Morgan & Adrienne | Christmas

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The two women hang out after Midnight Mass and Adrienne extends an awkward invitation.

Instead of feeling tired and repentant after midnight Mass, Adrienne found herself rather energized and social. She'd broken out a bottle of Merlot for herself, had Anchor Steam on hand for Morgan and was considering breaking out the Wii for a boxing match, even wondering if there would be anyone about downstairs to join in. The psychometrist was even beginning to regret having skipped out on the dinner party at the mansion earlier to hide out at her office and pretend it wasn't Christmas. "What's a typical Christmas like for you?" she asked the blue woman, bringing a beer out of the kitchenette for Morgan along with a wine glass for herself.

"Huh?" The question caught Morgan off guard. She should have been expecting it given the day and the fact they'd gone to Mass but she wasn't. Morgan shrugged and took the bottle from Adrienne. "Thanks. Um, I don't know. I'm usually working. Normally somewhere in Africa, sometimes in Southeast Asia or Eastern Europe. Mostly in Africa. If you're working a war you don't take time out for baby Jesus. It's just a day, really." One that mattered a whole lot to a number of the people around the mansion but one that held little significance for the metamorph anymore.

"Cheers to that," Adrienne muttered with a small smile in response to Morgan's statement that Christmas was just another day, holding out her wine glass for a toast. Instead of sitting down she circled the room, poking through the numerous chocolate, fruit, and coffee baskets that were scattered around the perimeter. Her downtown office had been overflowing with gifts from clients, and the problem with the fact that it was a modelling agency was that her employees rarely ate any of it, so she'd started bringing some of the goodies back to the school, leaving them around the common areas, but now they were taking over her suite. "Want anything?" she asked Morgan, rifling through a basket filled with fancy-looking packages of nuts.

Morgan clinked her bottle with Adrienne's wine glass and took a long drink. It'd been a long time since she was around anyone who celebrated Christmas. The school's inhabitants were conjuring up memories from Christmases she'd had as a kid. She wasn't sure if she appreciated the trip down memory lane or not so mostly she tried to ignore it. The offer of basket goodies caused the blue woman to meander toward a fruit basket and eye it. "Are these indicative of how people feel about you? Coffee basket for cold and dark feelings, nuts if they think you're nutters, chocolate if they find you sweet, tempting or just generally bad for them and fruit if they find your moods go rotten quickly?" She plucked a tangerine out of the carefully arranged basket thanks to those memories that were floating so close to the surface and began to peel it after setting her beer down.

Adrienne found herself giggling. "They're for the company- not me specifically." Still, Morgan's assessment of what the gifts meant was very intriguing. "What about the ones who gave me alcohol? Wine, whiskey, brandy...? What do they say about me?"

"Either that they think you're a lush or that they'd like you better when you're drinking," she answered offhand, as if this were something she'd put thought into previously. Morgan flopped down on Adrienne's couch and peeled a little wedge of tangerine off of the half she held in her hand. The other half was in her lap near the beer clutched between her thighs. "The real question is what did you, 'the company,' whatever, send them?"

Adrienne raised an eyebrow as she took an orange for herself and a box of chocolates before joining Morgan on the couch. "What do you mean, what did we send them? They're clients. We do work for them throughout the year. That's how the world of business works, blueberry. You mean the people you used to fight wars for didn't send you chocolate baskets at Christmas?" she teased.

Morgan heaved a heavy sigh. "No, no they didn't. Awfully inconsiderate of them, innit? But some times," she affected a wistful tone, "Aleister would slip an extra clip into my sock or under my pillow." She sighed again and unfocused her eyes as if to make it seem she were remembering distant memories. After a prolonged silence Morgan looked at Adrienne with affection and said, "Ah, the good days."

"I miss my gun," Adrienne lamented as Morgan brought up clips, frowning into space as she ripped the packaging off the chocolate box and took a caramel. "Damn NYPD and FBI won't let me have it back. If I believed in Santa I'd ask for my gun for Christmas," she grinned.

Morgan's eyes slid to the side and she stared at Adrienne from the corners of her eyes with a look of mischief in them. "Are you not allowed any gun or just not allowed that gun back?"

