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xp_logsHaroun and Alison have a dinner-date. She breaks it, and they get some of the issues in their lives out into the open to be dealt with. Backdated to Tuesday evening.
It was going to be, Alison decided, a nice evening. The breeze was positively balmy, she was wearing one of her summer skirts for the first time in forever, even if she'd had to supplement it with a light jacket over her blouse, for when the evening got a touch chillier, and in general, she was in simply a perfect mood. They were on one of those "explore a new restaurant" outings (Italian, this time) and it felt nice to just be out, with nothing else to worry about but enjoying their time together. Even if both of them were still equipped with their comms. Just in case.
"It's just a few blocks away now," she grinned at Haroun, leaning in a bit closer as they walked.
Haroun grinned back at Alison. "It's a beautiful night, I have the most stunning woman in the Northern Hemisphere on my arm, and we're going out to this wonderful little Italian place that Moira recommended. I'd say we have a fantastic beginning to a wonderful evening." he gushed. He nuzzled her neck a little, and whispered into her ear "And then, afterwards, who knows? Perhaps the enchanted evening will continue..."
"Mmm." She carefully balanced herself so that no moving away was allowed as he did that, keeping a hand on his arm to keep herself from walking into anything while conveniently forgetting that he wasn't looking at where they were going either. They somehow managed to navigate the obstacles successfully beyond that, both those inert and alive. "Well, that's how wonderful evenings usually go, isn't it?" The purr was nothing compared to the look full of promise she gave him.
Haroun caught the look in her eye, and was experienced enough now to know what it could possibly mean. He just grinned back at her, enjoying the warmish night air and the clear night. "Ah, there it is." he said. "Looks like there's going to be a wait. Why don't we go head up to the bar for a bit rather than just sitting in the lobby?" he suggested.
Threading her fingers through his, Alison nodded easily at that. It was time with Haroun, which meant it was all good really. Their names were set down for the waiting list in a matter of moments and they wandered towards the bar, Alison all about those occasional brushes against him, not quite walking in a straight line. "This is nice," she murmured. There'd been a bit more of this sort of stuff lately, be it at the mansion or outings such as these. "My new schedule is agreeing with me tremendously right now." She grinned. "Don't you think?"
"Dahlink, oooh wook MAHvelous!" he said in a truly terrible impression, and then laughed. "Hey, you want something to drink? Iced tea or water or a soda or something?" he asked her as he looked over at the bar. "Doesn't look like they have any place to sit up there."
She'd meant in terms of time spent with him, as well as Miles and on herself in general, but that would do. "Looking less like a rundown old hag, mmm?" she asked teasingly, poking him lightly in the ribs to forestall any reaction and to show she was truly just kidding. "San Pelligrino would be good," she accepted the offer on the spot, looking around idly. And then at the rather crowded bar. "Hrm. I can either decorate that column over there, or try to fight it through to the bar with you..."
"Sam Pelligrino it is!" he said, then looked at the crowd again. "Nah, I'll take this one. Go mingle among your subjects while I fetch drinks. Maybe one of them will be a fan or something." he said with a smirk, patting her hand before heading off into the crowd. As he got up to the bar, a slightly tipsy black woman looked him up and down with obvious relish. Haroun bent closer to answer her question, and whatever he had said to her caused her to erupt with laughter and touch her fingertips to his forearm.
"It's San Pel-" she started to call out, but he'd already moved away towards the bar. With a small smile, she shook her head and headed for the column. She'd been turning around to rest her back on it when Haroun first leaned forward and though the motion caught her eye, she didn't think anything of it - until she saw the woman reach out to touch his arm, with a look in her eyes Alison knew only too well. Feeling her skin grow cold, she watched, hoping that was all there would be to it, even as she felt her stomach tighten at what had happened thus far.
Haroun laughed as well, and then leaned over to the bartender to place his order. The bartender - a slender blonde with an almost absurd amount of chest showing beneath her top, went off to fetch the drinks with a little extra sway in her step. In the meantime, Haroun kept chatting with the black woman, laughing about something-or-another and smiling at her.
If she reached to touch him again, Alison thought she'd - and the woman did just that, leaning forward drunkenly in one of those motions which tended to put one far within someone's personal space. And then some. The brief flash of light could easily be attributed to one of the lightbulbs being slightly overloaded suddenly, the woman moving back as she was momentarily flustered by the shift of light. There was no doubt in Alison's mind Haroun would know exactly where the light had originated from, however. She waited for him to look at her, features set in a mask though it was likely he'd be able to pick up on her less than happy state of mind. Now if she could only make sure the kick to the gut feeling went away before she had to talk to him...
Haroun, without batting an eye, collected the drinks from the bartender, paid the tab, and then made his way through the crowd while the barkeeps swapped out the light bulb. "Here you go, one Sam Pelligrino." he said, offering her the drink. "And a glass of water for me. What was with the lightbulb there?" he asked, clearly not getting something here.
"San Pelligrino. San." Alison accepted the glass, taking a short gulp of the fizzy water absently, trying to compose herself. It wasn't working at all, she knew, what she was feeling plain for him to see. "Can we go outside?" She looked past him, and caught sight of the woman who had come on to him now staring at her with a smug expression. Flatly, Alison started back. "I think I'd like to leave now." The knowing look the woman was giving her made her want to scream, or alternately, break things. Or people. And that wasn't good at all, nor would it resolve anything just now. "Please."
