xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, late Tuesday night

Backdated to Tuesday night. Nathan and Moira de-stress a little further after the events of the weekend. Just fluff, really.

With a small noise, Moira flicked her computer monitor off and stretched. Her back popped slowly as she leaned and she winced. Her old muscles were never going to forgive her after all the stress she had put them through lately. But what she could do, she thought, was go to bed and lie down. They would stop hurting for a while, then. Yawning as she entered the bedroom, she arched an eyebrow at Nathan, who sprawled over nearly the entire bed while he read through some papers.

Probably the stuff for the classes, Moira thought, smiling a little bit. "Yer goin' ta 'ave ta move," she informed him, stepping out of her shoes and then shrugged off the lab coat she had accidently left on. "I fully plan on bein' in bed as soon as possible once I find somethin' ta change int'." Which, really, just required finding a discarded shirt of Nathan's. When you have a boyfriend, sleepwear simply meant stealing something for a brief while.

Nathan looked up at her, smiling, and then sat up carefully, one hand to his bandaged side. "I have no objections to that," he said, telekinetically assembling the papers and moving them across to the desk. He had changed already - his side had been aching enough after dinner that he'd surrendered to the inevitable and retired to the room for the night. "Think I'm done plotting for the day anyway."

"O' good. I was--" Her reply became muffled as she changed out of her shirt and tugged on the other one. "Was afraid I'd chase ye away." Moira grinned at him over her shoulder as she kicked the jeans off and then headed towards the bed. The only light left on was the one on the nightstand so she didn't bother with that as she slide into bed.

"Never," Nathan chuckled, getting under the blankets and then flipping them back for her. She settled down beside him, and he winced a little as he shifted position. "I think I may have to take Madelyn up on those pain pills if this doesn't feel better tomorrow," he muttered.

"Ye should 'ave taken 'er up on them tonight," she chided gently, reaching for him to check the bandages. "Nay bleedin' through or anythin' are they?"

"They were, a little," he admitted reluctantly, not liking the way her forehead furrowed at his words. "Stopped down in medlab just before dinner and Madelyn changed them again. Gave me another lecture about moving around too much."

"Between 'er an' I, ye'd think ye'd listen." Moira shook her head at him, worried all over again. "I swear, I'm goin' ta shove ye in a bubble one o' these days."

He smiled brightly at her. "Look at it this way - surely I've used up my medlab time for the next month, at least."

Laughing, Moira reached over to knock gently on his head. "Knock on wood," she replied wryly. "We can *only* 'ope, love."

"My head isn't wood," he protested, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips briefly. "Rock. Solid rock."

"O', excuse me. Couldnae tell th' difference between one bloody 'ard object an' th' other." It was a good thing she could tease, after everything the weekend had brought. Some of the worry and stress had to have faded by now, she thought to herself, turning her hand over to touch his cheek gently.

"I am sorry," he said quietly, leaning into her touch a little. "For all of this... I don't know what else to say."

"Nathan...ye dinnae 'ave ta say anythin'. Whatever 'appened, ye'll find out wha' it was. An' I know ye dinnae do anythin' o' this on purpose." She gave him a small smile. "Or I'd be kickin' yer ass so verra 'ard right now. I'm jus' glad ta 'ave ye back." Moira had started to drop her hand but when he leaned into the touch, she kept it up, happy to be *able* to do this. There had been a moment where she'd been so afraid that he wouldn't come back...

Nathan sighed heavily. "I talked to Charles," he said slowly, and she let her hand fall slowly.

Moira nodded once and tucked her hand back against herself, bracing herself, almost. "Ye want ta talk about it?" she murmured, noting the sigh.

"Not much to say. He doesn't think I'm liable to go all Manchurian Candidate on you all anytime soon, at least," Nathan said with a twisted smile. "But he didn't want to probe too deeply. Apparently whatever whoever did, it was a rush job and they left something of a mess."

What little color she normally had in her face drained away at his words. "'ow bad a mess? Bad enough ta be 'armful?" Stupid questions but she hoped the answers would be positive ones.

Nathan shrugged with one shoulder. "Charles... tidied up a little. Suggested a new kind of meditation exercise, and told me not to strain myself for the next few days."

"Tell me yer goin' ta listen," Moira muttered, lowering her head to the pillow as she looked up at him. "Or I'll--" She remembered the threat she'd promised Domino she'd use against him. "I'll 'ide yer coffee supply."

"I'm going to listen," he said with another sigh, sliding downwards gingerly. "I don't want to do anything but sit around and plot how to constructively torture students for the next little while, believe me."

