bakerstreet | 7 Minutes in Heaven

She had just caught a glimpse of who she was trapped in the closet with before the door shut. She didn't know if he knew it was her but once she was close enough, her lips met his in a tender kiss.

He hadn't seen anyone come in and at first tried to pull back. But when those lips touched his he knew exactly who they belonged to.

She was hoping he knew it was her, if not, he was going to have some explaining to do. When he didn't pull back she was sure he knew it was her and if he felt that piercing, he'd know for sure. She deepened the kiss but tried to keep her tongue in her mouth, finding that wasn't easy at all to do.

"Mm Sam." He sucked on her lower lip lovingly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled against his lips. "You are one lucky man, Jack Bauer for knowing who you were kissing."

"I'd know those lips anywhere." He smiled and kissed her again deeply.

She was gonna say something but opted for the kiss instead, pressing closer to him and cupping his cheeks. "I knew you would."

"I know my woman." He smiled gently.

"And I know my man." she whispered, gently pushing him back against the wall. "We do enough of this, we should know each other."

"Mm very true." He kissed her deeper.

She moved her hands from around his neck to the sides of his face as she kissed and nuzzled against him.

"Mm fun game here." He kissed her slowly.

"Mhm...very fun when you have the right person in here." she smiled, rubbing her nose against his before gently biting his lip.

"Mm. Seven minutes is too short." He smiled gently.

She couldn't argue with that because it wasn't enough time. "But we can continue this at home or in the car or anywhere we want." she grinned, nudging his chin up and sliding her tongue down his throat then replacing that with kisses.

"Mm and we definitely will." He moaned out softly. "Because you are getting my dick all hard."

That made her grin and she slid her hand across the front of his pants, rubbing gently. "Mmm...that's all mine." she whispered against his lips, nipping them playfully.

"Mm all yours." He groaned gently.

She didn't move her hand and continued rubbing the growing bulge in his pants as she deepened that kiss.

He groaned low shuddering kissing her back passionately. "Such a tease."

"Hell yes." she chuckled, sucking his tongue into her mouth and squeezing his dick. "It won't be teasing once we're somewhere I don't have to stop."

"I really hope that's soon." He grinned down at her.

She still hadn't moved her hand from his pants as she smirked up at him. "The car is close. When's the last time you made out in a car?"

[heh...they could always go here or we can be done.]

"Been awhile. Car sounds really good." Jack smiled down at her.

[Right. Trapped in a closet with the Condesce. Just what the Handmaid's day needs. She leans against the wall with a heavy sigh, verging on a growl, and eyes her Imperial Condescension with no real deference, sorry your majesty.]

This fucking week, I swear.

Prooobleeem, Demoness?

[ Nope, she is not going to let a frumpy rust blood get on her nerves. Besides, she is aaalways up for stabbing some landdwellers, senseless hatemakeouts, or (preferrably) some combination thereof. ]

[A scoffing sound may escape her lips. She bows her head forward a little, and massages at her neck with her free hand. The other twirls her wands.]

I don't know about you, your Imperial Condescension, but I have a busy schedule, and I'd rather not spend whatever time I get off locked in a closet with you. No offense.

[Yes, offense.]

[ She snorts in response and just laaays back. She will be enjoying this. ]

You have literally all the time in the universe, Demoness. Unless, of course, you're having trouble handling the black feelings you have. That must be it.

That is sort of cute and nauseating.

[She leans forward a little, putting on a serious expression.]

Yes. I hate you too passionately. It cannot be contained. [Her serious expression dissolves into an annoyed frown and she assumes her previous pose.]

You are [A pause for emphasis.] really fucking odious, it's true. But...even if I do have the time in the universe, that time is not for you.

[ The Condesce plays ~~coy~~, as though the Handmaid were deliberately playing hard-to-get. After all, teasing another with the possibility of hate, then denying it ever being possible is totally blackrom hard-to-get. ]

Your words are so infuriating, you have no IDEEEA! But, be honest with yourself, Demoness--how can you not hate a face like this?

...what. the. hell.

Now, is that aaanyway to talk to your Empress, Princess? Hee hee hee.

No, Empress. It is not. But I must express my displeasure at being trapped in a small enclosure without a door. It's inappropriate for someone of your stature.

Yes, that is very true!

[ This is definitely inappropriate for someone of her stature; her horns bump against the ceiling and the two Trolls are likely smothered in her copious amounts of hair. ]

In more ways than one.

...I wonder, then, if there's meant to be an alternate means of escape?

You can have the honor of determining the method of escape, Princess.

[ She is lazy and, also, knows there is no 'alternate'. ]

[Pardon her, Condesce. She's just going to be climbing through your massive hair. And seeing that there is a door, it's just blocked.]

...the door is behind your hair.

[ Careful, Feferi. Here be monsters. ]

Of course it is. Are you demanding I move? Just break it down, and without excuses.

So this must be what that "doomed" thing I avoided feels like. Cool.

What, being trapped in a dark block? [ hehe ] Lighten up, Mr. Delicious!

[ it's funny 'cause he glows!! ]

No, the part where I'm trapped with a girl that has teeth Jaws can respect and thinks I'm delicious.

[He'd totally hover up in a corner away from her but with his wings there is pretty much no room for escape]

It's not like I am going to eat you and your delicious creamsicle-smelling self, Mr. Delicious.

[ ROLLING HER BLIND EYES RN ]

The sprite part of you tastes too much like a battery to make it worthwhile.

I keep telling myself that but it ain't selling.

Guess I'm glad you don't get off on the alkaline sting of an electric taste sensation that's sweeping the nation.

Davesprite, how many times do I have to tell you that your human references go right over my head? Speaking of which...

[ she tips her head back and sniffs around in the darkness ]

What exactly is this block for? It smells like mothballs.

Don't you guys lick batteries on Alternia? Everyone has to try it once.

It's a closet. It's where you keep clothes, dead bodies, or people you hope make out with each other. Though not all at once, unless you're into that kind of thing.

...you're not, are you?

[ for a moment, terezi's quiet.

and then she starts to giggle. it's soft, but unsettling. ]

Awesome, great, I hope you use some strong mouthwash 'cause I'm so not taking any indirect corpsesmooching from you.

What's mouthwash?

This day keeps getting better by the minute. Sharkteeth and corpsebreath, what more could I be asking for.

Pfffhahahaha! So gullible, of course we have mouthwash! What kind of horrible civilization wouldn't?

The kind that doesn't put muzzles on people with teeth like yours.

So we gonna do this or what?

We'll talk about the need for muzzles another time, Deliciousness.

[ smirking sideways ]

Yes, we are going to "do this," but between the two of us, you're the one who can see.

[ so get your scrawny sprite ass over here, davesprite ]

Awesome, I'm looking forward to it.

[FINE, HE'LL FLOAT ON DOWN TO A MORE EYE-LEVEL, FACE-TO-FACE DIRECTION]

No biting. Or at least no unsexy biting. I know I'm irresistible but I'd be so stoked if I could make it out of this closet with all my body parts intact.

[Which is totally a romantic lead in to leaning in and kissing her]

[ GOOD DAVE, BEST SPRITE. terezi's about to ask what he means by "unsexy" biting because given the teeth that she has, getting bitten is kind of an inevitability; however, the question is cut off when her lips meet his.

and instantly a surge of "oh my god so delicious" smacks her right in her tastebuds, and she dives into the kiss head-first. figuratively speaking, of course.

tossing her arms around davesprite's shoulders, she giggles into the kiss, almost trying to knock him over with the force she's put into kissing him. HOW DOES HUMAN KISS?? ]

[Wow that is some forceful kissing and probably a way higher ratio of tongue-to-seconds-into-the-kiss than he was expecting goddamn why did this ever seem like a good idea. Whatever, not about to back down or let her run this damn show, gonna get some hands on her shoulders and at least make sure she doesn't push him over, then kiss her back- GOOD GOD THAT TONGUE'S OUT OF CONTROL, GIRL]

[ oh cool he wants to make this a struggle for dominance, too?? at least, that's how terezi's going to take those hands on her shoulders: she pushes more into her kisses, cacklegiggling softly between each of them.

BUT OH FINE, for a moment her tongue seems to stop its excessive exploring, and she pulls back, drawing it over her black lips. when she grins again, those teeth are on full display; one hand lifts to cup underneath davesprite's chin ]

Gog, has everyone ever told you you squirm too much?

[Kind of that, kind of also trying not to get choked on invasive troll tongue]

Has anyone ever told you your tongue is like a band of pirates, ruthlessly plundering whatever country it comes across and leaving no survivors?

[though from how he licks his lips, maybe he's not entirely unhappy with that? It was definitely... interesting.]

[ almost immediately, terezi squishes up her face ]

Gross! I am a very valued member of society, unlike these pir8s you speak of.

[ she would eyeroll of she could. ]

So what comes next in these sloppy human-slash-troll makeouts?

Edited 2012-01-19 22:19 (UTC)

Good, I don't have to worry about you plundering my booty later then.

[regardless of whether that's even possible with a sprite body???]

Whatever the hell we want. [Such as, say, sliding a hand up the back of her neck and into her hair and pulling her into another kiss]

[ what is happening. ]

Back for more, Egdupe?

[ y u get yourself caught in a closet with a troll that killed you. ]

[ HE DIDN'T MEAN TO, he didn't expect their names to get pulled out of that hat. ): SO NOT SURE IF WANT. ]

Um, no, not really. Hey, how many minutes has it been? [ fidget. ]

[ with tz it's never, ever want. ]

I wouldn't know. I'm not the seer of time, duhhhhh.

