Asgard: Finding Doug
Aug. 8th, 2004 07:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJorundr's meadhall. Jamie, Miles, Shiro, and Marie-Ange show up in the meadhall where Doug lives, guided by the raven. Doug recognizes them and has a little romantic surprise for Marie-Ange. Afterward, he sits and swaps snark with Jamie about how sill their beards look, and the group decides on their next course of action. Warning: three-hankie alert.
Doug cocked his head and twisted a tuning peg slightly. Not that most of the patrons of Jorundr's mead hall tended to care if he was slightly out of tune as long as the mead was fresh, the wenches' blouses low-cut, and the stories rousing, but Doug had begun to enjoy his life as a bard, and fancied himself something of a professional after a few months of training and singing. Doug had developed something of a reputation with his "new" stories that were, in fact, merely adaptations of books, movies, and television shows that Doug liked. And each of the patrons had their own favorites. Some nights it was "The Wizard Crichton", others it was for the adventures of Tanis Half-Elven, Sturm Brightblade, and the other Heroes of the Lance. Some nights he would spin tales of the Defenders of Daybreak, and others he would regale them with the tragic story of the fall of Anakin Skywalker, and the heroic quest of his son Luke against the evil Emperor.
But tonight, Doug felt in a bit of a traditional mood, so he began the opening lines of the Beowulfsaga, to the appreciative thump of empty tankards against tables. Jorundr smiled from where he overlooked the workings of the hall. Allowing Hugaldr to take the lad on as an apprentice had been a good decision. His trade had skyrocketed as the young bard's reputation for new and creative tales drew customers to his hall.
---
Rain was horrible, cold rain was worse, and cold rain with a raven trying to peck its way inside her cloak was the absolute worse. Marie-Ange swatted at the bird on her shoulder and swore at it in French. Her language was really getting -very- foul lately, she thought. It was the bird's fault. She pulled her hood up further as they passed a small crowd, and sighed. "Back the way I came in the first place. I should have just stayed here and saved myself the sore legs from riding,' she muttered.
"Save the gripes for someone who cares," Shiro spat, his normally foul mood made all the worse by his recent misadventures with those three bitch goddesses. "Let us just find whomever we are searching for and leave." He shivered underneath his silver cloak, and drew it more tightly around him. His time in this world, while exciting and adventurous at first, had left him with a horrible taste in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to go home already.
"How about we get out of the rain first?" Jamie hitched his own cloak slightly, his chain-mail clinking. "I betcha Spanky the Wonder Bird'll shut up if he's dry, and I could use something to eat. We aren't gonna find anybody if we're too miserable to notice them."
At mention of the word 'dry', the raven began tugging at Marie-Ange's hood with its beak, only ceasing when she swatted at it. "I think the stupid bird agrees." she said. "Food, and something like a good night's sleep. I am very tired of sleeping out of doors." She shut her eyes, and her steps slowed slightly. After a moment, she winced, left hand clutching around the reins of her horse in order to keep from grabbing at the stabbing pain in her eye, and then gestured. "There," she said, pointing at the entrance to a somewhat crowded meadhall.
Shiro nodded and walked alongside the horses, following Jamie and Marie Ange to the meadhall. He was not surprised at people's odd looks at the party, and couldn't help but feel smug as those who recognized the markings on Shiro's face and robes as the Norns' stepped out of their way. A reputation as a half-fire demon and defender of the Fates was useful, even if those Fates were cruel, manipulative witches.
Jamie tossed a few coins to the stableboy and led the group into the hall, finding a spot with a good view and ordering beer with a casualness that still slightly weirded him out. Looked like there might be some entertainment later--that'd be good, he could definitely use the help keeping everybody's spirits up.
"My treat, guys. Hey Miles, I bet they've got roasted walnuts, what do you say we split a bowl?"
---
From his table away from the main serving area, Doug sipped from a tankard and bent to eat from his bowl of stew. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an odd group of travelers shaking themselves dry. The strangely painted man with the silver cloak stood out most of all, as he didn't look at all Asgardian. Or Vanir, or dwarven, or like any race that should conceivably be in Asgard. As a matter of fact, he looked... Doug snickered. ~Shiro! But what's he doing dudded up like he's in Ah My Goddess?~ The marks on Shiro's face answered the question slightly, as the rumors Doug had heard about a half-fire demon servant of the Norns clicked in his head. He began to stand up from his bench when he took a harder look at the rest of the group.
The small child-like figure was wrapped head to toe in cloak, tunic, and gloves, but Doug saw a touch of green skin as he slipped into the bearded man's lap. ~Miles? Then who is...~ Suddenly, Doug looked more carefully at the facial features of the bearded warrior, and barked out a laugh to himself. ~Jamie! Man, that beard is _hideous_...~ The thought trailed off as Doug scratched at his own beard. ~Don't suppose I have much of a leg to stand on to mock him...~
The final member of the group appeared to be female, but her heavy cloak was drawn completely over her face. That was a very large raven on her shoulder, though... ~Wait. The raven is Odin's bird. That means...~ He gazed intently at the pair of red braids as the woman stripped some moisture from them. ~Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod it's Angie!~ Starting up from his bench, Doug made his way back to his room, snatching up his own cloak. Coming back to the main room, he made a beeline for where Arnbjorn and Hugaldr sat.
"She's here," he said simply, sitting down between them. "She? She who?" answered Arnbjorn. Doug grinned patiently. "See the woman sitting over there with the warrior, the boy, and the half-fire demon, Ambi?"
Hugaldr snorted. "You say 'half-fire demon' entirely too casually, Aron." Doug grinned even wider in reply. "See the raven sitting on her shoulder? See those red braids? It's her. My betrothed, Ambi. She's _here_."
Arnbjorn slammed his tankard to the table and made a move to stand up. "That's fabulous, Aron! So why aren't you over there already? Go on, go!" Hugaldr shook his head a bit more skeptically. "How do you know it's her, Aron, she's got her cloak all the way over her face."
Doug raised his eyebrows at Hugaldr. "You've been hearing the rumors just like I have, Hugaldr. A red-haired Midgardian seeress who amused the All-Father by telling him just exactly where he could shove it if he didn't let her go? It's Angie, all right." He looked a little dreamy as he cast a look back at the group. "And the other three are my friends as well. The bearded warrior is like a brother to me, just like you, Ambi. I'd know them anywhere. So here's what I need you two to do for me..." He leaned forward and whispered to his friends.
---
As Marie-Ange sat down, the bird - bane of her existence - cawed, flapped its wings once, and took flight, leaving the meadhall out the front doors. "It will be back. It probably went to go find some dead thing to eat." She shrugged matter-of-factly and tried to get comfortable on the bench. Food would help her mood, as much as anything did these days. Food, and mead, and a good night's sleep. She pushed her hood back - no real sense in trying to keep her face hidden after the bird made a scene, and if they were meant to find one of their classmates here, then she had no good reason to hide.
"We just got in out of the rain, which the bird was complaining about, and as soon as we get dry it takes back off . . . into the rain." Jamie shook his head. "That bird? Makes no sense whatsoever."
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a small commotion in the opposite corner of the room, and was about to dismiss it as the usual sort of thing you got in mead-halls . . . until he got a good look at the shortest person at the table, who looked suspiciously familiar behind what was quite possibly one of the silliest-looking beards in Asgard, and who kept stealing elated glances at their table.
He thought for a moment, then casually turned back to his beer. Knowing Doug, and considering who was in their little group, something romantic and sappy was in the offing. Jamie touched the cat stitched onto his surcoat, over his heart, shifting a certain oilskin-wrapped parchment next to his skin; far be it from him to spoil somebody else's romantic surprise.
Miles tugged the corner of his hood down carefully, then wriggled to sit between Marie-Ange and Jamie, sighing a bit as the warmth of the room combined to the larger bodies on either side of him slowly started to seep through. He wished he could take off his gloves to warm his hands properly although the oiled leather had kept him nicely dry, something his traveling companions were nearly fanatical about, but he knew without a doubt that would not be happening, so instead he leaned his head against Marie-Ange's arm and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling a bit at the bustling sounds around them in the crowded room. It was nice to be out of the rain, even if he hadn't really minded all that much - it was the cold that came with it which he disliked more.
"Miles would like roasted walnuts," he answered Jamie, finally, daring to ask for more a second later. "Could Miles have soup, too?" Soup was good nearly all the time here, and the warmth of it certainly appealed to him now.
"Whatever you want, kiddo. I'll have soup too, and we can see if it's good enough to bring the recipe home to Lorna." Jamie grinned. "Hey, how about you, Shiro? You hungry?"
"Hmm? Yeah, sure. Stew and some bread," Shiro answered off-handedly, only half paying attention. "With lots of meat. The rawer the better." Now everyone's gazes were getting on his nerves. He glared at everyone who met his eyes, and they all quickly turned away. Better not to anger a half-fire demon.
Doug fidgeted as he sat in the back of the mead hall, waiting impatiently for the other bards to arrive. Ever since he had discovered that Marie-Ange was in Asgard, he'd been planning for this very occasion. Explaining a cappella music to Asgardian bards had been something of a chore, but once he had gotten the concept across, they had seemed remarkably receptive to it. At last, Arnbjorn returned with the last of the three bards Doug had been working with, and Doug signaled to Hugaldr, who had been performing while the preparation had been going on.
Setting his lute aside and getting to his feet slowly, Hugaldr held up his hands in an attempt to quiet the crowd. It being a crowd of drunken Asgardians, he had only middling success. Still, he spoke above the racket. "A few of you may know that my apprentice, Aron, has been working on something new, musically, in addition to his new stories. The rest of you, now you know. He has decided to perform this new piece tonight." And with that, Hugaldr moved off to one of the tables, where Arnbjorn and Rannveig sat. At the announcement, Doug began moving his three backup bards to the slightly more open performing area, picking out a few notes on the lute and making sure everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing. A number of whispers ran through the crowd as some people speculated on what Aron might have created.
Trying -not- to watch Shiro devour his meal, and instead choosing to concentrate on her own food, Marie-Ange barely paid attention to the old bard at the front of the meadhall. Her priorities, in order, were food, sleep, find whoever was in the city, and maybe find somewhere to wash her hair. Bards - especially not old, somewhat cranky sounding ones were not anywhere in her list of things to pay attention to.
Finally, the other three bards had their notes and were ready. Plucking his own note, Doug set the lute aside and crossed his fingers. ~Let's just hope this goes well...~ Still facing his backup singers, he gave them the downbeat to the first chord as he began singing in Norse.
// "Is it the sky today, the way that the wind's pushing the clouds?
Or is it the late day sun stretching the shadows over the ground?
That brings on these memories of people and places that I've never seen
And voices so strange and so sweet, asking me softly,
Where is my home?