Really, it was hard not to giggle. "Ye'd be surprised t' find 'ow easy it is ta do tha'," Moira responded, opening her arms to him. "Torture them, I mean. An' good, I like th' idea o' ye gettin' some rest. Finally."

"Something will come along," he muttered a bit glumly, settling down next to her. "And stab wounds suck, you know. They always hurt worse a couple of days later."

"I really wouldnae know. Thankfully. But at th' rate me students an' patients are goin', add a 'yet' t' tha'. Sessions 'ave been calm lately, thank God." She turned over on her side and snuggled against him gently. "They 'urt tha' badly?"

"Depends on where they are," he murmured, relaxing at the feel of her arms around him. "This one isn't as bad as the last one I had. That one collapsed a lung."

"Yer gettin' ta old for this," Moira reminded him, kissing him on the cheek. Worry was still hovered on her side of the link, less than before but still there. "An' I'm glad 'tis nay as bad, this one scared me enough as it 'tis."

"You know you've been in the business too long when you try and count your scars and lose interest halfway there," Nathan quipped, stroking her hair as she settled back down again. "I ought to catalogue them at some point, I really should..."

"O', aye, tha' would make an interestin' scrapbook. ''ere's where I was nearly gutted tha' time in Africa'." Moira's tone was teasing and the light touch she sent to the link took any sting left in her words.

"Indonesia," Nathan corrected her, and shivered a little as she ran a gentle hand across the spot where that particular scar was hidden beneath his shirt. It was still thick and jagged, even three years later.

"Ye know, I was mostly kiddin'..." Wryly, she shook her head and then reached under the shirt for a better feel. By now, she knew most of the scars by feel, but the stories had yet to be told to her. Interesting, in a way, to put a reason to the scar. Moira paused when she felt his stomach jump again. "Ack, sorry, Nathan," she said sheepishly.

"It's sort of depressing," he said quietly, turning his head on the pillow and staring sideways at her. "Thinking about all the damage I've taken over the years, I mean. I've certainly been feeling it on rainy days these last couple of years."

"Well, then 'tis a good thin' ye decided ta stop. Less chance o' collectin' th' scars." She smiled at him. "I understand, though. An' trust me, yer nay as old as ye feel...really...only sometimes..." The smirk she shot him was slightly impish.

He reached out and stroked a stray lock of hair away from her face, mock-glowering as he did. "Sure, challenge me when I can hardly sit up without whimpering. That's hardly fair. Evil woman."

She giggled and leaned into his touch. "O' like ye play fair? At all? *Ever*? Think o' this as some just revenge on me part, aye?"

Nathan deliberately donned the puppy-dog eyes. "You're very cruel."

"Ach, dinnae look at me like tha'! I am nay!" Moira clapped a hand over her eyes. "An' tha's cheatin'! See wha' I mean?"

"No," Nathan said in his best innocent tone, remembering the wine cellar at the inn. "This is cheating." With that, he reached out with his telekinesis, reminding himself that he didn't have to be able to move to provoke a whole range of fascinating responses. Moira gasped softly, her eyes widening, and he grinned wickedly. "I'm a very bad man."

A whimper was her only response for a moment as she shivered. Then she glared at him--or the attempt was made, anyway. Nathan just smiled and it seemed the sensation got a little more...intense. "Aye, *tha's* cheatin'," Moira got out between clenched teeth, trying not to make those noises he was trying to get her to make. "This isnae fair..."

"Fun, though," Nathan said unrepentantly, knowing perfectly well that she didn't actually want him to stop.

The reply was more of a purred noise than anything else as Moira felt her world start to go comfortably warm. Even though she really didn't want to move, the sensation was too nice, she found herself creeping closer to Nathan. "Wha'--did Bartlet say 'bout ye nay strainin' yerself, exactly?" she murmured, suddenly wanting a kiss rather badly.

"Madelyn told me not to move around so much," Nathan murmured, raising a hand to trace the line of her jaw. "Charles said to take it easy, psionically speaking. But this isn't hard, Moira..."

"But only ye get ta--" Her words cut off with a gasp and her head fell back as she felt the touch spread slightly. Gritting her teeth again, Moira raised her arm and looped it gently around his neck. "We could always take this--Nathan, I'm tryin' ta talk stop---ohhh...slow. Slow is good. We'd be careful..."

"Slow is good," Nathan said, pulling her down to him. "Bleeding on the comforter is bad."

"There will be nay bleedin' on th' comforter. Kissin', 'owever, aye..." Moira grinned a little before she reached up to kiss him. "Let's see if'n ye can make good on yer promise from last night, aye?"