Yeah, well, I'm not the heir of closets.

And yet, here we are! You just had to go sticking your hand in that head adornment, didn't you?

And you just had to put your name in there. [ hope you can smell or whatever him pointing at you!! ] This is so not my fault.

This is completely your fault.

More like it is your fault, that's whose fault it is! [ what is logic. ]

That doesn't even make any sense.

[ god damn this closet is small, and he's painfully aware of every inch of himself right now, particularly his limbs. why are his limbs so long. why is he all elbows and knees. why is this situation so awkward! ]

None of this makes any sense.

And you were content to continue to blame a blind girl for this entire situation? John, I am surprised at you!

[ terezi's no better herself, short and compact yet dangerous in her own fashion. she's content to stay on her side of the smallish closet for the moment, however. ]

[ ok as long as she stays on that side he can prooobably deal with this! ]

Yup, we're stuck in this closet because you're blind. That's why it's your fault. [ that was rude, yes, but you were rude first!! the rudeness is kind of ruined by how he's stifling guffaws afterward though. ]

[ and thus, we come full-circle. ]

[ True ~~love~~ senseless makeouts transcend such silly things as social networking website migration. ]

...I'm starting to suspect you live in these, hun.

I, Elgala, do not live in closets!

[ she lives under a bridge, thank you very much. because that's so much better. ]

Hmhmhm. It seems to be your natural habitat! Or is this just where you come to stalk your prey, eh, eh?

I do not have prey.

[ good god excellen. she is so red right now. ]

Eh, eh? Is that so? But, look, you've got me cornered and totally defenseless. What a terrible, mean, dangerous beast you are!

[ she would remind excellen that she came onto el last time they were trapped in here, but it wouldn't do any good. ]

You are hardly defenseless, Excellen-san.

[ Irrelevant details. ]

Of course I am! I am the poor, defenseless Gazellecellen and you are the tenacious and ferocious Elgalion.

Are you practicing verbal tactical warfare with puns that bad?

Don't think I'm not onto your own tactics, little miss 'play innocent'.

T-Tactics...??

[ Elgala really cannot plan that far ahead when it comes to seducing the ladies. ]

No tactics? Then it all comes naturally? Oh my, that's even more impressive.

I cannot help but feel I am being mocked in some small way.

Nyahaha! The cornered prey wouldn't dream of mocking her ferocious captor~

I, Elgala, pride myself on being observant at the best of times, and it is quite clear you think nothing of my competence.

It's nothing like that, my croissant-haired mademoiselle! But if it's true that our meetings are not your doing, then the only culprit can be the red string of fate.

Or...a real lack of variety in party games.

[ what is with all these cute names hdsfagjjhfdg ]

I like the fate idea better... if I had to choose.

They do say fate works in mysterious ways and this is about as mysterious as you can get. I wonder what it's trying to tell us?

Besides to make out. Maybe fate is a pervert.

... Mm.

[ This is giving her a lot to think about. ]

The notion would explain a lot about the world.

Now, now, don't go into deep, introspective thought. You'll wrinkle that pretty face!

Oh, Excellen-san, dear.

I would have the wrinkles of dinosaur if I let stress get to me in my line of work.

...I'd ask what you do, but I don't think the inside of a dark makeout closet is the best place for business talk.

The places in which I have endured "business talks" from my Senior would argue that... but I wouldn't.

[ maybe instead, pleasure before business? ]

[ He's not even trying to get up and walk to the door this time, he's just sitting here and sighing. How does this keep happening? ]

[ neither is she, just kind of sitting there with her hands in her lap and her legs stretched out in front of her. ]

... Well, at least we know what's expected of us.

[ Standing up, brushing off his shorts. ]

It's getting downright silly at this point, but I suppose we should get it done with then.

[ not... moving from her space on the floor, though she does pull her knees to her chest and laugh a little uncomfortably ]

Can't we just.. I dunno, talk for a little bit?

[ god why does it have to be so dark. where's the light. why are there lights in this stupid closet??? ]

[ Stops what he's doing, standing and staring at her, kind of confused. ]

In the closet?

[ she shifts a little, and shrugs a shoulder ]

Ahaha... I don't see why not.

[ Confused but... ]

If that's what you'd prefer.

[ reaching forward and grabbing the cuff of his sleeve to tug him down and join her. ]

Good.

[ --wait ]

You didn't see a light switch, did you?

[ Well it's a little late to be telling him to do something like that now!! He just gives Yukari an exasperated look. Not that she can see it. ]

I didn't see much of anything, to be honest.

[ and that just makes yukari reply with a bit of a defensive tone ]

Well sorry! I just thought of it now.

[ Not that he's not used to this reaction by now, he shrugs it off easily enough. ]

I'm sure we can find something if we just feel around the walls.

Yeah, probably.

[ waits for him to do it.... ]

[ He's just... sitting there. He wasn't aware this was what was expected of him. After all his first plan was just to get the kissing over and done with.

He does clear his throat though as the awkward silence falls. ]

[ glances out of the corner of her eye at him.

and clears her throat after his.

and drops her hands into her lap. ]

... Well?

[ Squinting in the dark at her, not really understanding the implied question here. ]

Hmm?

[ tsukumo will at least try to break down the door, something that shouldn't be difficult for her to do given her strength. it's all in vain however, the door still standing right there and without a scratch whatsoever.

... what now? ]

You know-- it's really not that big in here, so...

[please don't keep attacking a door when there isn't any room for me to keep a safe, non-frightening distance. Thankfully that doesn't last too long, his shocked expression being replaced with a pout.]

It could be worse? [h-helpful?]

[ deadpan stare, yogi. deadpan stare. ]

Worse how? [ brb looking for weaknesses in this closet. ] Is it not bad enough that we're trapped in here?

Doctor Akari could be in here... or a vicious giant bear-ghost!!

[He wasn't sure which of the two was worse, honestly.]

... You're not making sense again. [ a sigh. ] Doctor Akari being here will neither make the situation worse or better in any way.

It's worse, it's worse! It'd be twice as scary if he were in here! [a beat, then] --Ah! Not that being locked inside here with you is scary or anything in the first place!

I'm sure Doctor Akari would like to hear what you think about him, Yogi. Perhaps I can relay it to him once we've gotten out.

...W-why does Tsukumo hate me today? [tears at the corners of his eyes? check.]

[ u-urgh. ]

I don't remember saying anything like that.

[ she just doesn't like being trapped like this. ]

[he sniffles for a few seconds longer before straightening up, quick to get over it.]

Alright... what did you want to try next, then? Someone should really leave a note next time: Closet is out of order!

[ she's just forever =A= one more punch before she takes a step back. which isn't much and most likely collides with yogi. ]

I don't understand. Why isn't breaking open? [ thinking thinking ] Can you try using your swords?

[he looks at the door, then his hands, thinking about it for a second... and pretty much only a second, because he'd try anything at this point.

so he summons a sword and despite the awkward positioning and small space he builds up some momentum to hit the door--

only to have it bounce back at him because there wasn't room for the long blade to fully cut down, and on instinct thanks to that harsh, clanking sound he's going to just. reach to place an arm overhead Tsukumo, just in case. the half-pinning her to the door was totally for her protection.]

... I probably should have seen that coming, huh?

[ she winces at the sound before she peers over his arm, frowning at the now useless weapon. it can't be that it's not sharp enough; it's yogi's sword after all. ]

It's worth taking a shot. [ she reaches out to touch his sleeve. ] Were you hit?

I'm fine! It didn't get you, did it?

[Hirato would kill him if she was hurt because of him, he's sure of it! so leans down a bit to her eye-level so that he can examine her better]

... No, it didn't.

[ and she's just. staring at him flatly. ]

You're also too close, Yogi.

[ack-- raises his hands and straightens up]

Sorry, sorry! Just making sure!

[ she sighs again, leaning back against the door. this is seriously exhausting her. ]

I'm out of ideas. [ and calling hirato just to bust them out is not an option. ] There must be some other way to open this door other than by means of force.

Magic?

[or, you know, not. so he's quick to add--]

Maybe there's a note or something hiding around here? You know, like secret instructions from the people that built in the door!

[ wat ]

It's a closet, Yogi. There's nothing magical or secretive about being trapped in a closet.

Not about being in here!! I meant maybe whoever built the door to lock us in put the instructions inside something here... you know, like a scavenger hunt!

[motions to the few things now scattered about (thanks to all their moving) that were being kept in here]

[ she'll just resume staring at yogi. because that sounds really ridiculous. ]

... Are you serious?

[ a scavenger hunt. inside a closet. ]

[AS SERIOUS AS THAT DOOR WAS ABOUT NOT OPENING--]

I-it's worth a shot! Right?

[scavenger hunts were a game for all ages and places.]

[ A SIGH. she will never stop sighing at this rate. ]

... Very well. And if we're not to find anything in this -- mess, what then?

Then we'd be exactly where we are right now? Nothing to lose!

[here, he'll even lead by example and picks up a small box to look through]

Nothing to lose.

[ the closet is too cramped to even move around properly. but she will rummage through the things on the floor, soon flipping through different notepads and discarded papers. ]

What exactly should I look for?

Something that says "How to Open the Door" would be nice... but maybe just anything that has stuff written or drawn on it? If it's really a scavenger hunt, we'll probably have to decipher it!

[decides to leave the floor rummaging to her and gives her as much room as possible, since she was much smaller]

[ she squints at the papers in her hands, trying to make sense of the words. it's too dimly lit in the closet though to even read them properly.

who on earth would even write out "how to open the door" on a pile of papers then dump then in the closet for people who get trapped inside to figure out?