Haroun blinked. "But what about dinner?" he asked. "Italian not appealing to you right now?" he asked worriedly.
"Lost my appetite," was the short reply, Alison expertly settling her glass on a passing waiter's tray before
straightening up. She was moving as stiffly as a board from the tension, but despite the fear that she would get dismissed as being silly, she couldn't let it go. Beside – they'd promised each other communication. And she couldn't stay anyway in the frame of mind she was now in and Haroun would be able to tell something was wrong no matter how she tried to hide it. And it was probably her imagination, or perhaps not, but she could still feel the woman staring at them and she didn't want to stay.
Haroun sighed, slammed down his water, and gave the glass to the waiter as well. He walked out behind Alison, and waited until they got a block or so away before speaking. "OK, what the hell was that all about?" he asked angrily. "I go up and get us drinks, come back, and you act like I just shot your dog. What gives?"
Turning around abruptly so that she was in front of him on the sidewalk, face nearly pressed against him before he managed to stop his forward momentum, Alison took a short breath and didn't let herself think. Just spoke. "I don't want to make a mess of this. I'm not looking for a huge argument or a fight but – we
promised we'd talk when something was up and so this is me talking. Or trying to." Another short breath, a slight squaring of the shoulders, but she didn't move away – and finally looked up at him so that he could see her face. "The flirting is getting to me." It was blunt and probably badly done, but it was out there now. "It's been there at the edges before and I could ignore it well enough but that was just so... so blatant in there..." she trailed off, finally.
Haroun blinked. Then blinked again. And one more time for good measure. "I wasn't flirting!" he protested finally. "I'm up there, getting ready to place our order, when this girl starts talking to me. OK, that's fine. She's had one or two too many, by the look of things. It never hurts to just make some i>conversation! And if she was hitting on me, well, sorry, not interested. Got all I want right here." he said, nudging her slightly. "So what's the problem? Someone comes up and starts talking to me, I'm just supposed to blow them off?"
The nudge brought an automatic reflex, which combined to the very basic need to be closer wasn't fought off at all as Alison leaned in. "She was about to drape herself over you!" She hated this – he was sounding reasonable and she was sounding like a harpy most likely, and it brought shades of old events which she didn't even want to think about. "There's a difference between blowing someone off and just not... playing the game. Too." They weren't drawing attention, nothing more than a couple talking on the street, she knew. "Do you really need to just flirt with every single woman who shows the slightest inclination to do so? Why?" She wasn't able, just yet, to ask what was really troubling her.
Haroun winced inside, but kept his smile plastered on. "No, I suppose I don't. But I like to. It's fun, it's harmless, and you know damned well how I feel." he said passionately. "I'd like to think that I've demonstrated that amply well. And yeah, she might have been trying to drape herself all over me. And I wasn't about to let that happen, because I don't care about her and I do care about you."
Of course, she'd interfered before he'd had the chance to stop things, she supposed. Reaching out she pressed one hand to his chest, needing the contact, the vague sick feeling that had been present since they'd left still not going away. "It makes me wonder what I don't do that you need... that you go and find elsewhere instead of with me," she finally said, in a low voice. The breeze which had been pleasant before had turned chilly and Alison drew her jacket closer with her other hand.
Haroun sighed. "If there was something more you could be doing that you don't do right now, I would tell you. I've already mentioned the scarf thing, but I'm giving up that fight because it's not worth it and this is America and I have to get used to the way Americans are." he said in a rush. "And walking along the street here is probably not the best place to have this conversation. And since you spiked our dinner plans, do you think that you could stand for ordering something, or possibly even cooking?" he asked her.
A flinch greeted the remark about the dinner plans and Alison let her hand fall from his chest, holding her jacket with both now instead of just the one. "Order in," she finally replied, preferring not to risk burning down her apartment considering how upset she still was. It didn't seem likely to fade anytime soon either, at that and she was trying not to let herself sink into wondering if somehow she wasn't going to be enough yet again as she raised her hand to hail a cab.
Haroun watched her raise her hand. "We going like normal folks go, or would you prefer something a little more direct?" he asked her with a smile. "Your choice, I'm cool either way." He added hastily. "Ordering in is fine. You still want Italian, or is it now more of a pizza night?" he inquired.
"Cab." And the words left her in a rush then, even as she turned to lean against him, hiding her face in the process and leaving her voice slightly muffled. "Because I'm still upset and I don't know how to make it go away because it does things to me when you do that and I hate feeling that way and my shield might not be steady and we can order anything you want because I'm still really not hungry."
Haroun nodded. Whatever had her spooked, it had her spooked but good. "That's fine. We'll take the cab, and then you can tell me about what's got you in this state, and what I can do to help you get out of this state." he said softly. "I don't like seeing you like this." he said. "But talking is good, and working things out is good." And oh, how he'd learned that lesson the HARD way back in the day. Pushing those thoughts aside ruthlessly, he cranked up a little bit of heat for her to enjoy.
That simple act was enough for Alison to nod quietly, the transition from standing by the sidewalk to sitting in the cab unimportant so long as he was close. The cab ride itself was
spent in silence, as was the elevator ride up to the floor upon which her apartment was located. Food wasn't even on Alison's mind as they stepped inside, the door closing behind them an oddly comforting sound. Finding the right way or the right words to try and make things clearer for him than 'this makes me unhappy' still defeated her, though, and she turned to face him in the lobby with a helpless look while shedding her jacket.
