Log: Dom/Sydney

[xp-changeling.livejournal.com]

Domino comes to visit Kevin in his room after a drunken night at the club

Backdated to the 12th



Why was it that it never seemed to be as cold as he used to remember it being? There was that whole climate change thing, but it was 14 degrees out. Shouldn't 14 degrees always feel like 14 degrees? Kevin sipped from the glass of red he'd poured himself, watching the last skiers being ordered from the slopes as the big lights were slowly shutting down up and down the mountain slopes. It had been a long time since he'd looked out on a snowy mountain without a mission critical timeline in his head. What was the last time? The Urals?

No need for a sniper rifle this time.

He turned with the knock on his door. Most of his teammates were night owls, and there were plenty of intriguing opportunities amoungst the chalet's public guest list for a late night visit.

"It's open."

"Syyyyyyyyyd." Domino poured herself through the door, shutting it firmly behind her before aiming her (slightly unsteady) steps towards the nearest chair. "What's up, whatcha doing? Wait, reading, seriously? With wine? What are you, a Golden Girl?"

"Same generation, different equipment." He gave her a long look. "So, how was dancing and are you close enough to alcohol poisoning that I need to tip you over the bathtub?"

"I'm not that drunk. Wait, no: I'll never be that drunk." That was probably at least partially untrue, but who cared about the little details? Having drawn level with the chair she eyed it for a moment before turning and sinking down into it with a satisfied sigh. "Oh man, that's good. My feet are killing me." The first part of his question seemed to surface then and she grinned as she tipped her head back to stare up at the ceiling. "Dancing was awesome. Amanda's got some real moves on her. In her? Whatever, you know what I mean."

"I'm going to guess that the club was a success." He went over the mini fridge and fished out a bottle of water to place next to her. "Should I be expecting several admirers to start knocking on the door looking for you?" he said as he sat down near her.

"Hah! I wish." Dom tried to kick her shoes off; she struggled with the futile effort for a while before realising that of course, her boots wouldn't come off without being untied. Shifting forward, she leaned over to tug at the laces. "My powers don't seem to extend to me getting laid... have you noticed that like, everyone at the mansion is paired up? Or quad... foursomed up? What is that about?"

"Here. You're going to end up tying yourself to your boots at this rate." He pushed her hands away and started to unlace the boots with quick precision. "It's part of the bunker mentality. You think that, any day now, any number of the people you're around could never come through the door again. Knowing that someone could die on their next mission makes it a lot easier to push past shyness and be honest. As for our poly group... I think it looks a lot more like two artificially fused couples more than a real foursome." He pulled the heavy boots off one at a time, setting them up beside her chair.

Dom laughed. "You sound like an expert." She wasn't sure why that was so funny, but really the idea of Kevin in any sort of relationship was kind of hilarious to her. Flings, romps, illicit things involving barnyard animals and macrame, whatever the hell that was - that all made sense. But a relationship? With multiple people? That was funny.

"I was married in the 70s. At the height of swinger groups, key parties and the celebration of body hair. I've seen plenty of 'group' couples that were really being driven by one set of plugs opposed to the whole power bar, if you catch my drift." Kevin took one of her heels in his hand and pulled up her right feet, digging his thumbs into the sore flesh of the sole of her foot.

Any immediately response was forestalled by the moan she gave at the sensation, both painful and pleasurable in equal amounts. She melted into the chair, tipping her head back once again to stare up at the ceiling. "Yeah I think I've got your drift. But like... wait, you were married? Did I know that? I'm pretty sure I didn't know that. Who was she? What was she like? Did she know you were... y'know..."

"I was married. For fifteen years." He said quietly, focusing on his massage. His hands were exceptionally strong and he was deft in finding the worst spots. "As for being a mutant, I barely understood how my powers worked. Compared to now, I could barely use them at all. Beth had no idea."

"Huh." She pondered this for a moment before shifting to peer down at him. "You are really good with your hands."

"Practice, combined with entirely too much practical experience in women's footwear. My ex-wife had fallen arches and they used to hurt badly after a long night out." He let the right foot down and took the left to start the same process. "Used to do this so she could sleep."

"That's..." Surprisingly romantic, or something. "Wait, ex-wife? So she didn't like, die?"

"No, we divorced. When tests showed that I was sterile, that was more than Beth could take. Being out of town all the time, unable to tell her what I was doing or what kind of danger was involved. A correct suspicion of infidelity. All of that she might have managed if we'd had a family. But once that wasn't possible, it was enough for her." Kevin said. "She moved back to New York, married a investment banker or something, ended up having a couple of kids. I mean, she's now gone. Passed away a couple of years ago from heart trouble. Her kids and her grandkids talked about how important her family was to her at the wake."

"Wow. That's all super-depressing." Dom reached for the water bottle, uncapping it and taking a healthy swig. "So is that why you're like... the lone wolf now? Because Beth broke your heart?"

"Disney has a lot to answer for based on how you kids think about love. By the time of our divorce, we'd both grown apart." Kevin paused for a moment. "I'm a, what, lone wolf because I work in a highly dangerous field, all of my peers are either dead or long retired and my only real friend sends me texts made of little pictures I don't understand. It's not some kind of romantic choice, Dom. It's just how life worked out."

"Yeah, but I'm just saying, what about the whole... bunker mentality?" She set the bottle aside and reached down to prod him in the shoulder insistently. "Why aren't you putting all that free love, key party experience to, y'know, use?"

"That gets complicated. Besides," He nudged her knee. "How do you know that I'm not?"

A slow grin spread over her face and she leaned back in the chair, her bare foot sliding along his leg. "Kay, you need to learn about the eggplant emoji, stat."

"I know all those words are English, but the construction is an unknown meaning to me."

"Y'know, eggplant, like a guy's junk..." Apparently Domino though this was all the explanation the mystery warranted, as she didn't volunteer any more information.

"Ah. Well, I'm glad to know that's what an eggplant now means." He said, urgently aware of her foot.

Dom gave a low chuckle and tipped her head back, closing her eyes. She didn't say anything for a moment; when she did make a noise it was more akin to a snore than a cogent sentence. She had fallen asleep.

Kevin sighed and have a silent thanks to the greater power he didn't believe in. It was just her teasing and being drunk, but... he didn't like it when she flirted. Insults were safer. He eased her feet to the floor and then her into the bed. She muttered a bit as he pulled off the more uncomfortable of her outerwear and then settled her under the blanket.

"Sweet dreams, Nina." He said quietly, before lowering the lights and taking his drink and book back to his seat. He'd be fine on the couch for tonight, although he did modify his breakfast order with room service, doubling everything but the coffee.

That he tripled.