(no subject)
It is evening, the day outside faded into a warm dusk with starlight looming on the horizon by the time the knock comes at Kelsey's door. Of course, even if the knock did not come in the shape of a 'shave-and-a-haircut', she could probably guess who it is that comes to stand outside, considering the peculiar contents of his brain.
He /does/ have a particular aura around him. Footstep approach the door from inside the room, but there's a brief pause--like the amount of time for a deep breath, perhaps?--before Kelsey opens the door. Her expression is difficult to pin down, but a simplified description might be "embarrassed smile." "Hey," she says, stepping to the side by way of invitation.
Percy stands on her doorstep, hip cocked with a white bakery box balanced against it. He is dressed is dark jeans and a dress shirt of soft russet, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. Cigarette smoke lingers in his scent, blending an acrid note with the dry warmth of amber, sandalwood and musk that make up his typical cologne. His expression is inscrutably bland save for the slight arch of his eyebrows. "Good evening," he says, and pads lightly into her apartment past her.
Kelsey closes the door behind him, eyes lingering on the box with a hint of affection as he goes by. Trusting him to find a seat for himself if he wants it, she trails behind a little ways, hands in her back pockets. "Sooooo maybe I overreacted a wee bit." It's one way to start off.
Rather than answer her admission immediately, Percy turns on his heel after his first few prowling steps through her apartment to proffer the box in silence. His mouth twitches up in the dexter half of a smirk, reflected by the dark glint in his whiskeyed eyes.
"Thank ye." She takes the box, eyes flicking up to his, wonder if this is the whole of /his/ apology. Still, Kelsey does enjoy baked goods, so she sets the box down carefully on the counter. "It's just that," she continues, turning back to him, "I dinnae always /say/ it, but I'm kind've freakin' out over the whole thing. Not when I'm /with/ him, but all those other times. Cause I havenae been with a guy for this long in a long time, as ridiculous as that sounds, an' I /really like him/." She makes sure to look him in the eye at this point, stressing it.
Divested of his cargo, which will later turn out to be red velvet cake, incidentally, because that is the most dramatic cake there is, Percy opens his cleanly manicured hands and spreads them wide. The slight flare of his nostrils that marks his intake of breath is the only indication that he is testing the air for the general shape and flavor of the mood behind what she presents. "Well," he says at length, and once he starts to talk he turns on his heel to find a seat and then drape in it with a casual and feline indolence. "Do you suppose you are afraid that it won't work, or that it will?"
"I'm afraid that it'll work long enough for me tae get good an' invested," Kelsey says, tossing herself onto her sofa, "right before the rug gets ripped out from under me." Like last time. Her apprehension and fear about it are palpable. "But it doesnae help when ye're usin' him as a whettin' stone for your tongue." The look she tosses over now is knowing, but disapproving. "Just because /ye/ wouldnae be happy with him doesnae mean that I cannae be. I dinnae need tae live in a Noel Coward play, datin' someone too witty for his own good."
Propping his cheek against his fist, Percy rolls his glance back towards her, something mournful fallen over the cast of his expression. He seems balanced on the tip of saying something, his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth and lips closed. Then he shifts, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and exhaling in a low snort. "I believe you are mistaken as to the shape and angle of my measuring rod, my dear," he says, mildly. "But never mind. You are certainly correct that it is not necessary /I/ see the appeal." Drawing his knuckles along the curve of his cheek, he studies Kelsey's face.
"Am I?" Kelsey is skeptical. "Your big fault seems tae be he cannae keep up with your wit." Which, let's face it, few people can, it would seem. Legs curl under her form as she leans toward him slightly. "Ye cannae see /any/ appeal? Like the fact that he's kind an' a decent person who cares about people an' treats me well?" They're pretty big pluses, at least in her book. Percy's approval is clearly still being sought on some level.
Shifting in the seat so that he can lean forward with an elbow hooked against his thigh while he runs the fingers of the other hand through his hair, silver shimmers catching amidst the dark waves as his nails scrape his scalp. Percy makes a low, growlish sort of noise in his throat. "Well, for one thing, treating you well is not /appeal/," he says, tone one of impatient correction. "It is a basic /requirement/. If he failed that sort of basic qualification you can rest assured I would not restrain myself to mild rudeness." He arches a glance back in her direction, moistening his lips through the length of a few heartbeats. "No bite," he says finally, in a quieter tone. "I don't know, Kelsey. You have such kindness, such compassion, such caring in yourself. I think you deserve more."