Haroun picked up her jacket automatically and hung it back up. Institutional paranoia had him check around corners and poke his head into the various not-used-right-now rooms to make sure everything was clear. Once he was done, he took a seat in what was fast becoming his chair, and motioned for her to plant her butt wherever. "Talk to me here. Tell me about what's bothering you. Free-associate if you have to, don't worry about how I will or won't react. Just ... talk."
It wasn't the closest place but habit had her curling up on one end of the couch, sinking into the cushions almost gratefully. While the sensation wasn't even close to that of being held, it was still something and seeking whatever might help to steady her was high on Alison's list at that moment. "The flirting with other women bothers me," she started, because it did, simply put. "And it just – make me feel lesser somehow. And I don't understand because – you flirt when you're available or when you want something, even if it's just – and there's that and it segues into outright more all of a sudden and..." She stopped, burying her face in her hands and sighing in frustration. "It's reflex. I can't help it and if I could trust me I would but it puts me right back there and," she ran a hand through her hair, "I can't."
"So where is there?" he asked quietly. "Help me understand here. You tell me a story, and I'll tell you one." He offered, to take any sting away. "Truth for truth, God's own word upon it." he said, rarely invoking the Almighty's name in the form of an oath.
"There is..." Alison trailed off, wondering how to explain. And then just went with the short version, lips twisting slightly in remembrance, the self-blame and the wondering at how stupid and blind she'd been still present, if not as sharp as it used to be. "There is me finally being near to making it after striking out on my own and scraping for months and working three jobs while trying to make sure not to miss that one big chance. And all that time being told that all these little things and signs were my imagination or me being stupid and that the flirting meant nothing at all, and then coming home one night to very graphic proof that it wasn't my imagination." Her hand twitched, in a small dismissive wave. "Your typical walking into the bedroom to see your boyfriend getting it on with your best friend. Couldn't get more cliché than that."
Haroun winced as she told her tale. "Yeah, OK, I think that would definitely give someone, how do you say, a wiggins?" he admitted. "As for me, well, I was not always this buff paragon of half-masculinity you see before you. In my first semester in Snow Valley, there was this girl. She was beautiful, or so I thought at the time. As it turned out, she was beautiful on the outside, and hideous on the inside. She liked to play games, and she made me her plaything." He said. "After I burned, she ruined a lot of ties for me." he said bluntly. "After all, I didn't have anything she might have wanted at that point."
Hugging herself, Alison looked at him somberly, a tired sigh escaping her. "And that explains why you were so afraid I was playing with you before we managed to finally get some time to ourselves long enough to get our act together," she murmured lowly, gaze flickering towards the door to the bedroom briefly. Shaking her head, she blurted out the rest, what still scared her and had everything to do with Haroun. "I'm scared I'm not enough sometimes. With all the 'you're this' and 'you're so that' I'm just scared that when you get down to it, I'm not enough. And most of the time I can look at that fear and leave it right where it belongs but sometimes I can't."
Haroun looked at Alison, and smiled charmingly at her. "Hey. We're discovering all of that together, are we not?" he told her gently. "What you were and what you were not is really, quite frankly immaterial. What's important is what you are now, wouldn't you agree? And you're here, you're with me - Allah alone knows why! - and right now, that's all that really matters. The rest is, pardon the phrase, stage dressing."
A small sound greeted that and Alison pushed herself off the sofa to make a beeline for him. She felt exhausted and it showed in the way she moved, but there was still no hesitation as she sat on the arm of the one person couch he had claimed, before siding down to curl up into his lap. "Mrf." Physical contact was all good, and right now it was all about comfort really, and not much else.
Haroun stroked Alison's hair slowly. "I know now how much it bothers you. I can't promise an overnight change, but I will do my best to knock it the fuck off for you. OK?" he said as he completely messed up her hairdo. "Talking is good."
That was greeted by another of those strangled sounds, Alison nodding fervently, not caring in the least about how he was mussing up her hair and instead focusing on enjoying the touch. And what he was saying. All of it. "It is." And perhaps her voice sounded strangled a touch, but if she was going to cry about anything, it might as well be something good. "Also. Haroun?"
"Yeah?" he said, looking down at the poor woman curled up on his lap.
"I'm with you because I want to be with you. Because you're worth being with and because you... made me believe I could do this again, take a chance on a relationship again." She bit her lip, trying to make sense. "And it's not a surprise and it's not some miracle. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I don't take this, any of it, for granted. And I love you." Well. It was something of a muddle but she thought he might get the point.
"On a grand scale from 1 to 10, where 1 is completely mundane and normal and 10 is, say, that de la Rocha kid or your favorite glowbulb or someone equally as fucked-up, I rate myself about an eight. Sure, I can get along in polite company and rough, and yeah, I've got my education and the X-Men and all that, but let's face it. I'm not exactly normal. I can't give anyone a family, or a normal life, or anything resembling stability."
A small laugh greeted that, and while there wasn't much humor to it, there wasn't any bitterness either. "And I can? Former rock star who had to go in hiding because of a stalker? And now turned into an X-man?" Alison shook her head a bit, then rested it on his shoulder. "I wonder sometimes if I'm being fair by Miles. But then I think about it and there are so many reasons why it wouldn't work for him out there, as opposed to being at the mansion where he can just be himself and not worry about what he looks likes." She smiled, just a bit. "I like to think I'm doing okay, though. Just... okay. I'm not the perfect mother by any stretch of the imagination, but I manage to figure it out. Faster now than before."
