#47 - [accidental video/action]

[totallyinaband]

[Stephen is at his usual spot in the kitchen at The Blue Light today, apron and baseball cap on. He's working fairly quickly, chopping vegetables and periodically checking a few pots on the stove and something in the oven. The radio is on (not playing Christmas music, thank god) and he's humming along occasionally. What he has failed to notice is

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[withloadedguns]

[So this is the Blue Light, huh? Everyone talks about it on the Network. It's different from his usual places. It's not really to his liking. Not completely. But he's up in the City today and, well, thirst knows no location. Hence the beer.]

[ooc: I tried to resist, but I failed.]

[withloadedguns]

["Gusto" is a good way to put it. Well, fine. If it's going to be a contest...

The mistletoe is in full effect now. He has one hand locked in Stephen's shirt and the other finding a hold somewhere between his jaw and the back of his head. This will go on for a little while.

Let's just hope that there's no urge to punch him after...]

[totallyinaband]

[He's part melting and part struggling at this point. His insides have started to feel all gooey, but dammit he wants to stay in control of this for just a moment longer.]

[withloadedguns]

[It's going to be terrible--like when a landslide finally falls--when the curse finally ebbs. Hold on as best you can, Stephen. It hasn't peaked and gone on yet. You'd better make a move if you're going to. It could tip any time.]

[totallyinaband]

[Hnnnnng stop making this more difficult. Both hands slip under his vest, sitting around his ribcage, feeling the lean muscles underneath. Oh god, he's been thinking about this forever.]

[withloadedguns]

[Can you feel him breathing? Perhaps a bit harder than he'd like? But this hand-in-the-shirt bit isn't going to really do it. That hand will have to move to somewhere around Stephen's back. And hold him there. Stay right there. Little does he know how much Stephen might have been thinking about this-- Can't go on much longer.]

[totallyinaband]

[Believe him. He's not going anywhere. The mistletoe is clouding his judgment enough to let him do exactly want he wants. Which is not breathe, apparently.]

[withloadedguns]

[Well, what he wants is to pull back enough, just enough to break the kiss for a moment, so that maybe, if he's lucky (he is a lucky son-of-a-bitch), it'll bother Stephen enough that, when he gets back into it, mere seconds later and with barely any space between them still, it'll be better.

(Powerful stuff, this curse.)]

[totallyinaband]

[Oh god. This man is an evil genius. Stephen leans in even further, pressed up against the other man as close as he can get. Any minute it's going to give, and he is trying very hard to get everything out of this he can.]

[withloadedguns]

[Yes. Yes, he is.

You'd better take what you can get now, because the curse is ebbing. Stephen. And it's ebbing in a hurry. His eyes are open, he sees what he's doing, and it's...not what he had in mind.

You will forgive him if he pulls back with a start, won't you? Because that's what he's doing now.]

[totallyinaband]

[He's been preparing himself for worse than that. Stephen jumps back as well, possibly more quickly even, arms wrapped around himself.]

Uh...

[withloadedguns]

[He says nothing (at first, at least), but turns away, draws up his elbows, and rests them on the table in front of him. Not moving. He looks straight ahead for a long moment and then...]

Those curses.

[Said with something of the intonation one might hear in "Bitches, man."]

[totallyinaband]

Yeah. Curses. Fuck. Uh, I'm going to get back to work. Now.

[aaaaaaand now he's going to dash for the kitchen as non-nonchalantly as he can manage. Which is 'not very'.]

[withloadedguns]

Yeah.

[He, meanwhile, will just about chug that beer and get, as they say, the hell out of Dodge. That's not his idea of a good time. It's gonna take something stronger than beer to get it out of his head too.]