Where is my home?" //
When the younger bard - apparently the apprentice of the older one who had been speaking to the crowd - began to sing, Marie-Ange glanced up from where she was picking apart a chunk of bread to listen. Her command of Norse was not -so- good that she could translate the song as he sang it, but his voice was soothing, smooth and even and clear even over the sounds of the crowd.
Nodding at his backups, Doug turned to the rest of the room and worked his way into the second verse, beginning to walk around the room, starting with the table where Hugaldr, Rannveig, and Arnbjorn sat. Rannveig looked slightly sad, but Arnbjorn was grinning from ear to ear.
// "What makes this person me?
Is it the little town where I was born?
Or maybe it's history, the faces of family that I've never known,
Somewhere across the sea, where my great-grandmother left long ago
Under a cold crying moon, looking for something,
Where is my home?
Where is my home?" //
As the chords changed into the bridge, Doug began to walk back towards the table where Angie, Jamie, Shiro, and Miles were sitting. He flashed a quick sign language "Hey, little buddy" at Miles as he walked, seeing the boy's eyes widen and a large smile stretch under his hood. Miles very carefully took Marie-Ange's hand in his, as if he knew what was coming.
// "Where is my home?
The walls of a city painted with promises and words so unkind?
Where is my home?
The trees of a country where autumn came suddenly, that I'll never find?"//
Finally, he reached the table and stood directly in front of Marie-Ange. Gripping the hood of his cloak, he slowly pulled it back. Tears streaming slowly down his face, he sang the last verse quietly in English.
// "But then there's your face, my dear, and I know I'll never be walking alone,
The love in your eyes makes it clear, telling me softly,
This is my home,
This is my home..." //
As the song trailed off into its final chord, he was oblivious to everything but Marie-Ange, his breath in his throat, waiting for her reaction.
It was not any one particular thing that caused Marie-Ange to realize just who was standing in front of her. The voice had not registered to her as Doug's - it was too practiced, the voice of someone used to performing in crowded meadhalls, not the voice of a teenager used to microphones. Even when he stood directly in front of her, it took her a long moment to realize that what she was hearing was English, and the bearded blond man in leathers was -not- just some bard, but her Doug. Her Doug, here, and not at home, pining over some other girl, like Sif had insisted he would do.
Even after the realization set in, she stared silently, unable to speak, or move, or even blink, for fear that she might look away and find him gone. Slowly she reached forward, touching her fingertips to Doug's hand, still too in shock to do much more than reach for him and whisper his name questioningly.
Doug nodded, a happy grin splitting his face as he clung tightly to Marie-Ange's hand and pulled her off of her bench and into his arms. Miles, for his part, merely attached himself to Jamie with a smile. Doug buried his face in the crook of Marie-Ange's shoulder and sniffled happily. "I missed you so much, mon coeur," he whispered brokenly in French. "Even when I figured out that you were here in Asgard and not at home, it's been so lonely without you..."
The lump in Marie-Ange's throat kept her from speaking, and all she could do was cling tightly to Doug. Gripping his fingers, she swallowed against the tightness in her throat and tried to speak. "I .. Doug.. I do not know.. " Words failing her, she rested her head on his shoulder, let out a ragged breath, wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and cried, letting out all the fear and misery from the last several months out.
Doug wrapped his arms around Marie-Ange and nestled her under one shoulder, stroking her hair gently with one hand. He looked down at where Shiro, Miles, and Jamie were sitting at the table and quirked a grin. "Hey, guys," he ventured nonchalantly. "How you been?" He very carefully avoided jokes about Shiro's outfit and Jamie's truly hideous beard.
Miles grinned from where he was sitting, features still neatly camouflaged by his hood and he signed a few words rapidly. 'Pretty redhead girl miss speaker to others a lot!' That was about all that was understandable of the signing, the boy fairly hopping up and down in his seat from excitement.
Jamie grinned and ruffled Miles' hood affectionately, though he was careful to avoid exposing the boy's face.
"We're good, mostly," he answered Doug. "Although I gotta tell you, man, you need to be careful around here. I mean, look, already you had a lemming go and die on your face."
Doug snickered. "Looked in a mirror lately, Jamie? If a lemming died on my face, then I think his entire extended family has taken up residence on yours, man." He managed to somehow seat himself on one of the benches, with Marie-Ange perched on his knee, as it was apparent that she wasn't going to let go of him any time soon if she had any say in the matter. "I'm so glad to see you guys. Been doing decently for myself as a bard, as you can tell, but it's nothing compared to meeting up with you guys." He squeezed Marie-Ange around the waist and reached across the table to clasp Jamie's hand for a moment.
"Dwarves," Jamie replied loftily, "make no razors. Anything else with a blade, but no razors, and they gave me this really funny look when I asked. It's coming off as soon as we get home." He hitched the quarterstaff back up against his shoulder--it had started to slip--and grinned. "I had a bet going with myself that we'd have to rescue you from a mountain of dirty dishes or something. Good to see you fell on your feet, man."
Doug attempted to look indignant. "I have more sense than to wind up in the scullery, thank you very much. I mean, I already speak the language, so it was just a matter of getting new clothes so as not to stand out, and then finding myself a job." He leaned forward slightly. "So, how have you been finding people? I know that there are some other students around, from various rumors, but some of those rumors are kinda hard to connect. I mean, I had heard about the 'half-fire demon' serving the Norns, but I didn't realize it was Shiro until you guys walked in. The only other student I know is in Asgard for sure is Amanda."
"Guesswork, mostly." Marie-Ange's attention had been solely on Doug, right up until he mentioned Amanda's name. "At least, I have been guessing. Until I met with Shiro, I had no idea any of the rest of you were here, except a.. a hunch.. "
"I'm pretty sure we're only looking for the people who were playing in or watching the baseball game, though," Jamie put in. "I had a pretty good viewpoint from center field and the thing didn't reach as far as the mansion." He shrugged. "No idea where anybody else is, though--got lucky, finding Miles, and then we ran into Angie and Shiro by accident."
Marie-Ange shrugged. "I have a sneaking suspicion the bird is supposed to help." The distaste in her voice was -beyond- evident, and well into screamingly obvious. "Though, I am still not sure how much help anything can be when all it does is scream in my ear and go off to eat dead things."
"If we know Sefton is here," Shiro began, finishing up the rest of his meal, "Then we should find her first instead of wandering around aimlessly for anybody else. Doug, since you know that she is in Asgard, do you have any idea where? Or do you at least have sources that can give us hints? I suggest we keep use of the bird of a minimum, else it will end up on a spit."
Doug looked around the table. "Any of you heard much about the Enchantress' 'daughter'? That would be Amanda. She got rid of the piercings and her hair's had all the dark dye stripped out of it, so I didn't recognize her until the very end of the conversation, when I noticed the scarring on her back. That and it didn't seem a good idea to go up against a powerful magic-user, at least not without a plan and preferably backup."
Miles finally piped up, keeping his voice low but with an undeniable undertone of mingled pleading and hope in his voice. "Miles would like to know if Doug heard about mama?" The boy looked at him quietly, hope shining in his eyes.
Doug smiled and rubbed Miles' back gently. "Just a bit, little buddy. I'm not sure, but there was something about a big flash of light and an adult that the Enchantress cursed to silence, but I'm not really sure where she might be now. But don't worry, we'll find her. If nothing else, Angie's big bird will tell us where she is." He grinned at the disgusted look Marie-Ange pulled when the raven was mentioned.
"Or I can pull some info out of the dwarven, I think I can confidently call it 'underground.'" Jamie grinned. "But either way, I think we'll do better looking at the problem with full stomachs and after a good night's sleep. Doug, does this place have rooms, and if it does, do you get an employee discount?"
Doug nodded thoughtfully. "I've got my own room, if push comes to shove, but I doubt it'd fit everyone. Let me talk to Hugaldr, see what I can come up with. But in a little while. For now I think I'd like to just like to sit here." He grinned, his lingering loneliness at being stranded in Asgard finally gone. "God, I've missed you guys."
---
(note: if you want to hear the song that Doug sings, ask me for the MP3. It's "My Home", by Rockapella.)
----------------------
As the group heads off to bed, Marie-Ange comes along with Doug to his room to spend the night with him. She has a little bit of a breakdown, Doug is reassuring, and a decision is made. Warning: some nudity and sexual situations.
It was not so much exhaustion as just a general weariness brought on by lingering disbelief that had Marie-Ange following Doug back to his room quietly. Not that she would protest under any circumstances, but she simply had no emotional energy to do more than nod and smile at his happy chattering. She let Doug take her cloak, too tired to do more than fumble at the catch.
Doug read the tiredness and disbelief in Marie-Ange, and steered her gently with a tender hand at the small of her back. Finally, they reached Doug's room, and he pushed the door open, allowing Marie-Ange to precede him. Letting the door shut, he gathered her into his arms. "I'm right here, love. It's not a dream, and I'm not going _anywhere_."
The room was small - but Marie-Ange wasn't paying attention to the room itself, just its occupant. "I still cannot help but wonder if I am going to wake up. I never expected to see you, not here." She reached up to stroke Doug's cheek, unable to stop herself from smiling as she ran her fingers along his jawline. "Though, if I was dreaming, I think you would not have this... "
Doug grinned wryly and scratched at the short blond beard he had done his best to trim in the few months he'd had it. "You're probably right there, love. It was necessary for anyone to take me seriously, but that doesn't mean I like it any less." He moved to set the small lamp in his hand on the small table, turning it down low. Looking around the room, he smiled. "It's not much, but it's been home for the past few months."
"Months. You have been here for months, and I did not know." Marie-Ange scowled. "You were right here.." Before the prickling in her eyes turned into tears - again - she clenched a hand into a tight fist. "No. No, I am not going to get angry. It will not help, and it will not change anything. You are here, I have you with me, and I am not going to dwell on the rest." Looking up at Doug, Marie-Ange shook her head. "It has been difficult."
Doug took Marie-Ange's fist in one hand, uncurling it so her palm rested against his. With the other hand, he stroked her hair gently. "I know, love. It's been hard on me, too. And I haven't been here the whole time, either. I did some traveling over the past few months."
At the touch of Doug's hand on her hair, Marie-Ange flinched back just a little, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. "I found you.. " she whispered. "And I should not be happy you are stuck here in this place, but I found you and I cannot help it."
Doug smiled as he continued to stroke Marie-Ange's hair. "It's all right, love. If either of us has to be stuck here, I'm glad that we're here together. It's all right to be happy that we've found each other." He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers in a soft kiss.
After months of nothing, even a kiss was enough to cause Marie-Ange to melt. She threaded her fingers in Doug's hair, desperate to keep him close for as long as possible. Resting her head against his chest, she sighed. "I missed you, so -very- much."
