Nathan and Cain, Wednesday night

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Backdated to Wednesday night. After coming back from his outing to Harry's with Haroun and before going back to the suite to find Moira, Nathan stops down by the lake to have a talk with Cain.



No one was bothering him about hot water, he had a nice new shipment of lumber to sort, and best of all, Chuck couldn't come bother him without sneezing every five seconds. Even without getting the chance to put his two least favorite students to work, Cain had to admit, life was good. Well, except for the cat currently eating his bootlace, but that could be overlooked.

Pleasantly buzzed from the beers he'd had down at Harry's with Haroun, Nathan strode down the path to the boathouse, grinning as he spotted Cain out on the dock. "Evening," he said casually, then blinked at the little cat nibbling on Cain's boot. "Who's this?"

"That," Cain said, almost proudly, "is my six and a half pound Chuck-repellant. Name's Mao. Kermit found him. Kid has good taste in cats." The half-grown kitten was varicolored, decidedly scrawny with overly large paws and definitly, absolutly not any kind of 'breed'. It was also losing the war against the shoelace, and had moved on to Cain's foot.

Nathan smiled down at the cat. "You big softie," he mocked Cain. "Chuck-repellant indeed."

Cain snorted. "Has nothin' to do with being soft. Mao catches mice, and the boathouse has a problem with 'em. And he keeps Chuck from bothering me, because he's allergic." He paused, glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure no one else was around and then added. "Kermit made the eyes at me. Kid's gonna be a heartbreaker when he grows up, even with the green skin. "

"He's learning bad habits from Ali," Nathan pronounced, then sat down - a little harder than he'd intended - on the dock, wiggling his fingers at Mao, who immediately sat up and came running over to investigate. "My alcohol tolerance is worth shit these days," he said thoughtfully. "Going drinking with Pete is probably going to kill me."

"You need to drink more." Cain said, nodding. "The more you drink, the more you can drink before you get drunk." It was sound logic and had served him well in the Marines. Didn't matter that he really couldn't get drunk now, it still applied to Nate.

"Well, I don't think I'm ever going to be getting drunk as often as I used to," Nathan said as Mao nibbled at his fingers. "Moira's a tolerant woman, but I don't think I want to push her too far on that particular subject. Even if all of the monkey business around here, on top of my own shit, keeps threatening to drive me to drink."

Cain snorted. "I think Chuck owns stock in Maalox with all the shit that happens around here. Kids blowing each other up, people getting kidnapped to other dimensions." He paused and held up two large fingers. "Twice. I can't blame you for wanting a bender once in a while."

"Don't forget the brainwashing," Nathan said dryly as Mao crawled into his lap and started to purr. He scratched behind the kitten's ears, and the purring only got louder. "I mean, between the brainwashing and the brain-spraining, am I going to really miss any more brain cells if I kill them off with tequila?"

Cain considered this for a moment. "Tequila's foul. If you're gonna kill your brain, go for straight up Jack Daniels."

"Tequila is not foul," Nathan said with great dignity. "I spent six months in Mexico after I first left Mistra getting very drunk on tequila. It's a nostalgia thing."

"Had a real bad expirence in the Marines with tequila." Cain paused, looking quite serious. "I was in the Marines, in Vietnam. Took a lot of tequila to get drunk, and it came up a hell of a lot faster than it went down."

As the cat rolled over in his lap, Nathan tilted his head, trying to assess Cain's expression. "Yeah, it's not a good thing to get drunk on," he said slowly. "That's why I save it for the serious benders."

Cain decided that Nate's logic made a sick sort of sense. "I suppose if you're gonna get drunk, it might as well be on something effective and harsh." He paused, chuckling. "I suppose you could drop a couple of shots of whiskey into Moira's coffee and do the job twice as fast. Course, then the doc'd probably have your head for blashpheming."

"Must not profane the coffee," Nathan said seriously. Mao grabbed at his wrist and he gave the kitten a stern look. "Don't do that."

With suprising gentleness, Cain picked up the kitten and tapped it on the nose. "Sorry 'bout that. Half the time I don't notice. Furball's starting to think normal-colored people are chewtoys." He paused, and looked at Nate directly. "Might not be a bad idea to give up the tequila if you're gonna do the leather brigade thing like I hear."

Nathan nodded. "Pete and I need to do this, though," he said with a faint smile. "You can't have the 'Hey, sorry about trying to get you to kill me' conversation sober. Funny how that works."