"If he failed that, I wouldnae be dating him," Kelsey assures her friend, though accepting the truth of the sentiment. Her eyebrow raise considerably at his final assessment. "No /bite/? Ye say that about a bloke ye've met /once/, who started a bar fight for me on our first date just because I said I'd never been in one?" She laughs lightly, annoyance at the judgment tempered by the kind words about herself. "D'ye think that maybe talkin' tae him once for five minutes isnae enough tae make a judgment call like that?"
"That's not bite," Percy says with a dismissive flicker of his fingers, exasperation rising in his tone. "That's part of what I mean. He doesn't push /back/. And pretty easily rattled, and who the hell am I to him, nobody, bitchy queen on the front steps."
"Ye ever think he was tryin' tae be polite because ye're my friend?" Kelsey asks with a cocked eyebrow. "Even if ye /werenae/?" Rude Percy? NO. "An' ye havenae even seen us /together/. How can ye have any idea about how we interact?"
Confronting this new idea, Percy cants his head one way and then the other. "Hmm," he says. "I don't." He tips his glance up toward the ceiling, running the tip of his tongue along his teeth. "You're not asking for a double date, are you?"
Kelsey chews on her bottom lip, eyeing him warily. "I dinnae ken," she says carefully. "It seems like Bahir would only encourage your poor behavior." Because Bahir doesn't earn many niceness points himself.
"I don't think Bahir would be the problem," Percy says in a particularly bland tone, eyes glinting beneath the fall of long, dark lashes.
"God, ye're such a /bitch/." There's the hint of a smile when she says it, though. Kelsey is far too amused by Percy for her own good.
"I am," Percy says. He lays a hand lightly over his chest, and then shifts, sitting up straight and dropping his hands to a loose fold in his lap. He leans towards her, gaze a little brighter. "You know how they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?"
"I'm pretty sure whoever said that is full of shite," Kelsey replies, a bit of uncharacteristic cynicism in her voice.
"No, wait," Percy says. He holds up a single finger. "Having loved and lost is like ripping your internal organs out, throwing them on the pavement and then stomping on them--" From his tone, the continuation is coming. Really.
Any comment Kelsey might have is kept to herself, and she just waits for the end of what she is /sure/ is an amazing joke.
It's not very funny. Percy says, "But you wouldn't trade it, would you?" He raises his eyebrows at her, his smile a twist of rue. "When I was your age," he goes on, because in any given conversation with Percy there's a fifty percent chance he'll say something that starts with 'when I was your age,' "I was so afraid of ever investing in anyone. I became attached only by accident and kept it a secret from myself when I did. You know what?"
Kelsey gives a practiced exhale as he pulls out the 'when I was your age' card. Her eyebrows raise as she takes a stab at the end of the story: "It was Bahir an' eventually ye realized an' lived happily ever after?"
"No," Percy says thoughtfully. He scrubs a hand at the back of his neck. "It ... was someone else. Love comes in different flavors, different ... shapes." He rolls a look back at her with a quieter air. "The thing is, even when you do something really stupid, and you ruin what you have. Or when something happens beyond your control, and it shatters under the strain. You learn. You grow. You become a better person. It's a stupid cliche, but." He leans into the side of the chair and reaches out, opening his hand toward her like he wants to clasp her hand in it.
A feeling of quiet sadness comes over Kelsey, her mind clearly straying to a certain person in her past. She curls her knees up against her chest, setting her chin on top and reaching over to set her hand in his.
His smile is bright, the spark in his eyes one that reflects some measure of quiet irony. "Don't be afraid," Percy says, his voice light, as he winds their fingers together. "You can do this. And the worst, the /absolute/ worst that will happen is that someday, when you are old and gray like me, you will have the wisdom to try again."
"I'm never gettin' as old as ye," Kelsey says, tone warm and affectionate. Tears are gathering in her eyes, the sorts that come from just having an emotional conversation. She scootches closer so she can curl against his comforting warmth. "I used tae think it would work out, because Eric left Xavier's because he--he couldnae handle the things November had made him do, he thought he was dangerous. But it wasnae about /me/, so eventually it would work out. It wasnae til later that I figured out it was also leavin' me. He couldnae find it in him tae /stay/." The words have a rawness, a suggestion of something unspoken. "Irish wanker."
