Doug and Marie-Ange, this evening.

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

After returning from the sunroom and the conversation with Nathan, Marie-Ange tries to get Doug to eat, or to at least leave the room. She fails, miserably. Doug is, in order - apathetic, irritable, angry, distracted by his hormones, apologetic and finally just plain tired. Angie finally manages to get him to take a shower, after he calms down enough to be a little bit coherent.



Marie-Ange dangled her feet off the edge of Doug's bed, and flipped through a few pages in her sketchbook. "Merde, merde.. plus merde, " she muttered, declaring everything she'd drawn over the last few hours to be as a whole, bad. She poked at a clean page with a pencil, and frowned, then set the book down with a little 'thump'. "I cannot even -draw- properly. Nothing looks right."

Doug was ensconced at his desk, skipping listlessly through his MP3 playlist, because nothing sounded good to him. He would check the journal system and his email compulsively, then get frustrated and try to distract himself by cleaning out his inbox. A once-read email from Alison sat unanswered and ignored in the most recent slot.

Marie-Ange continued to randomly dart her pencil across the paper, making tiny little scratching noises, and occasionally, a few frustrated 'erks' when she had to go back and erase botched lines or shading. After a few minutes of no-response, she looked up and frowned. "Do you .. want to go for a walk? Or .. get food?"

Doug rubbed the bridge of his nose, attempting to counteract the migraine that had taken up residence behind his eyeballs. "Dunno. No energy. No appetite," he replied, leaning back in his office chair to stare at the ceiling.

"You cannot just sit here all night." Angie sighed, and rolled off her stomach to sit up and look at Doug directly. "Did you eat at all today, or do -anything-? Practice for the music exam? Answer Alison's email?" She eyed him suspiciously.

Doug shrugged expressively. "Been doing a pretty good job of it so far. And like I said. No appetite," he answered defensively.

"You need to eat. You cannot just go a day without eating at all!" Angie scolded, and scooted further on the bed to sit closer to the desk. "So you just sat here while I napped, and did not do -anything- while I was downstairs?"

Doug grimaced. "I. Wasn't. Hungry. Angie," he shot back tersely.

"Neither was I, and I still ate." Angie blinked at Doug's tone, and watched him warily. "You need to eat, you need to get up and move around, or leave the room, or at least leave your -desk-."

Doug folded his arms petulantly. "Didn't feel like it," he responded, irritation rising from being put on the spot.

Marie-Ange shook her head, and frowned. "I suppose you did not feel like taking a shower -either-?" She asked, wrinkling her nose. "Your hair is ... icky." She let out a short sigh, and shook her head. "Please? I do not want you to get sick from not eating."

"I don't feel like showering, I don't feel like eating, I don't feel like doing _anything_, all right, Angie? Just leave me alone," he snapped, his voice rising.

"There isn't anything I can do to convince you to at least have a snack?" Angie asked, very quietly. "Or at least move? You're worrying me..."

Doug ran fingers through his hair roughly, scratching fiercely at a couple itchy spots. "I haven't been able to concentrate on _anything_, Angie, all I want is some damn peace and quiet! Is that too much to ask?" he asked, voice still rising.

"I've been quiet, Doug. I've been sitting here drawing for an hour and a half and did not say a single thing!" Marie-Ange stood and gestured at the clock. "I came back in, you did not even notice, and I sat here saying nothing! You could have at least said something when I came in."

Doug stood from his chair as well. "Well, I'm sorry that I've been trying to deal with this killer migraine of mine, Angie, so I didn't greet you as cheerily as you would have liked. God, I just want some quiet so that I can maybe get some sleep tonight," he said quietly, his shoulders slumped.

"I did not -expect- a cheery greeting, Doug. I just wanted you to say hello, or respond to me walking into the room, or -anything!" Marie-Ange clenched her hands into fists and tried not to yell, only sort-of managing it. "But I wasn't loud! I haven't been loud, and if you had asked, I would've been even quieter!"

Doug winced, all of his irritation gone, leaving him bone weary. He rubbed his temples slowly. "God, my head just hurts so _much_, Angie."

Tentatively, not wanting to incur further snappish behavior, Marie-Ange moved behind Doug. Gently, she pushed his hands away from his temples, and replaced them with her own, trying to work out the tension. She frowned, noticing that the muscles in his neck were practically visible, taut with stress and fatigue.

Doug moved over and sat on his bed with Marie-Ange still behind him. He made a purring noise as she tried to massage his neck and shoulders. He leaned back farther and farther until his head was resting on Marie-Ange's shoulder, and then he leaned up and kissed her on the cheek quickly.

Angie smiled, and ran a hand through Doug's hair, ignoring the faintly oily feeling, just happy that he seemed to have broken his bad mood. She returned to gently kneading at a knot in his neck, occasionally brushing her fingertips gently through the back of his hair.

Doug closed his eyes and hummed low in his throat at the contact. Turning and curling his hand behind Marie-Ange's neck, he drew her mouth down to his for an insistent kiss.

Blinking in surprise, Marie-Ange returned the kiss, only a little hesitantly. She wrapped her arms around Doug's waist, making soft whimpers as he nibbled on her bottom lip.

