After Midnight
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Stacey and Dale Yorkes
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: She spends all her time working on that damned thing.
It was after midnight when he got home, and Stacey was nowhere to be found.
He checked the bedroom first, thinking she’d gone to sleep, but she wasn’t there. Nor was she in any of the bathrooms, the kitchen, the study, his office, her office, living room, or dining room. He’d gone all over the house and was nearly ready to call someone when he opened the garage door and heard something metal hit the floor.
"Stacey, dove?" he called quietly, not wanting to spook any undesirables into action.
When no answer was forthcoming, he grabbed the nearest thing to him(a pipe-wrench) and made his way slowly to the back.
She was on her favorite stool, draped across the worktable, tools and parts spread out all around her.
"Darling, you can’t sleep out here," he mumbled, half to himself.
The something metal that had hit the floor at his entry was some part of the portico she had obviously been working on. He picked it up and set it on the table, then laid a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped and cried out.
"It’s just me, darling," Dale assured her.
She looked up at him, half asleep. Her eyes traveled down the length of his arm to the pipe wrench in his hand and she raised an eyebrow. He set it on the table with a chuckle.
"My dove, you cannot sleep out here. You’ll get sick," he chided gently.
"Oh."
He helped her down off the stool and into the house, passing through the living room, where she promptly collapsed onto the couch.
"Darling, is everything all right?" he asked uncertainly.
She shook her head and made a despairing noise.
"Darling, what is wrong?"
"I studied robotics and mechanics in school. Why can I not fix the thrice-damned portico?" she bemoaned.
"Because, darling, it is a pain in the ass," he informed her, sitting down next to her.
She leaned on him heavily. "I’ve been working on it all night. Ever since you left this morning," she said.
"Have you stopped to eat?" he asked.
"No. Just brought it down with me. Janet came and checked on me. I don’t know why."
He was about to offer to take her to the all-night diner a few miles away, when she said, "I don’t suppose there’s food, is there?"
Her stomach growled pitifully. She blushed. He laughed.
"There can be. Let’s go find some."
He helped her to her feet and went to find her coat.
"Dale, does this mean I have to dress up?" Stacey called.
"It probably means taking off the cloak wouldn’t hurt," he called back.
She sighed and wrestled with it for a moment, then tossed it on the couch, not particularly caring where it landed. Dale returned with her coat, a knee-length almost trench-coat. It was green. She grinned and put it on. He hated that coat.
"I swear, you only wear that to irritate me half the time, don’t you?" he teased, fingering the lime-green monstrosity.
She giggled. "Never occurred to you that I might just like it, did it?"
The coat defined her shape nicely. He watched her put it on, helped her even, and stood back to take it all in, stopping only when he heard her stomach growl again.
"Onward, my dove."
They made their way back to the garage. The car the neighbor on the other side of the Steins had sold them sat gloomily in the middle, like an old man with a shotgun.
Dale opened the passenger-side door for her and slipped in next to her. The green monstrosity(Stacey’s idea for the color) rumbled to life as he hit the button to open the garage door. It took a few minutes for him to remember how to drive the damned thing.
"Darling, do you want me to drive, or are you being my knight in shining armor again?" Stacey asked as they almost hit the workbench in front of them.
"I’ve got it, my love. Just make sure you have your seat-belt on, as I’m not sure this thing is safe."
Stacey smiled. She’d fixed it herself one day when she’d had nothing to do. Dale had helped where he could, but his grasp of old cars was not the best. She knew exactly how safe it was, and exactly how unsafe Dale’s driving was.
Oh, well, she thought. "Please don’t kill us, dear. That’s all I ask."
She scooted over to him and laid her head on his shoulder, shutting her eyes and clicking the middle seatbelt around her waist.
When she woke up they were at the diner and Dale was watching her sleep.
"Can we go in, or do we get the intense joy of watching the sunrise from this dive?" she mumbled.
"I suppose we could go in, though if you wanted to watch the sunrise from this dive, we could do that."
She sat up, shook the sleep from her brain, remembered she was hungry and crawled out of the car.
He held out a hand to her and the made their way inside.
The wait staff consisted of one zit-faced teenager that Stacey didn’t care too much for after he sneezed on her menu. Eventually, he got their orders down. She dropped her head to the table, then jerked it back up, horrified.
"I’m sure he doesn’t wipe down the tables," Dale assured her. She grimaced at him.
"And as always, hell must last longer than the time it takes us to eat," she grumbled.
"Perhaps you would feel better if you slept in a bed for a change, instead of on your worktable," Dale pointed out.
The waiter dropped their plates on the table and wandered off.
Stacey ground her teeth. "Such a delightful young man."
"Quite."
Ah, well, she thought. Food is food.
She closed her eyes and finished it as fast as humanly possible. Dale dropped a check on the table, complete, to her dismay, with a tip for the waiter. Stacey was not a generous person at two in the morning. Her husband offered her a hand and led her back out to the car.
"You know, you owe me for this," she said.
"Oh?"
"Making me sit in that horrendous place. You owe me."
Dale took a long look at her. Her eyes sparkled. He opened the door, almost removing it from the car, when he realized the promise there. Stacey giggled and pulled it shut.
They made it home in record time. Stacey found herself hanging onto the door for dear life.
"See? I told you it was safe," she teased when they pulled into the garage.
"Yes, you did," Dale admitted, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She popped the seatbelt off. He opened the door for her quickly, hopefully.
"You’re terrible," she teased.
He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her onto the hood of the car.
"Dale! Not here!"
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then trailed them down her neck. She giggled and sighed.
"Darling, what do you say to moving inside?" Dale murmured to the divot at the base of her throat.
"Hmm… Sounds delightful."
He pulled her off of the car, took his permission, and led her, as quickly as it was polite to do, into the bedroom.
