Jumping in at RC's request/demand.fucktonofcoffeeApril 17 2011, 01:25:06 UTC
Deb had found a white mask, and she'd held onto the damn thing for a good long time before she'd slipped it on. When she pulled it on, she found that nothing else mattered. It was a balm for the anger that coursed through her veins and the echoing pain in her chest. After all, nothing mattered, not Jim leaving, not Derek being the world's worse fucking asshole, nothing.
She was drawn towards the music, towards the way that it thrummed across her brain. It made her feel warmer somehow, Deb thought, though it might have been the way the white of the mask had confined itself to her face, blocking out some of the air that normally she would have had access to. Warmer made her feel like she was at home, and home was a place where Debra Morgan very dearly wished to be.
A bar was like home, she decided, and something external seemed to qualify that belief, making it stronger as she walked into the area. Music pooled over her, stroking her senses with sensitive fingers, and for a moment all Debra Morgan could do was stand in the doorway and sway in time with the music.
Her eyes sparkled below the white of the mask, appearing gold in the dim light of the bar. She focused on familiar people around them, watching for a moment before the corners of her lips curled below the mask.
Sharpness, sweet and stinging moved over her finger, and for a moment she felt as if the band of gold that wrapped around her ring finger had grown fiery teeth. Anger shifted over her then, driving away the pleasant cotton that had wrapped about her.
Quickly she walked over to Derek, and she grabbed him by the tie and possessively pressed her lips to his.
Emily had barely returned with drinks when Derek caught the glimmer of the mask on the feminine body heading toward him. He recognized the eyes and lips, moreover, the matching wedding band on the woman that charged toward him. The mask had taken quite the hold of him. There was nothing but a smile on his lips as Deb walked up.
The kiss was unexpected but Derek needed no prompting. His left hand held out the drink so it wouldn't spill on anyone but his wounded right carefully slipped around the slender body against his. Kissing for an audience wasn't on his dossier but there were influential masks involved. And maybe he needed the demanding affection regardless of influences.
Debra had missed him. She'd fucking missed him even when she didn't want to have fuck all to god damn do to him. She'd missed him and she'd fucking hated herself for it, especially with the way that they'd fought and he'd hit the way and she'd hit him. But the mask tightened slightly, and her brain released a fresh wave of Endorphins, warm and molten as she cozied up to him, her body forming in the spaces against his.
Her fingers traced the edges of the mask slowly, drawing against the edges. Funny how things worked out. She pulled back and kissed him again, her tongue following the warmth of his lips before it entered his mouth, and Deb was filled with thoughts about how fucking him in public seemed like a good idea.
But then so did dancing. Her voice was low and moist in the shell of his ear, and her tongue traced the outer edges of the lobe. "Let's fucking dance, Hubby."
The wearing of the mask had taken away all the ill feelings Derek had held in the past couple of days. He had been donning his for a day and it was getting to a point where he couldn't imagine life without it. Everything was so easy. So happy. He didn't have a care in the world. Everything was great.
As if on cue, Put Your Head On My Shoulder started to play at Deb's demand. Unbeknown to Derek. His mind and body were completely lost in the kiss. He no longer felt the mask on his face or really the injury to his hand. What he did feel was a complete rush at the intensity of her kiss.
He groaned when she opted to dance. It was the first act of displeasure since donning the mask that day. However, it was brief. "As you wish, Princess." Derek paused to quickly down the drink Emily had handed him then led the way to the dance floor with a smile.
Why hadn't she put the mask on before? The mask was fucking awesome. The mask was like settling into a giant tub of booze and afterglow and a gentle fucking massage. It was good to lose control wasn't it?
There was some part of Deb that was screaming against this. She fucking hated losing control, she hated giving up on it, giving into anything. It was why she had never done any drugs but booze, and even then she rarely drank until she got sloppy drunk and out of control. Almost without thinking, Deb grabbed the drink that Derek set down and then she drained it before she allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.
The music was entirely different than anything she would have danced to under her own power. It reminded her of warm springs with the kitchen windows open and her mom and dad dancing and her mom giggling. It made her laugh in a slightly drunken manner before she pressed herself close to him, putting her head on his shoulder. When she spoke, it was soft. "I fucking love you, you know."
It was nice to have her body against him. He didn't necessarily suffer a case of amnesia where all was forgotten--Derek simply didn't care. The lazy smile he had sported for the day seemed fixed to his lips. He looked back at his friends still near the bar and amplified his grin.
Much like Deb, Derek never bothered with drugs. He had his share of heavy drinking but didn't make it a habit of getting hammered. Peaksville prompted moments to the contrary much like this one. Only he hardly had a drink. Why the hell did he feel so tanked?