Pulling a strawberry creme out of the chocolate box, Adrienne held it out to Morgan. "Not allowed any gun. I believe carrying a firearm is frowned upon when you've already been charged with orchestrating the death of your husband. Even the Boy Scout couldn't wrangle the renewal of my firearms license into my deal."

Morgan's nose wrinkled a bit at the offering and shook her head. "Not a huge fan of chocolate, cupcake. At least not about ninety percent of the time." Morgan popped another wedge of tangerine into her mouth and chased the swallowed fruit with a swig of Anchor Steam. "That's too bad. Though, really, hiring someone is very different from killing them yourself. If you had the balls to pull the trigger in cold blood you would've done it already." She shrugged. "I could teach you how to throw knives." Why did she think the FBI wouldn't approve of that? Oh well, no one around to catch her in the act anymore. The corners of Morgan's mouth drew downward into a slight frown at that thought.

"I know you don't like chocolate but I thought maybe if there was fruit in it you'd give in," Adrienne smirked. She ate the creme herself, then set the box on the floor and gave it a push, sending it skidding across the room and out of her reach. Her own nose wrinkled at the blue woman's rebuke about having the balls to pull the trigger herself, but since she knew it was the truth, and that it was Morgan she was trying to argue against, she needen't bother trying. Morgan wouldn't listen to her false bravado. Best just to let the insult drop. "I don't know about knife-throwing. I'm pretty horrible at throwing a baseball unless it's a virtual one. Besides, I don't think the FBI would like it. Of course, it's not like they have their insider Boy Scout here anymore to keep an eye on me," she added wryly, taking a long swallow of her wine. "We should have knife-throwing lessons. I'll add it to my New Year's resolutions," added the psychometrist, attempting to get them back to a lighter mood.

Morgan's mood didn't lighten. She just nodded along and emptily muttered something about the FBI's lack of spy in the mansion. She liked it better when she avoided topics that directly or indirectly involved Garrison. It was easier to wait without thinking about it. Thinking led to remembering and she was already reminiscing about loads of things she'd rather forget all together as it was. Morgan supposed adding Garrison to the pile probably couldn't hurt more than everything else did, but then again eventually the camel's back broke because of a straw. She took another swig of beer. "Aye, love, add it onto my list of projects. Cupcake's boxing, Manuel's swimming, checking in on the Glow Worm's counseling, Cupcake's knife throwing. Turning into some sort of twisted fifties mother, helping people out and stuff. Keep it up and I'll be the one wearing those stupid aprons." She was referring to the frilly aprons she really had bought for Jean-Paul, though she hadn't planted them in his suite yet.

From the tone and the body language, Adrienne sensed that Garrison as a topic of conversation was an unwanted one, and self-preservation had her feeling like it would be easier- for them both, actually- if she stayed clear of it. "I don't know much about fifties mothers beyond what I've researched for shoots, but I don't recall any old Good Housekeeping magazines containing articles about teaching your children how to throw knives. Weren't they more likely to be of the 'you'll poke your eye out, kid?' variety?" She'd clearly seen A Christmas Story one time too many this holiday season.

Morgan shrugged and slouched against the back of the couch. The woman rarely slouched so the movement was indicative in and of itself. "Don't know, cupcake. I suppose the good ones likely were. Really, assassins and other dodgy sorts have to procreate a time or two, though, don't they? Most people teach their kids the things they know and are good at. Fathers teach their sons to hunt, shoot a shotgun, load it, clean it and all that, why can't there be a badass mother who teaches her kids to throw knives and shuriken and the like?"

"There probably are mothers like that out there," Adrienne agreed, pondering whether she should go after the chocolate box again. The chocolates would keep her mind off her own mother, who had never taught her anything beyond 'dull your pain in alcohol and pills when a man gets abusive.' What was it about Christmas that stirred up memories of people you thought you'd put behind you? It was damn depressing. "Want to break out the Endless Ocean?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, feeling the need for the inner peace the game gave her. Of course, boxing gave that to her, as well. "Or boxing?"

Morgan considered the options in silence, nose wrinkling and unwrinkling as she thought and took swigs of beer. Only once her bottle was empty did she speak. "Endless Ocean will only put me to sleep since it's so late. Boxing...well, you might have a chance of winning for once." Her head rolled to the side and she grinned at Adrienne. Morgan was obviously tired. She'd been up early and she didn't tend to stay up so late most days so her body's internal clock just wasn't adjusted for it.

