beyondtheline | Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

Yeah.

[She happily sighs, that one word all she can say at first. Every inch of her is tingling and she feels like she's walking on clouds. He's her biggest addiction, one she doesn't want to fight. And it's moments like this one that reminds her exactly why that is.

Too winded and boneless to move off of him right away, she idly trails her fingernails along his arm and up to his shoulder.]

We definitely both won. But next time, I'll have to try harder to be tough.

You'll have to? What, you tryin' to kill us both again?

[He snickers as he kisses her hair, her temple, then the spot between her eyes. Everything is warm and perfect, just as it should be for a nice night in a stolen resort room. No worries, nothing but the two of them in his own time.

And speaking of his time, he's still eager to try and reach one or both of his brothers with the phone, but odds are good neither one's at home right now. That can wait. She gets to keep all of his attention.]

Not kill!

[She laughs as he kisses between her eyes, and ducks her head to rest against him as she wraps her arms loosely around him. With her head like this, it's easier to kiss at his shoulder and along his neck. She probably should move, but she'll take one more minute like this.]

But you have to admit, seeing who could make it the longest was really fun.

[And that's the name of their game, isn't it? Having fun? She's left grinning as she slowly pulls off of him, standing up and stepping out of the water.]

Sure was. What, was it the Spanish that gotcha?

[It's hard to let her go this time, but he does, though he makes no move right away to get out of the tub himself. He'll just lounge here for a bit until he starts to get pruney. His eyes are on her, though, of course - she's too damn pretty, especially when she's all flushed pink from sex and hot water. Probably for the best that he's gotten off twice now or he'd be all over her.]

[She glances back over at him as she grabs a towel. There's a bashful smile as she bites at her lip and nods.]

You talking dirty to me in Spanish always gets me.

[It's almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to arouse her just by saying all the filthy thoughts on his mind in Spanish. But she guesses that's part of loving someone, they're just easily able to turn you on. That shy smile stays as she works the towel up to wrap around her hair, and brings a fluffy white towel over to the tub for him when he's ready to get out.]

I really liked watching you touch yourself, too.

Oh yeah?

[He arches an eyebrow, pleased she's discovered that particular bit of fun. Maybe somewhere in their shit they still have handcuffs. He could always tie her down one way or another, make her sit and watch and plead.]

Well, I liked watchin' you. You put on quite a show, you know? Gettin' yourself all worked up for me to see. Fuck, it was hard to sit there an' not throw myself at you.

[With a grin, he finally decides he'll get up, mostly because he wants to get into more of that weed they have stashed away. He slides out of the tub, dripping more water onto the floor as he reaches for the towel and starts to dry himself off.]

[He's making her blush. She presses both hands against her cheeks to try and hide the pink that's rose up there, but it's impossible to hide. Not that she really wants to. He should be able to see the effect he has on her.]

Yeah, but you resisted longer than I did.

[Sighing, she points out the obvious as she makes her way into the bedroom to look through their bags.]

I really need new clothes, baby. Everything I have is dirty.

Yeah?

[He's listening, he's just scrubbing water off his face and out of his hair, so give him a second. After a glance in the mirror to temporarily smooth his hair back for now, he follows after her, spinning the towel through the air casually at his side a few times until it winds up wrapped around his elbow. Yeah, that's what he meant to do.]

I mean, I get by re-wearin' shit but it's probably time I got everything washed again too.

[But he's not that worried about it right now, so he shrugs and bends down to find one of the joints he rolled up back at Nesry's, then goes to where he tossed his jacket so he can get his lighter out.]

We haven't done laundry in a long time.

[So yeah, it's time they got their things washed. They don't need laundry detergent or anything, they've got soap here. She grabs all of her things, and chooses to stay naked as she goes back to the bathroom to dump everything into the tub.

There's still warm water in there, and she grabs her strawberry shampoo to make some bubbles in the water. She bends over the side of the tub and starts trying to scrub everything clean. It's so gross though, the water is turning almost black from all the dirt.]

Bring me your stuff and I'll try to get it clean!

[It's not the best way to use up that post orgasmic haze, but she's pretty sure they can get high in a few minutes and then everything will be perfect again.]

'Kay.

[She'll have to wait a second as he takes a hit from the joint, then sets it down on the nightstand so he can collect up his clothes and bring the armful over to dump it all in the water. Which, damn that's some murky shit.]