Doug had spent months denying his hormones as well, and it had been hard with willing tavern wenches practically throwing themselves at him. So if there was a bit of a tremble in his fingers as he cupped Marie-Ange's face in his hands to kiss her more thoroughly, it was understandable. And if he clung to Marie-Ange's waist a bit tightly so that his weak knees didn't betray him, that was understandable too. "I missed you too, Angie," he murmured between insistent kisses. "I thought of you every day."
~Every day?~ Marie-Ange buried her face in Doug's shirt, trying not to cry again. She had gone days trying to force herself not to think of him - especially after Sif's prediction - wrongly so - that he would not be faithful. She shivered a little, not from cold, but from the release of weeks of tension and stress, and without thinking her hands automatically worked their way under the hem of Doug's shirt.
Doug felt Marie-Ange's shiver as his hands stroked her back gently. She had been fairly closed-mouthed about her experiences in Asgard, for the most part, and Doug sensed there was something that she wasn't telling him. But still, as she said, they were together, and that was what was important. He raised his arms so that Marie-Ange could strip his long-sleeved shirt off, then returned to kissing her with all the force from several months' separation.
The warmth of Doug's skin under her hands brought another set of shivers, and as Marie-Ange struggled to keep her emotions under control, she stepped away, retreating and wrapping her arms around herself. "Je suis désolé." she whispered. "I cannot stop shivering."
Doug stepped forward into Marie-Ange's retreat, keeping his arms around her shoulders. He made quiet shushing noises and stroked her back. "There's nothing to apologize for love. It's all right..."
"No. No, it is not." Arms still shaking slightly, she stepped back again, stumbling slightly over her own feet. "I am a wreck. I cannot stop shaking, I cannot stop crying, and I do not understand why you want to be anywhere near me. I have spent too much time here.. I look horrible, I smell like I have spent days on horseback, and I am so afraid we will never get home..."
Continuing to step forward, Doug tightened arms made strong by months of lifting ale casks around Marie-Ange, enough that she could retreat no longer, but loose enough that if she really wanted loose, she could. "I love you, and you are here, and that's what matters." Doug smiled and flicked at Marie-Ange's nose playfully with one finger. "Love you no matter what, mon coeur. It doesn't matter what you look or smell like. I. Love. You." He punctuated this statement with another kiss.
Ducking her head, embarrassed by the insistence of Doug's words, Marie-Ange examined her own feet, not sure what to say. "I love you too" seemed too passé, but there were simply no other words she could think of. Resting her head on Doug's shoulder, she tried to relax, to let being near him comfort and soothe her emotions.
After some time, the tension in her back started to fade, and for the first time in many weeks, she felt at ease, safe and protected. Cautiously, she ran the palm of one hand up Doug's side, still not entirely sure of herself.
Doug sighed slightly in relief as he felt the tension begin to drain out of Marie-Ange. Clearly, she had been under a lot of stress. But at least she was finally relaxing. His own hands slid under the hem of Marie-Ange's shirt, and he began nudging her slightly toward the pile of furs in the corner.
The nudging did not go entirely unnoticed, and though she was still a bit unsteady on her feet, Marie-Ange was quickly curled up in Doug's arms, her boots having been toed off and pushed to the side, and the leather vest she had worn over her shirt discarded in a heap on the floor.
"When did this happen?" she asked, tracing a finger over a tiny scar just under Doug's ear. "It was not here before. I would remember a scar..."
Doug chuckled wryly. "That's a souvenir of my attempts to learn how to trim a beard with only a dagger available as a shaving device." He leaned forward and nuzzled at Marie-Ange's neck, in a mood to distract her.
Marie-Ange would have giggled, and wrinkled her nose in amusement, but she was -definitely- being distracted. She let out a tiny gasp, and raised her chin slightly, exposing her throat.
Doug smiled to himself at the gasp and decided to show Marie-Ange just how much he had missed her. Leaning farther forward, he began to lick at the spot he had just nuzzled at, then nipped lightly with his teeth. Meanwhile, his fingers were burrowing under the hem of her shirt again to stroke the skin of her lower back.
Marie-Ange pressed herself against Doug and whimpered. She ran her fingertips over his stomach and sides lightly, registering the now firm muscle there only barely enough to cause her to blink in confusion briefly.
Doug continued his licking and nibbling until he reached the collar of Marie-Ange's shirt. Making a slightly vexed noise, he began to push the shirt up her stomach.
The shirt very quickly joined the vest, and Doug's own shirt in the heap on the floor, revealing a tight tank-top, obviously hand-sewn. Marie-Ange blushed a little, cheeks going just a touch pink. "Of all the things Sif tried to convince me of, going without a bra was not one of her successes."
Doug traced a small set of puncture marks on Marie-Ange's shoulder with a finger, looking slightly worried until he realized that it was obviously where the raven perched. Skimming the tank top up her stomach, he grinned as he found muscle to match his own. Apparently Angie had been getting a workout while in Asgard, as well. He bent to lick lightly just above her navel.
Each gentle touch of Doug's mouth to her stomach was met with a quiet squeak, and an occasional whisper of his name. Meeting his eyes, she gently pulled him forward, so she could wrap her arms around his waist and kiss him thoroughly.
Doug kissed Marie-Ange back just as thoroughly, and his arms maneuvered up to loosen the laces to her makeshift tank top. Slowly, he drew it up over her breasts, then broke the kiss just long enough to draw it over her head and drop it with the rest of the clothing they had removed, returning his lips to hers quickly.
A slight shiver - this time, genuinely from cool air on exposed skin - ran up Marie-Ange's back. Pressing herself closer against Doug for warmth as much as to feel his skin against hers, she smiled and nuzzled his shoulder. "And just where is this," she poked her finger gently at his stomach, "from? Only, I am not complaining. It is just unexpected."
Doug shrugged with a smile. "Lifting ale casks, for the most part. Jorundr may have accepted me as Hugaldr's apprentice, but that didn't mean I wasn't expected to help out where possible." He poked Marie-Ange's stomach. "I could say the same for you, love. You're a little more ripped than you used to be."
"I am afraid mine was achieved in not quite such a pleasant manner." Marie-Ange frowned and shook her head. She was not going to get upset about it. No. Sif had been wrong about at least one thing - the important thing, even if she had not been quite wrong about many others.
At the sudden tension in Marie-Ange, Doug quickly cupped her cheek and smiled gently at her. "It's okay, Angie, you're here with me now." Bending down, he kissed her, then began kissing his way down her neck again. Without her shirt or tank top to impede his progress, he began to nibble over the upper swell of her chest.
As Doug nibbled further down her chest, Marie-Ange let out a long, slow breath, the tightness in her back and chest finally releasing. She ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him with gentle pushes to move his attentions to far more sensitive areas.
Doug momentarily debated being playful and teasing, but having been apart from Angie for so long made him disinclined to be slow and patient. He allowed Marie-Ange's hands in his hair to direct him down over the swell of her breasts, until finally he darted his tongue out to lick at one of her nipples.
The cool touch of Doug's mouth on her breast caused Marie-Ange to arch her back and whimper. Of their own accord, her fingers loosened, releasing Doug's hair and tracing lines down his back. Quiet noises of frustration mixed with the whimpers of arousal when she reached the waistband of his trousers, and realized that the tight leather gave her no room to explore.
Doug decided that Marie-Ange was not nearly distracted enough if she still had fine motor control and enough brainpower to try and undo his pants. Without warning, he drew her nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue as one hand crept up to cradle her other breast. Letting the nipple fall from his mouth, he nipped at it gently with his teeth.
"Doug." Marie-Ange whispered, clutching at his backside desperately. "Do not tease.. " She ran her hands over his thighs, trying to distract him from distracting her. The problem with trying to distract Doug, she decided, was that he was far too good at figuring out what she was going to do next.
Doug shook his head with a mischievous smile. Catching Marie-Ange's hands with his own, he drew them over her head and pinned them gently with one hand so that the other was free to tease over Marie-Ange's breasts. He leaned down to nibble at one of her earlobes. "Are you sure you don't want me to tease, Angie?" he whispered.
That was unusually bold of him, Marie-Ange thought. Or would have thought, had seen been capable of thinking about more than just how good Doug's fingertips felt brushing over her breasts. She squirmed, trying to pull her hands free, but only struggled in vain. Doug's wiry muscle was nice to look at - she couldn't deny that, but it was proving very frustrating at the moment.
Doug teased Marie-Ange's breasts for a while longer while nibbling all along the column of her neck and throat. But while Marie-Ange made some very interesting noises, Doug wasn't exactly in a mood to tease. In point of fact...he paused for a moment and looked searchingly into Marie-Ange's eyes, then bent and began to carefully unlace the ties to Marie-Ange's pants, beginning to slide them down over her hips.
Her arms now free, Marie-Ange rested her weight on her hands, and lifted her hips, helping Doug free her legs from the tight leather breeches. She blushed, the color traveling down her neck and over her chest as she realized that she was quite undressed, in front of her boyfriend, for the first time.
Doug paused for a moment, watching the blush travel down Marie-Ange's body, then tracing farther down her form with his eyes. "You are so beautiful," he whispered reverently in French, dropping her breeches on top of the rest of the clothes.
Marie-Ange shook her head slightly. She was still faintly bruised from a truly spectacularly bad dismount from the horse, she had not had a proper bath in weeks, and nothing like a bath at all in days, and her hair was in now-rain-mussed braids. And yet, she thought, perhaps it really did not matter. The expression on Doug's face was not one she could put words to, and it set her a little more at ease.
After a few moments of drinking in Marie-Ange's nude form, Doug decided that fair was fair, and shimmied out of his own breeches, dropping them on top of the pile of clothes. Now it was his turn to blush at his own nakedness as he lay on his side next to Marie-Ange, one hand stroking over her stomach and beginning to stray lower.
Blushing furiously, and unable to meet Doug's eyes, too afraid to ask what seemed like an obvious question, and too worried that the answer might be no, Marie-Ange simply watched Doug, eyes lingering over his thighs and the flat of his stomach. "You have no idea how very handsome you are, do you?" she asked quietly.
Doug ducked his head, blushing more. "No, I don't," he whispered huskily as his hand continued its journey to trace over the curve of Marie-Ange's hip. "I still don't always understand what you see in me, love, but I'm so grateful that I have you in my life." He bent down to kiss her, a soft kiss that quickly heated up as his hand continued to explore tentatively.
"I love you, so -very- much." Marie-Ange whispered, then let out a gasp as Doug continued to explore. She closed her eyes, and whimpered quietly. He was teasing her, gently, and it was going to quite probably drive her insane - though, she would go willingly into madness if it felt like this.