... whoever it is, they seriously need to reconsider their life choices. ]

[watches and lets her do her thing, but. well. he's never been very good at sitting still or quiet for very long.]

Find anything?

[ headshake. she passes a sheaf of paper to him. ]

Nothing specific.

[Hey, Panty baby, just look at this hunk of man meat you're locked in the closet with. He doesn't know what this is, but hell, she's cute, and Kamina's never been afraid of anything, so let's go!]

Oi, what's this about?

[ too bad panty is absolutely atrocious ]

Tch, I find it hard to believe that this is your first time in a closet.

[That's alright, he's too dim to get most of it.]

Never even seen one before. All your surface houses have these things?

[ they can be dim together. ]

... Surface houses? The fuck are you, living like a rat?

[That's just perfect.]

Down in the underground villages, of course. What, you born up top?

[ awesome ]

Fuck yeah. Way up top.

Hell, that sounds like the life! Not like being stuck in one of those dumps.

But, what are we supposed to be doing here, now?

You're screwing with me, right?

Is it something to do with all these clothes?

[ oh my gskjhkdghksdhg HAHAHAAHAHAHA ]

No, bitch; we're supposed to make out.

[What's so fuckin funny, man. He's gonna clean his ear until she's ready.]

Oh, is that all? I can handle seven minutes of that!

[ How did he get into this closet... and who is he even in here with?! ]

... Hello?

[ wow you're kinda young for panty, but: ]

Those guns real?

[ Pulling one out and holding it in front of him for her to see in the dim light. ]

Of course!

[ reaches out to snag it from him ]

Lemme see that shit.

Hey!

[ Making a swipe to try and get it back. THAT'S HIS. ]

[ HAHAHA HOLDING IT OUT OF HIS REACH. and looking it over.

... eh.

real guns aren't as fun as panty guns but hell, she'll try shooting out the doorknob anyway. BANG. ]

[ Trying to reach around her, though promptly jerks back when she shoots and covers his head. Okay, he knows good and well that won't do him any good if the bullet ricochets off the metal.

Luckily... it doesn't seem to be a problem. He'll look up, slowly pulling his arms off his head. ]

Are you off your rocker?!

[ ugh, god, why is this gun so worthless??? shit, with her own angelic weapon she could've totally blown a hole in this stupid door—sadly, she left the only pair she had on her outside the closet because dammit she thought she'd be here with a stud, not some hormonal dorky teenager. twisting up her face in an expression of distaste, she turns the safety on and tosses the gun carelessly over her shoulder; in all likelihood, she's trying to hit jake on the head with the butt of his own gun. ]

Huh?

[ looking back at him, having completely ignored him when she was inspecting the weapon. ]

You say somethin'?

[ Unfortunately for being as awkward and doofy looking as he is, he's got a decent amount of skill and coordination, and he catches the gun easily. Quickly stowing it away in his strife deck before she has a chance to pull that stunt again. ]

I said you're barking mad!

[ .... BADUMTISH ]

Fuck, you ain't a furry, are you?

Despite what some people seem to think, not even a little bit!

... Yeah I ain't buyin' it. Look, if you wanna get your freaky shit on, go talk to my sister.

I'm not interested in any of that!!

[ DEADPAN GLARE.. ]

[ Unsure look back... ]

So when're you gonna open the goddamn door?

It's not that easy.

Bullshit.

If you want to try, be my guest.

[Ky's already blushing and all they are is trapped in the closet together so far. But people are expecting them to...!]

There must be some kind of mistake.

Hmm? You think there was? But I was so sure I rigged the results of the draw correctly.

[Everything is Legault's fault, forever, after all. He wanted to make sure he ended up kissing someone handsome.]

Why would you...?

[Ky's looking more than a little confused, and trying to shove aside his knowledge that he might not even mind kissing Legault.]

I'm not absolutely certain all of the men out there have bathed today, and you looked like you'd be the least offended to be caught making out with me.

Of course, if I'm not your type...

[Legault is not confused. In fact, Legault could just be trolling Ky horribly for his own amusement! It's really hard to tell if he's actually interested in the kissing or not.]

You're, err...

[Ky can't lie and say he's not interested, but he knows he shouldn't be. Forcing him to confront this is a cruel trick if it is a trick.]

Are you saying that I'm your type?

You're not not my type, friend.

[Yes, clearly, the best thing to do is confuse or fluster Ky more. That's why he'll take a step closer. Small space and all.]

[ Ky is suitably flustered, feeling himself quite nervous. His eyes go to Legault's as he swallows. With the nervousness is coming a strange thrill, like before a fight with someone really good, that Ky wishes to match his sword with. ]

[It's only another step before Legault's body is against Ky's, and he places one hand on the wall behind him.]

I suppose you're not the kind of person to get things started, so...

[And it begins, with Legault being gentle, leaning in to kiss Ky right on the lips.]

[Ky takes a moment to process that and then he's kissing back, gently. His hands hover at his side.]

[Legault isn't too aggressive in his kissing, at least, though Ky's return is more than welcome. He places one hand on the other man's side, just to keep himself focused.]

[Ky takes that as a sign to wrap an arm around Legault, pressing himself close but continuing to kiss softly, just their lips touching.]

[ Wait, when did Volkner have a closet in his gym. ]

[ since they decided he can have whatever he wants in his Gym as long as he stops breaking his city in the process...

But, man, he was not expecting this to happen when he decided to put a closet in. ]

[ Considering that his thing is all about electricity, why isn't there a single light bulb in this closet. Dawn's doing that slow shuffle when you can't see a thing with her arms stretched out like feelers and everything. ]

Is-- Is there a button we need to press or something?

I don't... exactly know.

[ ... cue awkward silence. ] I don't think so, though.

[ SHUFFLING TO A STOP, as she stares at where it sounds like he's standing at. ]

Then how are we supposed to get out?

.... It's kind of a long, awkward story. I think you'd rather wait here until somebody lets us out.

That's probably going to take a while.

[ She hasn't heard anyone come by, after all. ]

I think we have plenty of time.

It's a really dumb and mildly embarrassing story, though. [ aka he doesn't want people to think weirdly of him if he tells it... ]

It's okay, we all do dumb and embarrassing things once in a while!

[ And look at this face, does this look like the face of someone who'd kiss and tell? ]

Right, but we don't have to talk about them.

[ ... can't ever be too sure, looks are deceiving. ]

...Volkner, did you remodel your gym again?

Why does everybody always assume that?

[ probably because... it's almost always true. ]

For one, you make a habit of it. For another, this closet wasn't here before. And for yet another, the door not opening is exactly the sort of puzzle I'd expect from you.

I was with you up until that last part, I prefer to make my puzzles a little less... claustrophobic. But to answer your question - no, I didn't.

You could have been trying something new for a change.

But no, this really isn't your style, is it? Hmm... let's see if we can find the lights.

Yeah, let's. [ he reaches out blindly, hoping he doesn't accidentally whack Cynthia in the face, or something - that would just be terribly embarrassing... ]

*Not her face, thankfully.* Volkner, that's my shoulder.

Well, at least I know where you are, now. But I haven't had any luck with a light switch yet. *Running her hand up and down the wall.*

... Ah. Sorry about that. [ there's a pause, and then - ] Hang on, I think I've got something on this side -

[ Wait, nope. That's definitely some sort of cleaning utensil, oops. ]

Unless it's extremely low or extremely high, there's nothing over here, either. And I think I've just about made a -- *Hello, front-on collision.* -- full circle.

*Dryly.* Fancy meeting you here, Volkner.

[Nothing like spending some good quality time with your bestest bud. In a closet. A thankfully not-too-cramped closet.]

So uh... This is your gym and I've really gotta ask. What's the deal with locks in the closets? That's a pretty bad design flaw if you ask me...

[In the meantime, Flint's Infernape is busy trying to get the door open on the other side...]

[ As long as nobody makes any jokes about being in the closet, Volkner can pretty much deal with this... ]

Well, I didn't think getting stuck in a closet was ever going to be a problem in my life. [ There is a pause as he stares pointedly in an accusing sort of way before he remembers oh hey, it's dark in this closet and neither of them can see that well. ] I was proved wrong.

[Oooh. I dunno how long that'll last.]

You should learn to think ahead! Or at least have closets that open from the inside.

[And he folds his arms behind his head.]

You hiding stuff that you don't want people to see in here or something? [With that idea, he begins to blindly shuffle through some stuff.]

Yes, I have a great number of illicit mops that I don't want people seeing. They might think less of me if they knew. [ speaking of which... ] Careful not to knock stuff over.

Illicit mops, huh? Mind hooking me up with one?

[He grins. Not that Volkner can see it, but it's very clear that he's grinning. It's in his voice.]

Aw. Now why would I do tha--!!

[And then... Too late! Stuff gets knocked over. The mops tumble over against some boxes which proceed to fall against Flint, who falls unceremoniously against Volkner with a surprised yelp.]

[ The force of Flint falling against him causes him to unbalance too, back hitting the wall of the closet at a rather awkward angle. It is not a terribly comfortable position, and he has to throw his arms out to grab onto whatever happens to be nearby to keep from falling on his ass completely. ]

... You're heavy. [ His voice might be a little strained from the exertion of holding himself up - ] Hey, mind getting off of me?

Nngh. Y-yeah... I'm workin' on it. [Flint pauses there for a moment to regain his bearings--since he's been tipped over against Flint, has a couple of boxes against his legs and is having a hard time moving so that he can stand up again.]

