NaNo 2007 - The Team (working title)
Here's the first chapter of this year's NaNo. It might seem familiar to witchling and sf_dtail_49, but I hope it's amusing to all.
It's Action/Adventure with some romance and humour- Think of it as a comic book where the pictures are in your head. This is pretty much as-is, so please excuse spelling mistakes.
There was a crash that echoed through the dark street, followed by a moment of silence. Then, a frustrated cry rang out and, with a clatter, a black clad figure extracted themselves from a tangle of trash and discarded junk. Swearing a blue streak and pushing long dark hair off her face, she stalked back down the alley towards another commotion and her starting point.
“That. Hurt,” she gritted out, planting a booted foot in the back of one of the men scuffling in the street and sending him flying almost as she had earlier. A red and gold suited man watched him fly by as he took on another of the roughly dressed men that had started the fight, if truth be told.
“You alright?” he asked, the conversational tone a contrast to the blurred punch he threw. His voice wasn't muffled at all by the full face mask he wore, though there was a slight metallic tone underneath.
“Oh, fine,” she replied sarcastically. “I always wondered what it would be like to fly.” She avoided a punch aimed at her and spun, dark hair flying as she kicked up, knocking her assailant down. Unfortunately resiliant, he scrambled to his feet, drawing a gun. Her eyes narrowed behind the black eyemask she wore.
“Shit. Red, gun!” she called, immediately ducking and twisting away. She dropped to one knee and and pulled a silver sai from the top of each boot, twirling them in her hands until she gripped them solidly. The streetlight glinted off the silver dragon along her back that started at her left shoulder and coiled down to her waist.
Her partner looked up at her and spotted the gun, too. In a flash of red and gold, he appeared at the side of the gunman. Moving so quickly the movements weren't even discernable, he disarmed the man and knocked him into the wall four feet behind them.
Another gun was drawn, she heard the bullet chambered, and rising, she faced the second man. “You bring the weapons? Well, then so do I?”
He aimed the gun at her and immediately she swiveled and ducked beneath his aim, coming up inside his zone and slashing her sai across his chest. Blood sprayed from his chest and he dropped the gun.
A whisper of air and she turned to see a length of pipe stop inches from her face, now closed in Red's fist. She punched the man who held the end with her sai in her fist and he crumpled.
“That it?” she asked, surveying the scene.
“Dragon,” he admonished, giving her a look she could read even through his mask. She grinned at him and he shook his head, amused. “Six entered. We have one unconcious by the dumpster, two over there, that guy, the one by the dumpster and Mr Bleeding Chest Wound,” he tallied.
“He'll be fine,” Dragon scoffed. “I didn't rupture any major organs and, unlike you, I didn't break anyone's bones tonight.”
“He asked for it,” Red explained, shrugging. “It's just past midnight. You want to head back? Static is going to be waiting up.”
“If she hasn't 'borrowed' the car again,” Dragon snorted, laghing. She bent at the waist and wiped her sai clean on the shirt of the man she'd just knocked out and resheathed them in her boots. She looked up at him, tossing her sheet of hair back. “Let's go.” With a good jump, she caught the bottom rung of a fire escape and began climbing up. Red followed her and they raced across the roofs of Abaddon's buildings, away from the downtown core.
Once they reached the outer edges of the city centre, just where historical charm was becoming rundown and seedy, they stopped atop a three story building. They each removed their right gloves and pressed their palms to the middle of the nondescript grey door. Blue laser lines cris-crossed and the lock on the door released, letting them in. Down a flight of stairs and into the waiting elevator; they both exhaled at the same time when the doors closed. The elevator whirred down five stories and the doors opened again.
Code Red and the Silver Dragon entered the hightech, if low-lit, subterrainian hub of their operations, usually referred to as the Lair. A bank of moniters with a desk curving around beneath them glowed, some filled wth text and numbers, others with video, and one was playing an episode of CSI.
A pretty young woman with glasses and shoulder length brown hair sat in her usual place in front of the screens. She would have known they were back the second they stepped on the roof because of the network of motion sensors she had set up and was monitering constantly.
Sure enough, there were two bottles of water sitting on the desk nearest them. Code Red opened one and handed it to Silver Dragon, who gave him a grateful smile before downing half of it. Red pulled off his remaining glove and undid the hidden clasps on his mask, placing it on the table beside his gloves before taking the open bottle from Silver Dragon as she cracked the new one and took a sip. He drained his bottle and the rest of the new one as she took off her last glove.
