Log - Kane/Amanda/MA (BACKDATED)
Jan. 26th, 2022 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsMA and Amanda get used to having Kane around as a roommate for a bit.
Marie-Ange and Amanda had gotten used to Kane living over the last couple of days. Unlike normal, he'd been quiet and helpful, doing dishes and picking up. Even cleaning the bathrooms while they were at work.
Including the tubs. The tubs.
As they walked through the door, they were greeted with the sight of Kane bending over, putting something in the oven. He was dressed in a pair of board shorts, an entirely too small apron with 'Nous allons la monter!' written on the front that Amanda had picked up for MA in Europe, and a pair of oven mitts.
"Oh hey guys." He said, straightening up. "The shepherds' pie is going to need about forty minutes and then we can eat."
Amanda blinked, then breathed in the scent of cooking meat and gave a happy sigh. "Dear Penthouse, I would never believe this would happen to me..." she said, quoting one of Garrison's own quips, before becoming serious again. "This is fantastic, Gar, thank you. But you didn't need to go to all this trouble, yeah?"
"My commute was not hideous, there is dinner in the oven, someone folded the kitchen towels..." Marie-Ange looked around the suite, and then pinched her own wrist. "Are you sure he does not need to go to all this trouble? Amanda, there is food. That you did not have to cook, that did not come from someone working for Doordash that got lost twice trying to find the building."
"True. Very true." Amanda dumped her satchel on one of the easy chairs. "Still, as much as I like the idea of a topless Canadian man servant, you really don't have to feel like you have to do anything, Gar. This is about you recovering."
"Lying in bed by myself for most of the day isn't my idea of recovering. Besides, an hour or two of cooking and picking up is hardly the most arduous schedule in the world." Kane said, half leaning on the back of the couch, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "It feels... normal. I haven't felt normal in months."
"Google says that a regular routine of small productive efforts can help with emotional turmoil." Marie-Ange said, lightly. She dropped her work bag on the table, slipped her shoes and coat off and then took a seat on the far side of the couch. "This is what I do now, I get on the subway and I google things.”
Amanda held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, we apparently have a houseboy for therapeutic reasons,” she said as she perched on the arm of the easy chair. “What’s next? Cocktails and massages?” It was very obviously a joke.
"Hey, if you want me to make a couple of rye and gingers while you get undressed, I'm not going to argue." He joked, but it was obvious that it was reflexive as opposed to the normal flirtation. His experiences with Olivier and the loss of Adrienne had left an obvious shadow over him, and despite his attempts to seem like the old Garrison, the look in his eyes never quite got there.
"There is a joke here about how I am already a ginger.." Marie-Ange arranged herself on the couch, one foot tucked under her body. "But you did cook without a shirt on, in the silly apron."
“Which begs the question - any reason for the lack of shirt? Not complaining, mind, but we did have a blizzard not so long ago.” Amanda observed from the armchair.
"I didn't have a chance to grab an extra change of clothes from my room. I didn't want to get anything on them while cooking, before I sneak down tonight and grab some more outfits." Kane plucked at the apron. "This is also the only apron you own. And your casserole dish had dust in it, so I've had to adapt to the fact that cooking seems to be one of the few things you don't do in your kitchen."
“We own a casserole dish?” Amanda was honestly surprised. “Oh, hell, it’s probably one of Terry’s when she was bringing us food after….” She caught herself and shrugged. “Well, just after.”
"We cook." Marie-Ange protested. "Well, Amanda cooks, breakfast. Sometimes. The fry pan does not have dust!" She waved at hand at Garrison. "You could have asked one of us to get you some clothes. I am not complaining about the shirtlessness but..."
"OK, full disclosure, around my suite, a pair of shorts was pretty much my lounge wear, and compared to Adri, I was the overdressed one. I was going to throw on a shirt, but you guys ended up home a little earlier than I thought." He shrugged. "Besides, if there was ever three people with less reason for any kind of body modesty than the three of us, I'm having trouble coming up with names."
"Yes but... " Marie-Ange started to say, and then cut herself off. "But it is winter. It is winter, and you have just had to heal regrowing all your skin. If it is not causing you issues, then no concerns, I just was worried.”
Seeing things getting weird, Amanda pushed herself up off the arm of the chair and headed for the fridge. “Okay, we have food on the way, a shirtless Canadian and beer in the fridge.” She came back with three bottles, which she handed out. “I could get used to this.”