The pair of teenagers had gotten to the point of mutual touching before, but there was something different about the fact that they were both naked. Besides, deep inside, Doug had already made a decision, although he wasn't quite sure how to articulate it, and he intended to savor every moment of this.
"Doug... I... " Marie-Ange blushed again, and looked away. She let her own fingers trail down over Doug's side and across the top of his thigh. Feeling a tad tentative - undressed or not, she was not sure how comfortable Doug was, how far he was willing to go, and she -did- not want to push.
Doug cradled Marie-Ange's face in one of his hands, and turned her back to look into his eyes. All of a sudden, he was even more keenly aware of Marie-Ange's body language, and all the questions she couldn't quite articulate. He captured her eyes with his, and whispered softly, but clearly. "The answer to your question is yes. I want to make love to you, right here, right now, Angie. I'm ready."
---
(note: Yes, you perverts, Doug and Angie have sex here. If you're really interested in the details, bug me or Frito for it.)
----------------------
The morning after, Doug and Angie wake up together and realize it wasn't a dream. There is more gooshy romance, and then Doug comes down to say goodbye to the friends he's made during his time in Asgard. Pretty much everyone attempts to cover up emotion in one way or another. Hugaldr has a surprise for Doug.
Doug slowly worked his way towards wakefulness, yawning and stretching with his eyes still closed. As he stretched, one arm bumped into someone else. Doug paused for a moment before remembering the events of the night before. Angie, Jamie, Shiro, and Miles showing up at Jorundr's meadhall, singing to Angie, and then... Doug felt the heat of a blush as he opened his eyes and peeked under his furs. Yep, it was just him down there. Pulling the furs slightly away from Angie, he peeked again. Yep, it was just her down there. The blush warred with a goofy grin as he raised himself up on an elbow to watch Marie-Ange sleep.
After too many weeks of Sif insisting that she wake on a moment's notice, Marie-Ange was enjoying just laying still, warm and safe with Doug's arms around her. When his arm bumped her, she lay still for a moment, half-hoping he was just stirring in his sleep. When the movements behind her indicated that he was indeed awake, she turned to face him. "Good morning.."
Doug's goofy smile remained glued to his face as he reached over with his free arm to caress Marie-Ange's cheek gently. "Good morning, love," he replied.
Blushing just a little, Marie-Ange leaned into the touch and smiled. "It is such a cliche, but I had wondered if yesterday was a dream.. "
Doug's hand trailed down over Marie-Ange's neck to her bare shoulder. "I had rather wondered the same thing myself when I woke up just now, but..." he blushed and made a vague motion down their bodies "...seemed to indicate otherwise."
Shivering slightly from the touch, and the chill to the room, Marie-Ange pulled herself closer to Doug for a moment, as much for warmth as it was simply to be close to him. "I .. suppose we should get dressed before Jamie or Shiro comes to wake us?" A slight pause and much more of a blush later, she added. "Or Jamie and Miles..."
Doug's answering blush at the thought of Miles finding them like this was enough impetus to get Doug out from under the furs and hopping about madly as he shimmied into his clothes as quickly as possible. When he finally had some clothes on, he turned and gathered Marie-Ange's clothes from where they lay strewn on the floor and brought them to her so she could get dressed under the furs.
Her pants were not -so- much of a problem. Weeks of pulling them on after being woken up in any number of unplesant ways had caused Marie-Ange to get it down to a science. A few sharp tugs, and they were over her hips, if not yet laced. Her tanktop took a tiny bit longer, as she struggled with the laces to pull the shirt tight over her chest. Once she was decent, if not entirely 'dressed', she stood and stretched.
Politeness warred with Doug's inner lecher, and the inner lecher won as he admired the way certain things moved as Marie-Ange stretched. Steeping in close, he placed his hands on her waist and smiled. "Love you so much," he said and kissed her gently.
"I love you too." Marie-Ange said, resting her head on Doug's shoulder. "and if I had my way, we would stay here the rest of the day, but I think that Jamie and Shiro would be a bit perturbed." She didn't add that she thought Miles would probably just happily let Jamie or Shiro take him to the market. The little boy had gone out of his way to try to make her smile and laugh.
Doug nodded. "Yeah, we should probably get going," he said. Gathering the small amount of posessions he had (including the clothes he had originally been wearing) in a small bag, he looked one last time around the room wistfully. "Ready?" he asked softly.
Catching the tone of Doug's voice, Marie-Ange clasped his hand. "Only if you are, love. We can linger if you are not ready to leave.." A day or two would not set them back too badly, as she still had no idea where they were even going next. Memory had led her here, and the raven had not yet returned from whereever it had gone to. It was entirely likely that the bird was off digging its talons into Odin, and she was certainly not going to complain about that.
Doug shook his head. "No, we should get going. If I stay one day, I'll want to stay another day, and it'll always be hard to leave." Opening the door, he placed his hand at Marie-Ange's waist, and slowly closed the door behind them after they exited.
The meadhall in the morning was quiet, not entirely empty, but a far cry from the crowd of the night before. Off to one corner, Marie-Ange could see the older man who had introduced Doug's song, sitting with the innkeeper. Before she could look to Doug to see if he wanted to speak to them, she caught sight of the still-faintly-hungover looking warrior making a beeline for them, quite literally bounding over benches in his enthuasism. "Um. Doug? Tell me you know that person...."
"Ambi!" Doug exclaimed as he hurried toward the warrior. "Aron!" exclaimed Arnbjorn, reaching Doug and clasping him in an embrace that involved a lot of back-pounding. It was slightly obvious Arnbjorn was covering his sadness at Doug's imminent departure with exuberance.
Marie-Ange stepped forward, far too amused at the large man thumping Doug's back soundly. ~Aron?~ she mouthed silently, not entirely sure if Doug needed her to keep up the ruse or not. That would take getting used to, if she had to remember to start calling him by a different name. She suppressed an instinctive shudder at the idea and put her hand on Doug's shoulder gently.
Doug grinned even more broadly at Marie-Ange's hand on his shoulder. Stepping back, he turned to put his arm around her. "Ambi, this is Angie. My beloved." Yes, it was a little overdramatic, but Doug was inclined to be so today of all days. Arnbjorn engulfed one of Marie-Ange's hands in his, shaking vigorously. "It gives me such great joy to see Aron reunited with you," the warrior gushed.
Shaking her head in amusement, Marie-Ange grinned, first at Doug, and then at the warrior, who reminded her of nothing less than Angelo's puppy stuffed into a really big Viking. "I am rather pleased about it myself. I had thought I wouldn't see him again for a very long time." Pausing to give Doug an amused glance, she continued. "Though I never expected Aron to surprise me with quite such a public display. He was much shyer when we were parted.."
"You are lucky to have him," Rannveig said as she came up to the group, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice for Aron's benefit. If it had been just her and the seeress, it might have been different. But for Aron's sake, she would try to be civil. Doug stifled a wince. "Angie, this is Rannveig, one of the servers here, and a good friend." He carefully didn't mention the almost-unnoticeable sigh Rannveig let out at the word 'friend'.
The instinctive urge to grab Doug's hands and kiss him throughly, just to ensure that Rannveig knew for absolute sure that Doug was taken was pushed aside much easier than Marie-Ange had expected. "It is good to meet you. I'm glad Dou.. Aron had friends here. Asgard City is noplace to be alone in. It is far too easy to be lonely in the middle of a crowd. " Putting one arm around Doug's waist, she very slowly started to fingerspell letters, fumbling a few times due to lack of use. ~set them up cute together~
Doug chuckled and fingerspelled back to Marie-Ange. ~working on it~ Placing a hand on Arnbjorn's shoulder, Doug smiled sadly. "Ambi, I'm going to count on you to look after Rannveig for me, in case Ulfr gets it into his head to try things after I'm gone, all right?" Both Arnbjorn and Rannveig looked a little startled, looking at each other curiously. "I swear it to you, little brother, I will," Arnbjorn said gruffly, clasping Doug's forearm in a warrior's handshake.
~have good feeling about them~ The romantic futures of Doug's friends wasn't worth causing herself searing pain, but nonetheless, Marie-Ange just had a good gut feeling about Arnbjorn and Rannveig. Besides, she thought, anyone who would take care of Doug deserved love.
"And I suppose you were going to go off, get yourself killed or married or rich without saying goodbye, Aron?" A gruff voice behind them asked with a hint of amusement.
Doug turned around slowly. He smiled sadly at the old bard. "Of course not, Hugaldr. I was going to right after finishing with Ambi and Rannveig." He tried to stifle a few tears that beaded in his eyes at the thought of leaving the man who had taken him in and taught him so much. "I hope I haven't disappointed you too badly, old man," he said huskily.
"If you mean other than the almost getting yourself killed associating with this miscreant?" Hugaldr asked, giving a stern look to Arnbjorn. Not waiting for an answer, he put a hand on Doug's shoulder. "You haven't disappointed me at all, Aron. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice." Glancing over his shoulder, he gave a grin. "Besides, Jorundr and I made a decent amount of coin off you."
Doug chuckled slightly, trying to get his emotions back in check. He smiled at Jorundr, who grinned. "We'll be sorry to see you go, young Aron. May the gods grant you safe passage on your journey."
"And this is the young lady you've been pining for and causing all my girls to go off in little snits?" Jorundr asked, half-smirking. "My lady, I can assure you, Aron has been the single most decent person in Asgard City for the last two months. I think he's broken more hearts than I can count. "
Doug blushed rosily at Jorundr's remarks and smiled at Marie-Ange. He decided to simply not talk, in order to avoid stammering and such, squeezing Marie-Ange around the shoulders with his arm.
"Aron is sometimes the most decent person I know." Marie-Ange said quietly. Looking over at Doug, she frowned slightly. "Do I get an introduction, dear?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
Doug coughed slightly to clear his throat. "This is Jorundr, who owns this mead hall and was willing to take a chance on me, and Hugaldr, who pretty much taught me everything I know about being a skald."
Hugaldr let out a snort and pulled a small leather pouch from his belt. "I just improved raw talent. You already had the stones to ask me for the job when you arrived. Takes guts."
Doug opened the leather pouch as Hugaldr passed it to him, taking out a small stone on a leather cord. He looked at the rune on the stone, blinking, then looked up at Hugaldr, eyes wide and questioning.
"Well, its not like you can walk around being just plain Aron." Hugaldr rolled his eyes. "Skalds with one name. What is the world coming to?" Coughing into his fist, he waited until Jorundr practically dragged Arnbjorn off, Rannvieg following closely behind. "Odin only knows how long you'll be here, Aron. You've been a good apprentice, and you're a good man. Take the rune before I have to go and explain this in very small words to get it into your thick head."
Doug lunged forward, hugging Hugaldr tight despite the token gruff protests on Hugaldr's part. "Thank you...revered father," he said with a sardonic grin on his face.
