hell_in_highheels | Six Months

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captainryan,
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Six Months

She's eyeing the calender on her desk and the date. Six months ago, she invited him to dinner. Six months ago he said yes. Six months ago, she was still human. Six months ago and a day ago, she considered herself a ghost -- not among the living. A memory of a life, perhaps, but not an actual life.

Six months ago, he reminded her that she was very much alive and he's spent every day since proving to her that life is very much worth living.

So she's sitting at her desk, trying to jot down something simple in a note to tell him how glad she is that she met him, how much she loves him, how much he's become a vital part of her existence. She never thought it could be this good. And it's all because of him. But she doesn't think he'd appreciate pages and pages of her pouring her heart out. She just wants to make him smile, and mark the day. So she's trying for something quick and to the point.

All that's come out is a silly little ditty, and she's almost embarrassed by how naff it is, but it's quick and to the point.

I can't believe you shredded my knickers,
I can't believe you bit my nose,
I can't believe how much I love you,
Everyday it grows and grows.

Happy first six months,
~River

Completely naff. So she adds a couple of hearts with an arrow through it, grinning as she tries to picture his expression upon reading it.

Maybe she'll stuff it in his holster or something.

"Oh I know..."

Damocles?

She tucks the note in his collar, and pets his face while she asks him to take the note to its intended recipient. It means she won't see his reaction when he reads it, but she wagers it'll be worth it.

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Her bright laughter rings down the hallway. She reaches out a hand to grab his arm and pull him close for a kiss over the top of the food. All right, maybe two kisses.

"You're absolutely right, love. Another delivery boy stiffed. That smells delish. Shall I open a bottle of wine to go with?"

"If you like," he says, licking her taste off his lips and already headed for the counter-top to put things down. He immediately starts pulling out take away boxes and opening them to let their smells fill the kitchen. Parodoxes, roast beef, fresh bread, lemon-buttered broccoli, and, because he was feeling indulgent, a pie for desert.

It should fill them up nicely.

She follows, dipping into the pantry to retrieve a bottle of red, inhaling deeply. "I think you've outdone yourself. Don't you think, Dam?"

She sets the bottle down and moves behind him, her hands resting on his back. Her nose sniffs the air furiously. "What is that delicious -- sweet smelling -- is that pie?"

Dam wags his tail and follows after her, hoping the mention of his name gets him another treat.

"You gave him that bit of meat, didn't you," Richard says instead of answering her question. "You're going to make him fat."

Especially if he already had a tidbit downstairs.

She laughs, bumping his shoulder gently as she eases him out of the way of the drawer where the cork pull is stored. "Oh I'm going to make him fat. Mister What's-One-More-Slice-Of-Bacon-Going-To-Hurt? Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

The last is addressed to Dam, who is prancing at her side, his mouth closing and his ears pricking up high at the B-Word.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm certainly not the one who feeds him from the table."

He keeps a straight face through that, too. Pity his scent is far more amused.

"Hand me a couple of plates, would you?"

"Oh of course not. You would never do a thing like that." She sets the cork pull aside and hands him the plates, brushing against him as she does so.

She bends down to pet the dog, urging him out of the kitchen. "Poor Dam is lucky to get anything but dry kibble around here. So neglected and abused."

Go wait on the couch. I'll feed you in a minute.

Okay! As the lowest ranking pack member, Dam is well used to eating last.

"What are you on about? I know you sneak him scraps," Richard accuses as he starts portioning out food.

She slips back behind him again, returning to the cabinets and reaching up high to retrieve the wine glasses. "I don't feed him scraps. I share with him, else he'd be skin and bones, poor thing." Her scent is rich with amusement and affection. This is one of her favourite parts of the day, sitting down with her mate to eat.

She pops the cork and pours two glasses. "And anyway, he gets plenty of exercise, keeping up with you."

He bumps her a bit as she passes, just because he can.

"That's hardly an excuse.

"Have you got the silverware?" He's almost done with the plates.

She laughs under her breath, bumping him back. "Not an excuse, merely an explanation. Silverware, coming right up."

She grabs napkins too, because they both tend to be rather exuberant eaters.

"Did I forget anything else?"

"Silverware, napkins, wine, food; no, I think we're set." He starts bringing the plates over, setting them down in front of two adjacent chairs.

"Oh! Wait!" She holds up a finger.

And darts into the living room, heading for the candlesticks on the mantle. She lights them with her sonic screwdriver before bringing them to the table, carefully putting them in the center of the table.

"There. That's better."

She leans down and nuzzles his cheek as she takes her seat.

Richard gives her a thoroughly amused (and fond) look.

"Special occasion," she explains, blushing a touch.

She picks up her wine glass and takes a small sip. "Oh I spoke with Ray this afternoon. He's ready to test the neural recorder, whenever we can stop by for a visit."

"All right," he answers, cutting into his roast. The murder investigation crosses his mind for a moment, but he's fairly certain he's innocent. There's no reason for him to be confined to the bar.

"What will that entail?"

She follows suit, savouring a bite with a happy little hum before answering his question. "I'm not sure, but at the very least, it requires a trip to his world." There's a thrill of anticipation in her scent at that.

"I was going to have it be a surprise," she confesses, "but it didn't quite work out that way. I'm sorry."

"Perfectly all right. This way I can anticipate it turning me blue."

Beat.

"There's no chance it can do that, is there?" It'd be just his luck, considering he had purple hair the last time he was on one of Ray's worlds.

"Oh but I like you blue," she teases, grinning broadly at him. "And to answer your question, no. There's no reason it should do anything but make a background copy of your neural signature, so if, by some instance of incredibly poor planning, you fade, we can capture your signature and bring you back by way of the Library."

The tone of her voice and the cant of her eyebrow tells him this would be an extremely undesirable event, should it ever occur.

"Well. I suppose if I end up blue as a side effect, I'll survive. As long as it's temporary."

Being blue makes blending in rather difficult.

"Right. Temporary." She continues to eat, the thread of that memory weaving in her scent.

"Anyway, it'll be my first time travelling outside of the bar, so I'm rather looking forward to it. Not to mention meeting Ecto and Slimer and this Venkman fellow, who sounds like a rather interesting individual, if Ray's perpetual vexation with him is any indication."

Richard winces a bit.

"Venkman I expected, but Slimer? They keep Slimer around?"

He never understood the fascination with that bloody ghost.

She looks at him, curious as to what elicited that response. "Yes, or so he said. Why is that so startling?"

"He's a bottomless pit that lives up to his name," he grouses.

It's hard to punish ghosts for stealing a werewolf's food.

"Oh. Ew."

She eats a few more bites, trying to rid herself of the image.

"There's also a talking fish, oh and a race of deep sea dwelling sentient octopi that I'd hope to meet. Perhaps. If the occasion presents itself."

Ooo, look. Paradoxes. Her favourites!

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