Post by do on Aug 29, 2009 11:32:28 GMT -5
McRae's House
Planetia Utopia Quarter
Gaia
Stardate: Late 2166
"BASHU!"
It took him three tries to key the door closed.
"Honey, I'm home?" Derick called, his voice echoing in Sloane's place.
Staggering into the wall, Derick glared at the offending plascrete structure as his feet automatically compensated for the angle. "Fu' me, who put that fuckin' thing there..." he grumbled, trying to get out of his jacket. "Sloane!?"
"SLOANE!" Derick rumbled, turning in a circle as he tried to get out of his jacket.
Sloane was on the couch, her legs beneath her. She was reading one of his books but now she couldn't really get back to it. She was watching Mr. Architect here, wondering why the support wall was where it was.
"Fu' me..." The jacket was off the one arm, but it was hung on the other, snagged by his watch. "Sloane?!" Derick called again, shaking his hand to try and free his coat.
Sloane just moved a hand to her mouth to keep the chuckle in. He must be totally hammered cause she was sitting not six feet away from him on the couch and he was screaming like she was in the back garden, having not seen nor sensed her.
"Fuc'!" Derick shook his hand again, turning in another semi circle as he did so. He cursed again, this time in Martian. "SLO...OH..." Hazy blue eyes tried to focus on her and he grinned boyishly. "Ay-mer...."
Sloane was torn a moment. The word bashu really wanted to come out, but instead she went the other way - for a tease. "Gunnery Sergeant," she said, her voice stern.
"Fuc' me..." Derick grinned right back at her, snapping to ... or rather trying to salute her. His hand bounced off his nose instead of his forehead and Derick cursed again in Martian. He took a step towards her, one that turned into three to accomodate his offset balance.
"Is that how you're reporting to duty, Rickman? Half-assed, out of uniform and shit-faced?" As the question was uttered in a low voice, Sloane was slowly standing up on the couch. She didn't think he would notice.
Oh fuck. He was so busted. Busted. His fast (fast like a sloth) and furious thoughts were processing as he glanced down. Wait a second. He was off duty. Right? Clock... Derick focused confusing on the clock. Wait. Where was the clock?
"Eyes front, soldier!" Soane fairly barked, fighting off a snicker. Shit, he was so out of it.
Long standing habits brought Derick snapping to attention so fast it made his head swim. "Fuck..." he mumbled, stumbling back and catching himself on the wall. Nice of them to put a wall there.
Sloane's hand tightened on the PADD while the other fisted so neither would go to her face to hide a grin that was threatening to spread wide. Instead she looked away and took a deep breath. God, if Tom could see this. A chuckle came out at the thought and a mask instantly fell back Sloane's face, her eyes moving back on Derick to see if he'd noticed. Shit, she didn't think she could keep it together long enough to have him run around the yard or hitting the deck for pushups. How about cleaning up the loo? Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep herself in check and NOT laugh. "Watch that mouth or I'll clean it with bleach, maggot!"
"Hey!" Derick replied, shaking his head... oh woah... wrong move. "Tha's my line...."
"What's that, Gunnery I'm-Pissed-As-Hell Sergeant? Are you arguing with me?" She moved in his face, just to the side of his line of sight.
His brain had to be oozing out of his ears but Derick ignored it. "Yes, m'am," Derick nodded, with the sole arrogance of one who doesn't think they are that intoxicated.
"Yes, ma'am, what?" Sloane asked, ready to bet he wouldn't remember what it was about.
Big blue eyes blinked innocently at her. "Uh... whatev' you jus' said, ay-mer..." Derick grinned, trying to tug his shirt free of his pants. Damn.
"You're so cute, bashu, but bloody hell you stink," Sloane whispered near his ear after giving up and leaning in.
Slinking one arm around her waist, Derick kissed her, his feet stepping easily to make up for his staggered balance. "Woah... you better stay still..." he grinned.
"Oh, I'm still, big guy." She kissed him, closing her eyes briefly, letting the feel of him seep through, then pressed her forehead to his. Still, his inebriated mind hadn't computed that she shouldn't be that tall. "You okay, bashu?"