Haroun snorted at that. "Everyone with even a sliver of functioning brain can see that you're doing fine with Miles. He's well-loved and far more well-adjusted than he would be where you found him, or that he could do on his own. I know street-rats, and compared to them Miles is a paragon of stability and normality. You did the smart thing when you pulled a fade - that guy wanted you dead, and you didn't know how far he was willing to go. So you did the smart thing - you holed up around some tight security." he said passionately.
"Mrf." And there she was again, reduced to random sounds instead of words. "Okay." She wasn't going to argue with him on either topic, really. Not one bit. Saying something was good though. "Is it silly that it maybe makes me feel a bit better when you do that scouting out the place thing?" She knew he did it purely by reflex and didn't think on it beyond that - she just hadn't known he did that when they'd started dating. It had become far more obvious since they'd moved into the same living quarters, even though she'd seen hints of it while on dates and the like, before.
Haroun grinned. "Now that I'm not changing. It's kept me alive for too long to get out of the habit." he said. "And if it makes you feel better, well, that's just icing on the cake as far as I'm concerned. "You know what the problem is, right here and right now?" he asked, suddenly changing topics.
"Mmm." She was nicely curled up in his lap, they were talking and things were getting worked out. And explained. And she was feeling a lot better about both admitting to things as well as his reaction. And knowing why he'd been reacting in certain ways previously. "What?"
"We have far too much serious talk, no tea, and I'm starving!" he said with a mock-roar. "Think you can fix us up something here?" he asked. "Since you're sitting on my luckily non-sensationary legs at the moment, and I don't want to get up?"
Frowning just a touch, Alison considered that request. And their options. "But... I like it here. Not sure I want to get up." The pout was meant to be everything from endearing to enticing, and she didn't hesitate at all in turning it on him fully. "And we didn't leave many perishables in the fridge the last time we were here, just in case it took a while to come back." She eyed the phone, oh so far away. "Don't suppose you have your cell on you? We could order. And then I wouldn't have to move right away?" she added, looking hopeful.
Haroun pulled his cell phone out. "Anyone ever tell you you are lacking in some of the womanly arts?" he grumbled as he handed her his phone. "And I can't flirt my way into yummier dinners with Lorna anymore."
"Silly. You can always just plain ask her, you know." Alison accepted the phone and flipped it open, dialing in a number to a nearby place that delivered to order in supper - a series of numbers and confirmations, nothing to give Haroun any clue what had just been asked for. "So I can't cook," she pondered, after closing the cell phone and handing it back. "Well, the basics and stuff, but I'll never be a chef. But. I can pilot a highly modified stealth bomber? In theory?"
"It's not a stealth bomber, it's a reconnaissance plane!" he protested. "And modified highly at that. And, you know, now that you mention it..." he said and then let his voice trail off, to tease her a little bit. "I think that, after consultation with Cyclops and review of a certain someone's progress in the Piloting class, I would expect an invitation in your mailbox within the next day or so for a first formal solo flight."
"I said it was highly modified, I clearly reme-whu?" Eyes going wide, Alison straightened in his lap and stared at him, gaping. The first few sounds had nothing to do with coherency, but after a few more attempts she finally managed something like it. "I said in theory! You mean now? This week? So soon?" if she hadn't been busy holding on to him for fear of falling right out of his lap, she'd have probably been waving her arms at him.
Haroun grinned and nodded. "Yep. Your last round of exams cinched it." he said. "More details will be forthcoming once we get them. Scott and I will both be in the tower, but you'll be solo in the cockpit. That is, if you're still interested..." he teased with a grin.
"YES!" She was, without a doubt, clinging to him now. "Only, you know, with much freaking out about flying a big freaking place thank you very much!" Oh lord. She was going to fly the Blackbird. Most people never even got close to a plane like that (without the modifications, at that). And she was going to try and fly one. "Oh god." She felt dizzy.
Haroun picked Alison up, and then set her down on the couch so that he could get up. "Sorry to steal your favorite chair, but I am dying of hunger over here, and I'm going to scrounge for something to tide me over until the food gets here. What are we having, anyway?"
She somehow managed to let go so that he could straighten up, still boggling at herself for what was to come. Fly. The Blackbird. "Indian. I went with the good stuff and added a few more randomyly so we'd get something new. Wait. Tomorrow? I get to fly her tomorrow?" Food was actually way down her list of concerns, for once.
Haroun shook his head. "Doubt it'll happen that quickly, unless Cyclops has made the arrangements for the airfield already." he said. "It's possible, but unlikely. And I could go for Indian food. Not as good as good Med food, but it can be pretty yummy. And allowable to Muslims, which I am very pleased you have yet to forget about."
"It matters," she answered simply at that, shrugging a bit. She wasn't likely to ever forget, really. She waited until he'd found something to nibble on before vacating the couch, making a not so curvy line for him. "Going to fly. The Blackbird. Pinch me?" She blinked as she leaned on him, then looked sideways. "Uh. Wait. I may want to rephrase that."
Haroun grinned widely. "Too late!" he said, pinching her butt not-quite-lightly. "You are going to fly the Blackbird. And you are going to do it with style and grace."
"Hey! You pinched my butt!" She made a face at him, earning herself only laughter in return, and all things told hiding her face against him seemed to be an appropriate thing to do as he teased her further.