Bowing slightly, Hugaldr smiled - a rare and genunine expression from the old bard - "Travel well, Aron Hugaldrson. I hope you find your way home, and if you and your friends should not, you are always welcome here."
Doug cocked his head and twisted a tuning peg slightly. Not that most of the patrons of Jorundr's mead hall tended to care if he was slightly out of tune as long as the mead was fresh, the wenches' blouses low-cut, and the stories rousing, but Doug had begun to enjoy his life as a bard, and fancied himself something of a professional after a few months of training and singing. Doug had developed something of a reputation with his "new" stories that were, in fact, merely adaptations of books, movies, and television shows that Doug liked. And each of the patrons had their own favorites. Some nights it was "The Wizard Crichton", others it was for the adventures of Tanis Half-Elven, Sturm Brightblade, and the other Heroes of the Lance. Some nights he would spin tales of the Defenders of Daybreak, and others he would regale them with the tragic story of the fall of Anakin Skywalker, and the heroic quest of his son Luke against the evil Emperor.
But tonight, Doug felt in a bit of a traditional mood, so he began the opening lines of the Beowulfsaga, to the appreciative thump of empty tankards against tables. Jorundr smiled from where he overlooked the workings of the hall. Allowing Hugaldr to take the lad on as an apprentice had been a good decision. His trade had skyrocketed as the young bard's reputation for new and creative tales drew customers to his hall.
---
Rain was horrible, cold rain was worse, and cold rain with a raven trying to peck its way inside her cloak was the absolute worse. Marie-Ange swatted at the bird on her shoulder and swore at it in French. Her language was really getting -very- foul lately, she thought. It was the bird's fault. She pulled her hood up further as they passed a small crowd, and sighed. "Back the way I came in the first place. I should have just stayed here and saved myself the sore legs from riding,' she muttered.
"Save the gripes for someone who cares," Shiro spat, his normally foul mood made all the worse by his recent misadventures with those three bitch goddesses. "Let us just find whomever we are searching for and leave." He shivered underneath his silver cloak, and drew it more tightly around him. His time in this world, while exciting and adventurous at first, had left him with a horrible taste in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to go home already.
"How about we get out of the rain first?" Jamie hitched his own cloak slightly, his chain-mail clinking. "I betcha Spanky the Wonder Bird'll shut up if he's dry, and I could use something to eat. We aren't gonna find anybody if we're too miserable to notice them."
At mention of the word 'dry', the raven began tugging at Marie-Ange's hood with its beak, only ceasing when she swatted at it. "I think the stupid bird agrees." she said. "Food, and something like a good night's sleep. I am very tired of sleeping out of doors." She shut her eyes, and her steps slowed slightly. After a moment, she winced, left hand clutching around the reins of her horse in order to keep from grabbing at the stabbing pain in her eye, and then gestured. "There," she said, pointing at the entrance to a somewhat crowded meadhall.
Shiro nodded and walked alongside the horses, following Jamie and Marie Ange to the meadhall. He was not surprised at people's odd looks at the party, and couldn't help but feel smug as those who recognized the markings on Shiro's face and robes as the Norns' stepped out of their way. A reputation as a half-fire demon and defender of the Fates was useful, even if those Fates were cruel, manipulative witches.
Jamie tossed a few coins to the stableboy and led the group into the hall, finding a spot with a good view and ordering beer with a casualness that still slightly weirded him out. Looked like there might be some entertainment later--that'd be good, he could definitely use the help keeping everybody's spirits up.
"My treat, guys. Hey Miles, I bet they've got roasted walnuts, what do you say we split a bowl?"
---
From his table away from the main serving area, Doug sipped from a tankard and bent to eat from his bowl of stew. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an odd group of travelers shaking themselves dry. The strangely painted man with the silver cloak stood out most of all, as he didn't look at all Asgardian. Or Vanir, or dwarven, or like any race that should conceivably be in Asgard. As a matter of fact, he looked... Doug snickered. ~Shiro! But what's he doing dudded up like he's in Ah My Goddess?~ The marks on Shiro's face answered the question slightly, as the rumors Doug had heard about a half-fire demon servant of the Norns clicked in his head. He began to stand up from his bench when he took a harder look at the rest of the group.
The small child-like figure was wrapped head to toe in cloak, tunic, and gloves, but Doug saw a touch of green skin as he slipped into the bearded man's lap. ~Miles? Then who is...~ Suddenly, Doug looked more carefully at the facial features of the bearded warrior, and barked out a laugh to himself. ~Jamie! Man, that beard is _hideous_...~ The thought trailed off as Doug scratched at his own beard. ~Don't suppose I have much of a leg to stand on to mock him...~
The final member of the group appeared to be female, but her heavy cloak was drawn completely over her face. That was a very large raven on her shoulder, though... ~Wait. The raven is Odin's bird. That means...~ He gazed intently at the pair of red braids as the woman stripped some moisture from them. ~Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod it's Angie!~ Starting up from his bench, Doug made his way back to his room, snatching up his own cloak. Coming back to the main room, he made a beeline for where Arnbjorn and Hugaldr sat.
"She's here," he said simply, sitting down between them. "She? She who?" answered Arnbjorn. Doug grinned patiently. "See the woman sitting over there with the warrior, the boy, and the half-fire demon, Ambi?"
Hugaldr snorted. "You say 'half-fire demon' entirely too casually, Aron." Doug grinned even wider in reply. "See the raven sitting on her shoulder? See those red braids? It's her. My betrothed, Ambi. She's _here_."
Arnbjorn slammed his tankard to the table and made a move to stand up. "That's fabulous, Aron! So why aren't you over there already? Go on, go!" Hugaldr shook his head a bit more skeptically. "How do you know it's her, Aron, she's got her cloak all the way over her face."
Doug raised his eyebrows at Hugaldr. "You've been hearing the rumors just like I have, Hugaldr. A red-haired Midgardian seeress who amused the All-Father by telling him just exactly where he could shove it if he didn't let her go? It's Angie, all right." He looked a little dreamy as he cast a look back at the group. "And the other three are my friends as well. The bearded warrior is like a brother to me, just like you, Ambi. I'd know them anywhere. So here's what I need you two to do for me..." He leaned forward and whispered to his friends.
---
As Marie-Ange sat down, the bird - bane of her existence - cawed, flapped its wings once, and took flight, leaving the meadhall out the front doors. "It will be back. It probably went to go find some dead thing to eat." She shrugged matter-of-factly and tried to get comfortable on the bench. Food would help her mood, as much as anything did these days. Food, and mead, and a good night's sleep. She pushed her hood back - no real sense in trying to keep her face hidden after the bird made a scene, and if they were meant to find one of their classmates here, then she had no good reason to hide.
"We just got in out of the rain, which the bird was complaining about, and as soon as we get dry it takes back off . . . into the rain." Jamie shook his head. "That bird? Makes no sense whatsoever."
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a small commotion in the opposite corner of the room, and was about to dismiss it as the usual sort of thing you got in mead-halls . . . until he got a good look at the shortest person at the table, who looked suspiciously familiar behind what was quite possibly one of the silliest-looking beards in Asgard, and who kept stealing elated glances at their table.
He thought for a moment, then casually turned back to his beer. Knowing Doug, and considering who was in their little group, something romantic and sappy was in the offing. Jamie touched the cat stitched onto his surcoat, over his heart, shifting a certain oilskin-wrapped parchment next to his skin; far be it from him to spoil somebody else's romantic surprise.
Miles tugged the corner of his hood down carefully, then wriggled to sit between Marie-Ange and Jamie, sighing a bit as the warmth of the room combined to the larger bodies on either side of him slowly started to seep through. He wished he could take off his gloves to warm his hands properly although the oiled leather had kept him nicely dry, something his traveling companions were nearly fanatical about, but he knew without a doubt that would not be happening, so instead he leaned his head against Marie-Ange's arm and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling a bit at the bustling sounds around them in the crowded room. It was nice to be out of the rain, even if he hadn't really minded all that much - it was the cold that came with it which he disliked more.
"Miles would like roasted walnuts," he answered Jamie, finally, daring to ask for more a second later. "Could Miles have soup, too?" Soup was good nearly all the time here, and the warmth of it certainly appealed to him now.
"Whatever you want, kiddo. I'll have soup too, and we can see if it's good enough to bring the recipe home to Lorna." Jamie grinned. "Hey, how about you, Shiro? You hungry?"
"Hmm? Yeah, sure. Stew and some bread," Shiro answered off-handedly, only half paying attention. "With lots of meat. The rawer the better." Now everyone's gazes were getting on his nerves. He glared at everyone who met his eyes, and they all quickly turned away. Better not to anger a half-fire demon.
Doug fidgeted as he sat in the back of the mead hall, waiting impatiently for the other bards to arrive. Ever since he had discovered that Marie-Ange was in Asgard, he'd been planning for this very occasion. Explaining a cappella music to Asgardian bards had been something of a chore, but once he had gotten the concept across, they had seemed remarkably receptive to it. At last, Arnbjorn returned with the last of the three bards Doug had been working with, and Doug signaled to Hugaldr, who had been performing while the preparation had been going on.
Setting his lute aside and getting to his feet slowly, Hugaldr held up his hands in an attempt to quiet the crowd. It being a crowd of drunken Asgardians, he had only middling success. Still, he spoke above the racket. "A few of you may know that my apprentice, Aron, has been working on something new, musically, in addition to his new stories. The rest of you, now you know. He has decided to perform this new piece tonight." And with that, Hugaldr moved off to one of the tables, where Arnbjorn and Rannveig sat. At the announcement, Doug began moving his three backup bards to the slightly more open performing area, picking out a few notes on the lute and making sure everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing. A number of whispers ran through the crowd as some people speculated on what Aron might have created.
Trying -not- to watch Shiro devour his meal, and instead choosing to concentrate on her own food, Marie-Ange barely paid attention to the old bard at the front of the meadhall. Her priorities, in order, were food, sleep, find whoever was in the city, and maybe find somewhere to wash her hair. Bards - especially not old, somewhat cranky sounding ones were not anywhere in her list of things to pay attention to.
Finally, the other three bards had their notes and were ready. Plucking his own note, Doug set the lute aside and crossed his fingers. ~Let's just hope this goes well...~ Still facing his backup singers, he gave them the downbeat to the first chord as he began singing in Norse.
// "Is it the sky today, the way that the wind's pushing the clouds?
Or is it the late day sun stretching the shadows over the ground?
That brings on these memories of people and places that I've never seen
And voices so strange and so sweet, asking me softly,
Where is my home?
Where is my home?" //
When the younger bard - apparently the apprentice of the older one who had been speaking to the crowd - began to sing, Marie-Ange glanced up from where she was picking apart a chunk of bread to listen. Her command of Norse was not -so- good that she could translate the song as he sang it, but his voice was soothing, smooth and even and clear even over the sounds of the crowd.