"Don't let me keep you," Adrienne said as lightly as possible. She wanted Morgan to stay, but had enough respect for the other woman that she didn't want Morgan to be kept against her wishes strictly for the sake of keeping Adrienne company. Still, she got up off the couch and fired up the Wii, loading the Sports disc into the console.

"Am I ever kept when I haven't any desire for it?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at the other woman. She ignored the insinuation in her own words for her own convenience. Then she groaned because Wii Boxing meant she had to get up. "I feel old. Maybe Nate's rubbing off," she said as she slowly stood and then stretched, shaking her shoulders to loosen them.

Adrienne made a sheepish face. She should have known better. "No, you're not." As to Nate rubbing off, she grinned. "Well, he does have insane mind powers. Maybe he can project age or some garbage." Instead of standing she tucked her feet underneath herself on the couch, making herself more comfortable. "Since you're so sleepy I'll handicap myself and stay sitting. Do you feel old from the fatigue or because it's Christmas?"

"Like I need your handicap." Morgan flopped back onto the couch. No need to go obliterating the competition even if she was a bit competitive and dead tired. The last question made her stare down at her hands just a little too long, though. "Because it's Christmas." The reply was quiet, something that would have been more well suited to Aoife's personality than Morgan's and for only a fleeting moment did Morgan wonder if Adrienne realize it and put the pieces together of which ones belonged to Morgan and which personality traits belonged more to Vanessa.

The un-Morgan-like tone had Adrienne tipping herself towards Morgan and resting her head on the blue woman's shoulder, a gesture of sympathy over feeling old due to Christmas. After she'd done it she had no idea why she had, not wanting to admit that she sympathized, but instead of overanalyzing it she just pointed her controller at the television and started up the game, quickly changing the images of the players since the last time she'd played boxing it had been with Garrison and she'd made him his very own character, complete with a unibrow and face mole.

Morgan's head tilted to the side and rested atop Adrienne's without even a slight, sarcastic whisper to accompany the response. She was sure Adrienne could feel her relax at the contact but she didn't care if her friend noticed. The first few rounds of the boxing game were played with the two women sitting like that. Eventually their necks, and game scores, protested too much and they straightened up as if no such contact had ever occurred.

It was two hours before the two of them were actually tired enough to throw up the white flag, or rather the white pillow Morgan found and waved about before she started to cuddle it. "Give up, surrender," she said sleepily in the middle of a yawn. "Can't...keep...eyes," she yawned again and cuddled the pillow closer, "open." Morgan even made a pathetic little whimpering sound about having to try to stay conscious.

In a show of agreement, Adrienne flopped sideways onto Morgan and tried to yank her pillow away. "Mine. Winner takes pillow."

First Morgan whined, then she clutched the pillow more and then she started to snap at Adrienne and even caught the woman's shoulder lightly. "Get your own pillow! I found it, mine!" Then she swatted at Adrienne as if trying to drive off a fly.

Adrienne swatted back and continued to pull at the pillow. "It's actually Terry's, but you surrendered. You do the war thing- you know that losers don't get pillows. Hand it over," she grunted, tugging at it.

"No pillows in the surrender! Surrendering parties get to keep their white flags!" Morgan started to gnaw on Adrienne's arm, not ever biting down too hard but just enough that it would be felt. "Jean-Paul went to Canada, I need something to cuddle. My cuddle pillow!"

"What am I supposed to do, then, huh?" Adrienne asked with a theatrical pout. "I won and I get nothing?" The words had been meant in context of the game, but as soon as she said them Adrienne felt a coldness enter the pit of her stomach. It was Christmas, and she had nothing, nothing that actually mattered on a night like this, not really. Morgan was going to leave, and she was going to be alone. She liked being with Morgan, probably more than anyone else (except maybe one other person but she couldn't think of him now or she'd have another breakdown) she'd known in a very long time, and she didn't want to be alone. Not tonight. Fucking Christmas.