The dancing reminded him of dancing with his mom in the kitchen when she made dinner. It was a tradition his sisters carried on whenever Fran Morgan had a double and couldn't make it home. He didn't dance like this with anyone in his family but the memories were still there. Good memories.
It wasn't often that Derek could easily bring to mind the good memories of his past. There were so many dark times in his life that all the good sometimes seemed captive. Always something sinister looming over him. Until he started wearing his mask. Life was coming up roses.
He chuckled at her admission. "Don't you say the sweetest things." His arms tightened around her and Derek simply swayed. It didn't make him wonder why everyone was wearing a mask. Not one suspicious whim at West donning one when it was midnight. Everything was goddamn great.
Deb hummed softly, moving with the music, letting it set the slower and deeper tones than the normal thrumming of the club beat. She felt so out of herself right now, different and low, like she was fucking flying through some kind of weird-ass dream thing.
In a good way, this was definitely a good thing. Tension that she had been storing in the steal bean-pole of her spine released, flowing like melting butter into her limbs. Warm and liquid all over as the song played on, and as he tightened his arm around her.
Deb laughed a little laugh when he mentioned her saying the sweetest things. It said something about the state of her mind at the moment that she didn't immediately tumble into her normal pit of neurotic thoughts about the fact that he didn't say it to her in return. Normally Deb had the hardest fucking time on the planet stringing those three words together into one sentence that meant something. Most of the time she wouldn't utter them until she was certain that the person she was with was going to offer them back.
Her fingers brushed over his back and she spoke softly again. "I don't wanna fucking fight with you anymore, Morgan."
"Baby, I'm a lover, not a fighter." The words were spoken with amusement evident in them yet they weren't teasing. Derek didn't think of their last encounter. His mind didn't revisit all the places past with Deb. ...How he first met the lanky detective on the square, inadvertently knocking her on her ass. ...Suddenly being cast into the rain and finding his way into her tent where she spent the night pressed against him to keep him from catching pneumonia. ...How she saved him from doing the unspeakable to Martha Jones. ...Spending days screwing their hearts content.
Or maybe his mind did reminisce a little. His words said as much. He thought about all the times they had sex and how great it was. Even though some of those times started less than great. They compensated physically when Peaksville compromised them emotionally. Derek genuinely cared about Deb and tried to protect her the way she had protected him. He failed miserably. He wouldn't think of that now.
They swayed slowly though the song was long over. Elvis was crooning something at a faster pace but Derek was content to slow dance. Deb felt good against him. It was as if he didn't want to let the moment go. Let her go. He simply could also have the urge to have sex. She started the shenanigans by kissing him. He pulled his chest back far enough to reconvene and started off slow to test the waters.
"Don't I fucking know it." Deb grinned at him, watching his face and staring into his eyes. She was amused by him, and by this and she didn't notice as the music changed around them. Her movements were slow and swaying and she just traced her fingers over the back of his neck, rolling them up and down.
He may not have been reminicing, but she definitely was. Their collective past weighed on her like a fucking rug and she was thinking that the fucking rug could be pulled out of them at any moment. If the rug was pulled under and Derek ended up poofing into fucking air like Jim did, Deb would miss him. She would miss him and she would want him and she would be fucking fucked up without him.
That was beside the point. She quickly leaned over to him and pressed her fingers to his lips. "Hold that fucking thought, Hubby. I gotta go powder my fucking shiny-ass nose." Funny how her nose was all covered by the bridge of the mask anyway.
She was drawn towards the music, towards the way that it thrummed across her brain. It made her feel warmer somehow, Deb thought, though it might have been the way the white of the mask had confined itself to her face, blocking out some of the air that normally she would have had access to. Warmer made her feel like she was at home, and home was a place where Debra Morgan very dearly wished to be.
A bar was like home, she decided, and something external seemed to qualify that belief, making it stronger as she walked into the area. Music pooled over her, stroking her senses with sensitive fingers, and for a moment all Debra Morgan could do was stand in the doorway and sway in time with the music.
Her eyes sparkled below the white of the mask, appearing gold in the dim light of the bar. She focused on familiar people around them, watching for a moment before the corners of her lips curled below the mask.
Sharpness, sweet and stinging moved over her finger, and for a moment she felt as if the band of gold that wrapped around her ring finger had grown fiery teeth. Anger shifted over her then, driving away the pleasant cotton that had wrapped about her.
Quickly she walked over to Derek, and she grabbed him by the tie and possessively pressed her lips to his.
