xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Sunday afternoon/evening/night

The promised shopping trip. Nathan and Moira spend money, discuss hair, plot food fights, reminisce, and eat churros. Back at home, they conclude the evening in a time-honored fashion.

Moira paused to peer into the window of a book store, taking a good look at some of the more recent titles. But mainly she wanted to make sure Nathan was all right; this was the most exercise he had gotten lately. The store she wanted to go to was next door, a small but nice little furniture shop she had spotted before. With her living room pretty much trashed, she had gotten Charles' to agree to let her use one of the school's charge cards to refurbish. Or at least start. Normally, she'd handle it with her own money but it had been in defense of the school (and it hadn't been hers to begin with), so her old friend hadn't seemed to have any problems with her use of it.

Nathan had been very grateful to find that this bookstore had a chair, which its then-occupant had vacated instantly upon seeing his cast and crutch. Which had been really nice, Nathan reflected, because he had been about to fall over at the time. Moira had set a fairly restrained pace so far, but even that had been a little more than he seemed to be capable of doing. She had suggested he come find someplace to sit down in here while she visited an art store across the way, and he had been more than glad to agree.

A tickle at the link caught his attention, and he looked up from the international relations book lying open in his lap to see Moira peering through the windows at the front of the store. Her eyes fell on him and on impulse, he stuck his tongue out at her merrily.

Laughing a little, she headed into the store and made her way to where he sat, nearly bonelessly. "Mature today, are we?" Moira murmured, bending down to give him a quick kiss. "'ow's yer leg 'oldin' up?"

Nathan thought of brushing it off, but she had made him promise to stow the machismo as much as possible for a while. Apparently it was getting in the way of him dealing with how he felt lately, or so Moira claimed. "Not really well," he admitted softly, looking up at her as she straightened. "Beginning to think that going cold turkey on the pain meds wasn't such a good idea, at least if I plan to be moving around this much."

She frowned down at him. "Damn it, I knew I should 'ave brought at least one wit' me," Moira grumbled, irritated at herself. She smiled at a younger man when he offered to let her use the chair he'd been resting on and scooted it closer so she could sit next to Nathan. "This was probably a bad idea, I'm sorry."

"No, it was a good idea," he corrected her. "I'm just old and decrepit." He grinned suddenly. "And your hair is gorgeous." The hairstylist had had a cancellation, and so fitting Moira in hadn't been an issue. "Really, just... gorgeous."

There was just a hint of blush on her cheeks as she smiled back at him. "Aww, thank ye. I 'ate gettin' it cut, nay want ta go back ta th' 'airstyle I used ta 'ave." Her nose wrinkled slightly at the memory of the severe-cut style she'd worn for years - longest it had gotten had been her chin. But she'd been remiss in getting it trimmed, so the hairstylist had clucked at her and taken it from the bottom of her shoulder blades to an inch or two away from her shoulders and had added some layers in for good measure. "An' yer nay old an' decrepit. If ye are, wha' does tha' make me?"

"Slightly less old and decrepit?" Nathan suggested, then grinned as she swatted his good shoulder. "And do you know, that maniac's fellow maniac was trying to get me to sit down in a chair and let him have at it? He tried to talk me into a dye-job and a style to 'disguise the receding hairline, dahling!'"

Moira looked utterly horrified at the idea. "Dare I ask wha' colour 'e wanted ta dye yer 'air?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Blond," Nathan said brightly. "Wouldn't that have been cute?"

"Only if ye wanted me ta shave yer 'ead in th' middle o' th' night!" she yelped, still looking utterly horrified. "'ow on eart' would *tha'* 'ave 'elped wit' yer...recedin' 'air line? Wha' recedin' 'air line?"

Nathan beamed at her warmly. "I love you," he said sincerely. "I didn't think I had a receding hairline. Or at least, not much of one... and besides, you'd love me if I was bald, wouldn't you?"

Moira snorted, snickering under her hand as she battled against the image of a bald Nathan in her mind. "...o' course I would, I love ye..." Another round of giggles interrupted her line of thought and she paused, trying to collect herself.