It was going to be, Alison decided, a nice evening. The breeze was positively balmy, she was wearing one of her summer skirts for the first time in forever, even if she'd had to supplement it with a light jacket over her blouse, for when the evening got a touch chillier, and in general, she was in simply a perfect mood. They were on one of those "explore a new restaurant" outings (Italian, this time) and it felt nice to just be out, with nothing else to worry about but enjoying their time together. Even if both of them were still equipped with their comms. Just in case.
"It's just a few blocks away now," she grinned at Haroun, leaning in a bit closer as they walked.
Haroun grinned back at Alison. "It's a beautiful night, I have the most stunning woman in the Northern Hemisphere on my arm, and we're going out to this wonderful little Italian place that Moira recommended. I'd say we have a fantastic beginning to a wonderful evening." he gushed. He nuzzled her neck a little, and whispered into her ear "And then, afterwards, who knows? Perhaps the enchanted evening will continue..."
"Mmm." She carefully balanced herself so that no moving away was allowed as he did that, keeping a hand on his arm to keep herself from walking into anything while conveniently forgetting that he wasn't looking at where they were going either. They somehow managed to navigate the obstacles successfully beyond that, both those inert and alive. "Well, that's how wonderful evenings usually go, isn't it?" The purr was nothing compared to the look full of promise she gave him.
Haroun caught the look in her eye, and was experienced enough now to know what it could possibly mean. He just grinned back at her, enjoying the warmish night air and the clear night. "Ah, there it is." he said. "Looks like there's going to be a wait. Why don't we go head up to the bar for a bit rather than just sitting in the lobby?" he suggested.
Threading her fingers through his, Alison nodded easily at that. It was time with Haroun, which meant it was all good really. Their names were set down for the waiting list in a matter of moments and they wandered towards the bar, Alison all about those occasional brushes against him, not quite walking in a straight line. "This is nice," she murmured. There'd been a bit more of this sort of stuff lately, be it at the mansion or outings such as these. "My new schedule is agreeing with me tremendously right now." She grinned. "Don't you think?"
"Dahlink, oooh wook MAHvelous!" he said in a truly terrible impression, and then laughed. "Hey, you want something to drink? Iced tea or water or a soda or something?" he asked her as he looked over at the bar. "Doesn't look like they have any place to sit up there."
She'd meant in terms of time spent with him, as well as Miles and on herself in general, but that would do. "Looking less like a rundown old hag, mmm?" she asked teasingly, poking him lightly in the ribs to forestall any reaction and to show she was truly just kidding. "San Pelligrino would be good," she accepted the offer on the spot, looking around idly. And then at the rather crowded bar. "Hrm. I can either decorate that column over there, or try to fight it through to the bar with you..."
"Sam Pelligrino it is!" he said, then looked at the crowd again. "Nah, I'll take this one. Go mingle among your subjects while I fetch drinks. Maybe one of them will be a fan or something." he said with a smirk, patting her hand before heading off into the crowd. As he got up to the bar, a slightly tipsy black woman looked him up and down with obvious relish. Haroun bent closer to answer her question, and whatever he had said to her caused her to erupt with laughter and touch her fingertips to his forearm.
"It's San Pel-" she started to call out, but he'd already moved away towards the bar. With a small smile, she shook her head and headed for the column. She'd been turning around to rest her back on it when Haroun first leaned forward and though the motion caught her eye, she didn't think anything of it - until she saw the woman reach out to touch his arm, with a look in her eyes Alison knew only too well. Feeling her skin grow cold, she watched, hoping that was all there would be to it, even as she felt her stomach tighten at what had happened thus far.
Haroun laughed as well, and then leaned over to the bartender to place his order. The bartender - a slender blonde with an almost absurd amount of chest showing beneath her top, went off to fetch the drinks with a little extra sway in her step. In the meantime, Haroun kept chatting with the black woman, laughing about something-or-another and smiling at her.
If she reached to touch him again, Alison thought she'd - and the woman did just that, leaning forward drunkenly in one of those motions which tended to put one far within someone's personal space. And then some. The brief flash of light could easily be attributed to one of the lightbulbs being slightly overloaded suddenly, the woman moving back as she was momentarily flustered by the shift of light. There was no doubt in Alison's mind Haroun would know exactly where the light had originated from, however. She waited for him to look at her, features set in a mask though it was likely he'd be able to pick up on her less than happy state of mind. Now if she could only make sure the kick to the gut feeling went away before she had to talk to him...
Haroun, without batting an eye, collected the drinks from the bartender, paid the tab, and then made his way through the crowd while the barkeeps swapped out the light bulb. "Here you go, one Sam Pelligrino." he said, offering her the drink. "And a glass of water for me. What was with the lightbulb there?" he asked, clearly not getting something here.
"San Pelligrino. San." Alison accepted the glass, taking a short gulp of the fizzy water absently, trying to compose herself. It wasn't working at all, she knew, what she was feeling plain for him to see. "Can we go outside?" She looked past him, and caught sight of the woman who had come on to him now staring at her with a smug expression. Flatly, Alison started back. "I think I'd like to leave now." The knowing look the woman was giving her made her want to scream, or alternately, break things. Or people. And that wasn't good at all, nor would it resolve anything just now. "Please."
Haroun blinked. "But what about dinner?" he asked. "Italian not appealing to you right now?" he asked worriedly.
