capeandcowllogs | Closed/In Progress: Better Things

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Closed/In Progress: Better Things

WHO: Thundercracker and She-Hulk
WHERE: Her place.
WHEN: Backdated to right after the Mytho plot.
WARNINGS: They done do'ed it, so there'll be some of that.
SUMMARY: Thundercracker, aka Theo Racker (haw haw) has had occasional flings with Jen, and is back for another one after he freaked himself out running around trying to save Blackarachnia's spark from Mytho, only to have her flip out and get snarly and weird at him once she learned Optimus had been ported out, and they parted on weird terms. And Jen's bed is where TC ran. Which eventually leads to ramblings about morality.
FORMAT: Whatever works.

This is much better. This was what he'd expected, after spending so much time being... something close to selfless (although that's debatable, if he's honest, which he isn't always) in pursuit of Blackarachnia's stolen spark. But no, she had to get... strange. Even stranger than usual, and he wasn't buying that it was the spark chaos - she wanted nothing to do with him, and Thundercracker was startled by how much that... stung him. He has no idea what to make of that.

So this lovely green woman, who was kind enough to teach him how to socialize with humans and moreso, who didn't mind that he was an alien stuck in a human body, and who isn't as hung up on human views on coitus like most others are, was the natural person for him to visit. It didn't hurt that he didn't have to hold back his super strength, and apparently she didn't either if she got his adrenaline pumping enough - which is something she knew exactly how to do.

In the aftermath, there's a lazy relaxation on her giant bed, as the dazed look in his eye starts to fade. The smile isn't leaving his face, though.

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Like a lazy sort of cat, the cat that most certainly ate the canary, Jen griiiiined and stretched out on the bed, her arms above her head, hands flat against the headboard. She even let slip a happy little sigh.

"Well, then. If only all aliens in human disguise were so...talented," she purred.

A description he can't believe can be applied to him.

"I guess I've had time to practice. Although you teach me something new every time."

She can believe it. Although she always flatters her bedmates, simply because it was such a simple little thing that made her and him (regardless of which "him" it was) feel so good.

"That's how it should be, honey. Trying something new is what makes it fun. Besides, you're such an apt student, I can't resist."

A single green leg scissors up, and she stretches herself that way, too. Limber sort of gal, isn't she?

Limber indeed.

"Don't tempt me. I need a little recovery time, at least..." he quips as he watches that little move and Gets Ideas.

"Pfft. Party pooper," she smirks, as she drops the leg and rolls over onto her stomach. She takes up only a small portion of her super king-sized bed, which is the why she bought the thing in the first place.

"I was wondering where you'd been hiding out, though. How's everything going?"

He lets out a long sigh, half-contented, half-not once he's reminded of life.

"Everything is weird. But I don't ever expect them to be normal as long as I'm still here."

His head rolls to look at her.

"I'm sorry I'm not more... sociable."

"Yeah, this place is weird, that's for sure. It reminds me of home, though, too. At least here we don't have to worry about Dr. Doom trying to bust everything. ...Yet."

She chuckles and runs a finger up and down his abdomen.

"That's okay, honey. I've been kinda up to my ears in stuff, too. Patrolling every night, researching criminal trials by day...you know, there's not a single law on the books about metahumans here. It's gonna be messy in that jail, soon."

His brow furrows a little, and he swallows with eyes closed at her touch, for just a moment.

"They treat metahumans as no longer human?"

"What?"

She stops touching him, pulling back with puzzlement.

"No! Well, no! If they are, it's news to me. I mean that the courts don't have anything to go by, no laws, no precedent, when it comes to metahumans. So how do you prosecute somebody for killing somebody else with laser vision? That's all I meant."

Wow, he went to a dark place pretty fast there...

His mind goes to many dark places.

"Why would it be any different from killing someone with bare hands?"

And "legalese" is definitely a language foreign to him.

"There are different levels of murder recognized by our courts," she said, wondering how post-coital conversation turned into this. "And the method and means can determine sentencing, too. So if you kill somebody accidentally with your car, it's not as bad as stabbing somebody during a robbery or shooting them. But there's nothing to determine what sort of sentence should be handed down if you, say, accidentally kill somebody with your laser eyes. I don't know."

She grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, I'm a lawyer, I can babble for hours if need be."

His brow furrows a little as he runs that through his mind... but her quiet apology distracts him from it.

A silly smirk slips across his face. "If you ever babble too much, I will do this."

His hand reaches over and squeezes her breast three times.

"That will be the sign that I've glazed over. Otherwise, you can assume that I'm interested in what you're saying."

With another little giggle, she arches her back slightly, pressing her chest into his hand.

"If you make amusing honking noises, I'll thump you. And when I thump somebody, they stay thumped, so watch it."

She's teasing him, naturally.

An eyebrow lifts, and his grin remains.

"That hadn't ever occurred to me. Are they supposed to make noise?"

She bursts out laughing, loudly, and then buries her face in a pillow to muffle it.

"No! Boobs aren't like rubber duckies, with a built in squeaker."

Lightly, she reaches over and baps his shoulder with the back of her hand. Lightly. Very carefully, at any rate. She's learned her lesson over the years about how to control her movements.

Lightly is good. He's only invulnerable when he's adrenalized, and although a few minutes ago she didn't have to worry about it, right now, in this lazy state, the concern is appreciated.

Still, he pokes softly at one of those boobs again.

"What is the appropriate punishment if you were to accidentally kill someone with these?"

"One thousand years in prison," she answers, still laughing. "And an overwhelming sense of guilt."

Smothering somebody with her boobs. Pffffft. That's so wrong, and yet so funny.

"Huh," he says, eyebrow lifting in thought, although he doesn't lose his grin.

"If methodology is such a big deal in determining sentencing, I would have figured a much lighter sentence based on the... kindness of the weapons used."

"Oh, I dunnow, they can be pretty cruel sometimes. God knows I'm feeling it after a fourteen hour day and my bra starts to dig in at the sides."

She scoots closer to him, and gives him a little nudge with her shoulder.

"Of course, it would also depend on the judge. I could throw myself on his mercy, I suppose."

He rolls onto his side and props his head up on one hand after that nudge.

"You're telling me you can shrug off a blast from a tank, but your bras can bother you? Do you make them out of steel?"

"That was a joke, silly."

She playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

"Besides, tank rounds are one thing. Underwire bras are another. And no, not steel. ...My bras are titanium."

He blinks a little. Then smiles.

"That's also a joke, isn't it?"

"You catch on quick. This is why I like teaching you new things."

She rolls her head onto his shoulder, and sighs again.

"I'm gonna go get a glass of water. You want some?"

He licks his lips, just now realizing he's parched.

"Yes, actually. Although I'm now torn between getting some with you or watching you go get it yourself."

Oh, there was a joke he heard... how did it go?

"I... hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave."

That sounds right...

She chuckles at that, and pats his thigh fondly.

"Which is as it should be, handsome. Hold that thought."

With a feline-like movement, she slips out of bed and heads for the little study-office that adjoins her bedroom, where she keeps a mini fridge stocked with beverages. Handy.

He takes full advantage of watching her leave, and while she's gone, his hands reach behind his head, and he just marvels for a moment on how vastly different his mindset has become in these months of being human. How quickly he got over the initial revulsion at fleshling bodies to learn how to enjoy them.

How quickly he's embraced the opportunity to forget the past and live in the present.

This closeness, these kinds of relationships - they are nothing he's ever had before, and he finds himself thriving on them.

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Closed/In Progress: Better Things

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