"You're laughing at me," he observed cheerfully as she leaned against him, trying to control her chortling. "At me, not with me. Bruising my fragile ego and all."

Wheezing a little, she snuggled against him and grinned up. "Maybe jus' a wee bit. An' after everythin', I think yer ego can stand my gentle mockin'."

***

"Stop looking at the poor churro like that," Nathan scolded Moira as she peered doubtfully at the tube of fried dough in its little paper dish. "You'll give it a complex." He cut off a piece of his with his fork and held it up for her inspection. "See? It's got cream in the middle. Well, yours has chocolate, but..."

"Are ye sure tha's chocolate?" Moira muttered at him, pushing hers around her plate slightly. Nathan had been rather insistant she try one of these little pastry things and she was starting to doubt if she should have trusted him on this. "Me arteries are already formin' a protest..."

Nathan grinned at her. "I will have you know that the churro has a long and illustrious history. Admittedly, the Mexicans weren't stuffing theirs with various sugary substances back in the day, but still. Have some respect."

"I could use th' grease in an experiment, ye know..." She glanced up and wrinkled her nose at his grin. "Fine, fine, I'll try it..."

Nathan ate the bite of his, wondering a bit bemusedly why it tasted so good to him. After all the trouble he'd been having with his lack of appetite lately, the sudden craving for 'fried and sugary' had taken him off guard. "So?" he asked as Moira tried her. "As bad as you thought?"

Moira tentatively tried a small bite and blinked in surprise. "Nay, actually...nay somethin' I'd want every day but this isnae so bad. Wha' made ye dra' me 'alf way cross th' mall ta 'ave some, though?"

Nathan thought about it for a long moment, then realized all at once what it had been. "Nostalgia," he mused. "When I saw the churros stand listed on the directory..." He leaned back in the little rotating food-court chair, rubbing at his jaw. "I never told you that I got out through Mexico after..." He stopped, smiled a bit faintly, then started to cut off another piece of his churro. "There was this family that took me in for a few days, maybe a week. I was still in pretty bad shape. The gunshot wounds, and all... but I remember the daughter. Maria. She made me some of these one night."

"Good memories amon' th' bad," Moira murmured, reaching one hand over to caress his briefly. "I understand. Nay wonder ye really wanted me ta try one o' these thin's..."

"They ran a little bar," Nathan said, his mouth quirking upwards a little more noticeably. "I walked into it the one night and collapsed. It was a tiny little town, the middle of the slow season - I was apparently the first entertainment they'd had in weeks."

"Lord, they're still probably talkin' 'bout ye now, ye realize?"

Nathan chuckled wistfully. "Probably," he said, taking another bite of his churro. "That crazy gringo with the wild look in his eyes and the nightmares that made the house shake..." Moira looked distressed suddenly, and he patted her hand. "Wounds got infected," he said briskly. "I wasn't precisely taking care of myself at the time."

Her mind wandered back to her own 'bad time' and she sympathized with that part of it. "I 'ave this sudden desire ta thank them," Moira said, picking at her food slightly. "Sounds like if'n it 'adnae been for them ye'd..." She grimaced and shook her head. "Nay wallowin', either o' us..."

"They were very kind," Nathan said quietly, smiling a little. "Called in the doctor to pump me full of antibiotics and prayed for me. I remember Maria and her mother packed me some food when I left and told me to go with God."

Moira looked a little amused at the last bit but didn't say anything about it. "Sounds like ye were lucky ta 'ave fallen in amon' them."

Nathan nodded, still smiling. "I was," he said. "And yet I haven't thought about them in... oh, years. Which is kind of ironic. It's like it's easier to remember the dark spots than the bright ones." His smile turned a little wry as he took another bite of his churro. "Human nature, I suppose," he said with his mouth full.

"'uman nature isnae verra fun sometimes," she agreed, chasing her food around the plate as the grease made it a little more slippery than she was expecting. "Ye need ta focus more on th' good memories, I'm thinkin'."