Nodding at his backups, Doug turned to the rest of the room and worked his way into the second verse, beginning to walk around the room, starting with the table where Hugaldr, Rannveig, and Arnbjorn sat. Rannveig looked slightly sad, but Arnbjorn was grinning from ear to ear.
// "What makes this person me?
Is it the little town where I was born?
Or maybe it's history, the faces of family that I've never known,
Somewhere across the sea, where my great-grandmother left long ago
Under a cold crying moon, looking for something,
Where is my home?
Where is my home?" //
As the chords changed into the bridge, Doug began to walk back towards the table where Angie, Jamie, Shiro, and Miles were sitting. He flashed a quick sign language "Hey, little buddy" at Miles as he walked, seeing the boy's eyes widen and a large smile stretch under his hood. Miles very carefully took Marie-Ange's hand in his, as if he knew what was coming.
// "Where is my home?
The walls of a city painted with promises and words so unkind?
Where is my home?
The trees of a country where autumn came suddenly, that I'll never find?"//
Finally, he reached the table and stood directly in front of Marie-Ange. Gripping the hood of his cloak, he slowly pulled it back. Tears streaming slowly down his face, he sang the last verse quietly in English.
// "But then there's your face, my dear, and I know I'll never be walking alone,
The love in your eyes makes it clear, telling me softly,
This is my home,
This is my home..." //
As the song trailed off into its final chord, he was oblivious to everything but Marie-Ange, his breath in his throat, waiting for her reaction.
It was not any one particular thing that caused Marie-Ange to realize just who was standing in front of her. The voice had not registered to her as Doug's - it was too practiced, the voice of someone used to performing in crowded meadhalls, not the voice of a teenager used to microphones. Even when he stood directly in front of her, it took her a long moment to realize that what she was hearing was English, and the bearded blond man in leathers was -not- just some bard, but her Doug. Her Doug, here, and not at home, pining over some other girl, like Sif had insisted he would do.
Even after the realization set in, she stared silently, unable to speak, or move, or even blink, for fear that she might look away and find him gone. Slowly she reached forward, touching her fingertips to Doug's hand, still too in shock to do much more than reach for him and whisper his name questioningly.
Doug nodded, a happy grin splitting his face as he clung tightly to Marie-Ange's hand and pulled her off of her bench and into his arms. Miles, for his part, merely attached himself to Jamie with a smile. Doug buried his face in the crook of Marie-Ange's shoulder and sniffled happily. "I missed you so much, mon coeur," he whispered brokenly in French. "Even when I figured out that you were here in Asgard and not at home, it's been so lonely without you..."
The lump in Marie-Ange's throat kept her from speaking, and all she could do was cling tightly to Doug. Gripping his fingers, she swallowed against the tightness in her throat and tried to speak. "I .. Doug.. I do not know.. " Words failing her, she rested her head on his shoulder, let out a ragged breath, wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and cried, letting out all the fear and misery from the last several months out.
Doug wrapped his arms around Marie-Ange and nestled her under one shoulder, stroking her hair gently with one hand. He looked down at where Shiro, Miles, and Jamie were sitting at the table and quirked a grin. "Hey, guys," he ventured nonchalantly. "How you been?" He very carefully avoided jokes about Shiro's outfit and Jamie's truly hideous beard.
Miles grinned from where he was sitting, features still neatly camouflaged by his hood and he signed a few words rapidly. 'Pretty redhead girl miss speaker to others a lot!' That was about all that was understandable of the signing, the boy fairly hopping up and down in his seat from excitement.
Jamie grinned and ruffled Miles' hood affectionately, though he was careful to avoid exposing the boy's face.
"We're good, mostly," he answered Doug. "Although I gotta tell you, man, you need to be careful around here. I mean, look, already you had a lemming go and die on your face."
Doug snickered. "Looked in a mirror lately, Jamie? If a lemming died on my face, then I think his entire extended family has taken up residence on yours, man." He managed to somehow seat himself on one of the benches, with Marie-Ange perched on his knee, as it was apparent that she wasn't going to let go of him any time soon if she had any say in the matter. "I'm so glad to see you guys. Been doing decently for myself as a bard, as you can tell, but it's nothing compared to meeting up with you guys." He squeezed Marie-Ange around the waist and reached across the table to clasp Jamie's hand for a moment.
"Dwarves," Jamie replied loftily, "make no razors. Anything else with a blade, but no razors, and they gave me this really funny look when I asked. It's coming off as soon as we get home." He hitched the quarterstaff back up against his shoulder--it had started to slip--and grinned. "I had a bet going with myself that we'd have to rescue you from a mountain of dirty dishes or something. Good to see you fell on your feet, man."
Doug attempted to look indignant. "I have more sense than to wind up in the scullery, thank you very much. I mean, I already speak the language, so it was just a matter of getting new clothes so as not to stand out, and then finding myself a job." He leaned forward slightly. "So, how have you been finding people? I know that there are some other students around, from various rumors, but some of those rumors are kinda hard to connect. I mean, I had heard about the 'half-fire demon' serving the Norns, but I didn't realize it was Shiro until you guys walked in. The only other student I know is in Asgard for sure is Amanda."
"Guesswork, mostly." Marie-Ange's attention had been solely on Doug, right up until he mentioned Amanda's name. "At least, I have been guessing. Until I met with Shiro, I had no idea any of the rest of you were here, except a.. a hunch.. "
"I'm pretty sure we're only looking for the people who were playing in or watching the baseball game, though," Jamie put in. "I had a pretty good viewpoint from center field and the thing didn't reach as far as the mansion." He shrugged. "No idea where anybody else is, though--got lucky, finding Miles, and then we ran into Angie and Shiro by accident."
Marie-Ange shrugged. "I have a sneaking suspicion the bird is supposed to help." The distaste in her voice was -beyond- evident, and well into screamingly obvious. "Though, I am still not sure how much help anything can be when all it does is scream in my ear and go off to eat dead things."
"If we know Sefton is here," Shiro began, finishing up the rest of his meal, "Then we should find her first instead of wandering around aimlessly for anybody else. Doug, since you know that she is in Asgard, do you have any idea where? Or do you at least have sources that can give us hints? I suggest we keep use of the bird of a minimum, else it will end up on a spit."
Doug looked around the table. "Any of you heard much about the Enchantress' 'daughter'? That would be Amanda. She got rid of the piercings and her hair's had all the dark dye stripped out of it, so I didn't recognize her until the very end of the conversation, when I noticed the scarring on her back. That and it didn't seem a good idea to go up against a powerful magic-user, at least not without a plan and preferably backup."
Miles finally piped up, keeping his voice low but with an undeniable undertone of mingled pleading and hope in his voice. "Miles would like to know if Doug heard about mama?" The boy looked at him quietly, hope shining in his eyes.
Doug smiled and rubbed Miles' back gently. "Just a bit, little buddy. I'm not sure, but there was something about a big flash of light and an adult that the Enchantress cursed to silence, but I'm not really sure where she might be now. But don't worry, we'll find her. If nothing else, Angie's big bird will tell us where she is." He grinned at the disgusted look Marie-Ange pulled when the raven was mentioned.
"Or I can pull some info out of the dwarven, I think I can confidently call it 'underground.'" Jamie grinned. "But either way, I think we'll do better looking at the problem with full stomachs and after a good night's sleep. Doug, does this place have rooms, and if it does, do you get an employee discount?"
Doug nodded thoughtfully. "I've got my own room, if push comes to shove, but I doubt it'd fit everyone. Let me talk to Hugaldr, see what I can come up with. But in a little while. For now I think I'd like to just like to sit here." He grinned, his lingering loneliness at being stranded in Asgard finally gone. "God, I've missed you guys."
---
(note: if you want to hear the song that Doug sings, ask me for the MP3. It's "My Home", by Rockapella.)
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As the group heads off to bed, Marie-Ange comes along with Doug to his room to spend the night with him. She has a little bit of a breakdown, Doug is reassuring, and a decision is made. Warning: some nudity and sexual situations.
It was not so much exhaustion as just a general weariness brought on by lingering disbelief that had Marie-Ange following Doug back to his room quietly. Not that she would protest under any circumstances, but she simply had no emotional energy to do more than nod and smile at his happy chattering. She let Doug take her cloak, too tired to do more than fumble at the catch.
Doug read the tiredness and disbelief in Marie-Ange, and steered her gently with a tender hand at the small of her back. Finally, they reached Doug's room, and he pushed the door open, allowing Marie-Ange to precede him. Letting the door shut, he gathered her into his arms. "I'm right here, love. It's not a dream, and I'm not going _anywhere_."
The room was small - but Marie-Ange wasn't paying attention to the room itself, just its occupant. "I still cannot help but wonder if I am going to wake up. I never expected to see you, not here." She reached up to stroke Doug's cheek, unable to stop herself from smiling as she ran her fingers along his jawline. "Though, if I was dreaming, I think you would not have this... "
Doug grinned wryly and scratched at the short blond beard he had done his best to trim in the few months he'd had it. "You're probably right there, love. It was necessary for anyone to take me seriously, but that doesn't mean I like it any less." He moved to set the small lamp in his hand on the small table, turning it down low. Looking around the room, he smiled. "It's not much, but it's been home for the past few months."
"Months. You have been here for months, and I did not know." Marie-Ange scowled. "You were right here.." Before the prickling in her eyes turned into tears - again - she clenched a hand into a tight fist. "No. No, I am not going to get angry. It will not help, and it will not change anything. You are here, I have you with me, and I am not going to dwell on the rest." Looking up at Doug, Marie-Ange shook her head. "It has been difficult."
Doug took Marie-Ange's fist in one hand, uncurling it so her palm rested against his. With the other hand, he stroked her hair gently. "I know, love. It's been hard on me, too. And I haven't been here the whole time, either. I did some traveling over the past few months."
At the touch of Doug's hand on her hair, Marie-Ange flinched back just a little, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. "I found you.. " she whispered. "And I should not be happy you are stuck here in this place, but I found you and I cannot help it."
Doug smiled as he continued to stroke Marie-Ange's hair. "It's all right, love. If either of us has to be stuck here, I'm glad that we're here together. It's all right to be happy that we've found each other." He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers in a soft kiss.
After months of nothing, even a kiss was enough to cause Marie-Ange to melt. She threaded her fingers in Doug's hair, desperate to keep him close for as long as possible. Resting her head against his chest, she sighed. "I missed you, so -very- much."