Percy doesn't say anything for a moment, lifting his free hand to tousle his fingertips thoughtfully through her hair as he sits quietly. Then he says as in a low but deliberately offhand tone, "Oh. Well. The /Irish/."
Kelsey laughs, suddenly and unexpectedly, the sort of sound that often comes through tears. "Aye, o' course. Bloody bastards. Should've known, even at that age."
"You see," Percy says beatifically. He shifts, drawing his arm in a loop about her shoulders to give them a light squeeze. "You live and learn."
"No more Irish," Kelsey agrees, wiping a hand under he eyes. And then her nose. Ew. "Ye're nice when ye're not bein' such a bawbag."
Percy pulls her in towards him in the loop of his arm so that he can tip his head up and rest his chin atop her hair. "You know, I'm not even going to ask you for a translation of that," he says. "And I won't have you bruiting about that I'm nice. I am pretty sure I have a reputation at stake."
"Scrotum," Kelsey offers up brightly, pleased to know a word Percy doesn't. "Dinnae worry, I can keep a secret." She pats his tummy affectionately. "Ye can continue makin' the new kids cry." Funny how she's already not new. "Except ye can try a /little/ tae be a /little/ nice tae Andrew. An' maybe spend more than five minutes in his company before writin' him off. He's not a pushover, whatever ye think."
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Percy slaps his hand against Kelsey's shoulder without trying to pull away. "People who are not pushovers do not go right over when you push them," he says with a sniff.
"There are many ways of pushin' back," Kelsey notes, full of skepticism at Percy's memory of the encounter. Of course, she wasn't even there, but so what. "An' sometimes people tend tae not push as much as they normally might when presented with a friend of their girlfriend's. Good behavior an' all that. Which ye clearly didnae share."
Shaking his head, Percy says in a tone that shams at dignity, "I don't have a problem with people who exercise /self-control/."
"Fine." Kelsey sits up so she can look him in the eye. "We're goin' tae go out an' ye're goin' tae /spend time with him/. An' ye dinnae get tae make any judgment calls until ye do. Five minutes is not enough."
"And if I do, /then/ I can make judgment calls?" Percy narrows a glance back at her, pulling his arm in so that he can brace his temple against his knuckles.
"So long as ye stop tae /really think/ about them," Kelsey specifies, giving him a serious look. "An' if they're bad, ye dinnae get tae keep bringin' it up all the time. Unless ye think he's a murderer, rapist, or is purposefully tryin' tae break my heart."
Brow creasing with his frown, Percy opens his other hand outward in a gesture that reflects more puzzlement. "What do I get out of this deal?"
"Ye get me not rippin' ye a new asshole." Kelsey is very generous. "C'mon, Perce. Did ye ever have a friend who really didnae like Bahir?"
To this Percy does not answer immediately. He leans away, dropping his elbows to his knees and tapping his thumbs lightly together. His expression grows a little set, gaze briefly distant.
"See?" Given no negative, Kelsey must assume positive. "An' was it /really obnoxious/ and maybe even a wee bit upsettin'?"
In a tone of peculiar reserve, Percy murmurs, "I wouldn't put it in those words."
"I bet it wasnae nice," Kelsey persists, exuberance brought down a notch by his reserve.
"No," Percy says. He tips his head down and draws the pad of his thumb along the curve of his eyebrow. "No, it wasn't nice."
"Sucks, when ye ken someone's good for ye an' people keep tryin' tae argue," Kelsey says, tone sympathetic as she watche shim.
Percy rolls an edged look at her, his mouth twitching up at one corner. "I hated her boyfriend, too," he says, his voice soft and oddly warm.
Kelsey gives him a considering look, question burning on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she asks, "Have ye ever had a good friend with a boyfriend ye /didnae/ hate?"
Percy opens his mouth, and closes it again, canting his head. "Hm," he says. He drums his fingers lightly against each other. Then he tips his glance back in her direction with a slower, darker smile pulling at his mouth. "In my defense, the list /is/ fairly short."
"In your defense, ye're a total grump with very specific standards." But Kelsey smiles, warmth in her words and reaches to--GASP--ruffle his hair. "So ye want any o' whatever wonderfully fattenin' baked good ye brought me?" she wonders, uncurling herself to walk over to the counter where the box was left.