Doug closed his eyes and whimpered softly, thinking only of how much he wanted Marie-Ange. He gently lay her back on the bed and kissed her more insistently, his fingers snaking under the hem of her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her lower back.

Arching her back a little, Angie kissed back, running her hands down Doug's back to rest just at the waistband of his jeans. His lack-of-shyness, she did not quite want to call it boldness, but it was definitely -something-, was surprising, but at the moment, she wasn't complaining. It was certainly better than him moping at his desk.

Doug's forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Too many clothes," he muttered. He impatiently pushed the T-shirt that Marie-Ange was wearing (one of his, he noted in the back of his brain) up under her armpits to reveal a plain white sports bra. Doug was so intent on her that all higher brain function had essentially ceased.

Angie murmured happily as Doug brushed the sides of her breasts with his palms, and turned her head to nibble at his jawline, trying to ignore the very slightly scratchy-fuzzy feeling to his skin. He hadn't shaved either, she noted, in the back of her head. As she teased, she caught sight of the little green Tonberry toy that she had gotten for Miles so long ago, and her attention snapped into focus. "Doug?" she said, quietly. "You have roommates. We cannot. Not -here-, Jamie and Kitty could come back, or Artie, or Miles."

Doug's hands stilled, and his fingers quivered as he quickly pulled the shirt back down. Rolling away from Marie-Ange, he drew his legs up and shivered slightly. "Sorry....sorry..." he murmured.

Curling up behind him, Angie put her arms around Doug's own arms, and shushed him. "You have nothing to apologize for. Shhh. I am not upset, I just do not think your roommates would want to come in to see that." She kissed the back of his head gently. "It would be a little embarrassing, I think."

Doug continued to shiver, slightly more violently. "No, it wasn't a good idea, shouldn't have..." He struggled against Marie-Ange's iron grip, eyes burning with tears.

"There was nothing wrong with what you did, except that there is no privacy." Marie-Ange said quietly. She tugged at Doug's shoulders gently, trying to encourage him to face her.

She managed to get Doug rolled over, and suddenly he uncurled and clung tightly to her, burying his head against her chest as he sobbed brokenly. "God, Angie, I don't know what's wrong with me right now. I'm all over the place. He sniffled. "I'm such a mess," he blubbered.

Marie-Ange held Doug close, rubbing his back gently. "It will pass. You are going to talk to Dr. Samson, yes?" she asked, a bit sternly. "It is just the last week being hell. Exams.. and.. " she hesitated, and let out a slow breath before continuing. "and Skippy, and I would be more worried if you were -not- upset, like Shiro or Sarah."

Doug continued to sniffle. "God, I'm all over the place," he said, dashing a hand at the tears on his face. "I nearly snapped Nathan's head off in the journals."

Angie gently brushed the last of the tears off Doug's face, and stroked his hair. "I read. It is just the stress. We should find something to do to get away from it, to not think about it." She didn't -quite- want to bring up Nathan's offer for the Askani class just yet, but thought she could perhaps ease him into it.

Doug sighed raggedly. "I wish I knew what to do about it, Angie. I can't even figure out what's _wrong_. I mean, for god's sake, I practically _yelled_ at you earlier. So sorry for that."

"We will figure out what is wrong. You can see Doctor Samson, or talk to someone else.. maybe Alison or Professor Xavier, and it will be better. A little yelling will not hurt me any." Marie-Ange pressed a gentle kiss to Doug's forehead. "Whatever you need me to do to help, I will. I promise."

Doug sighed softly. "Love you so much, Angie," he whispered softly in French. "You're so good to me."

"I love you too." Angie said, still running her hand gently through his hair. "You deserve some good, silly. You try to take care of people when they're upset or hurt, it is only right that you get taken care of.."

Doug sighed and rolled onto his back, not clinging quite so hard to Marie-Ange, but still keeping her firmly in his arms. "I'm just so _tired_. Haven't been able to sleep much lately." He snorted. "Wonder why."

"Do.. you want me to get some of Amanda's headache, um, tea? It is the only way I managed that nap.." Marie-Ange rested her head gently on Doug's shoulder, and snuggled into his arms. "It might help, or .. " She paused, and tried to suppress a slightly worried grimace. "maybe a hot shower? It cannot hurt."

Doug nodded quietly. "I guess I could try a shower. And maybe Amanda's headache thing'd be worth a try. Certainly can't hurt..." He levered himself off the bed and padded off toward the bathroom.

The minute Doug had disappeared into the shower, Angie bolted up, and sprinted out of the room, skidding into the student kitchen a short time later. Just as quickly, she gathered up a plate of cookies - hoping 'chocolate' would at least entice Doug to eat something, and, as an afterthought, one of the spare mini-cartons of milk. Arms full, she walked as quickly as possible back to the room, setting the snack on Doug's nightstand, and managing to look at least a bit innocent and casual when he returned

Doug returned a short while later, hair damp and face freshly shaved. He looked at his girlfriend's attempt at looking innocent, and the plate of cookies that had not been there when he left for the shower. He leaned down and kissed Marie-Ange's forehead, smiling gently. "You are so good to me, you know that?"