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[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

After hearing that Nathan killed the wallpaper, Moira goes up to invesitage the damage. She's only slightly irritated but then realizes that Nathan's irritated at something other than the wallpaper. They talk about Memorial Day, his former 'coworkers' and leather pants.



The door to their actual room stood open an inch or two, enough to let some light in Moira supposed. She stood outside of it, mentally trying to brace herself for whatever Nathan had managed to do. There was no need to start laughing at him this soon in the game, she chided herself, nudging open the door. "Nathan?" she called out, walking all the way into the doorway.

She found him staring down into a bucket, looking incredibly unhappy with it. With a sigh, Moira walked over and peered around his shoulder, grimacing slightly. It was supposed to have been a slightly firm mixture that was easily spreadible. This...was no where near slightly firm. In fact, it seemed to have kicked 'slightly firm' out of it's immediate family tree.

"It did bad things to the wallpaper," Nathan said mournfully, pointing at the west wall of the room, where a couple of strips of wallpaper were busy sliding down onto the floor in a semi-liquid mess.

As one strip tried valiantly to escape it's wall prison, Moira pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oooohhh, my," she said, slowly. "Wha' 'appened?"

"I don't know," Nathan said with a sigh, slumping in his chair. He had brought one into the empty room with him, so that he could sit down while he used his telekinesis to put up the wallpaper. Appeared that wasn't any substitute for hands-on. "Too much water, like I said? I'm sorry..." He looked up at her, giving her his best 'don't kill me?' look. "I just thought if I got it up before tomorrow we could move the furniture right in..."

"I'm slightly irritated, nay goin' ta 'it ye," Moira told him, hands sliding up to his shoulders to start working out the knots she found in there. "Ye realize I bought more than we need, aye? I kind of figured ye'd want ta play wit' it an' I wasnae sure if'n ye 'ad ever put up wallpaper before."

Nathan chuckled softly, then sighed as she massaged his shoulders. "Oh, that feels good," he murmured, trying not to go completely boneless in the chair. "Didn't realize how tense I was getting..."

"I could probably bounce quarters off yer shoulders in yer current state," she remarked, trying to work them out without being too rough. "Everythin' okay? Ye werenae this tense last night. Wallpaper piss ye off tha' much?" Moira paused to drop a kiss to the top of his head before going back to his shoulders.

"It was doing its best," Nathan sighed, stiffening a little as his injured shoulder started to protest even Moira's gentle handling. But the muscles did need to be loosened up a bit, he told himself. "But, you know... it's Memorial Day. It's the first Memorial Day I've spent in the States for seven years."

It was hard not to feel him stiffen a little and Moira frowned, thinking. She stopped the massage, but focused on his hurt shoulder, rubbing in gentle circles. "This 'urt?" she asked, hoping that it would help more than hurt. "Rough day...I'm sorry, I dinnae even think 'bout tha'. Ye doin' okay?"

Nathan shook his head in answer to her first question, then turned his attention to her second. "Just... thinking about them. Jamie made a post on his journal--a great post, really. About remembering." He smiled a bit wistfully, closing his eyes for a moment. "I guess it still grates that no one remembers them but me. Not that they had much of a choice about 'serving their country' in the first place."

She stopped the softer massage to touch his cheek, trying to find a good response to that. Military life, forced on someone or not, was not something she had been used to before meeting Nathan. None of her closest relatives had joined the service and Nathan had a rather different experience than the normal soldier. "Sometimes all it takes is one," she pointed out quietly.

"You know, there was never any sort of memorial service for them?" Nathan murmured, keeping his eyes closed even as he leaned into her touch, just a little. "When I got back from Muir... I hadn't expected them to wait, but I hadn't expected there to have been nothing. Their quarters had been emptied one night, and other operatives had been moved in. It was like they had never existed." He opened his eyes, staring a bit bleakly at the wallpaper sliding down the wall. "Stupid to say it, but I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back for me."

"I'm sorry, they deserved better. Everyone deserves a final word. An' tha's nay stupid, it makes sense. Realizin' tha' th' people who make ye go inta dangerious situations in th' first place could care less if somethin' should 'appen..." Moira wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him gently from behind. "Tha's nay right."

"The whole Spartan mystique," Nathan said with a faint smile. "Come back with your shield or on it, and no tears, either way. I think a number of the directors actually believed it, too." As she let go of him, stepping back, he moved around in the chair, looking up at her. "I'm not moping," he said firmly, raising a hand to cover hers where it still resting on his shoulder. "Too nice a day. Even if I killed the wallpaper."

"A number o' th' directors needed a good buggerin'," Moira pointed out, smiling down at him slightly. "An' nay, yer not. I refuse ta allow any mopin' today. Or I'll wrap yer leg up in somethin' an' toss ye in th' lake."

Nathan gaped at her momentarily, but then grinned. "You have an evil, evil mind. I love you for it." Reaching out a hand and levitating his crutch upwards from the floor, he gave the wallpaper a thoroughly dismissive look and then rose, still grinning at Moira. "Shall we just go, and pretend I didn't make a mess? I'm almost sure I can smell the barbecue from here already."

"We'll worry 'bout this later," she agreed, sliding an arm around his waist carefully, more to be near him than to help prop him up. She grinned at him. "Evil? Yer jus' a 'bad' influence on me...one tha' I'll 'appily let turn me ta th' other side."

Nathan laughed. "Oh, I think you're well-corrupted already. But give me time. I'll have you wearing strategically-cut leather and too much eyeliner yet."

"...isnae it illegal for a woman my age ta be sportin' leather? An', Nathan, I listen ta David Bowie, I dinnae try an' don 'is makeup look."

Nathan gave her a long, speculative look as they headed out into the hall. "I think leather would look good on you," he said after a moment. "Oh, not fetish-wear or anything." He grinned mischievously. "But you do have an amazing figure, you know."

Moira blushed and shook her head. "Ye'd 'ave ta bribe me *well* before I try on a pair o' leather pants." Her lips quirked. "If ye ask nicely, I'll find a picture o' me when I was younger...leather skirt an' jacket, if I recall."

"Now there's an image," Nathan said appreciatively.