Pfft. I'm not that heavy. But these boxes are another story... What on earth to you keep in these things? [He reaches out with both hands against he feels the wall behind Volkner and then pushes himself up.]

No idea, it's been forever since I've opened them. Probably useless junk? [ he sighs and props himself up into a more comfortable position before realizing that oh, Flint is a lot closer than he thought. He almost jerks back reflexively, but his back's already against the wall. ]

[Flint is oblivious to this fact. At the moment he's more concerned with trying to get the boxes off of him without falling against Volkner again. And that's much easier said than done in the dark.]

Guess you don't believe in spring cleaning, huh? [He reaches up with one hand--maybe there's a higher shelf that he can grab onto?]

... What, and you do? That's news to me. [ ... ] Anyways, like I said - I haven't touched this closet in pretty much forever.

[ there's a pause as he slowly tries to move his legs, but it's no good - there's no room. ]

[sticking to his side of the closet, arms crossed, and a mix between embarrassed and annoyed.]

This is so stupid.

It does seem to be very... juvenile.

[ and it makes her nervous, as she's a kissing virgin... ]

[he's much of the same. his thoughts haven't progressed that far, though; surely there's some way out of doing ... that, right . . .]

Of all things to pick . . . Tch. [he looks over her, as though to appraise] You're not into this sort of thing, are you?

Not at all. [ ... ] No offense meant to you, of course - in general, I'm... not interested in this kind of game. It seems somewhat unnecessary.

[ With two hands gripping the doorknob, Zelda is desperately trying to free the two closet captives. The door, unfortunately, refuses to budge. ]

... I think we might be stuck. [ She admits with reluctance. ]

[Estelle watches her, wanting to try the door for herself, but believes her when she states that they are stuck.]

Should we try to attract attention from someone outside, then? [Well, if they can't get out by means from inside the closet, then maybe from outside?]

[ Zelda relinquishes the doorknob and turns back to Estelle. ]

That might work! [ She gives a confident nod. ] If we make enough noise, someone's bound to hear us, even through this door.

Yes! We should try!

[And Estelle takes the initiative and starts pounding her fist against the door. Someone, even if they aren't close has to be able to hear them, right?]

Hello. Is anyone out there?

[ Being stuck in a small, dark place was not exactly his favorite place to be... and yet how can he ignore that familiar moody presence so close to him?

Some people just have quite the aura about them even without words being spoken. ]

...Hello, Kyouya~

Quite the predicament you've landed yourself into, hm?

[ All the teasing. He can't help it. Ruffling the little skylark's feathers still amused him even now. ]

[ Of all the people to be stuck in a closet with, it just had to be the most grating person he knows. Irritation doesn't even begin to cover how he feels about this turn of events. ]

I could say the same thing to you.

[ Forever the man of such few words. Though he can almost feel the cloud's emotions practically radiating off of him. ]

Kufufufu~

It could have been worse, don't you think?

[ The lighting of the closet isn't exactly great but his dichromic gaze is fixed on the boy not far from him. He felt... almost safe due to that it was harder for the dear little cloud to attack him in such a closed space.

He can't say he entirely minds this overall. ]

[ The only way Hibari could imagine this being any worse is if he had woken up in a tiny, cramped closet with something physically attaching himself to Mukuro, so his answer to that question is a frown and silence.

Wordlessly, he gets up, reaches over with forced calmness, and turns the doorknob. Nothing happens, of course - he scowls (it's an expression alarmingly similar to an irritated beast of prey), contemplating whether or not to physically smash his way through this boundary.

Contemplation takes all of .5 seconds before he gives the door the best blow he can in such a cramped space. Again, nothing happens, except he is probably in some deal of pain now, although his expression gives nothing away. ]

[ While he couldn't entirely see Hibari clearly in the dim light, it was enough he could still watch him - and what he'd decided to do. It seemed like the action that the boy would take and in the end proved as fruitless as he'd expected.

There was a reason they must have been stuck in here as otherwise they would not simply have been left in here like this if there was an easy, viable way out. ]

...My, that sounds like that was quite painful~

[ Totally not sympathetic at all. ]

Not all boundaries can be destroyed by pure brute strength. I believe there is some action required between the both of us before the door will open.

Otherwise I see no reason in why they would lock us in here together.

[ Hibari has been finding it extremely bothersome, how much cooperation he's been forced into with Mukuro both on the battlefield and off. But he supposes he can deal with it, if it means getting out of this cramped space - after all, if there's one thing he hates, it's being confined. ]

And you think you know what we're supposed to do to get out, then?

[ Truly like a caged bird now, aren't you, Hibari?

A thoughtful hum escapes his lips briefly. There's a number of things they could do but a few of them are instantly squashed by the fact there's little room to move so it narrows those options down even more. ]

I have a few ideas~

Though I daresay they are ones I do not see you going through with willingly.

... Just spit them out, Rokudo. Even if they aren't to my taste, the less time spent in here, the better.

[ Though he might regret those words once he actually hears those ideas. ]

[ So forward as always. Good thing one can't see the smirk on his face right now. ]

Even if one of those ideas mean getting closer to me than you ever have before, Kyouya~?

[ To prove this, he has an idea of where Hibari is standing so he silently moves closer, brushing fingers along the boy's cheek with quite the idea of what he was going to do. Mukuro disliked being stuck in such a cramped place; it reminded him of being stuck in Vendice prison and he hated such unpleasant memories. ]

[ it's almost a reflexive action, how he immediately goes to grab Mukuro's hand when he feels fingers against his cheek - he isn't very fond of being touched, least of all by Mukuro of all people. ]

You are always speaking around what you mean. It's annoying. [ ... ] Say what you want to say and get straight to the point.

[ Seeing as he'd expected such a quick reaction from Hibari, he didn't entirely mind the hand that had come to grip his wrist. Though the boy had said to get to the point?

Fine with him~ ]

Kufufu~

If this is what I believe it to be... then I would have to kiss you in order for us to be released from this space.

[ ... ]

Next suggestion.

[ they can come back to this one later, if need be. But only if need be. ]

There are not many options that would be as logical as that one, I believe.

Is a simple kiss truly so bad?

[ The tone itself is quite teasing. Just this once, he wants to see if Hibari will do what he needs to on his own or whether he'd have to be the one to do it himself. ]

It would be enough to allow us to leave and it isn't going to be seen by anyone else other than myself so just what is it that makes you hesitate?

... Would it bring you any particular joy for me to state the obvious, or say something you've probably already anticipated me saying? [ ... ] Besides, you have no way of knowing that a kiss, of all things, would unlock the door.

Okay, randomly throwing shit out there, but you don't think there's some kind of puzzle to make the door unlock, do you?

[He's just trying to alleviate the situation with humor. He has no idea why that's a valid question.]

There could very well be!

[And Akane just smiles, completely amused by this. Of course, it might be triggering for a terrible time in her life, but heck, she's really not all too affected by it considering she's alive...

...she thinks.]

How do you think we should solve it?

[There might be a hint of a suggestive tone in her voice mixed in with all that naivety... maybe... not much.]

[...It's a closet.

Why is he in a closet? What sort of stupid game involves a closet?

Nevermind the detective. He'll be trying to figure out why the door is stuck, thank you.]

[ John knows exactly why they're in the closet.

He doesn't like it.

He'll just be watching Sherlock jiggle the doorknob for a while and looking vaguely uncomfortable, arms crossed across his chest. ]

Anything?

[ No, of course not. Brilliant. ]

[Yes, well, some of us had better things to do in our teenage years than anything like that, John.]

No.

It's stuck.

[He's working on un-sticking it.

Now would be a good time to have his lockpicks on him. ...Not that he has a pick set. Of course not. Why would he have that?]

[ To each their own, Sherlock. He regrets nothing. ]

We could try breaking it down.

[ John, you know that's not going to work. ]

Could.

Solid. Probably oak.

[More likely to bruise whoever tried to break it down than give way.]

A closet. Really.

[ John shifts over to tap the wood experimentally, then brace his weight against it. It'd take more than him and lanky-never-eats to take it down. If he had Lestrade in here -hell, even Anderson, maybe, and wouldn't that idea infuriate the other- it could probably happen. ]

Fucksakes.

[ John scrubs his face with a hand. ]

We have to kiss.

[ It may or may not be blocked by his palm and the scratching, reluctant note his tone has taken on. ]

[... ... ...]

What?

[John's kidding him. He has to be kidding him.

Sherlock looks at him, the expression nothing but quizzical.

...And perhaps a little confused.]

[ John clears his throat roughly. ]

We have to kiss.

[ He repeats, lowering his hand to look up at Sherlock's face and -- oh god, he can't. He doesn't know how Sherlock does it, going from sinister, cynical genius to innocent child in a second flat. John can't look at him, so he turns his head slightly and addresses what appears to be an umbrella stand nearby. ]

Seven minutes in Heaven? Throw you in a closet for seven minutes and have you kiss to get out again.

[ Awkward. ]

...That sounds completely stupid.

Do people do that?

[Still that same, confused, quizzical, and condescending look.]

That explains so much.

Yes, Sherlock, people do that.

Granted, usually they're much younger people.

[ John's tone suggests the eyeroll he doesn't perform. He's silent for a moment, but then he uncrosses his arms. ]

Alright. Come down here.

[ You're tall. He's not standing on tiptoe for this. ]

I've never heard of anything this stupid.

[Because you were never invited to parties, Sherlock. Because you did this sort of thing. And had no friends.]

It's wholly possible we're simply stuck in a closet.

[Except the door's not blocked from the outside, but it doesn't seem to want to budge.