Doug had spent months denying his hormones as well, and it had been hard with willing tavern wenches practically throwing themselves at him. So if there was a bit of a tremble in his fingers as he cupped Marie-Ange's face in his hands to kiss her more thoroughly, it was understandable. And if he clung to Marie-Ange's waist a bit tightly so that his weak knees didn't betray him, that was understandable too. "I missed you too, Angie," he murmured between insistent kisses. "I thought of you every day."
~Every day?~ Marie-Ange buried her face in Doug's shirt, trying not to cry again. She had gone days trying to force herself not to think of him - especially after Sif's prediction - wrongly so - that he would not be faithful. She shivered a little, not from cold, but from the release of weeks of tension and stress, and without thinking her hands automatically worked their way under the hem of Doug's shirt.
Doug felt Marie-Ange's shiver as his hands stroked her back gently. She had been fairly closed-mouthed about her experiences in Asgard, for the most part, and Doug sensed there was something that she wasn't telling him. But still, as she said, they were together, and that was what was important. He raised his arms so that Marie-Ange could strip his long-sleeved shirt off, then returned to kissing her with all the force from several months' separation.
The warmth of Doug's skin under her hands brought another set of shivers, and as Marie-Ange struggled to keep her emotions under control, she stepped away, retreating and wrapping her arms around herself. "Je suis désolé." she whispered. "I cannot stop shivering."
Doug stepped forward into Marie-Ange's retreat, keeping his arms around her shoulders. He made quiet shushing noises and stroked her back. "There's nothing to apologize for love. It's all right..."
"No. No, it is not." Arms still shaking slightly, she stepped back again, stumbling slightly over her own feet. "I am a wreck. I cannot stop shaking, I cannot stop crying, and I do not understand why you want to be anywhere near me. I have spent too much time here.. I look horrible, I smell like I have spent days on horseback, and I am so afraid we will never get home..."
Continuing to step forward, Doug tightened arms made strong by months of lifting ale casks around Marie-Ange, enough that she could retreat no longer, but loose enough that if she really wanted loose, she could. "I love you, and you are here, and that's what matters." Doug smiled and flicked at Marie-Ange's nose playfully with one finger. "Love you no matter what, mon coeur. It doesn't matter what you look or smell like. I. Love. You." He punctuated this statement with another kiss.
Ducking her head, embarrassed by the insistence of Doug's words, Marie-Ange examined her own feet, not sure what to say. "I love you too" seemed too passé, but there were simply no other words she could think of. Resting her head on Doug's shoulder, she tried to relax, to let being near him comfort and soothe her emotions.
After some time, the tension in her back started to fade, and for the first time in many weeks, she felt at ease, safe and protected. Cautiously, she ran the palm of one hand up Doug's side, still not entirely sure of herself.
Doug sighed slightly in relief as he felt the tension begin to drain out of Marie-Ange. Clearly, she had been under a lot of stress. But at least she was finally relaxing. His own hands slid under the hem of Marie-Ange's shirt, and he began nudging her slightly toward the pile of furs in the corner.
The nudging did not go entirely unnoticed, and though she was still a bit unsteady on her feet, Marie-Ange was quickly curled up in Doug's arms, her boots having been toed off and pushed to the side, and the leather vest she had worn over her shirt discarded in a heap on the floor.
"When did this happen?" she asked, tracing a finger over a tiny scar just under Doug's ear. "It was not here before. I would remember a scar..."
Doug chuckled wryly. "That's a souvenir of my attempts to learn how to trim a beard with only a dagger available as a shaving device." He leaned forward and nuzzled at Marie-Ange's neck, in a mood to distract her.
Marie-Ange would have giggled, and wrinkled her nose in amusement, but she was -definitely- being distracted. She let out a tiny gasp, and raised her chin slightly, exposing her throat.
Doug smiled to himself at the gasp and decided to show Marie-Ange just how much he had missed her. Leaning farther forward, he began to lick at the spot he had just nuzzled at, then nipped lightly with his teeth. Meanwhile, his fingers were burrowing under the hem of her shirt again to stroke the skin of her lower back.
Marie-Ange pressed herself against Doug and whimpered. She ran her fingertips over his stomach and sides lightly, registering the now firm muscle there only barely enough to cause her to blink in confusion briefly.
Doug continued his licking and nibbling until he reached the collar of Marie-Ange's shirt. Making a slightly vexed noise, he began to push the shirt up her stomach.
The shirt very quickly joined the vest, and Doug's own shirt in the heap on the floor, revealing a tight tank-top, obviously hand-sewn. Marie-Ange blushed a little, cheeks going just a touch pink. "Of all the things Sif tried to convince me of, going without a bra was not one of her successes."
Doug traced a small set of puncture marks on Marie-Ange's shoulder with a finger, looking slightly worried until he realized that it was obviously where the raven perched. Skimming the tank top up her stomach, he grinned as he found muscle to match his own. Apparently Angie had been getting a workout while in Asgard, as well. He bent to lick lightly just above her navel.
Each gentle touch of Doug's mouth to her stomach was met with a quiet squeak, and an occasional whisper of his name. Meeting his eyes, she gently pulled him forward, so she could wrap her arms around his waist and kiss him thoroughly.
Doug kissed Marie-Ange back just as thoroughly, and his arms maneuvered up to loosen the laces to her makeshift tank top. Slowly, he drew it up over her breasts, then broke the kiss just long enough to draw it over her head and drop it with the rest of the clothing they had removed, returning his lips to hers quickly.
A slight shiver - this time, genuinely from cool air on exposed skin - ran up Marie-Ange's back. Pressing herself closer against Doug for warmth as much as to feel his skin against hers, she smiled and nuzzled his shoulder. "And just where is this," she poked her finger gently at his stomach, "from? Only, I am not complaining. It is just unexpected."
Doug shrugged with a smile. "Lifting ale casks, for the most part. Jorundr may have accepted me as Hugaldr's apprentice, but that didn't mean I wasn't expected to help out where possible." He poked Marie-Ange's stomach. "I could say the same for you, love. You're a little more ripped than you used to be."
"I am afraid mine was achieved in not quite such a pleasant manner." Marie-Ange frowned and shook her head. She was not going to get upset about it. No. Sif had been wrong about at least one thing - the important thing, even if she had not been quite wrong about many others.
At the sudden tension in Marie-Ange, Doug quickly cupped her cheek and smiled gently at her. "It's okay, Angie, you're here with me now." Bending down, he kissed her, then began kissing his way down her neck again. Without her shirt or tank top to impede his progress, he began to nibble over the upper swell of her chest.
As Doug nibbled further down her chest, Marie-Ange let out a long, slow breath, the tightness in her back and chest finally releasing. She ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him with gentle pushes to move his attentions to far more sensitive areas.
Doug momentarily debated being playful and teasing, but having been apart from Angie for so long made him disinclined to be slow and patient. He allowed Marie-Ange's hands in his hair to direct him down over the swell of her breasts, until finally he darted his tongue out to lick at one of her nipples.
The cool touch of Doug's mouth on her breast caused Marie-Ange to arch her back and whimper. Of their own accord, her fingers loosened, releasing Doug's hair and tracing lines down his back. Quiet noises of frustration mixed with the whimpers of arousal when she reached the waistband of his trousers, and realized that the tight leather gave her no room to explore.
Doug decided that Marie-Ange was not nearly distracted enough if she still had fine motor control and enough brainpower to try and undo his pants. Without warning, he drew her nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue as one hand crept up to cradle her other breast. Letting the nipple fall from his mouth, he nipped at it gently with his teeth.
"Doug." Marie-Ange whispered, clutching at his backside desperately. "Do not tease.. " She ran her hands over his thighs, trying to distract him from distracting her. The problem with trying to distract Doug, she decided, was that he was far too good at figuring out what she was going to do next.
Doug shook his head with a mischievous smile. Catching Marie-Ange's hands with his own, he drew them over her head and pinned them gently with one hand so that the other was free to tease over Marie-Ange's breasts. He leaned down to nibble at one of her earlobes. "Are you sure you don't want me to tease, Angie?" he whispered.
That was unusually bold of him, Marie-Ange thought. Or would have thought, had seen been capable of thinking about more than just how good Doug's fingertips felt brushing over her breasts. She squirmed, trying to pull her hands free, but only struggled in vain. Doug's wiry muscle was nice to look at - she couldn't deny that, but it was proving very frustrating at the moment.
Doug teased Marie-Ange's breasts for a while longer while nibbling all along the column of her neck and throat. But while Marie-Ange made some very interesting noises, Doug wasn't exactly in a mood to tease. In point of fact...he paused for a moment and looked searchingly into Marie-Ange's eyes, then bent and began to carefully unlace the ties to Marie-Ange's pants, beginning to slide them down over her hips.
Her arms now free, Marie-Ange rested her weight on her hands, and lifted her hips, helping Doug free her legs from the tight leather breeches. She blushed, the color traveling down her neck and over her chest as she realized that she was quite undressed, in front of her boyfriend, for the first time.
Doug paused for a moment, watching the blush travel down Marie-Ange's body, then tracing farther down her form with his eyes. "You are so beautiful," he whispered reverently in French, dropping her breeches on top of the rest of the clothes.
Marie-Ange shook her head slightly. She was still faintly bruised from a truly spectacularly bad dismount from the horse, she had not had a proper bath in weeks, and nothing like a bath at all in days, and her hair was in now-rain-mussed braids. And yet, she thought, perhaps it really did not matter. The expression on Doug's face was not one she could put words to, and it set her a little more at ease.
After a few moments of drinking in Marie-Ange's nude form, Doug decided that fair was fair, and shimmied out of his own breeches, dropping them on top of the pile of clothes. Now it was his turn to blush at his own nakedness as he lay on his side next to Marie-Ange, one hand stroking over her stomach and beginning to stray lower.
Blushing furiously, and unable to meet Doug's eyes, too afraid to ask what seemed like an obvious question, and too worried that the answer might be no, Marie-Ange simply watched Doug, eyes lingering over his thighs and the flat of his stomach. "You have no idea how very handsome you are, do you?" she asked quietly.
Doug ducked his head, blushing more. "No, I don't," he whispered huskily as his hand continued its journey to trace over the curve of Marie-Ange's hip. "I still don't always understand what you see in me, love, but I'm so grateful that I have you in my life." He bent down to kiss her, a soft kiss that quickly heated up as his hand continued to explore tentatively.
"I love you, so -very- much." Marie-Ange whispered, then let out a gasp as Doug continued to explore. She closed her eyes, and whimpered quietly. He was teasing her, gently, and it was going to quite probably drive her insane - though, she would go willingly into madness if it felt like this.
The pair of teenagers had gotten to the point of mutual touching before, but there was something different about the fact that they were both naked. Besides, deep inside, Doug had already made a decision, although he wasn't quite sure how to articulate it, and he intended to savor every moment of this.