Tipping his head just slightly under the tousling pass of her fingers, Percy exhales in a low snort. "Maybe a small corner," he says, "although I must keep watch on my girlish figure, you know." He slouches back into the seat, lifting a leg to hook it over the arm in the spread of his sprawl across Kelsey's furniture.
"God, ye're more of a girl than I am." Kelsey gives a pleased little sound when she opens the box. Cake! She digs around the kitchen for a proper cake-cutting knife, and a pair of forks and plates, which she loads up with cake. His piece /is/ smaller than hers, at any rate. Have some cake!
Eventually dragging himself out of his extended sprawl, Percy pads across the room to angle in and eye the rich, dark red of the cake. "You should see me in drag," he says. "I do it very well."
Kelsey shoves cake at him. Eat! She digs into her own plate with appreciative sounds for the quality of the dessert. Clearly the way to Kelsey's heart is through her stomach. "I'm sure ye do," she says between bites.
"Once," Percy shares in a confiding tone, taking up the fork and plate and slicing off a small corner of his serving with the edge of his fork, "for Hallowe'en, I was Jean Grey."
Kelsey snorts sharply, bringing a hand up to her face as if she's scared of escaping cake. There's a moment as she swallows before she bursts out brightly, "/Really/?"
Percy takes a slow and obnoxiously sensuous bite of his cake, sliding his tongue between the tines of his fork before finally smiling. "Oh yes. Hellfire Club masquerade a few years ago."
She wrinkles her nose at the display, finding it both obnoxious and oddly sexy. "Ye're so weird," Kelsey pronounces.
Tapping his fork lightly against the curve of his mouth, Percy says, "I get that a lot."
"I get the 'nice' thing a lot," Kelsey says with conversational ease. "It used tae be a compliment. Then I got to X-Factor." One corner of her mouth curls up.
"Maybe it's a dialect issue," Percy replies seriously, slicing off a slightly larger chunk of cake and then consuming it with marginally less fork molestation.
Her fork scrapes lightly across the plate as she slices off another bite of cake. "I think X-Factor is just full of grumps."
Percy slides one more bite of cake past his lips and tips his head after he swallows. "Are you grumpy about that?"
That's actually a good question. Kelsey pauses, setting her fork down on her plate as she considers. "Not usually," she says after some contemplation. "I get some people want tae keep tae themselves, an' maybe I come on a wee bit strong. But /Jeanne-Marie/." She's suddenly ruffled, tense and hostile. "I just want tae choke that bitch sometimes."
"Really?" Percy gives her a look of surprise, fork tapping lightly against the side of his plate. The fresh tension that sparks from her at the turn of the topic is enough to wholly arrest his attention. "I barely know her."
"Oh my /God/, she is just plain /nasty/." Kelsey sets her plate down on a nearby surface so she can adequately gesture to convey her nastiness. "Not funny snarky like ye or Sal or Pete. Just like, ye say hi, and it's /fuck you/. Without the languages, though, cause she's, like, /super/ religious or somethin'."
Percy sets down his plate on the counter so that he can lean one palm against it and scratch his head with the other hand, eyeing Kelsey with a particularly puzzled look. "She wasn't especially nasty to me," he says. "I realize I have a fairly high threshhold for that kind of thing but I do tend to notice it's happening..."
"An' ye think I dinnae?" Kelsey asks, arching an eyebrow. "I'm friends with ye." And Sal. Lots of nasty people. "She could barely say 'hi' back tae me without some backhanded comment." Perhaps she exaggerates. /Perhaps/. "An' she an' Jean-Paul /totally/ talk about people in front of 'em when they think they dinnae speak French."
Catching the curve of his lower lip in his teeth, Percy grins at Kelsey without saying anything.
The majority of her frustration spent, she glares at him, trying to analyze that look. "/What/?" Kelsey asks grumpily.
"You'd never do that, huh?" Percy asks, brows swept high towards his hairline.
"Of course not!" But Kelsey's head is clearly working overtime to try and think if she /has/. "I mean, other than tae say /hi/ or somethin'. Not tae be nasty an' rude like they were."
"I don't know," Percy muses. "I have a hard time being bothered by that. I am sure I have done it. It's a statement of closeness, isn't it? Look what I have. I mean, a little odd when you're showing off your /sibling/, I suppose." He tips a slanted grin back at Kelsey, brows arching. "Is that why they were annoyed to keep running into French speakers?"