So. Fine. Maybe he has to accept this.

...He still looks stiff and awkward and faintly confused as he leans forward to help make up the difference between his height and John's lack of height.]

Yes, alright, but worth a try. Let's just get on with it.

[ He stiffens a little himself as Sherlock leans into his personal space, something he should actually be used to. But it's never been like this.

Right, John, just a kiss. This is your best friend, someone you've killed for (someone you'd die for) - it's simple.

One hand lifts and settles on the other man's shoulder, steadying, perhaps, for both parties. He looks the detective over quickly -don't think about it- and leans in. His lips land against Sherlock's cheek, dry and warm, experimental.

You coward, Watson. ]

[The kiss to his cheek makes Sherlock release a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. It's soft and leaves him almost on a laugh.

Under John's hand, the muscles in the detective loosen. A kiss on the cheek is familiar territory. Perhaps not from a proper friend or a male one, but it is an area where Sherlock needs not worry himself too much.

Sherlock lets out another faint chuckle as he leans a little closer to return the gesture on John's opposite cheek.

Calm, almost detached.]

[ Sherlock is laughing.

And when he kisses John on the cheek, the older man can't help the way his face splits with a grin. This is utterly ridiculous.

His free hand lands on the doorknob. He doesn't have to twist it to know it won't work. Not yet. Seven minutes.

John feels airy, like he's been filled with bubbles full of light. ]

Stop. Sherlock...

[ But it's too late, and he's laughing a little himself. ]

[The sound of John's laughter makes his own a little more audible. He ducks his head, closer to John... but it's a coin toss as to whether he realises that.]

Not my fault.

[But it's said lightly, and he flashes a smile at his friend.

The fact that John's hand is on the doorknob but not turning speaks volumes, as does the name of the "game" John mentioned earlier.

Seven minutes.

With another chuckle-- unable to help it at the absurdity of the idea of this "game," "playing" it, and being trapped with John-- he leans in further. Sherlock does what he did a moment ago: a kiss to the cheek.

This time, there might really be some affection to it, and one of his hands sets lightly, easily on John's upper arm. A friendly touch, like the hand on his shoulder.]

[ John doesn't seem to notice, or else doesn't seem to mind, the closing proximity. He just shakes his head a little at the other man. ]

Partially your fault.

[ He disagrees, but there's warmth in his voice and suffusing through him when the other's lips land back on his cheek. He tilts his head, presses another kiss against the man, this time to his jaw.

The hand on Sherlock's shoulder slings its arm around his neck, fingers toying with that mop of dark hair and mussing it with a rather definite playfulness, a mockery of intimacy. ]

Strangeness is practically your calling card.

[ And yet, there's another kiss on the wing of the younger man's nose. ]

[Sherlock let out a quiet breath at the feeling of lips on his jaw. A kiss to the cheek, a kiss to the forehead-- those, he found familiar, easy. Now...

Now, the quick detective who (almost) always had the answer for everything was out of his depth, was edging along unknown territory, not quite letting himself explore it blindly. He bowed his head, tilting it to the side just faintly. His hand flexed around John's arm, but not badly. Just enough to hint at the same uncertainty as that sound he'd made.

With some hesitation, he brushed his lips over John's temple. Then he managed to chuckle a little again, finding words to speak.]

Usually my 'strange' almost gets us killed.

[...It really shouldn't sound like he can't decide which is worse.]

[ It's hard to ignore the breath when it's wafting against his skin, but he stands perfectly still and swallows the sudden jump in anxiety. There's a quiet note in the back of his throat, an unconscious dip of his eyelids, for the brush against his temple. His fingers stop fussing at the man's hair and land at the back of his neck instead, thumbing a gentle circle into the skin there. It's brief, simple - it's all fine, you're alright - and Sherlock is allowed to ignore it if he wants to. But he can't help trying to reassure the other, at least a little.

The huff of laughter he gives for the reply is a bit softer. ]

Disappointed?

[ The tut is implied. Of course he is. ]

Well, week's not out yet.

I know how to handle that.

[His voice is low, and there's a halting sense to it, as if the words keep getting caught in his throat.

The rubbing both calms and tenses him, but he says nothing, dipping his head lower under the attention. His lips carefully brush against John's jaw now, just under the ear. His mouth is just barely away from skin as he speaks.]

This... isn't my area.

[A bit of a joke? Yes.]

[ He's a little distracted by the quality of the tone and the way Sherlock is leaning closer, as if he's never been granted a modicum of affection in his life. Being close enough to feel the tension and the awkwardness rolling off of the other, it's hard to remember that he's a perfect bastard, and by choice for the majority. John finds himself wrapping his hand around the back of the man's neck and issuing another tender gesture, just a light squeeze at the muscle.

But when Sherlock draws down so close to his ear, he's not going to be able to stop the delicate tremor that comes of it. That's a sensitive area, at least for him. The man's words could just as readily be an apology as well as a joke because oh, god.

His head turns away from that attention, off of reflex and knowing this is not where Sherlock wants to go. This is out of bounds for them. He tries to gentle it by speaking against the hollow of the man's cheek, lips still curled in a hint of a grin. ]

And yet, if I've managed it...

[ He offers a joke in return, though it might be in desperation to say anything at all. ]

[The tremor and John's slight turn away sends a clear enough sign to Sherlock. His hand tightens and then loosens on John's arm. He doesn't fully let go-- that would be too quick a retreat. Too obvious.

This is to get out of this closet, nothing more. Practical, simple. There was nothing else to it.

Sherlock cleared his throat slightly, keeping his position and his head remaining ducked. Easier to not look at John. Not meet his eyes.]

How long's it been, then?

[ There's a low, almost startled chuckle at that. ]

That's definitely none of your business.

And besides that, you don't want to know.

[ Translation: John doesn't want to tell. ]

[Sherlock pulls back a bit more, looking puzzled. Now he could look at John, look him right in the eye. The statements were enough to bring him out of the uncertainty from the affection and touch and lips and feel of skin under his.]

What?

Isn't that the point? The time?

[It probably says a lot about Sherlock that he cannot imagine where they got on separate ideas of "how long."]

[ John stares right back at him, bemused. But then - oh. Oh. ]

Right.

[ Clearing his throat, most awkward man in the closet at the moment. Not like that. Christ.

He just tries the door. It's still stuck. ]

Well, either time's not up yet or...

[ He licks his lips, anxious. ]

You weren't keeping track of the time.

[He is not impressed.

Then... He frowns sharply and looks at John.]

You know the rules.

We've stopped. Does that pause the clock? Or reset it completely?

[...Yes, he's asking this.]

You weren't either.

[ John feels the need to accuse. God, he feels like he's being punished for something that is completely not his fault, and completely not his obligation to do. ]

I don't know, alright? This isn't usual. Usually it's just seven minutes flat.

[ He can already sense the argument coming, the accusation that he had had a completely stupid idea, and that they were genuinely stuck in a normal closet. It was a stupid idea. Or maybe they're not doing something right.

Two birds, one stone. John's hands vacate the door, wrap around Sherlock's lapels, and pull him down into a real kiss, lips claiming lips. It's desperation and shut up, Sherlock. He hopes it works to set them both free, because this is a line he never expected to cross. ]

[Sherlock sighed at the first accusation, and his hand was in his pocket. The plan was to retrieve his phone, set a timer, and then... go back to the careful whatever-it-was they'd been at before.

But as soon as he has hold of the phone, he's pulled in. At first, he expects a further scolding or... something. Not what happens. That stuns the consulting detective into silence and stillness.

A second later, he begins to pull back, but those hands are still on the lapels of his jacket, and his body won't obey the rational thought. It leans in, rather than what he thought was the best course of action, and his hand tightens around John's arm. The lean is about all he does in response, perhaps a slight movement of his lips, but in general...

It would seem that Sherlock has not only shut up but also has no idea what he's supposed to do in reply.]

[ That's alright, Sherlock, John's gathering the slack, or rather, filling the gaps in information. Sherlock's lips seem dry, taut, and yet there's a suspicious warmness to them, either due to the earlier exchange or from pressing them against John. It really shouldn't matter.

One hand loosens itself from the lapel and takes Sherlock's chin instead, tilting the angle between them just slightly before John leans in again. This kiss is gentler, maybe apologetic, because the younger man feels stiff as a plank and John is quite sorry he has to endure the contact. But there's some pleasure that can be derived in the drag of mouths, even if there's no emotional investment in it. John will try to make it good for him. And of course, he's not actually keeping Sherlock held in place now. That's too cruel. ]

[There's a whisper of a breath from Sherlock just before the second kiss. It might have just been the half-sigh or it might have been John's name. Hard to say.

But he doesn't pull away. Instead, he tilts his head a little more and lets the grip on John's arm loosen. His hand never lets go, but it is not holding on quite so desperately now. An inch back for a breath and to stare at his friend for a moment and to wet his lips. An uncertain act, feeling their dryness and aware of the lingering sensation and taste the kiss has left on them.

He doesn't do it easily or smoothly, but this time... it is Sherlock who closes the small distance to kiss him again. His mobile is forgotten, and his hand reaches out, touching but not not grasping the fabric over John's side.]

[ John is breathing through his nose, or trying to; the air feels thicker and harder to swallow. His eyes meet Sherlock's as the younger man draws back. Done? But the other is licking his lips and that, that uncertainty should not be as attractive as it is. Mister Holmes, your humanity is showing a bit. And right now, that moment belongs to John, who is still when the other shifts back in, the motion doing little to dissuade the notion that he might have just kissed a marble figurine into temporary animation.

