capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO:

bedeviledspider
WHERE: Cass's private apartment.
WHEN: Tuesday night.
WARNINGS: Off-duty superheroes in various stages of undress, but nothing too explicit!
SUMMARY: Cass and Reilly get together for some, ahem, alone time, and Cass talks about her new tattoo.
FORMAT: Paragraphs, everywhere

It seemed like whenever they tried to have a night just to themselves, something intervened, whether it was a gang of ninjas or a curious teleporting roommate. Well, tonight Cass was taking no chances, and had brought Reilly to the secret apartment that only they and Tank Girl and Booga knew about. And she didn't really think they'd have to worry about the latter two.

So while Reilly made himself at home, she slipped into something more comfortable--that is, she just pulled off her hoodie and slipped out of her jeans, stripping down to her bra and a little pair of exercise shorts before rejoining her boyfriend with a smile.

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Reilly's suit jacket and tie were slung over a chair when Cass came back. Close beside it lay his shoes. And socks, folded neatly above the footwear. As for her boyfriend, he'd taken to walking around the room -- literally.

He was halfway across her wall when he spotted her.

And then he was inches from the floor, using one clinging hand to catch himself before his face met the carpet. "Uh. Hi there."

Edited 2011-10-11 23:33 (UTC)

"Hi," she replied, holding back a giggle. "You okay?"

She offered a hand to help him up, and if he took it, he'd find himself pulled over to the couch.

"Hush," he muttered, doing his best to sound annoyed. It wasn't working.

And naturally, he took it, completely unprepared for what was coming next. "Wow, hey, what are you--"

She practically threw onto the couch, and an instant later, she was on top of him. Following his advice, she forwent words and moving straight to kissing. She broke away a moment later, tugging a bit at his shirt. It was a hint.

It didn't take long for him to catch on, swearing under his breath while his hands fumbled at his shirt buttons, as if somehow that would undo them faster. After a few agonizing moments, he flung the shirt off; not caring much about the dark marks sprouting up under his skin.

There were more important things to concentrate on right now, like resuming the kissing, and slowly sliding a hand down her back.

Now that was more like it. She placed her hands on his chest and leaned back in for another kiss, her back relaxing as his hand traveled across it.

When their lips parted, she laid flat on his chest, nuzzling his neck with her chin. With her body resting on his, the large bat tattoo on her back was visible in its entirety.

His heartbeat remained quick and his breathing a bit heavy even as he slowed down for a short while, long enough to trace the outline of the bat.

"It suits you," he murmured, leaning down to give her a quick peck behind the ear. "But... you never did get around to telling me why you got it."

She smiled, and then lifted herself up, straddling his midsection. "You have... these," she said, a finger tracing one of the marks on his chest. "They, um... bother you." She could tell from how he reacted when they appeared, back on their vacation.

"Wanted to show that... they don't bother me," she explained quietly. "So... got my own." It didn't hurt any that it was also a reminder of her history and how she'd never let herself be estranged from her family again.

"You what?"

His confused and astonished tone lingered in the air. He shook his head ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth tugged downwards, while his eyebrows drew closer together. Absent-mindedly stroking her ink and the scars around it, at a complete loss for words.

She shifted a bit uncomfortably. She'd never been good at verbalizing what she felt. Especially when it was... complicated.

"Love you. With these," she said, stroking the mark lightly. If he thought tattoos or his transformation made him unlovable, well... he was wrong.

His confusion was becoming something else. Something hard and determined. His hands reversed their path, framing her face, looking her straight in the eyes as his became a mix of gold and brown.

Reilly opened his mouth, but found whatever he'd planned to say dying on his tongue. So instead he leaned in and kissed her: rough, long and a little bit desperate.

"Months," he panted out in explanation when he finally pulled away. "It took me months to look human again."

She didn't have any words for that, and just gave him a sympathetic look before resting her head lightly on his chest. He'd never spoken about what had caused his... condition, if that was the right word. She figured that he might tell her eventually, but even so, it wasn't vital to their relationship. So she just laid there, breathing softly, projecting an air of acceptance, no matter what he looked like.

He shifted a bit, just enough to let him wrap an arm around her. It was the only way he could think of expressing his gratitude. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to explain... but even after all this time he couldn't figure out how.

So he stared at the ceiling until, suddenly, the words began to spill out.

"'This vessel is property of Zarathos'. That's the gist of what they're saying. At least, I think so." He let out a soft chuckle. "The-- thing that turned me into this. Although I think he'd prefer I call him Dad."

"He isn't," she responded quickly. She knew better than most that the people--or things--that made you who you were weren't necessarily family. Or fathers.

"I wish I could be so sure," he responded slowly. Sure, it wasn't literally true -- he wasn't born a demon -- but he knew you couldn't ignore those who came before you. "I do have a connection to the creep. Whether I want it or not."

"My dad... isn't my dad," she replied forcefully. He had to understand that a connection didn't mean anything. She still felt something for Cain, but she knew that he was never a real father. Not like Bruce, or Barbara.

"Because of these, right?" His finger traced a scar. "When he did this... he lost his right to be called that."

At least he sounded certain about something now, gazing at her in empathy, before letting loose a bitter laugh. "At least I never loved him. Hate, well, hmph. That's another story."

Then again, he thought, perhaps it was true what they said. Maybe the two weren't so different after all.

"Not... just those," she muttered. It took maybe a few weeks at the most to heal from most of those, but what he'd made her do... well, that'd taken years.

"You're you. What you look like... doesn't matter."

"I guess you're right," he said softly, sounding a little more sure this time around. "Just so you know... I don't care, either. It doesn't matter what you did. What matters is what you chose to do. That's what makes you, well, you."

He couldn't help but groan at how stupid that sounded. He was better at giving long, boring legal arguments than saying these sort of things.

And she was better at... pretty much anything other than talking about these things. So she just let out a small, content sound of agreement and snuggled closer. He didn't need to say anything if he didn't want to.

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