Peeling off her black eye mask revealed fair skin, clear blue eyes and a smattering of freckles. She grinned at her partner, who smiled back, her opposite in almost every way. His brown hair was almost too short to be rumpled from his mask, and the brown eyes set in a tanned face smiled fondly at her. He turned his grin to the girl behind the computers. “So, how did we do?”
“That was awesome,” exclaimed a voice from behind them. Coming out of the Lair's kitchen was a teenaged girl clutching a bowl of popcorn and two cokes. She had short, curly, dark red hair and a sweet face with a nose piercing.
Static, their sidekick (she preferred 'apprentice') and teenager extraordinaire, was just eighteen and finshing her last year of high school at Abaddon's downtown Liberal Arts School. Her parents lived out of town and with Static's unique powers (she could channel electricity from her hands), her living with Code Red and Silver Dragon during the school year was ideal. Silver Dragon was only five years Static's senior and Code Red was a few years older than her, and they were making a pretty good go of it.
Static set the popcorn on the desk in front of T.K., the tech genius who completed their team, and crammed a handful in her mouth as she took her seat in front of the screen they were paying the most attention to, the CSI episode.
One hand on Code Red's shoulder, Silver Dragon balanced on one foot and unzipped each of her knee high boots in turn. Standing in her stocking feet, she was now considerably shorter than her partner, who she could be heard referring to as 'freakishly, but attractively, tall'.
“I'm deeply stupid,” she sighed. “Why ever did you let me choose heeled boots to fight in? I always said Buffy should fight in sneakers and here I am in freakin' three inch heels.”
“You said they looked hot and no woman should have to look unsexy when fighting evil,” Static supplied.
T.K. grinned. “And, that a heel in the gut hurt more than a sneaker.”
Code Red was about to open his mouth but Silver Dragon shot him a familiar look and he settled for unzipping the top of his red flightsuit and simply smiling. She shook her head at him, grinning. She unzipped her long sleeved black jacket and pulled it off, leaving her in a black cotton tank and snug black pants.
“Can I have the shower first?” Silver Dragon asked, rotating her shoulders and wincing.
“Sure. Just don't use up all the hot water.”
She beamed up at him, transforming her tired face. “No problem. Thanks.” Picking up her boots, she grinned at the girls and and headed for the elevator, rolling her head and neck as she got in and the doors closed.
Code Red turned to the girls, scratching his goatee absently. “So, you have anything on those guys Dragon and I schooled tonight, or was it random?”
T.K. swiveled to tap on a keyboard. “Seems to be random. You ran into them harassing that girl in the alley, right?”
“Yeah, and called Dragon for back up.”
“I've got footage from the ATM across the street that shows them being discovered by the cops and probably being arrested. Your victim called the cops.”
Code Red looked at her, surprised. “She did? Huh. Don't have that happen very often. Brave girl. Anything else?”
“Tell Dragon I Tivo'd CSI for her. There's a surprise in it that starts with N and ends in G.”
He grinned at T.K. “I think she'll appreciate that, thanks.” He turned to Static, who seemed to know what was coming and sighed heavily.
“I finished my homework and loaded the dishwasher. Dragon said she'd look at my French later.”
“Good. But, now I think you should go to bed. You've got school in the morning. At the very least just go to your room and pretend to sleep while surfing the internet.”
Static pouted, but grabbed another handful of popcorn and her coke and mock-stalked to the elevator.
“You going to turn in soon?” Code Red asked T.K. once Static had taken the elevator up.
“Nah. I've got a couple of projects cooking, so I'll be up for a while.”
“Alright. See you tomorrow.”
“Night.”
He picked up his gloves and mask and when the elevator returned saluted T.K. with a smile as the doors closed on him.
Fifteen minutes later, Emily Lareine heard the shower shut off and the bathroom door open. Freshly showered herself, she was now dressed in her sweats and a tank top, her faintly damp hair braided into a plait that hung over one shoulder. She had pressed herself comfortably into the corner of the couch, a notebook in her lap and a pen in hand.