"Lost my appetite," was the short reply, Alison expertly settling her glass on a passing waiter's tray before
straightening up. She was moving as stiffly as a board from the tension, but despite the fear that she would get dismissed as being silly, she couldn't let it go. Beside – they'd promised each other communication. And she couldn't stay anyway in the frame of mind she was now in and Haroun would be able to tell something was wrong no matter how she tried to hide it. And it was probably her imagination, or perhaps not, but she could still feel the woman staring at them and she didn't want to stay.
Haroun sighed, slammed down his water, and gave the glass to the waiter as well. He walked out behind Alison, and waited until they got a block or so away before speaking. "OK, what the hell was that all about?" he asked angrily. "I go up and get us drinks, come back, and you act like I just shot your dog. What gives?"
Turning around abruptly so that she was in front of him on the sidewalk, face nearly pressed against him before he managed to stop his forward momentum, Alison took a short breath and didn't let herself think. Just spoke. "I don't want to make a mess of this. I'm not looking for a huge argument or a fight but – we
promised we'd talk when something was up and so this is me talking. Or trying to." Another short breath, a slight squaring of the shoulders, but she didn't move away – and finally looked up at him so that he could see her face. "The flirting is getting to me." It was blunt and probably badly done, but it was out there now. "It's been there at the edges before and I could ignore it well enough but that was just so... so blatant in there..." she trailed off, finally.
Haroun blinked. Then blinked again. And one more time for good measure. "I wasn't flirting!" he protested finally. "I'm up there, getting ready to place our order, when this girl starts talking to me. OK, that's fine. She's had one or two too many, by the look of things. It never hurts to just make some i>conversation! And if she was hitting on me, well, sorry, not interested. Got all I want right here." he said, nudging her slightly. "So what's the problem? Someone comes up and starts talking to me, I'm just supposed to blow them off?"
The nudge brought an automatic reflex, which combined to the very basic need to be closer wasn't fought off at all as Alison leaned in. "She was about to drape herself over you!" She hated this – he was sounding reasonable and she was sounding like a harpy most likely, and it brought shades of old events which she didn't even want to think about. "There's a difference between blowing someone off and just not... playing the game. Too." They weren't drawing attention, nothing more than a couple talking on the street, she knew. "Do you really need to just flirt with every single woman who shows the slightest inclination to do so? Why?" She wasn't able, just yet, to ask what was really troubling her.
Haroun winced inside, but kept his smile plastered on. "No, I suppose I don't. But I like to. It's fun, it's harmless, and you know damned well how I feel." he said passionately. "I'd like to think that I've demonstrated that amply well. And yeah, she might have been trying to drape herself all over me. And I wasn't about to let that happen, because I don't care about her and I do care about you."
Of course, she'd interfered before he'd had the chance to stop things, she supposed. Reaching out she pressed one hand to his chest, needing the contact, the vague sick feeling that had been present since they'd left still not going away. "It makes me wonder what I don't do that you need... that you go and find elsewhere instead of with me," she finally said, in a low voice. The breeze which had been pleasant before had turned chilly and Alison drew her jacket closer with her other hand.
Haroun sighed. "If there was something more you could be doing that you don't do right now, I would tell you. I've already mentioned the scarf thing, but I'm giving up that fight because it's not worth it and this is America and I have to get used to the way Americans are." he said in a rush. "And walking along the street here is probably not the best place to have this conversation. And since you spiked our dinner plans, do you think that you could stand for ordering something, or possibly even cooking?" he asked her.
A flinch greeted the remark about the dinner plans and Alison let her hand fall from his chest, holding her jacket with both now instead of just the one. "Order in," she finally replied, preferring not to risk burning down her apartment considering how upset she still was. It didn't seem likely to fade anytime soon either, at that and she was trying not to let herself sink into wondering if somehow she wasn't going to be enough yet again as she raised her hand to hail a cab.
Haroun watched her raise her hand. "We going like normal folks go, or would you prefer something a little more direct?" he asked her with a smile. "Your choice, I'm cool either way." He added hastily. "Ordering in is fine. You still want Italian, or is it now more of a pizza night?" he inquired.
"Cab." And the words left her in a rush then, even as she turned to lean against him, hiding her face in the process and leaving her voice slightly muffled. "Because I'm still upset and I don't know how to make it go away because it does things to me when you do that and I hate feeling that way and my shield might not be steady and we can order anything you want because I'm still really not hungry."
Haroun nodded. Whatever had her spooked, it had her spooked but good. "That's fine. We'll take the cab, and then you can tell me about what's got you in this state, and what I can do to help you get out of this state." he said softly. "I don't like seeing you like this." he said. "But talking is good, and working things out is good." And oh, how he'd learned that lesson the HARD way back in the day. Pushing those thoughts aside ruthlessly, he cranked up a little bit of heat for her to enjoy.
That simple act was enough for Alison to nod quietly, the transition from standing by the sidewalk to sitting in the cab unimportant so long as he was close. The cab ride itself was
spent in silence, as was the elevator ride up to the floor upon which her apartment was located. Food wasn't even on Alison's mind as they stepped inside, the door closing behind them an oddly comforting sound. Finding the right way or the right words to try and make things clearer for him than 'this makes me unhappy' still defeated her, though, and she turned to face him in the lobby with a helpless look while shedding her jacket.