"No..." Derick replied, chuckling. "I'm fuckin' wasted. Hey!" he said, trying to focus on her. Nope. Not even shutting one eye helped. "Did you cut your hair?"
Sloane blinked, thinking fast. Oh, yeah, tied back in a floppy bun... so she nodded. "I hope you don't mind."
"Mm...nnnope." Derick grinned and kissed her again. "Thought there was sumpin' different...Hey! Is that my shirt?"
Sloane rolled her eyes and cocked her head. Wasted was putting it mildly. "If you can squeeze in that, yeah, I'll make it yours."
"Man, the dryer shrunk that one..." Derick grinned, pulling it away from her body. "Woah... cool..." he chuckled, leaning forward to close his mouth over one nipple poking into the t-shirt. "Your tits are... whoa... " Blinking in confusion, Derick looked down. "Hey! You're on the couch."
"Oh, baby... tell me you were all celebrating something..." Sloane chuckled, fingers sinking in his hair.
"I tol' you... Mike's bach... bacherlor party..." Derick grinned, sighing in contentment. He so loved it when she ran her fingers into his hair. "You know 'im. Sgt. Harrison."
Did she? Sloane nodded 'cause it was easier. "Had fun then?"
"Oooh yeah," Derick nodded, wincing as the movement sent the place dancing again. "Whatcha readin'?" he said, making a grab for the padd.
Sloane easily dodged his hand and returned to put a kiss on his brow. "I'm glad. You do look like you had a hell of time. So who drank whom under the table?"
"Well..." Derick threw a leg over the back of the couch to climb over it. "Woah..." His hands tightened on Sloane's arms to catch himself. "I think I won...but I don't 'member...." He purred, bringing the other leg over.
"Before you settle down here, Derick..." Sloane tried saying and slowing down his sinking into the sofa. "Maybe we should head to the bedr... right, nevermind."
"Nah.. here.." Derick replied, trying to sit down and bring Sloane with him at the same time.
Sloane recognised a lost fight when she saw one. She let him 'place' her where he wanted, happy he was back home and not on Fabien's hard floor.
Thumping a throw pillow under his head, Derick sighed, his arms settling heavily across Sloan's back. "This is better..." he mumbled.
For whom? she wondered, lying atop him, slightly to the side, cocooned between him and the back of the sofa. She reached over to put the PADD on the coffee table, happy Derick's attention span was that of a house mouse and he'd forgotten she hadn't answered his question. Why she was reading le Marquis de Sade wasn't someting she wanted to explain to him.
"Comfortable?" Well, that was what he tried to say. What came out was something akin to 'pikey' speech from Snatch.
"Yeah..." Sloane smiled against him, wondering if she could get drunk just on the fumes.
*
Waking up at the crack of dawn because an annoying - and incredibly well-aimed - sun ray filtered through the lounge window and touched his face, Derick winced and crawled off the sofa. Boy, did he have a headache.
He managed to stumble into the shower and then stumble into bed with Sloane.
"Fuck me, bashu....get your pistol. There's someone gouging out my eyes with chopsticks," Derick whispered, his voice strained as he settled beside her.
"It's called alcohol, bashu," Sloane mumbled, head buried in pillows.
"I woke up on the couch." Derick's arm tightened around her waist. "Geezus... I'm sorry...."
"No worries. Did you take the tablets?" Sloane had waited until he dozed off and went to get him water and headache pills to leave on the coffee table and covered him with a blanket. No way would she able to move him on her own.
"Mm-hmm...Thanks...." he said, kissing her shoulder and burying his head into her back. Anything to shut the sunlight out.
"Nice to have you back," she mumbled again, pushing herself into him. god he was so warm and felt so nice. "Hold me." She had missed him all night.
"Of course," Derick complied with her request, one arm going under her pillow and the other bringing their bodies tight together. One leg slid between hers as she liked and he kissed that bare shoulder again. "You alright?"
"Oh, yesss..." Her arm went over his, and the other moved so her hand could hold his beneath her pillow. "Just need a couple hours more sleep..."