His mouth yields under the opposite set of lips, as much as it can, before shifting to respond in kind, setting a shallow tandem of motion between them. He finds himself making more reassurances, the hand once on Sherlock's chin shaping one side of his face instead, the rough callous of a thumb tracing the arch of one of those prominent angles of the man's cheek. Yes, this is kissing, this is fine, good. It's just me. You're alright.

John feels a little like a teenager again, practicing with schoolgirls beneath the stairwell. There's something almost sweet about it. At this point, he should probably know better than romanticize anything about Sherlock Holmes, but here he is, carefully trying to teach the man what all the fuss about snogging was, gently drawing his teeth over the younger man's lower lip. ]

[Logic and reason have no place in this, and that sets Sherlock at a disadvantage he often tries to avoid. He is a man who can have a woman knelt in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes... and still think to take her pulse, feel that there was something genuine to her beneath all her acts and ploys. But now...

Now he is simply keeping with that kiss, eyes half closed. He pressed forward a little more, gripping John's shirt as the hand on his arm moved up. It lingered on the shoulder then crept experimentally to rest the very tips behind John's head.

His mouth parted under the application of teeth, and he gave a quiet gasp. Usually, the new and unfamiliar was a beacon, something he was drawn to like a moth to the flame. Yet here... Here he was uncertain, edging around eagerness. Not quite a reluctant student but a cautious one.]

[ The sensitivity shouldn't have surprised John, who wasn't new at this and knew pretty well that Sherlock must be, but with the gasp, he hesitates. He knows what the general next step here is, but would it be good? Would it be right? The last person he'd ever seen kiss Sherlock was Irene Adler, but never like this. And she'd hurt him, hadn't she? She'd tried to toy with him and use him - John could safely say he'd never do that. This was just... he didn't know what this was. A one-time thing, a curiosity, an area he never planned to encroach upon, but was sincerely indulging in while it lasted. It was odd, and yet, it seemed to work, like everything else did. They could go back, though, right?

John sucked slowly on that lower lip, drew the tip of his tongue across it once, and stepped closer. He kissed Sherlock full on the mouth again, open this time. He could feel the fingertips tickling across the back of his neck and his breath hitched for them. Yes, alright. ]

John.

[The sound of the name is definite, though very hushed, uttered just before the military man's mouth is against his again. He moves forward a half step to return the gesture, uncertain but trusting the physical instincts now more than his mental ones. A dangerous path to deviate onto, and he knows it, but it's worth it this once.

Because it is this once. This chance, this moment. Once in a lifetime. He's seen them before, never quite like this, but he knows the feeling it brings, having such a chance in front of him. Yet before, he has always chosen logic, trusted the familiar, and allowed them to slip from his grasp before he could ever touch them. Now... now he has a firm hold, and he knows that the moment he lets go it will vanish in a puff of smoke. Be forgotten, buried, and never again spoken about.

John has his girlfriends. Not one right now, but he will have another one soon. They're frequent, as are his mannerisms of rolling his eyes, waving off a comment, or making a definite statement to the contrary whenever anyone seems to think he would consider men in such a fashion. This is a departure from normality, Sherlock knows, for both of them.

And for that reason, they will not speak of it again.

He presses his lips more against John's, settling his palm against the back of his neck now, though his fingers move in and out, lightly kneading at the surrounding skin.]

[ John has girlfriends and John has friends, a circle of normalcy to run to when things got slow or too jagged. He's not gay. He's not homophobic, he's just... never been interested. But he's kissing Sherlock and he's not repulsed, not as awkward as he originally though, just curious. It's almost transcendental. So does that make John's sexuality more fluid than he thought, or Sherlock more than a man?

One thing is certain - Sherlock is a quick study. There's a slow hum of pleasure from John, whose jaw drops a bit with that pull at his neck. It's good, really good. Sherlock will have a hand pushing beyond his jacket and an arm wrapped around his waist. A puff of smoke when the light shines in, but for now, there's only the thickness of the air between them and the wet slide of a tongue across Sherlock's teeth. ]

[Sherlock has always known where his fascination lies-- with the unusual. With the exceptional. The insane mastermind. The fearless dominatrix. All of the people who he'd actually noticed were exceptional.

And then... there was John. What was exceptional about him? Wounded in action. Hundreds of soldiers were. Soldier. How many of those were there. Moderate intelligent. Not stupid or genius. Average. Completely normal in every way. Why, then, were his fingers touching John's hair, pressing slightly to pull him closer? Why did he tentatively meet the tongue in his mouth with his own?

This was new, unfamiliar territory. And there was something extraordinary about John. ...That he was here. That through all of it. Through every case and every insult and every near-miss. John was still here. John still lived in 221 B Baker Street. The thought made Sherlock step closer, blind to the light now visible, his usually too-attentive eyes and brain stalled.

All he could think of was this moment.]

[ And John's eyes? John's eyes are shut, but he follows the shift in motion, natural. He's letting himself feel this and setting the example. John's not used to being the teacher and there's something attractive in that, the same way there's something fiercely invigorating about charging into the streets when lives are at stake; something he's due to tuck away. He knows he's nothing special, couldn't say what Sherlock saw in him either, but there is something there, something here, between the slow tangle of their tongues and the brush of their bodies.

John stays. Sometimes he knows why and sometimes he doesn't need to. They're two men who are different in almost every aspect and yet, in this strange tug of war, they've found an equilibrium. It's not perfect, but it's... good. For both of them. The balance of power might not be wholly equal, but there's still give in both sides, enough that it works and often works well.

Sherlock is giving now and it is, in fact, what John had wanted all along. It's selfish in a way, but he revels in the moment that he can almost feel the other man's attention wind down to this, just this. Soon, perhaps too soon, they'll be back where they were, entities of logic and emotion, knowledge and experience. But right now, for the first and final time, they're in John's realm. The soldier holds a mad genius in his arms and doesn't doubt, for the moment, that he actually has him. If the groan against Sherlock's mouth is any indication, he's got John too, completely. ]

[Sherlock's movements might not be considered quite natural. Especially to him feeling himself as he shifts. It seems, from his pattern of behaviour, wholly unnatural. He does not let anyone this close-- not physically and certainly not emotionally. His heart doesn't race like this, his breath doesn't catch in his throat. He doesn't feel human contact and crave more.

And yet his hand is at John's collar. Then slightly down, fingers on the bare neck rather than just behind his head and feeling the skin tentatively. Now, he's-- carefully, certainly carefully-- mirroring John's earlier actions, pressing his tongue into the other man's mouth. There's very little confidence in the action, but it's an attempt. Learning by example.

Sherlock steps closer, right against John. His friend, his one companion. After this moment, they'll put it aside. Be what they always were. Be what they're supposed to be. And Sherlock will be content with that. In this moment, though... There is nothing else in the world. Nothing else at all.

He pulls away, remembering at last to breathe and barely managing to get more than an inch from John's lips. Already, he craves the taste again. He almost laughs at the thought that crosses his mind. A new addiction not to be had again.

He finds the voice for one word, shaky but without regret, heated with their actions and uncharacteristically entirely unguarded.]

John.

[ The halting movements might generally be annoying to John, who has had everything from clumsy to articulate, but hardly every hesitant. This time, however, he feels on edge and touch-starved, enough that any brush of skin against skin has his own hands twitching. He lets Sherlock have his mouth, and it's far enough along by now that John doesn't mind reminding him that he's not so perfectly polite all the time. He sucks on that tongue.

He has no other choice but to breathe when Sherlock pulls back. Good, too, because he was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. The sound of his name gets the next inhale to come quicker, to earn a response that's certainly pitched deeper than his normal timbre. ]

Yes.

[ He doesn't know what he's promising, but he means it. His eyes open briefly, half-mast and silently savoring the other's expression. Sherlock is... gorgeously debauched, open, fragile, almost human. John loves him.

Soon enough (perhaps later today), Sherlock will say something insensitive and John will be annoyed; he'll continue to be a perfect storm of imperviousness and John will follow behind him, tutting and sweeping aside the damage that he can. Because John will remember moments like this, the flashes of humor, of passion, of vulnerability - of good. They are rare, but he's thankful for every one of them, because sometimes, like now, he feels like he's earned them.

He's not lying to himself anymore - he could try to take this a step further and he'd be alright with it. His body is warm and shaky with an arousal that can be indulged, could be fanned to flame. It's been so long. He could probably push; Sherlock trusts him, and John would be willing to bet that pleasing a man would not be half as difficult as pleasing a woman. Not with how attentive he'd be. Any other time, any other person, and John would be sliding his hand up a shirt right now, testing his boundaries. However, there's something in him telling him not to be greedy, to savor what has been more than enough, more than he ever could expect. John respects it.

Tilting his head after he's somewhat caught his breath, he presses more kisses to Sherlock's lips, each one slow and almost aching, reverent. Three in total, each succeeding pressure more shallow than the last. It's thank you and goodbye. When John pulls back properly, he misses it immediately.

But he's sucking in a slow breath, trying to gather himself back in and beginning to unwind himself from the other man. ]

Ready?

[ He inquires softly, hands just barely brushing Sherlock's sides now. He doesn't have any doubt that the door will open now. ]

[After the third light kiss, Sherlock leans forward. His forehead rests against John's for the slightest of moments, and his hands tighten for a second. As if he plans to not let go. But John moves to pull back, and the consulting detective releases him, taking one step back as well.