Being a self-preservationist, someone who believed very much in getting what she wanted and not letting convention or fear keep her from what made her happy, she decided to go out on a limb. "Morgan, I-" Adrienne winced, as if what she was about to say was so embarrassing it was actually painful. "If you want to- if you don't have anywhere else to be... you could stay over. I know you're tired," she said quickly, "I don't mean for video games." And suddenly she was speaking almost against her will, unfiltered. "There's- there's the couch or... or the bed, if you- I dunno." You're making a fool of yourself, she chided herself mercilessly, but almost in defiance of the thought she plunged ahead. "I... I used to love being alone, but you've... I like... if you wanted to stay, I'd like that. I... I have spiked egg nog. Well, actually, I have eggs. And alcohol. And I don't know what the hell nog is but we can experiment? I...shit, I'm just going to shut up now." She was blushing furiously, which embarrassed her probably more than her ineloquence did.

Morgan blinked. Then she blinked some more. Then she giggled and Morgan really hated when she giggled. "I think you need more than eggs and alcohol, cupcake. Eggs and alcohol will make something ridiculously disgusting." With a groan like a cat protesting being moved from a very comfortable place, Morgan pushed the pillow into Adrienne's arms and then stood up. It was unclear why she was standing or where her intended destination was until she held a hand out to her friend. In an effort to not make the situation more awkward for Adrienne, though seeing her blush like mad may have been worth it despite the awkward, Morgan didn't say anything more than, "Sleepy time, cupcake."

In the morning Morgan and Adrienne wake up curled up together and Adrienne tells Morgan what she has for her. The results aren't what she was anticipating.

When Adrienne surfaced back into consciousness from sleep, the first thing her mind registered was the fact that there was an arm around her waist. She stiffened, engulfed by a split-second of irrational panic in which she thought it was Steven's arm around her, but then reality righted itself and she remembered where she was, and opened her eyes to confirm that the arm around her was blue. Morgan... She smiled to herself as she realized that this was a very pleasant way to wake up. Taking in more of the situation, she noted that the other woman's body was molded against her back. They were under the covers, Adrienne in sweatpants and a tanktop. She could feel fabric against her body and guessed that Morgan had taken her up on the offer of shorts and a tshirt. It felt good to have the warm, soft body pressed against her own. The positioning felt protective, but not possessive, and for that Adrienne found herself relaxing, one arm reaching back, still under the duvet, so she could rest her hand on top of the one that Morgan had around her waist. "Morgan?" she mumbled sleepily, not ready to move just yet.

"Mm?" The first thing Morgan realized was that the body she held against her own was definitely not Jean-Paul. Too small and too soft. She burrowed her face into the hair in front of her, nose nuzzling against the back of the neck she found there. "Yeah?" The scent reminded her of whose bed she was in and slowly she began to remember how she'd come to be there. Where some people may have stiffened and found the whole situation uncomfortable, Morgan instead curled her arm further around Adrienne. She pulled the other woman in closer and spread her fingers so they could stretch up backward and twine into Adrienne's as she locked their hands together. Morgan was damn comfortable, she wasn't moving without a reason.

Adrienne let out a purr of contentment when Morgan nuzzled her neck, frowning to herself when she stopped. "I have a present to give you later; don't let me forget; I don't wanna move and get it now." She giggled to herself as her mind roamed with the innuendo of the 'I have a present for you' statement, certain that Morgan would understand her amusement. At that she wriggled a little to face Morgan, though she kept their hands on her waist so as not to disturb their position too much. "I stole your father's pocketwatch from the house. Forgot to give it back when we bagged the other stuff. Figured today was the day to give it to you. It has... a lot of really nice memories in it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she assured her companion, squeezing the hand that was holding her own. "It was an accident; I wanted to see who it belonged to and I haven't learned how to turn my readings on and off, so I got most of the whole history. It's... a nice history."

When Adrienne moved Morgan shifted to allow the movement, then draped a leg around her once the movement stopped. Her face was already buried in the side of Adrienne's neck when the explanation of what Adrienne had to give her started. The blue woman stilled very noticeably, though she did not tense. She simply froze, unable to even comprehend movement. Her father's pocket watch. She didn't even have to try to recall the watch, every detail of it was etched into her mind. Slowly Vanessa pulled back and looked Adrienne in the eye. She said nothing, just stared with an unguarded innocence and wonderment. It was a look that didn't fit Morgan at all. It would have fit Aoife, maybe. The green eyes and freckles would have worn the expression naturally. Her red eyes dropped, went unfocused and she was lost in thought. Everything, every bit of evidence of Vanessa's existence still sat in trash bags in Morgan's closet. Suddenly there was a very real reminder of that life, of that person, and it had been taken out of that house as well. And now she was going to be handed it. Something from the person she'd held dearest in all the world and who she tried to never think of.