Haroun picked up her jacket automatically and hung it back up. Institutional paranoia had him check around corners and poke his head into the various not-used-right-now rooms to make sure everything was clear. Once he was done, he took a seat in what was fast becoming his chair, and motioned for her to plant her butt wherever. "Talk to me here. Tell me about what's bothering you. Free-associate if you have to, don't worry about how I will or won't react. Just ... talk."
It wasn't the closest place but habit had her curling up on one end of the couch, sinking into the cushions almost gratefully. While the sensation wasn't even close to that of being held, it was still something and seeking whatever might help to steady her was high on Alison's list at that moment. "The flirting with other women bothers me," she started, because it did, simply put. "And it just – make me feel lesser somehow. And I don't understand because – you flirt when you're available or when you want something, even if it's just – and there's that and it segues into outright more all of a sudden and..." She stopped, burying her face in her hands and sighing in frustration. "It's reflex. I can't help it and if I could trust me I would but it puts me right back there and," she ran a hand through her hair, "I can't."
"So where is there?" he asked quietly. "Help me understand here. You tell me a story, and I'll tell you one." He offered, to take any sting away. "Truth for truth, God's own word upon it." he said, rarely invoking the Almighty's name in the form of an oath.
"There is..." Alison trailed off, wondering how to explain. And then just went with the short version, lips twisting slightly in remembrance, the self-blame and the wondering at how stupid and blind she'd been still present, if not as sharp as it used to be. "There is me finally being near to making it after striking out on my own and scraping for months and working three jobs while trying to make sure not to miss that one big chance. And all that time being told that all these little things and signs were my imagination or me being stupid and that the flirting meant nothing at all, and then coming home one night to very graphic proof that it wasn't my imagination." Her hand twitched, in a small dismissive wave. "Your typical walking into the bedroom to see your boyfriend getting it on with your best friend. Couldn't get more cliché than that."
Haroun winced as she told her tale. "Yeah, OK, I think that would definitely give someone, how do you say, a wiggins?" he admitted. "As for me, well, I was not always this buff paragon of half-masculinity you see before you. In my first semester in Snow Valley, there was this girl. She was beautiful, or so I thought at the time. As it turned out, she was beautiful on the outside, and hideous on the inside. She liked to play games, and she made me her plaything." He said. "After I burned, she ruined a lot of ties for me." he said bluntly. "After all, I didn't have anything she might have wanted at that point."
Hugging herself, Alison looked at him somberly, a tired sigh escaping her. "And that explains why you were so afraid I was playing with you before we managed to finally get some time to ourselves long enough to get our act together," she murmured lowly, gaze flickering towards the door to the bedroom briefly. Shaking her head, she blurted out the rest, what still scared her and had everything to do with Haroun. "I'm scared I'm not enough sometimes. With all the 'you're this' and 'you're so that' I'm just scared that when you get down to it, I'm not enough. And most of the time I can look at that fear and leave it right where it belongs but sometimes I can't."
Haroun looked at Alison, and smiled charmingly at her. "Hey. We're discovering all of that together, are we not?" he told her gently. "What you were and what you were not is really, quite frankly immaterial. What's important is what you are now, wouldn't you agree? And you're here, you're with me - Allah alone knows why! - and right now, that's all that really matters. The rest is, pardon the phrase, stage dressing."
A small sound greeted that and Alison pushed herself off the sofa to make a beeline for him. She felt exhausted and it showed in the way she moved, but there was still no hesitation as she sat on the arm of the one person couch he had claimed, before siding down to curl up into his lap. "Mrf." Physical contact was all good, and right now it was all about comfort really, and not much else.
Haroun stroked Alison's hair slowly. "I know now how much it bothers you. I can't promise an overnight change, but I will do my best to knock it the fuck off for you. OK?" he said as he completely messed up her hairdo. "Talking is good."
That was greeted by another of those strangled sounds, Alison nodding fervently, not caring in the least about how he was mussing up her hair and instead focusing on enjoying the touch. And what he was saying. All of it. "It is." And perhaps her voice sounded strangled a touch, but if she was going to cry about anything, it might as well be something good. "Also. Haroun?"
"Yeah?" he said, looking down at the poor woman curled up on his lap.
"I'm with you because I want to be with you. Because you're worth being with and because you... made me believe I could do this again, take a chance on a relationship again." She bit her lip, trying to make sense. "And it's not a surprise and it's not some miracle. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I don't take this, any of it, for granted. And I love you." Well. It was something of a muddle but she thought he might get the point.
"On a grand scale from 1 to 10, where 1 is completely mundane and normal and 10 is, say, that de la Rocha kid or your favorite glowbulb or someone equally as fucked-up, I rate myself about an eight. Sure, I can get along in polite company and rough, and yeah, I've got my education and the X-Men and all that, but let's face it. I'm not exactly normal. I can't give anyone a family, or a normal life, or anything resembling stability."
A small laugh greeted that, and while there wasn't much humor to it, there wasn't any bitterness either. "And I can? Former rock star who had to go in hiding because of a stalker? And now turned into an X-man?" Alison shook her head a bit, then rested it on his shoulder. "I wonder sometimes if I'm being fair by Miles. But then I think about it and there are so many reasons why it wouldn't work for him out there, as opposed to being at the mansion where he can just be himself and not worry about what he looks likes." She smiled, just a bit. "I like to think I'm doing okay, though. Just... okay. I'm not the perfect mother by any stretch of the imagination, but I manage to figure it out. Faster now than before."