The bedroom door opened and Casey Morrison entered the lounge room, his hair still damp and wearing pyjama pants and a t shirt. On the second floor of the building they owned, lived in and Laired below, the lounge had black leather couches, a plasma screen tv, DVD player and every other electronic they had collected over the years, together and seperately. DVDs lined the walls with X-Box and Playstation games, revealing their interests arranged alphabetically. But, didn't seem to be a movie Casey was looking for after another night of superheroing.
He dropped down beside her. “Hey baby. What're you working on?”
Emily looked up at her boyfriend, best friend and teammate and smiled at him. “Hey baby. I'm looking at Chelsea's French homework. She's getting better, but I'm so glad I'm not in high school anymore.”
Casey grinned at her. “Yeah, me too. For more reasons than that.”
Emily chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”
“Hey, Sara said she Tivo'd CSI for you...”
Emily dropped the french and grabbed the remote, making him grin. She mock glared at him, but as the show started up, she scooted over to curl into his side and he put an arm around her and stroked her hair.
“What time are you working tomorrow?” he asked after a few moments.
“Hmm? Oh, nine. Opening again. I can give Chelsea a ride in the morning. You've got that interview at eleven, right?”
“Yeah. You want to have lunch after?”
“Sure.” Anything else she was going to say died on her lips suddenly and she sat up. “Oh!” She clapped her hands delightedly. “Nick and Greg. In a scene. Together!” She made a high pitched noise and Casey chuckled.
“I love you,” he said, laughing.
She grinned at him unashamedly. “I love you, too. And, hey, you knew what you were getting yourself into.”
“Actually, as I recall, you knocked me off my feet before I had a chance to ask you about your tv pairings.”
She laughed. “Well, that's just your fault. You shouldn't have fallen in love with a crazy, masked vigilante who has love for her slashy boys. Now, shush or I'll rewind.” Giving him a smile, she settled back against him, utterly absorbed in the scene.
Approximately forty minutes later, she stretched her arms above her head and sighed. “I love my show.”
“More than me?” Casey asked, teasing.
She turned to face him, her face solomn. “I was afraid this would come up one day. Yes, honey, I love CSI more than you. Our whole relationship has been built on a lie.” Unable to keep it up, she started to giggle, one hand over her mouth.
Casey gave her a fake shocked look, then grinned and with a tiny hint of his super speed, sat up and pushed her back, leaning over her. “You don't love me?” he pouted.
“Nope,” she laughed. “You're simply not enough for me. Only CSI can fill my void.”
In reply, he leaned over farther and kissed her. She smiled against his lips and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. One of his hands gripped her hip and started to curve up around her waist and she hissed suddenly.
“What?” he asked, pulling back.
Emily winced and flushed. “Nothing, baby.” He gave her a look. “I just bruised something when I hit that trash. I'm fine, love.”
“Let me see.”
Reluctantly, she pulled up the hem of her tank top. A purpling bruise spread from her side just below her ribcage to below the waistband of her sweatpants.
“Oh, honey. You should be icing that, Emmy.”
She shrugged from her position lying on her back. “I'll be fine. Not all of us have super strength,” she teased, walking her fingers up his arm in an attempt to bring him back to where they had started.
It didn't work. “I'm getting you some ice. You're going to do fifteen on, ten off, twice and then we're going to bed.”
Emily smiled tiredly as Casey got up and went across the hall to the kitchen. She flicked the tv on and flipped channels til she found something interesting. When Casey returned with the ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, he found her watching Mythbusters, still sprawled on her back on the couch. When he put the ice pack on her hip she hissed again, then sighed when the ice began to numb it.
“How are you going to explain that one at work?”
“Oh come on,” Emily laughed. “I've been there for three years, they know how clumsy I am. Or, I'll just say you're beating me again.” He laughed with her this time; her co-workers were all completely charmed by Casey and a few of them were friends of theirs.
She lifted her legs enough so Casey could slide underneath and sit down, then laid them across his lap. He kept an eye on her ice and they watched tv until the show was done and Emily's eyes were closing.
Casey removed the ice pack and set it on the coffee table, moving Emily's legs so he could stand. She sat up, blinking sleepily at him and he gave her a hand up. Still moving a bit stiffly, she made a detour to the kitchen to set Chelsea's homework on the counter for her to correct in the morning. Casey turned off the tv and the lights in the lounge room and followed her into their bedroom, kissing her on the back of the neck when he caught up to her.
He shucked his t shirt in the dark as she climbed into bed and joined her as she settled in. He drew the covers up over them and she slid over and curled into his side, pressing a sleepy kiss to his neck. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her hair before drifting off to sleep himself.