Man, you'd think we'd been rolling in mud this whole time.

[He laughs. Mud, dust, smoke and ashes, car exhaust. If he'd thought it was bad seeing it all rinse off their skin and out of their hair, there's a whole lot more where that came from on their clothes.]

Mud and blood.

[They're filthy and disgusting people, and they need to be better about washing their clothes. Scrubbing only goes on for so long before she decides to be ridiculous and step into the water so she can stomp and slosh it around like a washing machine.]

We can get them clean and let them dry, but I still want to get something to wear while we're here. This is 1967, right? It's your time! I want to get something cute. I'll even let you pick it out.

[He has good taste, she's sure he'll pick out something nice.]

[He laughs at that washing method, then figures, fuck it. It looks like fun, why should she get to be the only one? So he jumps in next to her to help, squelching wet fabric and slightly gritty water between his toes.]

Yeah, sure! I'll find you somethin' good. Man, it'll be nice to look around the city, won't it? See what all they got here.

[It's nice to look around every city, but something about creeping ever westward and also finally rejoining his own time definitely has his spirits high.

He slips a little on something, maybe a sock, maybe underwear, then catches himself on the rim of the tub. Good thing he only had one hit off that joint before jumping in or this could get really, really stupid really fast.]

[She gasps as he almost falls, and reaches out to grab him by both hands. This is the perfect chance to dance and be silly, which makes her quickly dissolve into laughter as they stomp and move together in the water. All good things have to come to an end though, and she eventually stumbles her way out of the tub so they can start wringing out the clothes and laying them around the bathroom to dry.]

This seems like a really fun city. Maybe we can go out tomorrow and go dancing finally.

[Something about this place strikes her as somewhere they can be together openly without there being any major issues. She really hopes she's right about that.]

[Time to towel off again, and finally drain the tub. Man, that's a lot of black dirt at the bottom of it, slowly filtering toward the drain. For a moment, it's like it stays there, resisting the pull of the water, which makes him watch it cautiously before deciding that his head is probably the problem, not the junk they washed off their clothes, and so he turns to help hang things instead of staring at a dirty tub. He shakes the unease off almost immediately and grins at the thought of dancing.]

Yeah! Finally. I feel like it's been too long, since we had to get the hell outta Louisiana. Bet this place has some great nightlife.

[He abandons his now extra-dirty towel to the floor rather than hanging it alongside their wet clothes, and goes to retrieve that joint. After a draw, he returns to offer it to her.]

Besides, that way I can scope out where I'm gonna play, before we leave town.

Exactly!

[Her voice is an excited squeak as she grins up at him, taking that joint so she can enjoy a little of it.]

I don't have to pretend to be your manager though, do I? I can just be in the front of the crowd enjoying the show?

[Because she has a feeling he's going to want to show off. And that means tons of rabid girls trying to get their hands on him or earn his attention. That just won't do. She's so excited about seeing him on stage that she dances in place, feet stomping in excitement as she hums one of his songs.]

Naw, I don't need a fuckin' manager. That was pretty funny though, you did great.

[He chuckles at her little dance, then throws his arms around her and takes the lead as he spins her in the space not occupied by their bags or his guitar on the floor.]

If people here know who we are, I'll figure somethin' out. All I gotta do is hold up the record cover next to my face, right?

[And hope the scar doesn't throw people off too much. And hope he can be seen by whoever it is he's trying to work out details with. But, future problem. It'll be fine.]

[Dancing! She loves dancing. Dancing while getting high is even better, and her head feels like it's floating way up in the void above before to long. She winds up stumbling forward and resting up against him when that happens, and her movements turn into more of a slow sway.

The joint definitely is passed back to him at that point. She's at her limit for now.]

We'll hold an entire bar at gunpoint or threaten to burn them down. Anything to get you on stage.

[As devoted as she is to him and his whims, it comes with her ability to be absolutely unhinged and not even realize it anymore. Their time together has changed how she views the world and how she thinks. So if it takes a fire or guns to make someone give him a chance on stage, then she'll make sure it happens.]

Well, hopefully we don't have to go that far. It's one thing if it's for me, or in another time, but, you know. Gotta act like the band's not just a buncha people who might break all the venue's windows if they say no, if we ever wanna play a real show here.