Haroun snorted at that. "Everyone with even a sliver of functioning brain can see that you're doing fine with Miles. He's well-loved and far more well-adjusted than he would be where you found him, or that he could do on his own. I know street-rats, and compared to them Miles is a paragon of stability and normality. You did the smart thing when you pulled a fade - that guy wanted you dead, and you didn't know how far he was willing to go. So you did the smart thing - you holed up around some tight security." he said passionately.
"Mrf." And there she was again, reduced to random sounds instead of words. "Okay." She wasn't going to argue with him on either topic, really. Not one bit. Saying something was good though. "Is it silly that it maybe makes me feel a bit better when you do that scouting out the place thing?" She knew he did it purely by reflex and didn't think on it beyond that - she just hadn't known he did that when they'd started dating. It had become far more obvious since they'd moved into the same living quarters, even though she'd seen hints of it while on dates and the like, before.
Haroun grinned. "Now that I'm not changing. It's kept me alive for too long to get out of the habit." he said. "And if it makes you feel better, well, that's just icing on the cake as far as I'm concerned. "You know what the problem is, right here and right now?" he asked, suddenly changing topics.
"Mmm." She was nicely curled up in his lap, they were talking and things were getting worked out. And explained. And she was feeling a lot better about both admitting to things as well as his reaction. And knowing why he'd been reacting in certain ways previously. "What?"
"We have far too much serious talk, no tea, and I'm starving!" he said with a mock-roar. "Think you can fix us up something here?" he asked. "Since you're sitting on my luckily non-sensationary legs at the moment, and I don't want to get up?"
Frowning just a touch, Alison considered that request. And their options. "But... I like it here. Not sure I want to get up." The pout was meant to be everything from endearing to enticing, and she didn't hesitate at all in turning it on him fully. "And we didn't leave many perishables in the fridge the last time we were here, just in case it took a while to come back." She eyed the phone, oh so far away. "Don't suppose you have your cell on you? We could order. And then I wouldn't have to move right away?" she added, looking hopeful.
Haroun pulled his cell phone out. "Anyone ever tell you you are lacking in some of the womanly arts?" he grumbled as he handed her his phone. "And I can't flirt my way into yummier dinners with Lorna anymore."
"Silly. You can always just plain ask her, you know." Alison accepted the phone and flipped it open, dialing in a number to a nearby place that delivered to order in supper - a series of numbers and confirmations, nothing to give Haroun any clue what had just been asked for. "So I can't cook," she pondered, after closing the cell phone and handing it back. "Well, the basics and stuff, but I'll never be a chef. But. I can pilot a highly modified stealth bomber? In theory?"
"It's not a stealth bomber, it's a reconnaissance plane!" he protested. "And modified highly at that. And, you know, now that you mention it..." he said and then let his voice trail off, to tease her a little bit. "I think that, after consultation with Cyclops and review of a certain someone's progress in the Piloting class, I would expect an invitation in your mailbox within the next day or so for a first formal solo flight."
"I said it was highly modified, I clearly reme-whu?" Eyes going wide, Alison straightened in his lap and stared at him, gaping. The first few sounds had nothing to do with coherency, but after a few more attempts she finally managed something like it. "I said in theory! You mean now? This week? So soon?" if she hadn't been busy holding on to him for fear of falling right out of his lap, she'd have probably been waving her arms at him.
Haroun grinned and nodded. "Yep. Your last round of exams cinched it." he said. "More details will be forthcoming once we get them. Scott and I will both be in the tower, but you'll be solo in the cockpit. That is, if you're still interested..." he teased with a grin.
"YES!" She was, without a doubt, clinging to him now. "Only, you know, with much freaking out about flying a big freaking place thank you very much!" Oh lord. She was going to fly the Blackbird. Most people never even got close to a plane like that (without the modifications, at that). And she was going to try and fly one. "Oh god." She felt dizzy.
Haroun picked Alison up, and then set her down on the couch so that he could get up. "Sorry to steal your favorite chair, but I am dying of hunger over here, and I'm going to scrounge for something to tide me over until the food gets here. What are we having, anyway?"
She somehow managed to let go so that he could straighten up, still boggling at herself for what was to come. Fly. The Blackbird. "Indian. I went with the good stuff and added a few more randomyly so we'd get something new. Wait. Tomorrow? I get to fly her tomorrow?" Food was actually way down her list of concerns, for once.
Haroun shook his head. "Doubt it'll happen that quickly, unless Cyclops has made the arrangements for the airfield already." he said. "It's possible, but unlikely. And I could go for Indian food. Not as good as good Med food, but it can be pretty yummy. And allowable to Muslims, which I am very pleased you have yet to forget about."
"It matters," she answered simply at that, shrugging a bit. She wasn't likely to ever forget, really. She waited until he'd found something to nibble on before vacating the couch, making a not so curvy line for him. "Going to fly. The Blackbird. Pinch me?" She blinked as she leaned on him, then looked sideways. "Uh. Wait. I may want to rephrase that."
Haroun grinned widely. "Too late!" he said, pinching her butt not-quite-lightly. "You are going to fly the Blackbird. And you are going to do it with style and grace."
"Hey! You pinched my butt!" She made a face at him, earning herself only laughter in return, and all things told hiding her face against him seemed to be an appropriate thing to do as he teased her further.
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Date: 2005-04-21 03:36 am (UTC)Er. In other words... YAY! LOVED THIS LOG!