"See, MA, it's your taste in women that gets us in this situation." He accepted a beer. "Seriously, I'm not trying to cause issues. You guys got home early. I'll throw on an overcoat if you want or if this bothers you."
Marie-Ange shook her head. "If you are comfortable, I am fine. I just am cautious because you have been through horrible ... ness. Horrible things. Ugh, talking about this is awkward."
"I have. And I lost Adri. And all of it came from choices I made." He came forward, tilted her head to one side and kissed her softly on the cheek. "And I'm here. Nothing either of you could ask, do or react can hurt me. Because it is the both of you.”
Amanda had been watching the two of them quietly, drinking her beer from her regained perch on the arm of the armchair. Now she saw an opening for something that she’d been thinking about since Garrison had been staying with them. Except she wasn’t sure how to put it. “The same goes with us, Gar. Or me, since I don’t want to talk for Angie. You’re safe with us. So if you need to… not be all right? That’s all right.” She made a frustrated noise. “I’m not saying this right, so I’ll just go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth. I’ve noticed sometimes you’ve been trying to seem like everything is the same as it was, only you can’t do it all the way. If that’s something you’re doing for our sake… you don’t have to, mate.”
"Yes, this, what Amanda has said. You are here in our suite to be safe and recover, not to make us food and be pretty. Jokes are fine, but you are not okay." The couch was rapidly becoming the spot where Marie-Ange just turned into the most awkward person alive, she thought. "The only reason I am not getting you around the ear and making you do a therapy or talk about what happened is because you could throw me into the sun." She offered a small, wry smile. "Also because you are an adult and I try not to boss around anyone who does not work for me."
"I'm not trying to whistle past the graveyard. But... where I'm not right isn't in the places everyone seems to think they are. And I know I've already asked this a lot, but... trust me on this? I will be getting my head in order. But the last six months, I've spent not in control of anything. And knowing that the repercussions would be coming from things I didn't feel I have a choice in. I do now. Finally." He shook his head. "So if I decide to make dinner and drink too much and drive both of you insane with too much Air Supply, let me have my choice for now."
Amanda nodded. "Fair enough," she said at last. "You do you, as the kids say." Then she grinned. "But can we have some of that Tragically Hip sometimes? 'S a lot easier on the ears than Air Supply."
Marie-Ange and Amanda had gotten used to Kane living over the last couple of days. Unlike normal, he'd been quiet and helpful, doing dishes and picking up. Even cleaning the bathrooms while they were at work.
Including the tubs. The tubs.
As they walked through the door, they were greeted with the sight of Kane bending over, putting something in the oven. He was dressed in a pair of board shorts, an entirely too small apron with 'Nous allons la monter!' written on the front that Amanda had picked up for MA in Europe, and a pair of oven mitts.
"Oh hey guys." He said, straightening up. "The shepherds' pie is going to need about forty minutes and then we can eat."
Amanda blinked, then breathed in the scent of cooking meat and gave a happy sigh. "Dear Penthouse, I would never believe this would happen to me..." she said, quoting one of Garrison's own quips, before becoming serious again. "This is fantastic, Gar, thank you. But you didn't need to go to all this trouble, yeah?"
"My commute was not hideous, there is dinner in the oven, someone folded the kitchen towels..." Marie-Ange looked around the suite, and then pinched her own wrist. "Are you sure he does not need to go to all this trouble? Amanda, there is food. That you did not have to cook, that did not come from someone working for Doordash that got lost twice trying to find the building."
"True. Very true." Amanda dumped her satchel on one of the easy chairs. "Still, as much as I like the idea of a topless Canadian man servant, you really don't have to feel like you have to do anything, Gar. This is about you recovering."
"Lying in bed by myself for most of the day isn't my idea of recovering. Besides, an hour or two of cooking and picking up is hardly the most arduous schedule in the world." Kane said, half leaning on the back of the couch, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "It feels... normal. I haven't felt normal in months."
"Google says that a regular routine of small productive efforts can help with emotional turmoil." Marie-Ange said, lightly. She dropped her work bag on the table, slipped her shoes and coat off and then took a seat on the far side of the couch. "This is what I do now, I get on the subway and I google things.”
Amanda held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, we apparently have a houseboy for therapeutic reasons,” she said as she perched on the arm of the easy chair. “What’s next? Cocktails and massages?” It was very obviously a joke.