Planetia Utopia Quarter
Gaia
Stardate: Late 2166
"BASHU!"
It took him three tries to key the door closed.
"Honey, I'm home?" Derick called, his voice echoing in Sloane's place.
Staggering into the wall, Derick glared at the offending plascrete structure as his feet automatically compensated for the angle. "Fu' me, who put that fuckin' thing there..." he grumbled, trying to get out of his jacket. "Sloane!?"
"SLOANE!" Derick rumbled, turning in a circle as he tried to get out of his jacket.
Sloane was on the couch, her legs beneath her. She was reading one of his books but now she couldn't really get back to it. She was watching Mr. Architect here, wondering why the support wall was where it was.
"Fu' me..." The jacket was off the one arm, but it was hung on the other, snagged by his watch. "Sloane?!" Derick called again, shaking his hand to try and free his coat.
Sloane just moved a hand to her mouth to keep the chuckle in. He must be totally hammered cause she was sitting not six feet away from him on the couch and he was screaming like she was in the back garden, having not seen nor sensed her.
"Fuc'!" Derick shook his hand again, turning in another semi circle as he did so. He cursed again, this time in Martian. "SLO...OH..." Hazy blue eyes tried to focus on her and he grinned boyishly. "Ay-mer...."
Sloane was torn a moment. The word bashu really wanted to come out, but instead she went the other way - for a tease. "Gunnery Sergeant," she said, her voice stern.
"Fuc' me..." Derick grinned right back at her, snapping to ... or rather trying to salute her. His hand bounced off his nose instead of his forehead and Derick cursed again in Martian. He took a step towards her, one that turned into three to accomodate his offset balance.
"Is that how you're reporting to duty, Rickman? Half-assed, out of uniform and shit-faced?" As the question was uttered in a low voice, Sloane was slowly standing up on the couch. She didn't think he would notice.
Oh fuck. He was so busted. Busted. His fast (fast like a sloth) and furious thoughts were processing as he glanced down. Wait a second. He was off duty. Right? Clock... Derick focused confusing on the clock. Wait. Where was the clock?
"Eyes front, soldier!" Soane fairly barked, fighting off a snicker. Shit, he was so out of it.
Long standing habits brought Derick snapping to attention so fast it made his head swim. "Fuck..." he mumbled, stumbling back and catching himself on the wall. Nice of them to put a wall there.
Sloane's hand tightened on the PADD while the other fisted so neither would go to her face to hide a grin that was threatening to spread wide. Instead she looked away and took a deep breath. God, if Tom could see this. A chuckle came out at the thought and a mask instantly fell back Sloane's face, her eyes moving back on Derick to see if he'd noticed. Shit, she didn't think she could keep it together long enough to have him run around the yard or hitting the deck for pushups. How about cleaning up the loo? Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep herself in check and NOT laugh. "Watch that mouth or I'll clean it with bleach, maggot!"
"Hey!" Derick replied, shaking his head... oh woah... wrong move. "Tha's my line...."
"What's that, Gunnery I'm-Pissed-As-Hell Sergeant? Are you arguing with me?" She moved in his face, just to the side of his line of sight.
His brain had to be oozing out of his ears but Derick ignored it. "Yes, m'am," Derick nodded, with the sole arrogance of one who doesn't think they are that intoxicated.
"Yes, ma'am, what?" Sloane asked, ready to bet he wouldn't remember what it was about.
Big blue eyes blinked innocently at her. "Uh... whatev' you jus' said, ay-mer..." Derick grinned, trying to tug his shirt free of his pants. Damn.
"You're so cute, bashu, but bloody hell you stink," Sloane whispered near his ear after giving up and leaning in.
Slinking one arm around her waist, Derick kissed her, his feet stepping easily to make up for his staggered balance. "Woah... you better stay still..." he grinned.
"Oh, I'm still, big guy." She kissed him, closing her eyes briefly, letting the feel of him seep through, then pressed her forehead to his. Still, his inebriated mind hadn't computed that she shouldn't be that tall. "You okay, bashu?"