It's Action/Adventure with some romance and humour- Think of it as a comic book where the pictures are in your head. This is pretty much as-is, so please excuse spelling mistakes.
There was a crash that echoed through the dark street, followed by a moment of silence. Then, a frustrated cry rang out and, with a clatter, a black clad figure extracted themselves from a tangle of trash and discarded junk. Swearing a blue streak and pushing long dark hair off her face, she stalked back down the alley towards another commotion and her starting point.
“That. Hurt,” she gritted out, planting a booted foot in the back of one of the men scuffling in the street and sending him flying almost as she had earlier. A red and gold suited man watched him fly by as he took on another of the roughly dressed men that had started the fight, if truth be told.
“You alright?” he asked, the conversational tone a contrast to the blurred punch he threw. His voice wasn't muffled at all by the full face mask he wore, though there was a slight metallic tone underneath.
“Oh, fine,” she replied sarcastically. “I always wondered what it would be like to fly.” She avoided a punch aimed at her and spun, dark hair flying as she kicked up, knocking her assailant down. Unfortunately resiliant, he scrambled to his feet, drawing a gun. Her eyes narrowed behind the black eyemask she wore.
“Shit. Red, gun!” she called, immediately ducking and twisting away. She dropped to one knee and and pulled a silver sai from the top of each boot, twirling them in her hands until she gripped them solidly. The streetlight glinted off the silver dragon along her back that started at her left shoulder and coiled down to her waist.
Her partner looked up at her and spotted the gun, too. In a flash of red and gold, he appeared at the side of the gunman. Moving so quickly the movements weren't even discernable, he disarmed the man and knocked him into the wall four feet behind them.
Another gun was drawn, she heard the bullet chambered, and rising, she faced the second man. “You bring the weapons? Well, then so do I?”
He aimed the gun at her and immediately she swiveled and ducked beneath his aim, coming up inside his zone and slashing her sai across his chest. Blood sprayed from his chest and he dropped the gun.
A whisper of air and she turned to see a length of pipe stop inches from her face, now closed in Red's fist. She punched the man who held the end with her sai in her fist and he crumpled.
“That it?” she asked, surveying the scene.
“Dragon,” he admonished, giving her a look she could read even through his mask. She grinned at him and he shook his head, amused. “Six entered. We have one unconcious by the dumpster, two over there, that guy, the one by the dumpster and Mr Bleeding Chest Wound,” he tallied.
“He'll be fine,” Dragon scoffed. “I didn't rupture any major organs and, unlike you, I didn't break anyone's bones tonight.”
“He asked for it,” Red explained, shrugging. “It's just past midnight. You want to head back? Static is going to be waiting up.”
“If she hasn't 'borrowed' the car again,” Dragon snorted, laghing. She bent at the waist and wiped her sai clean on the shirt of the man she'd just knocked out and resheathed them in her boots. She looked up at him, tossing her sheet of hair back. “Let's go.” With a good jump, she caught the bottom rung of a fire escape and began climbing up. Red followed her and they raced across the roofs of Abaddon's buildings, away from the downtown core.
Once they reached the outer edges of the city centre, just where historical charm was becoming rundown and seedy, they stopped atop a three story building. They each removed their right gloves and pressed their palms to the middle of the nondescript grey door. Blue laser lines cris-crossed and the lock on the door released, letting them in. Down a flight of stairs and into the waiting elevator; they both exhaled at the same time when the doors closed. The elevator whirred down five stories and the doors opened again.
Code Red and the Silver Dragon entered the hightech, if low-lit, subterrainian hub of their operations, usually referred to as the Lair. A bank of moniters with a desk curving around beneath them glowed, some filled wth text and numbers, others with video, and one was playing an episode of CSI.
A pretty young woman with glasses and shoulder length brown hair sat in her usual place in front of the screens. She would have known they were back the second they stepped on the roof because of the network of motion sensors she had set up and was monitering constantly.
Sure enough, there were two bottles of water sitting on the desk nearest them. Code Red opened one and handed it to Silver Dragon, who gave him a grateful smile before downing half of it. Red pulled off his remaining glove and undid the hidden clasps on his mask, placing it on the table beside his gloves before taking the open bottle from Silver Dragon as she cracked the new one and took a sip. He drained his bottle and the rest of the new one as she took off her last glove.