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Stacey and Dale Yorkes
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: She spends all her time working on that damned thing.
It was after midnight when he got home, and Stacey was nowhere to be found.
He checked the bedroom first, thinking she’d gone to sleep, but she wasn’t there. Nor was she in any of the bathrooms, the kitchen, the study, his office, her office, living room, or dining room. He’d gone all over the house and was nearly ready to call someone when he opened the garage door and heard something metal hit the floor.
"Stacey, dove?" he called quietly, not wanting to spook any undesirables into action.
When no answer was forthcoming, he grabbed the nearest thing to him(a pipe-wrench) and made his way slowly to the back.
She was on her favorite stool, draped across the worktable, tools and parts spread out all around her.
"Darling, you can’t sleep out here," he mumbled, half to himself.
The something metal that had hit the floor at his entry was some part of the portico she had obviously been working on. He picked it up and set it on the table, then laid a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped and cried out.
"It’s just me, darling," Dale assured her.
She looked up at him, half asleep. Her eyes traveled down the length of his arm to the pipe wrench in his hand and she raised an eyebrow. He set it on the table with a chuckle.
"My dove, you cannot sleep out here. You’ll get sick," he chided gently.
"Oh."
He helped her down off the stool and into the house, passing through the living room, where she promptly collapsed onto the couch.
"Darling, is everything all right?" he asked uncertainly.
She shook her head and made a despairing noise.
"Darling, what is wrong?"
"I studied robotics and mechanics in school. Why can I not fix the thrice-damned portico?" she bemoaned.
"Because, darling, it is a pain in the ass," he informed her, sitting down next to her.
She leaned on him heavily. "I’ve been working on it all night. Ever since you left this morning," she said.
"Have you stopped to eat?" he asked.
"No. Just brought it down with me. Janet came and checked on me. I don’t know why."
He was about to offer to take her to the all-night diner a few miles away, when she said, "I don’t suppose there’s food, is there?"
Her stomach growled pitifully. She blushed. He laughed.
"There can be. Let’s go find some."
He helped her to her feet and went to find her coat.
"Dale, does this mean I have to dress up?" Stacey called.
"It probably means taking off the cloak wouldn’t hurt," he called back.
She sighed and wrestled with it for a moment, then tossed it on the couch, not particularly caring where it landed. Dale returned with her coat, a knee-length almost trench-coat. It was green. She grinned and put it on. He hated that coat.
"I swear, you only wear that to irritate me half the time, don’t you?" he teased, fingering the lime-green monstrosity.
She giggled. "Never occurred to you that I might just like it, did it?"
The coat defined her shape nicely. He watched her put it on, helped her even, and stood back to take it all in, stopping only when he heard her stomach growl again.
"Onward, my dove."
They made their way back to the garage. The car the neighbor on the other side of the Steins had sold them sat gloomily in the middle, like an old man with a shotgun.
Dale opened the passenger-side door for her and slipped in next to her. The green monstrosity(Stacey’s idea for the color) rumbled to life as he hit the button to open the garage door. It took a few minutes for him to remember how to drive the damned thing.
"Darling, do you want me to drive, or are you being my knight in shining armor again?" Stacey asked as they almost hit the workbench in front of them.
"I’ve got it, my love. Just make sure you have your seat-belt on, as I’m not sure this thing is safe."
Stacey smiled. She’d fixed it herself one day when she’d had nothing to do. Dale had helped where he could, but his grasp of old cars was not the best. She knew exactly how safe it was, and exactly how unsafe Dale’s driving was.
Oh, well, she thought. "Please don’t kill us, dear. That’s all I ask."
She scooted over to him and laid her head on his shoulder, shutting her eyes and clicking the middle seatbelt around her waist.
When she woke up they were at the diner and Dale was watching her sleep.
"Can we go in, or do we get the intense joy of watching the sunrise from this dive?" she mumbled.
"I suppose we could go in, though if you wanted to watch the sunrise from this dive, we could do that."
She sat up, shook the sleep from her brain, remembered she was hungry and crawled out of the car.
He held out a hand to her and the made their way inside.
The wait staff consisted of one zit-faced teenager that Stacey didn’t care too much for after he sneezed on her menu. Eventually, he got their orders down. She dropped her head to the table, then jerked it back up, horrified.
"I’m sure he doesn’t wipe down the tables," Dale assured her. She grimaced at him.
"And as always, hell must last longer than the time it takes us to eat," she grumbled.
"Perhaps you would feel better if you slept in a bed for a change, instead of on your worktable," Dale pointed out.
The waiter dropped their plates on the table and wandered off.
Stacey ground her teeth. "Such a delightful young man."
"Quite."
Ah, well, she thought. Food is food.
She closed her eyes and finished it as fast as humanly possible. Dale dropped a check on the table, complete, to her dismay, with a tip for the waiter. Stacey was not a generous person at two in the morning. Her husband offered her a hand and led her back out to the car.
"You know, you owe me for this," she said.
"Oh?"
"Making me sit in that horrendous place. You owe me."
Dale took a long look at her. Her eyes sparkled. He opened the door, almost removing it from the car, when he realized the promise there. Stacey giggled and pulled it shut.
They made it home in record time. Stacey found herself hanging onto the door for dear life.
"See? I told you it was safe," she teased when they pulled into the garage.
"Yes, you did," Dale admitted, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She popped the seatbelt off. He opened the door for her quickly, hopefully.
"You’re terrible," she teased.
He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her onto the hood of the car.
"Dale! Not here!"
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then trailed them down her neck. She giggled and sighed.
"Darling, what do you say to moving inside?" Dale murmured to the divot at the base of her throat.
"Hmm… Sounds delightful."
He pulled her off of the car, took his permission, and led her, as quickly as it was polite to do, into the bedroom.