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The kiss was unexpected but Derek needed no prompting. His left hand held out the drink so it wouldn't spill on anyone but his wounded right carefully slipped around the slender body against his. Kissing for an audience wasn't on his dossier but there were influential masks involved. And maybe he needed the demanding affection regardless of influences.
Reply
Her fingers traced the edges of the mask slowly, drawing against the edges. Funny how things worked out. She pulled back and kissed him again, her tongue following the warmth of his lips before it entered his mouth, and Deb was filled with thoughts about how fucking him in public seemed like a good idea.
But then so did dancing. Her voice was low and moist in the shell of his ear, and her tongue traced the outer edges of the lobe. "Let's fucking dance, Hubby."
Reply
As if on cue, Put Your Head On My Shoulder started to play at Deb's demand. Unbeknown to Derek. His mind and body were completely lost in the kiss. He no longer felt the mask on his face or really the injury to his hand. What he did feel was a complete rush at the intensity of her kiss.
He groaned when she opted to dance. It was the first act of displeasure since donning the mask that day. However, it was brief. "As you wish, Princess." Derek paused to quickly down the drink Emily had handed him then led the way to the dance floor with a smile.
Reply
There was some part of Deb that was screaming against this. She fucking hated losing control, she hated giving up on it, giving into anything. It was why she had never done any drugs but booze, and even then she rarely drank until she got sloppy drunk and out of control. Almost without thinking, Deb grabbed the drink that Derek set down and then she drained it before she allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.
The music was entirely different than anything she would have danced to under her own power. It reminded her of warm springs with the kitchen windows open and her mom and dad dancing and her mom giggling. It made her laugh in a slightly drunken manner before she pressed herself close to him, putting her head on his shoulder. When she spoke, it was soft. "I fucking love you, you know."
Reply
Much like Deb, Derek never bothered with drugs. He had his share of heavy drinking but didn't make it a habit of getting hammered. Peaksville prompted moments to the contrary much like this one. Only he hardly had a drink. Why the hell did he feel so tanked?
The dancing reminded him of dancing with his mom in the kitchen when she made dinner. It was a tradition his sisters carried on whenever Fran Morgan had a double and couldn't make it home. He didn't dance like this with anyone in his family but the memories were still there. Good memories.
It wasn't often that Derek could easily bring to mind the good memories of his past. There were so many dark times in his life that all the good sometimes seemed captive. Always something sinister looming over him. Until he started wearing his mask. Life was coming up roses.
He chuckled at her admission. "Don't you say the sweetest things." His arms tightened around her and Derek simply swayed. It didn't make him wonder why everyone was wearing a mask. Not one suspicious whim at West donning one when it was midnight. Everything was goddamn great.
Reply
In a good way, this was definitely a good thing. Tension that she had been storing in the steal bean-pole of her spine released, flowing like melting butter into her limbs. Warm and liquid all over as the song played on, and as he tightened his arm around her.
Deb laughed a little laugh when he mentioned her saying the sweetest things. It said something about the state of her mind at the moment that she didn't immediately tumble into her normal pit of neurotic thoughts about the fact that he didn't say it to her in return. Normally Deb had the hardest fucking time on the planet stringing those three words together into one sentence that meant something. Most of the time she wouldn't utter them until she was certain that the person she was with was going to offer them back.
Her fingers brushed over his back and she spoke softly again. "I don't wanna fucking fight with you anymore, Morgan."
Reply
Or maybe his mind did reminisce a little. His words said as much. He thought about all the times they had sex and how great it was. Even though some of those times started less than great. They compensated physically when Peaksville compromised them emotionally. Derek genuinely cared about Deb and tried to protect her the way she had protected him. He failed miserably. He wouldn't think of that now.
They swayed slowly though the song was long over. Elvis was crooning something at a faster pace but Derek was content to slow dance. Deb felt good against him. It was as if he didn't want to let the moment go. Let her go. He simply could also have the urge to have sex. She started the shenanigans by kissing him. He pulled his chest back far enough to reconvene and started off slow to test the waters.
Reply
He may not have been reminicing, but she definitely was. Their collective past weighed on her like a fucking rug and she was thinking that the fucking rug could be pulled out of them at any moment. If the rug was pulled under and Derek ended up poofing into fucking air like Jim did, Deb would miss him. She would miss him and she would want him and she would be fucking fucked up without him.
That was beside the point. She quickly leaned over to him and pressed her fingers to his lips. "Hold that fucking thought, Hubby. I gotta go powder my fucking shiny-ass nose." Funny how her nose was all covered by the bridge of the mask anyway.
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