He has to think to pull himself away from the storm brewing in him. A small moment of allowing total vulnerability to show, and the floodgates threaten to burst. Everything he pushes down-- good and bad: What John means to him, this aside. More than anyone has ever meant. What he'd do for John. Anything. That he's been thinking about the possibility of kissing him-- never something he would do, but the thought could be entertained-- for a long, long time. The rebuke always on the edge of his tongue that he never unleashes. The sharp demand to know why John stays and when he'll get it over for the both of them and just go. They both know it will happen, so why drag it out? ...The plea to prove him wrong about that. He takes a deep breath and masters himself.

Armoured, able to face the world in which he has never quite belonged.

There is a crack in it. His hand flexes to reach for John's at the question, but he controls it, keeps it at just the extending of fingertips at his side. He does not let himself even begin to try and touch John again.]

Of course.

[They won't speak about this again, nothing more will come of it, but it won't be forgotten.

Sherlock licks his lips to either chase away or hold onto the taste of John's mouth against his. He reaches out, touches the handle of the door, and it turns for him.

He nods once and pushes it open.]

[hiss whisper] What are you doing in here?

What am I doing in here? What are you doing in here? [Punk.]

Be quiet! Do you want them to hear you?

Who? [Did she just trip slap-stick style into a murder?]

[He reaches out and puts a hand over her mouth just as the sound of two men coming into the room fills their ears. They begin talking in German]

[whispers, to Britta]They're discussing the students in the school, starting with the top of the class.

[FUCK.

She raises her hand to ask a question.]

[Yes, this would be Sherlock ignoring her hand up, because he's trying to listen.]

One of them is telling the other that he's lost the list.

How did you lose it?

It was that man.

What man?

[Okay, she's getting tired of his hand over her mouth. Thirty seconds and she's going to start licking -- well, spitting on his hand.

Was it you? Ten bucks says yes.]

[he finally lowers his hand from her mouth]

They're making plans to search the Dean's office.

[She has to try very hard to keep a giggle in.] I assume -- that's a bad thing?

Considering they've just killed two men.

[Consider that giggle gone. Her face drops.] Oh well, that is a bad thing.

What're you going to do?

Just a bit of a bad thing, yeah. [Idiot.]

I'm going to stop them from killing another. Do you know someone named Abed?

Yeah -- no, wait, are you going to drag him into this?

He's already part of this, it's the person they're planning on killing next.

[Her mouth sets in a determined frown, her eyes turning cold.] Alright, let's go then. [Nobody hurts Abed.]

[And, honestly, of the lot of the Spanish-class-group, Abed is probably the only one Sherlock would get along with. And that is really only a minor possibility.]

You're not coming.

Mm, yeah, I think I am.

No, you're not. You're staying in here and waiting for your blond boyfriend.

Blond boyfriend?

That's why you're in here, isn't it? Secluded location, inside of a closet. Tiny hairs on your shirt sleeve, not your very affectionate cat. Male, probably, and no doubt why you're in here, in order to meet him.

No, I'm actually hiding from someone. [Hush, hush.]

[Cue worryface. It's only a mild worry, because this could clearly ruin the case he's currently on]

From who?

Uh, big guy, walking around covered in green paint. Total accident.

Oh, Chang. Yes, he's off getting me access to the upper levels of the school. Owes me a favor.

Not Chang -- it's another guy, big as a brick house. [She doesn't have to hide from Chang.]

Anyways, we should probably stop those guys from killing Abed, right?

I wonder why Chang was covered in green paint, then.

[Oh, there's no chance he's going to be able to convince her to go away. He lets out a very long, very irritated sigh]

If they fire at you, I'm not going to push you out of the way.

Right back atcha. [No, she'll definitely push you out of the way.] Oh look.

[She bends over and picks up a paintball gun from the dirty ground.] A paintball gun.

It's not a paintball gun.

[She practically throws Sherlock the not!paintball gun.] Take it then!

Fine, I will. [and he does]

Last thing I need is you shooting someone.

I don't want to shoot anyone. [She's anti-shooting with actual guns, y'dig?]

That's nice. When they start shooting at you, I hope you'll keep your very unimportant ideals.

Well, hopefully it doesn't come to that. [Hisssss, she's a snake!

And she's not anti-kneeing guys in the lower regions, y'know.]

They have already killed people.

You're just another blonde student to them.

[A blonde student with some sick dance moves.] Alright, what's the plan then?

Find the killers, stop them. Keep you from getting killed, since you're stupid enough to continue following me though I've told you it's dangerous.

[She doesn't know the meaning of the word 'dangerous'!] We might be able to catch them when they're in the dean's office. I bet they'll be confused at the overwhelming theme of dalmatian in his office.

[Congratulations, you have managed to throw Sherlock Holmes]

Dalmatian?

[/THROWS ARMS UP IN THE AIR LIKE SHE JUST DON'T CARE.]

Ha, see if it throws you off then it'll definitely throw the killers off.

Yes, for about thirty seconds, and then they'll shoot him.

[starts to head down the hallway, tucking the gun into his pocket]

You were supposed to see Abed today, yes?

[She speed walks to catch up with him.] Yeah, like I do everyday. Why? Do you want me to go find him?

No, I need you to send him a text. Tell him to get to the Dean's office.

[Britta stops in her tracks for a moment, her brows furrowed in confusion before she runs to catch up with him again.] Wait -- why? Isn't that the complete opposite of what we want him to do?

[She takes her phone out though.]

No, we'll send him to the Dean's office and see where they try to kill him from.

[Obviously.]

[She is going to hit him.]

What? No, we're not going to do that! Look, we already know that they are or will be in the Dean's office -- why do we have to drag Abed into this anymore?

[he spins around and all but hisses in her direction]

Because they're not going to just sit there like something out of a movie, waiting for him to arrive. They're going to be cunning, and they're going to hide out. Either you text him and tell him when to arrive so we can be there to protect him when they try to attack him, or we don't bother with that, probably get killed ourselves, and then when they're ready to kill him, he'll die, too. Brilliant, excellent.

[aaaand he spins back around with DRAMATIC COAT FLOURISH] This is why i wanted you to stay in the closet.

[Her jaw clenches, her hands ball into fists, and she's really quite amazed at the self-restraint that she has. She's able to beat back enough of the rage to let one word out.] Fine.

[She texts Abed and follows Sherlock.] How's this then, "Abed, can you meet me at the Dean's office in ten minutes? It's important."

Make it five.

Alright, five then. Sherlock, I hope you're right. [What the hell is she talking about? Of course he's right. He's going to be right, Abed's going to be safe, the bad guys are going to be arrested, and Sherlock's going to rub it in her face.

Great.]

[he looks back at her, at first a little offended by the notion that he wouldn't be right, then with only slightly softer features. Friend of hers, of course. Sentiment, naturally.]

Let's go.

Question though; we going to let Abed on the plan or leave him in the dark? [Though, who is she kidding? He'll most likely know something's up just from her text alone.]

Him knowing about it will only make him afraid, which will give us away to the killers.

[Despite the very upcoming life-threatening situation, Britta laughs.] He'll probably say something about his exact role in all this. Is he supposed to be playing the scared victim or the "oh hell naw" kind of victim?

I just want you guys to know that Sherlock/Britta...

It could actually be the most important thing.

Brb fetching my smelling salts.

Haha, thanks. They'd have the most adorable, curly-haired, pointy-faced, blue-eyed babies ever.

LOL!

Sherlock is like NO. I am forever loling.

Edited 2012-01-13 01:18 (UTC)

[The young man's voice is terse and flat.]

Who's there? I can hear you breathing.

[Nina tenses up when someone else speaks, but... wait. She knows that voice. She doesn't relax so much as adjust her position, though.]

Ryuuzaki? Is that you? [Of course it's him. Who else would it be?] It's Nina. What's going on here?

[He squints into the darkness. It's pointless; his eyes don't seem to be adjusting. There isn't enough light in the room to adjust to much of anything.]

Miss Fortner.

[There's a wall at his back, and another at his right side. He puts out his left hand; there's a wall there, too. And Nina is in front of him.]

Is there a wall behind you? I think we're trapped either in a corridor or a very small room. The resonance of our voices suggests the latter, but....

[Nina reaches behind her and her hand brushes against... something. It's hard to get oriented in the total darkness, but it doesn't precisely feel like a wall she's touching. It's too light, too obviously wooden.

She turns slightly, and puts both hands on it. There's a light creak from the pressure although it show no sign of budging.]

No! It -- it feels like a door.

[One hand gropes downward, placing itself over the cold metal of a doorknob. She twists the knob first one way and then the other, trying to open it and making a soft sound in the darkness, but either way is equally pointless.

Wherever they are, they're locked in.]

I can feel the knob. But there's no keyhole. Something's wrong...

[Nina tries harder to open the door, but it still won't budge.]

I... I think we're in a closet.

[Locked in a closet? But why?]

[This face forever.]

... Remind me. Precisely what was this exercise meant to accomplish?

-And in turn, this face.-

I'm not certain. We were rushed into this closet together with certain expectations, but I was never made privy to what those were...

Then there should be no harm in asking-...

[She tries the door. No luck. She pulls back a bit in preparation to ram it when she notices a note stuck to it. It's a bit dark, but holding it up to her face she can see that it pretty well answers their question.

... It's a moment before she moves again, simply handing the note over to Ovelia and pointedly refusing to turn to face her.]

... -And just like that, her expression changes.- How perverse. I should hope none of them have any plans of peeking.

Rest assured that I will have ample punishment prepared for those who dare attempt to do so.

[She grips the hilt of her sword with one hand, flexing her fingers over it thoughtfully.]

... Of course, that would imply that we are actually considering giving them an event to peek unto.