"And on making new ones," Nathan said with another chuckle. "For instance, I'm going to remember the 'What the hell is this?' look you gave your poor churro very fondly."

"Yer never goin' ta let me live tha' one down, are ye?" she asked, grumbling a little bit as she finished it up. "Could ye blame me, really? Unlike another doctor I could name, I'm nay on a first name basis wit' food tha' could kill me 'eart."

"You don't have nearly enough fun in life," Nathan proclaimed, reaching out to scoop a bit of chocolate sauce off her dish with his finger and then dabbing it at the tip of her nose.

Moira let out a light yelp and jerked backwards slightly, eyes going a little crosseyed. "...Nathan..." She shook her head, trying not to laugh as she went to grab one of the napkins that was resting under his elbow. "Ye really dinnae want ta start a food fight wit' me...give me th' napkin..."

"Not in public, at least," he conceded, handing her the napkin. "I think we ought to stage one at the mansion sometime this week, though. Cheer up the kids a little. Imagine the giggling if they walked in to you rubbing mashed potato into my hair or something."

After wiping the chocolate off her nose, she blinked at him slowly. "Yer nay serious...are ye?"

"Why not? It would be fun."

"Th' staff would kill us," Moira pointed out, though her lips were quirking slightly at the idea.

"You forget, I could have it all cleaned up in about two minutes flat. Telekinesis is a handy thing at times." He leaned towards her, giving her his best 'I'm mentally undressing you now' smile. "Then we could go shower and get the food off us. I mean, after we put my damned leg in a garbage bag..."

"Tha's cheatin'!" Moira protested, blushing a little under that gaze of his. "An' aye, I dinnae think I can forget 'ow 'andy yer telekinesis can be..." She flushed even deeper at that memory and tried to desperately hold onto her resolve.

Nathan made a thoughtful noise, looking at the pile of shopping bags. "We've been everywhere you wanted to be, right? Everything else is getting delivered..." He paused, giving her that smile again. "We could always head back and I could refresh your memory. Just in case you forgot any of the details."

"I am gettin' older, me memory does need a bit of a 'elpin' 'and every now an' then..." She glanced down at her bags and then back up to him. "Anythin' I need, I can get later...can I trust ye ta behave on th' way back?" Moira asked, grinning impishly at him.

"I will keep my invisible hands scrupulously to myself."

***

Nathan sighed deeply as Moira settled down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "All right," he said, more than a little sleepily. "You're a devious, creative, insatiable woman. This has been thoroughly established. In fact, you kind of scare me."

Moira made a noise as she tugged the rumbled sheets back to their proper place on top of them. "Why do I scare ye?" she muttered into his shoulder, enjoying the feeling as her muscles finally relaxed a little.

"There are moments," Nathan murmured, kissing the top of her head and then stroking her hair slowly, lazily. "Moments when you're so bright in my head..."

There was a moment where Moira did her best impression of being completely boneless as she leaned into the touch. "Nay a bad thin', is it?" she asked, figuring it wasn't but she wanted to make sure. He was like that as well, so warm and bright over the link and she wasn't the telepath here...

"Never bad. Just... not used to it anymore." She shifted closer, and he sighed again, shivering a little as she put an arm around him, her hand gliding gently across the old burn scars along his ribs. "Have to remind myself it's real."

"T' bright nay ta be real," she pointed out, nuzzling into his neck gently. "Never thought th' link could, ye know, get this deep. Were ye...expectin' tha'?"

"Not for a moment." He stopped, then went on more quietly, almost under his breath. "Still can't understand what I did to deserve you."

"I 'ave a list!" Moira volunteered suddenly. "Or at least a list o' all th' thin's ye did ta completely sweep me off me feet without either o' us realizin' it."

Nathan blinked, then laughed softly. "Oh, I bet that's a scary list."

"Some parts," she agreed, "other parts are completely girly."

"I love you," Nathan said with a helpless smile as she relaxed again, apparently having found an acceptable position. "I really, really love you."

"Mmm, love ye t'." Moira sighed happily. "One day I might even show ye tha' list o' mine..."