[He snickers and sways with her, arms draped over her shoulders. He loves her ferocity, and hell, if she wants to threaten to burn shit down, that doesn't cause him any problems. Crazy fans do crazy shit, right? Seems fine.]

'Course, if some asshole stiffed us on pay or whatever, he'd find out real quick not to fuck around. But other than that? Gotta act a little professional now an' then.

[Until someone gets drunk, or high, or stops giving a shit, all of which can and do happen regularly. The four of them can only be somewhat contained.]

Oh, so you can be professional?

[Excuse her for teasing him by sounding skeptical. Her laughter is definitely that of someone that's giddy and high, and she's far too content to just sway in his arms.]

You're just sick of me setting fires. Admit it.

Never, baby girl. Don't think I could ever get sick of it. I'm the one who taught you, remember?

[He grins and twirls his fingers in her hair, then has one more hit off the joint. Hell, the very idea of getting sick of her fires makes him laugh, and he nuzzles against the side of her head and kisses her ear.]

You just gotta see me in a tux, then you'll believe me. I gotta stay professional in that 'cause blood's real hard to get outta white fabric.

[The idea of him in a white tux almost gets her to shiver in anticipation. She can't wait to see him all dressed up and looking professional. Well, it seems like his idea of professional is just not doing any activities that would get blood or ash on his tux. Which is a good enough definition for her.

As he nuzzles against her, she leans her head toward him, laughing softly as she lifts her hand so she can work her fingers through his hair.]

So you're saying if we can find a stage for you here, you'd be willing to put on a white tux?

[She makes a show of trying to pull away from him, like she's going to run off and go find him somewhere to perform right now. Of course, she doesn't actually pull away from him at all, because she's left laughing and moving right back in for a kiss a second later.]

[He'd let her go, but apparently she's actually staying put, and that makes him giggle right along with her until it dissolves into kisses.]

Wait 'til California for that. I don't have mine here.

[And while this may turn out to be one of the good cities - hard to know, early to tell - he's not interested in spending the time finding a new one and having it tailored just to try and play one gig. They'll get him in whatever he feels like turning up wearing.]

But, y'know, we can find me somethin' nice while looking for your next cute little getup. You want a dress? Tight little top an' a pretty skirt? Maybe some heels so you can kick some jackass' nose in?

I want a pretty new dress and heels.

[She confirms, and since he's put the idea in her head and she's high and silly right now she decides to act out kicking in someone's nose. Which requires stepping back and extending her leg up in a kick. One good thing about being a former cheerleader is your kicks are amazing. So amazing that she nearly actually brings her bare foot into contact with his face.

A swinging motion of her leg saves the day in the last second, and she gasps as she realizes she could've just broken his nose all over again. Both hands cup over her mouth as she backs away, and she looks petrified for a second there.]

Oh fuck, I didn't actually kick you, did I?

[He's certain she wouldn't intentionally hurt him, and with pot circulating in his head, his reactions are a little delayed. He flinches out of the way, but it's her own self-control that's probably more useful anyway. Around the same time as he realizes what just nearly happened, she asks that question too, and he breaks down into laughter and stumbles backward onto the bed again.]

No but you came real fuckin' close! Shit, man, you get real funny on weed!

[But nobody got hurt so it's hilarious, and he mimes kicking back at her from over on the bed before he flops an arm across his face, still laughing about it.]

Goddamn you're gonna wreck someone someday with heels on, can't fuckin' wait.

[She's feeling like she's on cloud nine, funny and in love and capable of anything. They're in '67 and things really feel like they're going to be perfect. so she sings. Maybe he knows the song, Nancy Sinatra seems like she'd be someone he'd at least enjoy looking at. These boots are made for walking is sung in between laughs, as she pretends to walk with attitude toward him on the bed.

Of course, she has to change the words a little. It wouldn't be fun if she kept it exactly the same.]

One of these days, these heels are gonna stomp all over you.

[As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she loses it. She's halfway up on the bed, one knee up as she leans forward to steal a kiss. She winds up falling into the bed beside him, rolling onto her back as she laughs it off. Once her laughter dies down, she turns her head to look over at him.

They always have so much fun on their nights out. But tonight's been really great too, just by getting to be ridiculous together in their stolen room.]

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