Peeling off her black eye mask revealed fair skin, clear blue eyes and a smattering of freckles. She grinned at her partner, who smiled back, her opposite in almost every way. His brown hair was almost too short to be rumpled from his mask, and the brown eyes set in a tanned face smiled fondly at her. He turned his grin to the girl behind the computers. “So, how did we do?”
“That was awesome,” exclaimed a voice from behind them. Coming out of the Lair's kitchen was a teenaged girl clutching a bowl of popcorn and two cokes. She had short, curly, dark red hair and a sweet face with a nose piercing.
Static, their sidekick (she preferred 'apprentice') and teenager extraordinaire, was just eighteen and finshing her last year of high school at Abaddon's downtown Liberal Arts School. Her parents lived out of town and with Static's unique powers (she could channel electricity from her hands), her living with Code Red and Silver Dragon during the school year was ideal. Silver Dragon was only five years Static's senior and Code Red was a few years older than her, and they were making a pretty good go of it.
Static set the popcorn on the desk in front of T.K., the tech genius who completed their team, and crammed a handful in her mouth as she took her seat in front of the screen they were paying the most attention to, the CSI episode.
One hand on Code Red's shoulder, Silver Dragon balanced on one foot and unzipped each of her knee high boots in turn. Standing in her stocking feet, she was now considerably shorter than her partner, who she could be heard referring to as 'freakishly, but attractively, tall'.
“I'm deeply stupid,” she sighed. “Why ever did you let me choose heeled boots to fight in? I always said Buffy should fight in sneakers and here I am in freakin' three inch heels.”
“You said they looked hot and no woman should have to look unsexy when fighting evil,” Static supplied.
T.K. grinned. “And, that a heel in the gut hurt more than a sneaker.”
Code Red was about to open his mouth but Silver Dragon shot him a familiar look and he settled for unzipping the top of his red flightsuit and simply smiling. She shook her head at him, grinning. She unzipped her long sleeved black jacket and pulled it off, leaving her in a black cotton tank and snug black pants.
“Can I have the shower first?” Silver Dragon asked, rotating her shoulders and wincing.
“Sure. Just don't use up all the hot water.”
She beamed up at him, transforming her tired face. “No problem. Thanks.” Picking up her boots, she grinned at the girls and and headed for the elevator, rolling her head and neck as she got in and the doors closed.
Code Red turned to the girls, scratching his goatee absently. “So, you have anything on those guys Dragon and I schooled tonight, or was it random?”
T.K. swiveled to tap on a keyboard. “Seems to be random. You ran into them harassing that girl in the alley, right?”
“Yeah, and called Dragon for back up.”
“I've got footage from the ATM across the street that shows them being discovered by the cops and probably being arrested. Your victim called the cops.”
Code Red looked at her, surprised. “She did? Huh. Don't have that happen very often. Brave girl. Anything else?”
“Tell Dragon I Tivo'd CSI for her. There's a surprise in it that starts with N and ends in G.”
He grinned at T.K. “I think she'll appreciate that, thanks.” He turned to Static, who seemed to know what was coming and sighed heavily.
“I finished my homework and loaded the dishwasher. Dragon said she'd look at my French later.”
“Good. But, now I think you should go to bed. You've got school in the morning. At the very least just go to your room and pretend to sleep while surfing the internet.”
Static pouted, but grabbed another handful of popcorn and her coke and mock-stalked to the elevator.
“You going to turn in soon?” Code Red asked T.K. once Static had taken the elevator up.
“Nah. I've got a couple of projects cooking, so I'll be up for a while.”
“Alright. See you tomorrow.”
“Night.”
He picked up his gloves and mask and when the elevator returned saluted T.K. with a smile as the doors closed on him.
Fifteen minutes later, Emily Lareine heard the shower shut off and the bathroom door open. Freshly showered herself, she was now dressed in her sweats and a tank top, her faintly damp hair braided into a plait that hung over one shoulder. She had pressed herself comfortably into the corner of the couch, a notebook in her lap and a pen in hand.
The bedroom door opened and Casey Morrison entered the lounge room, his hair still damp and wearing pyjama pants and a t shirt. On the second floor of the building they owned, lived in and Laired below, the lounge had black leather couches, a plasma screen tv, DVD player and every other electronic they had collected over the years, together and seperately. DVDs lined the walls with X-Box and Playstation games, revealing their interests arranged alphabetically. But, didn't seem to be a movie Casey was looking for after another night of superheroing.