-Immediately, she goes a bit red.- Ah, I did imply that... I apologize, Agrias. It was not my intention.

[Her cheeks are a little red, too, but she continues to keep her face focused on the door.]

... There is no need to apologize.

[She finally turns her head, trying to let her stern, worried expression soften a bit.]

It is entirely possible that we will not be allowed leave of this closet until we comply with their wishes. However, if you wish me to attempt to force the door, you need only give the word to do so.

Mm... -So the decision was on her shoulders...-

Destroying the door would only lead to more trouble, I think... It seems we've little choice.

[Agrias fights to cool the heat that rises to her face, and nods firmly.]

Very well, then. So be it.

[The knight puts her hands on the shorter girl's shoulders and slowly - and a bit awkwardly - leans forward, closing her eyes just as their lips connect.]

-Ovelia shut her eyes as well, tilting her head upward to meet Agrias lip to lip. In all honesty, she would be a liar if she claimed to have never fantasized of such things. But those were merely the silly dreams of a sheltered girl, of even sillier ideas of becoming a lady in waiting to a female knight. Such nonsense...

And yet when she kissed Agrias, it felt real as anything else she had known. She could feel herself grow weak in the embrace, as if some great burden had suddenly left her and she no longer had the strength to stand.-

[Agrias's hands tighten just a bit, then slowly relax as she lets them fall to Ovelia's sides. Her face is burning, but her hands are steady. Loathe as she is to admit that she would agree to do anything like this out of necessity...

... Well. It isn't exactly necessity that's driving her at this point. Just as it hasn't always been honor (though that has undoubtedly been a large factor) that's driven her to protect the princess. Even with the gloves of her armor in the way, she can feel the other girl's warmth, feel her relative fragility. It's something she wants to protect, safeguard, and here in her arms is the safest place she could ever be.]

-And the safest she could ever feel. In Agrias's embrace, she felt warm. Protected. And above all, perhaps what made the position feel that much more real... is that she felt loved. That courtly love that she had only dreamed of in her youth.-

[Agrias holds the kiss a bit longer, trying to decide how exactly to precede. In all honesty she isn't exactly sure HOW to proceed. Although she's maintained her cool and firm exterior, the color in her face betrays the fact that she doesn't really know what she's doing. She knows what feels right, though, and holding Ovelia is what feels right.]

-Neither of them truly knew what was proper to do, really. Ovelia was just as lost and naive to the act of kissing as Agrias was. But she did know that whatever it was they were doing, "proper" or not, felt amazing. Letting out a small noise, she deepened the kiss, clinging even more closely to her knight.-

[Agrias gasped just a bit as Ovelia pressed deeper, but quickly adjusted to accommodate her. Her lips were so small and delicate, but so warm and firm at the same time.

She pulled at her gloves behind Ovelia's back, letting them fall to the floor behind her. With her hands free, she kept one firmly around Ovelia's waist and moved the other up to brush Ovelia's hair back. It lingered there as it occurred to Agrias that she'd never really touched Ovelia like this before - never this softly, never in such a way as to actually feel her. The Princess's hair felt soft and silky, and her skin warm to the touch. Facts that Agrias may have never known had she not been unwittingly encouraged into this endeavor.]

-Nor had Ovelia ever truly been touched like that. It was exhilarating, exciting, stirring all sorts of new feelings within her. She prayed, silently, that this wasn't just a dream. Her hands clung just a bit more tightly about Agrias, gripping at the soft blue fabric of her jerkin. Just to remind herself that the moment was real.-

So like, wait, I totally spaced for a sec. What are we doing in here, again?

I honestly haven't a single idea, m'... -She just takes a guess.- m'lord.

[He blinks for a second, then laughs.]

Ohmigod, wow. It's been, like, literal ages since anybody called me that!

[Actually... you know, she looks a little like his girl-queen, Jadwiga, from the old days. Weird!]

Anyway, whatever. I don't know, either, but the door totally doesn't open--is that sketchy, or is it sketchy?

It has certainly put me off of any joyous mood these celebrations had me in previously.

-The princess gives a worried look.- I pray that it opens soon.

[That's a good thought, but Poland isn't the sort to leave it at prayer and inaction. Instead, he goes and pokes at the door for a while, trying to get it open.]

Huh... Yeah, that's like, majorly stuck.

What cruel jests...

No kidding.

[He pauses, thinking back to the party.]

I think I like, heard something about... y'know, like... kissing, or whatever?

W-... What perversion!

Yyyyeah, this is defs pretty messed up.

Surely my knight must be on her way to tear down this door and spare us this strange fate.

[Poland snorts a little.]

Like, wish I could say the same, babe.

[But he sort of messed that up, so not so much.]

What happens if she doesn't show? No offense, but I'm totally not down with that whole... kinda thing.

Nor do I have any desire to inflict such matters upon you, m'lord.

I'm kinda not down with starving to death in here, either, though...

[He did not fight for his independence for centuries and finally get free from Russia just to die in that stupid a way.]

-At least he'd die in the presence of royalty?-

I suppose we've little choice...

Do we have to? I mean. Like, we can wait on your knight for a while, right...?

Oh, well yes. We can certainly do that. Preferably, in fact.

Awesome.

...

So, I guess you seem kinda okay, even if this is weird. I'm like, the Republic of Poland!

... I beg your pardon? -Did she hear that right?-

Did I like, stutter?

[Yep.]

No, but... You just referred to yourself as a republic. That's a bit confusing.

Like, what's confusing about it? I swear, all the humans I meet lately act like they've never heard of a nation before!

Of course I have! Do not think me some fool! It's just... Well, nations are usually not represented by one individual.

See, the thing is, like... yeah, we are!

... I see.

-She totally doesn't.-

Right?

[Awkward pause lasting 3... 2... 1... ]

So, like... do you think it has to be on the mouth or whatever?

[...He could deal with on the cheek. That wouldn't be too weird.]

I do not even wish to think about it... Though it would be more chaste elsewhere.

Yeah, I was like, wondering if we could get away with the cheek. Like. If we're stuck here a long time or whatever. 'Cause that's... still kinda sketchy, I mean, I don't even know you, but I totally think I could deal with that much.

I find myself in agreement. That is a seven minutes I would more likely survive.

Yeah...

[He's not going to start it just yet, though. Still hoping for Ovelia's knight to come and bail them out. Just in case!]

-And she's not making any moves yet either.-

My liege, are you okay?

[She sighs, her tone carrying much upset to it]

'Tis but my fault we have fallen into this trap. My apologies, I should have been more diligent in my duty to you.

-And seeing Agrias like that was never good for Ovelia.-

Agrias, please... Calm yourself. Tis no malicious trap... though perverse and mischievous as it may be.

If you are so insistent, so I shall obey. Though what exactly do you mean by perverse? Am I expected to do something shameful and defiling now? Tch, the day I lay hand on anyone unwarranted is the day I lay down my sword.

Ah, there... is a note. On the door. I believe it sheds clarity on this situation we find ourselves in.

[Give your meatshield just a second to check things out, looking ever so cautiously, hand on your shoulder reassuringly.

Oh.

It's one of those kinds of situations. Her tone sinks a bit, just the barest hint of nervousness to it.]

....Well, that is...Hrmph. Are you okay with this, my liege? If it is what you want, I would be remiss not to offer it.

You... You should not feel any obligation towards those matters, Agrias. Surely they cannot hold us here indefinitely... -And Ovelia just completely lacks the gumption to ask for it, in spite of what stupid girlish fantasies she may hold...-

My liege, what if they can? I cannot risk it, we must return you safely. My word is my bond and my honor, and I will not see your name tarnished in the name of this awful jape.

[She'll blush brightly, awkwardly moving her hand from Ovelia's shoulder to the back of her head, pulling her in to kiss her forehead, speaking a bit calmer.]

You only need ask; it is my duty to serve any whim you have. Doing so would bring me greatest joy.

-The embrace. That simple gesture. It almost burned her skin to feel it. And yet she found herself longing...-

N-no. I could not... I could not ask something of you like that. It's too sacred... not as a knight and princess... but as a woman. I could never ask that of you...

[Aww, princess, let her ruffle your hair a bit. This is why she likes you.

When she speaks next, it's a bit muffled, chewing on her lip a bit in contemplation.]

Do not worry about me; yoru safety is of utmost importance to me. If this is the only way we can get out, it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. I am at your command, my liege. Just give word.

A sacrifice...

If such a thing was to happen... I would have wanted it to be on our terms.

[ She has her hands on her hips. These shenanigans do not amuse Zelda whatsoever. ]

-.... Shit.-

I can explain.

I'm listening.

I... have no idea what's going on.

[ Zelda heaves a sigh. Part of her suspects he did this whole thing on purpose, possibly as a way to pick on Link. But another part realizes that he might be telling the truth; this is Groose, after all. ]

Well, we'd better find a way out of here soon or we'll be in trouble. [ She can bother him for an explanation once they're outside of these tight confines. ]

Well don't worry about that. I can bust this door down in no time.

[ Zelda hesitates for a moment. She doesn't doubt his strength (Groose has always epitomized the 'big and dumb' archetype), but his lack of control is worrying. Reluctantly, she steps out of the way. ]

Okay, but be careful! I don't want anyone to get hurt, and that includes the door.

Not hurt the door? But that's part of busting it down!

7 Minutes in Heaven

Jack Bauer | 24

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Her Imperious Condescension ♓ Homestuck

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Vanessa || Luminous Arc

terezi pyrope ♎ homestuck ♎ aged up if necessary

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Excellen Browning | Super Robot Wars

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