Looking back up, there were tears welling up in her eyes. It was too early and she was too tired to slip behind her defense mechanisms that she wore like a second skin. Vanessa had no buffer, not right now and not to that. It wasn't pain exactly that caused the tears to form, but she wouldn't say that there wasn't a degree of hurt that went with them. Having no words still, Vanessa kissed Adrienne. It wasn't exactly chaste, but it was soft and undemanding. It was the thanks she could not or would not utter with words.

Seeing the foreign look on the face before her had Adrienne staring right back, though her look was one of concern rather than wonder. She was fully awake now, finely-honed skills of observation when it came to peoples' bodies and expressions warning her that some sort of change had occurred in Morgan. It had taken her too long to understand why Morgan loved wearing other peoples' skins, but now that she finally accepted that her friend enjoyed being an actress, playing a part, inserting bits of her own personality into other bodies, Adrienne was beginning to wonder if 'Morgan' wasn't a persona, a piece, of Vanessa, and that the person sharing her bed right now was more Vanessa than Morgan. A short time ago that thought would have scared her, but she understood and trusted now that no matter who the person in front of her dressed up as or acted like, she would never hurt Adrienne. She was concerned for the blue person, whatever she called herself, whose red eyes shone with tears, because Adrienne felt that she'd caused that person pain, which hadn't been her intention. She yielded to the kiss on impulse, recognizing it to be nothing more than an expression of a sentiment that couldn't be spoken, and squeezed Vanessa's hand tighter, bringing her other hand up to stroke the white hair consolingly. "He loved you so much, Vanessa." she said softly, hoping she wouldn't be yelled at for using the name again, though it seemed fitting after the look and the tears and the kiss she'd witnessed, all of which seemed unlikely to have come from the persona she recognized as Morgan.

The words caused the tears to break free and trickle down her face. Vanessa didn't make any attempt to wipe them away or cover it up. Morgan would have. In some ways Vanessa hadn't really progressed beyond that day standing in front of her father's coffin. Her grieving had been interrupted by her manifestation and all that had brought with it. While she'd cried that entire night she'd never finished mourning for her father or herself. "He was a great man," her voice was softer than usual, not just in volume but in her manner of speaking. The Irish had edged away and her accent was only peppered with it while the Southie took hold of her voice. It wasn't a way of speaking Morgan ever had. "The kind of dad kids always wish for when they don't have one or have a rotten one, y'know?" A sad smile crossed onto her face, "Never wanted to be like my mom. Wanted to be like him. Grow up and work in a butcher shop because it was real work and it gave people something they needed it and he'd loved it so I figured of course I would too, right? I was very much my father's daughter."

The voice had changed now too, not just the look and the faint sense of vulnerability that had crept into the other woman. Adrienne was very intrigued, and fought back her guilt for whatever part she'd played in the replacement of Morgan, however temporary it might be, with Vanessa. She continued to stroke Vanessa's hair as she listened to the other woman speak of her father. "I always wished my dad was a knight," she said before she could check herself. "I was a rather stupid child." She hadn't intended to sully Vanessa's lamentation about her father, merely make a joke to try and lighten the mood, and hoped that Vanessa shared Morgan's sense of humor. "Or a Boston Red Sock. A butcher would have been nice too, though," she added after pause for thought. "Solid, hardworking, not afraid of mess. I just didn't like meat," she smiled. "He was a great man. I saw that. You're very lucky to have had him in your life." Her lips brushed against the blue forehead in an affectionate kiss as she fell silent, absorbed in her own thoughts.

Vanessa just nodded. She didn't really have anything she could say, wrapped up in thoughts of her father, being his shadow and learning to play baseball from him. She could still remember the cold, metallic tang of the air in the butcher shop. "Everyone's a stupid child, cupcake," she said quietly. Her face was once against buried in Adrienne's neck a moment later. Vanessa was quiet and still, but she was still wrapped around the other woman. Despite how very child-like she was feeling suddenly she hadn't given up that protective positioning with her companion. In a way being the protector made her feel stronger, something the metamorph needed for a moment. "Thanks," was whispered into Adrienne's ear after a long silence.