"No, I guess not." Cain shook his head. "Can't see how a talk like that wouldn't go ass end up sober. Course, can't see how a talk like that wouldn't go ass end up at all, but I never felt the need to apoligize to the guys I threw a tank at. Apoligized to the -tank- though."

"I have to get things straight with Pete," Nathan said with a sigh, leaning back a little and staring out at the lake. "I bet the person you threw a tank at wasn't a friend, was he?"

"Nope. He was in a tank of his own, though. He didn't do the James Bond thing for half his life either, so I guess its not the same." Cain put Mao down on the dock, and watched for a moment as the little cat peered over the edge of the planks. "You aren't dead, Pete's not dead, you aren't some assassian zombie. I say that puts you two at a pretty good start for not hating each other."

"Yeah, well. I should have looked after this last week, but then the thing with Shiro happened and I spent most of the weekend wishing someone would shut off the sun." Nathan shook his head slowly. "You heard I broke the plane?"

"Ayup. Glad I'm not responsible for fixing that. House's bad enough." Cain jerked a thumb at the tarp-covered piles of lumber next to the boathouse. "Chuck put you on detail for fixing it? Cause, if not, I've got more than enough work needs to be done." He grinned. "I got Shaw volunteering to play sledgehammer for me. Wish I'd know I'd get volunteers when I started on the first half of this project."

"I've got to get my head checked out on Saturday," Nathan said thoughtfully. "See if it's safe to use my TK again yet. Once Moira gives me the all-clear, I can give you a hand." He snorted. "And yes, I am helping fix the plane. I get to play crane once I'm up to it."

"Don't go blowing up your skull on my account." Cain shrugged. "I've got two lovely assistants helping me until their debt's paid off." He grinned widely, as if the idea of putting teenagers through renovation hell was highly amusing. Mostly because it -was-.

Nathan made a thoughtful noise, looking from the lumber to Cain and then back again. "Cain, have you ever heard of the caber toss?"

"Yeah." He paused. "What? I get ESPN2, and it ain't like I have to sleep. But you want to throw big pieces of wood around and you're gonna have to buy your own." Pausing again, he tried not to crack a smile. "Or replace mine. Either way works."

"Oh, I wasn't proposing throwing any of your wood," Nathan assured him immediately. "I was just thinking... Highland Games. As a cover for proposing to Moira."

Cain barked out a short, surprised laugh. "You tryin' to give me a heart attack or something? I figured you two would get hitched eventually, but not this soon. Not that I ain't happy for you or anything." He paused, considering the implications in "Highland Games" "Wait, you aren't gonna wear a skirt for Moira, are you?"

Nathan grinned. "I was contemplating it, yeah. And hell, Cain, it's not 'this soon' - if I'd had the sense God gave a flea I would have kissed her under the mistletoe on Muir three years ago and never left that New Year's."

Cain covered his eyes with one giant hand. "Don't know that I or anyone else needs to see your legs. And you don't have the sense God gave a flea. I coulda told you that. You voluntered to spend half your day teaching. "

"I like teaching," Nathan protested. "And part of the whole idea with the huge embarassing spectacle is to... well, embarass myself." He laughed. "I figure it's better to have her laughing than crying when she answers that particular question."

"Don't blame me when the kids take pictures, is all I'm sayin'. I warned you." Cain couldn't help but laugh. "And don't blame me if Six-pack and Ramsey set up your journal with pictures of your ass in a skirt. I'm sure they'll come up with the idea just fine all by their lonesome without my help."

"Oh, I really hope there are pictures. Moira and I can look back on them in twenty years and laugh ourselves sick." Nathan pushed himself back to his feet, still smiling. "So I can count on you to kick everyone's ass at the caber toss, yes?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Cain grinned openly. "Though Rasputin might give me a run for my money. Hell, you could give me a run for my money if you put your mind to it." He laughed at his little joke.

"I think I'm going to be somewhere in lunar orbit already that day," Nathan said with a grin, turning to head back down the dock. "Night, Cain. I'll let you know when I can help you out with the renovation."

Cain grinned back. "Good. Its not renovation unless you've got guys standing around with beer making a lot of holes in things. Just ain't right any other way." He picked up his cat, who was intently watching the water and who protested at the interupption of deep cat thoughts, and went back inside the boathouse.