He dropped down beside her. “Hey baby. What're you working on?”
Emily looked up at her boyfriend, best friend and teammate and smiled at him. “Hey baby. I'm looking at Chelsea's French homework. She's getting better, but I'm so glad I'm not in high school anymore.”
Casey grinned at her. “Yeah, me too. For more reasons than that.”
Emily chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”
“Hey, Sara said she Tivo'd CSI for you...”
Emily dropped the french and grabbed the remote, making him grin. She mock glared at him, but as the show started up, she scooted over to curl into his side and he put an arm around her and stroked her hair.
“What time are you working tomorrow?” he asked after a few moments.
“Hmm? Oh, nine. Opening again. I can give Chelsea a ride in the morning. You've got that interview at eleven, right?”
“Yeah. You want to have lunch after?”
“Sure.” Anything else she was going to say died on her lips suddenly and she sat up. “Oh!” She clapped her hands delightedly. “Nick and Greg. In a scene. Together!” She made a high pitched noise and Casey chuckled.
“I love you,” he said, laughing.
She grinned at him unashamedly. “I love you, too. And, hey, you knew what you were getting yourself into.”
“Actually, as I recall, you knocked me off my feet before I had a chance to ask you about your tv pairings.”
She laughed. “Well, that's just your fault. You shouldn't have fallen in love with a crazy, masked vigilante who has love for her slashy boys. Now, shush or I'll rewind.” Giving him a smile, she settled back against him, utterly absorbed in the scene.
Approximately forty minutes later, she stretched her arms above her head and sighed. “I love my show.”
“More than me?” Casey asked, teasing.
She turned to face him, her face solomn. “I was afraid this would come up one day. Yes, honey, I love CSI more than you. Our whole relationship has been built on a lie.” Unable to keep it up, she started to giggle, one hand over her mouth.
Casey gave her a fake shocked look, then grinned and with a tiny hint of his super speed, sat up and pushed her back, leaning over her. “You don't love me?” he pouted.
“Nope,” she laughed. “You're simply not enough for me. Only CSI can fill my void.”
In reply, he leaned over farther and kissed her. She smiled against his lips and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. One of his hands gripped her hip and started to curve up around her waist and she hissed suddenly.
“What?” he asked, pulling back.
Emily winced and flushed. “Nothing, baby.” He gave her a look. “I just bruised something when I hit that trash. I'm fine, love.”
“Let me see.”
Reluctantly, she pulled up the hem of her tank top. A purpling bruise spread from her side just below her ribcage to below the waistband of her sweatpants.
“Oh, honey. You should be icing that, Emmy.”
She shrugged from her position lying on her back. “I'll be fine. Not all of us have super strength,” she teased, walking her fingers up his arm in an attempt to bring him back to where they had started.
It didn't work. “I'm getting you some ice. You're going to do fifteen on, ten off, twice and then we're going to bed.”
Emily smiled tiredly as Casey got up and went across the hall to the kitchen. She flicked the tv on and flipped channels til she found something interesting. When Casey returned with the ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, he found her watching Mythbusters, still sprawled on her back on the couch. When he put the ice pack on her hip she hissed again, then sighed when the ice began to numb it.
“How are you going to explain that one at work?”
“Oh come on,” Emily laughed. “I've been there for three years, they know how clumsy I am. Or, I'll just say you're beating me again.” He laughed with her this time; her co-workers were all completely charmed by Casey and a few of them were friends of theirs.
She lifted her legs enough so Casey could slide underneath and sit down, then laid them across his lap. He kept an eye on her ice and they watched tv until the show was done and Emily's eyes were closing.
Casey removed the ice pack and set it on the coffee table, moving Emily's legs so he could stand. She sat up, blinking sleepily at him and he gave her a hand up. Still moving a bit stiffly, she made a detour to the kitchen to set Chelsea's homework on the counter for her to correct in the morning. Casey turned off the tv and the lights in the lounge room and followed her into their bedroom, kissing her on the back of the neck when he caught up to her.
He shucked his t shirt in the dark as she climbed into bed and joined her as she settled in. He drew the covers up over them and she slid over and curled into his side, pressing a sleepy kiss to his neck. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her hair before drifting off to sleep himself.