knew he was coming when he said it.)

"Oof," she says, but she doesn't complain, otherwise, or draw away. In fact, she throws a leg over his hip, settling in on her side with her face just a few inches from his on the pillow. "Mmm." She closes those couple of inches for a brief kiss.

Consideringly, after drawing back: "I didn't miss you at all."

(It's a lie, and they both know it.)

Date: 2008-01-18 02:35 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (rial - smirk!)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Mmhmm," Plourr agrees complacently. "Well, the line of succession was through me, so I'll get -- the thaks, the fleet, the palace, and the planet. If you're lucky," she brushes his hair out of his eyes with gentle fingers, "maybe you can have the tea set. The one from Deicno with all the naked people on it."

Date: 2008-01-18 02:53 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - yeah huh)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"You've been away for a week. I just gave you a perfectly good opening. I mentioned nudity and everything." Plourr sighs, and swats his arm. "What kind of man are you?"

Date: 2008-01-18 03:13 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (bald - smirk)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Even gentlemen get it on occasionally," Plourr says bluntly.

Date: 2008-01-18 03:29 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (mama said knock you out)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Oh, that is not a card you're allowed to play," says Plourr, but she's laughing and rolling on top of him.

Date: 2008-01-18 03:51 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - laughter)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Shhhh," she murmurs, easily riding out the shove. She jerks her chin toward the bassinet. "If we wake her--" There are no words in any tongues she knows that will suffice for the threat; she only shakes her head, and lowers her lips to the point where his jaw meets his neck.

Date: 2008-01-19 05:30 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - bitch please)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"You know," Plourr says (quietly) against his skin, "there's this thing called a clasp for a reason. I know it's a crazy concept."

Date: 2008-01-19 05:49 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (any - distinctly unthrilled)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"You are so slow," she grumbles against his neck, and she pushes herself off of him enough that she can pull the trick where you take off your bra without taking off your shirt.

Date: 2008-01-19 06:03 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (stubble - combat baby)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"You've been away for a week," she says, impatiently brushing off his attempts at tugging and just yanking the tunic over her head herself. She drops it over the side of the bed. "It doesn't count now.

"Besides." She glances to the bassinet, where Ianna is still dead to the world and oblivious to her parents. "Someone is going to be awake and hungry in 45 minutes."

In other words: Step it up, Pernon.

Date: 2008-01-19 06:28 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - fierce laughter)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Damn right I did, handsome," Plourr drawls, but she's grinning at him, wide and wild and pleased -- and quite determined that her husband is wearing far too much in the way of clothing.

In the process of fixing that, there may or may not be a low murmur returning Rial's sentiment. Only Plourr and Rial know for sure, and they're not telling.


Date: 2010-07-11 07:21 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)


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