"Doug... I... " Marie-Ange blushed again, and looked away. She let her own fingers trail down over Doug's side and across the top of his thigh. Feeling a tad tentative - undressed or not, she was not sure how comfortable Doug was, how far he was willing to go, and she -did- not want to push.
Doug cradled Marie-Ange's face in one of his hands, and turned her back to look into his eyes. All of a sudden, he was even more keenly aware of Marie-Ange's body language, and all the questions she couldn't quite articulate. He captured her eyes with his, and whispered softly, but clearly. "The answer to your question is yes. I want to make love to you, right here, right now, Angie. I'm ready."
---
(note: Yes, you perverts, Doug and Angie have sex here. If you're really interested in the details, bug me or Frito for it.)
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The morning after, Doug and Angie wake up together and realize it wasn't a dream. There is more gooshy romance, and then Doug comes down to say goodbye to the friends he's made during his time in Asgard. Pretty much everyone attempts to cover up emotion in one way or another. Hugaldr has a surprise for Doug.
Doug slowly worked his way towards wakefulness, yawning and stretching with his eyes still closed. As he stretched, one arm bumped into someone else. Doug paused for a moment before remembering the events of the night before. Angie, Jamie, Shiro, and Miles showing up at Jorundr's meadhall, singing to Angie, and then... Doug felt the heat of a blush as he opened his eyes and peeked under his furs. Yep, it was just him down there. Pulling the furs slightly away from Angie, he peeked again. Yep, it was just her down there. The blush warred with a goofy grin as he raised himself up on an elbow to watch Marie-Ange sleep.
After too many weeks of Sif insisting that she wake on a moment's notice, Marie-Ange was enjoying just laying still, warm and safe with Doug's arms around her. When his arm bumped her, she lay still for a moment, half-hoping he was just stirring in his sleep. When the movements behind her indicated that he was indeed awake, she turned to face him. "Good morning.."
Doug's goofy smile remained glued to his face as he reached over with his free arm to caress Marie-Ange's cheek gently. "Good morning, love," he replied.
Blushing just a little, Marie-Ange leaned into the touch and smiled. "It is such a cliche, but I had wondered if yesterday was a dream.. "
Doug's hand trailed down over Marie-Ange's neck to her bare shoulder. "I had rather wondered the same thing myself when I woke up just now, but..." he blushed and made a vague motion down their bodies "...seemed to indicate otherwise."
Shivering slightly from the touch, and the chill to the room, Marie-Ange pulled herself closer to Doug for a moment, as much for warmth as it was simply to be close to him. "I .. suppose we should get dressed before Jamie or Shiro comes to wake us?" A slight pause and much more of a blush later, she added. "Or Jamie and Miles..."
Doug's answering blush at the thought of Miles finding them like this was enough impetus to get Doug out from under the furs and hopping about madly as he shimmied into his clothes as quickly as possible. When he finally had some clothes on, he turned and gathered Marie-Ange's clothes from where they lay strewn on the floor and brought them to her so she could get dressed under the furs.
Her pants were not -so- much of a problem. Weeks of pulling them on after being woken up in any number of unplesant ways had caused Marie-Ange to get it down to a science. A few sharp tugs, and they were over her hips, if not yet laced. Her tanktop took a tiny bit longer, as she struggled with the laces to pull the shirt tight over her chest. Once she was decent, if not entirely 'dressed', she stood and stretched.
Politeness warred with Doug's inner lecher, and the inner lecher won as he admired the way certain things moved as Marie-Ange stretched. Steeping in close, he placed his hands on her waist and smiled. "Love you so much," he said and kissed her gently.
"I love you too." Marie-Ange said, resting her head on Doug's shoulder. "and if I had my way, we would stay here the rest of the day, but I think that Jamie and Shiro would be a bit perturbed." She didn't add that she thought Miles would probably just happily let Jamie or Shiro take him to the market. The little boy had gone out of his way to try to make her smile and laugh.
Doug nodded. "Yeah, we should probably get going," he said. Gathering the small amount of posessions he had (including the clothes he had originally been wearing) in a small bag, he looked one last time around the room wistfully. "Ready?" he asked softly.
Catching the tone of Doug's voice, Marie-Ange clasped his hand. "Only if you are, love. We can linger if you are not ready to leave.." A day or two would not set them back too badly, as she still had no idea where they were even going next. Memory had led her here, and the raven had not yet returned from whereever it had gone to. It was entirely likely that the bird was off digging its talons into Odin, and she was certainly not going to complain about that.
Doug shook his head. "No, we should get going. If I stay one day, I'll want to stay another day, and it'll always be hard to leave." Opening the door, he placed his hand at Marie-Ange's waist, and slowly closed the door behind them after they exited.
The meadhall in the morning was quiet, not entirely empty, but a far cry from the crowd of the night before. Off to one corner, Marie-Ange could see the older man who had introduced Doug's song, sitting with the innkeeper. Before she could look to Doug to see if he wanted to speak to them, she caught sight of the still-faintly-hungover looking warrior making a beeline for them, quite literally bounding over benches in his enthuasism. "Um. Doug? Tell me you know that person...."
"Ambi!" Doug exclaimed as he hurried toward the warrior. "Aron!" exclaimed Arnbjorn, reaching Doug and clasping him in an embrace that involved a lot of back-pounding. It was slightly obvious Arnbjorn was covering his sadness at Doug's imminent departure with exuberance.
Marie-Ange stepped forward, far too amused at the large man thumping Doug's back soundly. ~Aron?~ she mouthed silently, not entirely sure if Doug needed her to keep up the ruse or not. That would take getting used to, if she had to remember to start calling him by a different name. She suppressed an instinctive shudder at the idea and put her hand on Doug's shoulder gently.
Doug grinned even more broadly at Marie-Ange's hand on his shoulder. Stepping back, he turned to put his arm around her. "Ambi, this is Angie. My beloved." Yes, it was a little overdramatic, but Doug was inclined to be so today of all days. Arnbjorn engulfed one of Marie-Ange's hands in his, shaking vigorously. "It gives me such great joy to see Aron reunited with you," the warrior gushed.
Shaking her head in amusement, Marie-Ange grinned, first at Doug, and then at the warrior, who reminded her of nothing less than Angelo's puppy stuffed into a really big Viking. "I am rather pleased about it myself. I had thought I wouldn't see him again for a very long time." Pausing to give Doug an amused glance, she continued. "Though I never expected Aron to surprise me with quite such a public display. He was much shyer when we were parted.."
"You are lucky to have him," Rannveig said as she came up to the group, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice for Aron's benefit. If it had been just her and the seeress, it might have been different. But for Aron's sake, she would try to be civil. Doug stifled a wince. "Angie, this is Rannveig, one of the servers here, and a good friend." He carefully didn't mention the almost-unnoticeable sigh Rannveig let out at the word 'friend'.
The instinctive urge to grab Doug's hands and kiss him throughly, just to ensure that Rannveig knew for absolute sure that Doug was taken was pushed aside much easier than Marie-Ange had expected. "It is good to meet you. I'm glad Dou.. Aron had friends here. Asgard City is noplace to be alone in. It is far too easy to be lonely in the middle of a crowd. " Putting one arm around Doug's waist, she very slowly started to fingerspell letters, fumbling a few times due to lack of use. ~set them up cute together~
Doug chuckled and fingerspelled back to Marie-Ange. ~working on it~ Placing a hand on Arnbjorn's shoulder, Doug smiled sadly. "Ambi, I'm going to count on you to look after Rannveig for me, in case Ulfr gets it into his head to try things after I'm gone, all right?" Both Arnbjorn and Rannveig looked a little startled, looking at each other curiously. "I swear it to you, little brother, I will," Arnbjorn said gruffly, clasping Doug's forearm in a warrior's handshake.
~have good feeling about them~ The romantic futures of Doug's friends wasn't worth causing herself searing pain, but nonetheless, Marie-Ange just had a good gut feeling about Arnbjorn and Rannveig. Besides, she thought, anyone who would take care of Doug deserved love.
"And I suppose you were going to go off, get yourself killed or married or rich without saying goodbye, Aron?" A gruff voice behind them asked with a hint of amusement.
Doug turned around slowly. He smiled sadly at the old bard. "Of course not, Hugaldr. I was going to right after finishing with Ambi and Rannveig." He tried to stifle a few tears that beaded in his eyes at the thought of leaving the man who had taken him in and taught him so much. "I hope I haven't disappointed you too badly, old man," he said huskily.
"If you mean other than the almost getting yourself killed associating with this miscreant?" Hugaldr asked, giving a stern look to Arnbjorn. Not waiting for an answer, he put a hand on Doug's shoulder. "You haven't disappointed me at all, Aron. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice." Glancing over his shoulder, he gave a grin. "Besides, Jorundr and I made a decent amount of coin off you."
Doug chuckled slightly, trying to get his emotions back in check. He smiled at Jorundr, who grinned. "We'll be sorry to see you go, young Aron. May the gods grant you safe passage on your journey."
"And this is the young lady you've been pining for and causing all my girls to go off in little snits?" Jorundr asked, half-smirking. "My lady, I can assure you, Aron has been the single most decent person in Asgard City for the last two months. I think he's broken more hearts than I can count. "
Doug blushed rosily at Jorundr's remarks and smiled at Marie-Ange. He decided to simply not talk, in order to avoid stammering and such, squeezing Marie-Ange around the shoulders with his arm.
"Aron is sometimes the most decent person I know." Marie-Ange said quietly. Looking over at Doug, she frowned slightly. "Do I get an introduction, dear?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
Doug coughed slightly to clear his throat. "This is Jorundr, who owns this mead hall and was willing to take a chance on me, and Hugaldr, who pretty much taught me everything I know about being a skald."
Hugaldr let out a snort and pulled a small leather pouch from his belt. "I just improved raw talent. You already had the stones to ask me for the job when you arrived. Takes guts."
Doug opened the leather pouch as Hugaldr passed it to him, taking out a small stone on a leather cord. He looked at the rune on the stone, blinking, then looked up at Hugaldr, eyes wide and questioning.
"Well, its not like you can walk around being just plain Aron." Hugaldr rolled his eyes. "Skalds with one name. What is the world coming to?" Coughing into his fist, he waited until Jorundr practically dragged Arnbjorn off, Rannvieg following closely behind. "Odin only knows how long you'll be here, Aron. You've been a good apprentice, and you're a good man. Take the rune before I have to go and explain this in very small words to get it into your thick head."
Doug lunged forward, hugging Hugaldr tight despite the token gruff protests on Hugaldr's part. "Thank you...revered father," he said with a sardonic grin on his face.
Bowing slightly, Hugaldr smiled - a rare and genunine expression from the old bard - "Travel well, Aron Hugaldrson. I hope you find your way home, and if you and your friends should not, you are always welcome here."
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