"Probably," Kelsey grumbles, happy to assume the worst about Jeanne-Marie. She picks her plate back up and eats more cake. Grumpily. "It's like when ye walk in a room an' ye /ken/ people have been talkin' about ye, except /right in front o' your face/."
Percy's breath breaks on a laugh. "People talking about you is bad?"
"See?" Kelsey says, energy perking as she points at him. "Ye just love when people talk about ye, good or bad. I dinnae like people makin' fun o' me when I cannae talk back. How'd ye like it if ye /knew/ people were makin' /amazingly/ witty jokes about ye an' ye couldnae counter?"
Percy dismisses this prospect with the airy wave of his hand. "I think I'd want to write them down," he says. "Kelsey, there are entire governments that are smaller than my ego. You may be talking to the wrong person."
"C'mon, sassenach." In her mouth, the derogative is oddly affectionate. "Ye dislike /ev'ryone/, but ye cannae hate the /one person/ on base that I hate? Just for solidarity?"
"I don't dislike everyone!" Percy protests. "That would be too much bother. /Disliking/ implies caring about people, but in a negative way! I just don't like anybody." He gives her a shadow of a smile as he rubs a fingertip along the side of his nose. "If she tries to date you, perhaps I'll hate her for you."
"She's super religious--I bet she hates gay people!" Yes, Kelsey is grasping for straws here. Or maybe just stubborn. "I'm sure she'd be /really/ intae me," she says, sarcasm dripping from her words.
"I am sure she is completely horrible," Percy says in a bland tone, eyes lit with unvoiced laughter. "For one thing, if she has managed to drive /you/ of all people to such a state--!" He leans back against the counter, adding, "Maybe I should see if I can't pick up some /pointers/."
"Oy. Dinnae let this--" Kelsey gestures with an open hand to her face. "--bright exterior fool ye. Kelsey MacDougall is not all sunshine an' rainbows." She makes a face, sharp and sudden like smelling something nasty. "Ew. I dinnae like tae think I'm at /all/ sunshine an' rainbows. An ye dinnae need any pointers!"
"Stardust," Percy says, glancing at her sidelong with a slight smile on his lips, "and sunset, perhaps." He pushes off from the counter again, angling to slip back out of the kitchen with his cake partly eaten and abandoned behind him. "Are you sure?" he asks over his shoulder. "Ms. Beaubier sounds very accomplished."
"Ooh, that's kinda nice soundin'. All calm and beautiful." Cause Kelsey is very calm. She follows behind him, keeping her own cake close with her. "I'm not sayin' she doesnae have pointers tae /give/. I'm sayin' I dinnae want ye gettin' any meaner than ye already are."
"Mmm." Percy turns on his heel to walk a few backward paces, two fingertips resting lightly against his mouth. He says, "I'd rather think of myself as wicked than mean, really. Nasty, maybe. Properly /villainous/?"
"Ye're such an Oxford snob," Kelsey says with a snort, scraping her fork against the plate as she gathers up the last morsels of red velvety goodness. "Thanks for the cake, by the way."
"You're welcome." Percy's grin crooks, and then he turns on his heel again. "Now," he goes on, at his crispect and most Oxonian, "I believe I shall go upstairs and commit a few acts of which no one 'super-religious' could possibly approve."
Obviously he means knitting.
I assumed dancing.
"Hot." Hey, Kelsey can appreciate sex. "When do ye want tae get tae know Andrew better?"
Glancing at his watch, Percy says, with every evidence of immediate decisiveness, "Monday."
"All right, then. I'll think o' somethin' fun." Kelsey follows him to the door to see him out. "Ye can bring Bahir along if ye want tae. Though I cannae imagine ye findin' yourself a third wheel ye cannae fight your way out of."
"Heavens," Percy says, arching an eyebrow back over his shoulder at her as he ambles toward the door, "would I do that? Would I really?"
"Would ye really make yourself the center of attention?" Kelsey questions, opening the door for him. "Aye."
"Hah," Percy says without laughing, and tips an imaginary hat in her direction before turning to lope out the door and toward the stairs. He carols out behind, "Good night!"
"Night night, Talhurst." Kelsey offers a little wave before he's out of sight.
How could that possibly happen!