"No..." Derick replied, chuckling. "I'm fuckin' wasted. Hey!" he said, trying to focus on her. Nope. Not even shutting one eye helped. "Did you cut your hair?"
Sloane blinked, thinking fast. Oh, yeah, tied back in a floppy bun... so she nodded. "I hope you don't mind."
"Mm...nnnope." Derick grinned and kissed her again. "Thought there was sumpin' different...Hey! Is that my shirt?"
Sloane rolled her eyes and cocked her head. Wasted was putting it mildly. "If you can squeeze in that, yeah, I'll make it yours."
"Man, the dryer shrunk that one..." Derick grinned, pulling it away from her body. "Woah... cool..." he chuckled, leaning forward to close his mouth over one nipple poking into the t-shirt. "Your tits are... whoa... " Blinking in confusion, Derick looked down. "Hey! You're on the couch."
"Oh, baby... tell me you were all celebrating something..." Sloane chuckled, fingers sinking in his hair.
"I tol' you... Mike's bach... bacherlor party..." Derick grinned, sighing in contentment. He so loved it when she ran her fingers into his hair. "You know 'im. Sgt. Harrison."
Did she? Sloane nodded 'cause it was easier. "Had fun then?"
"Oooh yeah," Derick nodded, wincing as the movement sent the place dancing again. "Whatcha readin'?" he said, making a grab for the padd.
Sloane easily dodged his hand and returned to put a kiss on his brow. "I'm glad. You do look like you had a hell of time. So who drank whom under the table?"
"Well..." Derick threw a leg over the back of the couch to climb over it. "Woah..." His hands tightened on Sloane's arms to catch himself. "I think I won...but I don't 'member...." He purred, bringing the other leg over.
"Before you settle down here, Derick..." Sloane tried saying and slowing down his sinking into the sofa. "Maybe we should head to the bedr... right, nevermind."
"Nah.. here.." Derick replied, trying to sit down and bring Sloane with him at the same time.
Sloane recognised a lost fight when she saw one. She let him 'place' her where he wanted, happy he was back home and not on Fabien's hard floor.
Thumping a throw pillow under his head, Derick sighed, his arms settling heavily across Sloan's back. "This is better..." he mumbled.
For whom? she wondered, lying atop him, slightly to the side, cocooned between him and the back of the sofa. She reached over to put the PADD on the coffee table, happy Derick's attention span was that of a house mouse and he'd forgotten she hadn't answered his question. Why she was reading le Marquis de Sade wasn't someting she wanted to explain to him.
"Comfortable?" Well, that was what he tried to say. What came out was something akin to 'pikey' speech from Snatch.
"Yeah..." Sloane smiled against him, wondering if she could get drunk just on the fumes.
*
Waking up at the crack of dawn because an annoying - and incredibly well-aimed - sun ray filtered through the lounge window and touched his face, Derick winced and crawled off the sofa. Boy, did he have a headache.
He managed to stumble into the shower and then stumble into bed with Sloane.
"Fuck me, bashu....get your pistol. There's someone gouging out my eyes with chopsticks," Derick whispered, his voice strained as he settled beside her.
"It's called alcohol, bashu," Sloane mumbled, head buried in pillows.
"I woke up on the couch." Derick's arm tightened around her waist. "Geezus... I'm sorry...."
"No worries. Did you take the tablets?" Sloane had waited until he dozed off and went to get him water and headache pills to leave on the coffee table and covered him with a blanket. No way would she able to move him on her own.
"Mm-hmm...Thanks...." he said, kissing her shoulder and burying his head into her back. Anything to shut the sunlight out.
"Nice to have you back," she mumbled again, pushing herself into him. god he was so warm and felt so nice. "Hold me." She had missed him all night.
"Of course," Derick complied with her request, one arm going under her pillow and the other bringing their bodies tight together. One leg slid between hers as she liked and he kissed that bare shoulder again. "You alright?"
"Oh, yesss..." Her arm went over his, and the other moved so her hand could hold his beneath her pillow. "Just need a couple hours more sleep..."