"Hey, if you want me to make a couple of rye and gingers while you get undressed, I'm not going to argue." He joked, but it was obvious that it was reflexive as opposed to the normal flirtation. His experiences with Olivier and the loss of Adrienne had left an obvious shadow over him, and despite his attempts to seem like the old Garrison, the look in his eyes never quite got there.
"There is a joke here about how I am already a ginger.." Marie-Ange arranged herself on the couch, one foot tucked under her body. "But you did cook without a shirt on, in the silly apron."
“Which begs the question - any reason for the lack of shirt? Not complaining, mind, but we did have a blizzard not so long ago.” Amanda observed from the armchair.
"I didn't have a chance to grab an extra change of clothes from my room. I didn't want to get anything on them while cooking, before I sneak down tonight and grab some more outfits." Kane plucked at the apron. "This is also the only apron you own. And your casserole dish had dust in it, so I've had to adapt to the fact that cooking seems to be one of the few things you don't do in your kitchen."
“We own a casserole dish?” Amanda was honestly surprised. “Oh, hell, it’s probably one of Terry’s when she was bringing us food after….” She caught herself and shrugged. “Well, just after.”
"We cook." Marie-Ange protested. "Well, Amanda cooks, breakfast. Sometimes. The fry pan does not have dust!" She waved at hand at Garrison. "You could have asked one of us to get you some clothes. I am not complaining about the shirtlessness but..."
"OK, full disclosure, around my suite, a pair of shorts was pretty much my lounge wear, and compared to Adri, I was the overdressed one. I was going to throw on a shirt, but you guys ended up home a little earlier than I thought." He shrugged. "Besides, if there was ever three people with less reason for any kind of body modesty than the three of us, I'm having trouble coming up with names."
"Yes but... " Marie-Ange started to say, and then cut herself off. "But it is winter. It is winter, and you have just had to heal regrowing all your skin. If it is not causing you issues, then no concerns, I just was worried.”
Seeing things getting weird, Amanda pushed herself up off the arm of the chair and headed for the fridge. “Okay, we have food on the way, a shirtless Canadian and beer in the fridge.” She came back with three bottles, which she handed out. “I could get used to this.”
"See, MA, it's your taste in women that gets us in this situation." He accepted a beer. "Seriously, I'm not trying to cause issues. You guys got home early. I'll throw on an overcoat if you want or if this bothers you."
Marie-Ange shook her head. "If you are comfortable, I am fine. I just am cautious because you have been through horrible ... ness. Horrible things. Ugh, talking about this is awkward."
"I have. And I lost Adri. And all of it came from choices I made." He came forward, tilted her head to one side and kissed her softly on the cheek. "And I'm here. Nothing either of you could ask, do or react can hurt me. Because it is the both of you.”
Amanda had been watching the two of them quietly, drinking her beer from her regained perch on the arm of the armchair. Now she saw an opening for something that she’d been thinking about since Garrison had been staying with them. Except she wasn’t sure how to put it. “The same goes with us, Gar. Or me, since I don’t want to talk for Angie. You’re safe with us. So if you need to… not be all right? That’s all right.” She made a frustrated noise. “I’m not saying this right, so I’ll just go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth. I’ve noticed sometimes you’ve been trying to seem like everything is the same as it was, only you can’t do it all the way. If that’s something you’re doing for our sake… you don’t have to, mate.”
"Yes, this, what Amanda has said. You are here in our suite to be safe and recover, not to make us food and be pretty. Jokes are fine, but you are not okay." The couch was rapidly becoming the spot where Marie-Ange just turned into the most awkward person alive, she thought. "The only reason I am not getting you around the ear and making you do a therapy or talk about what happened is because you could throw me into the sun." She offered a small, wry smile. "Also because you are an adult and I try not to boss around anyone who does not work for me."
"I'm not trying to whistle past the graveyard. But... where I'm not right isn't in the places everyone seems to think they are. And I know I've already asked this a lot, but... trust me on this? I will be getting my head in order. But the last six months, I've spent not in control of anything. And knowing that the repercussions would be coming from things I didn't feel I have a choice in. I do now. Finally." He shook his head. "So if I decide to make dinner and drink too much and drive both of you insane with too much Air Supply, let me have my choice for now."
Amanda nodded. "Fair enough," she said at last. "You do you, as the kids say." Then she grinned. "But can we have some of that Tragically Hip sometimes? 'S a lot easier on the ears than Air Supply."
