2007-05-01: Yer M'Girl


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Lachlan and Cass have a Very Serious Discussion about what keeps them together. Tickle-torture is involved.

Date It Happened: May 1st, 2007

Yer M'Girl

Lachlan's Apartment

There really is a reason why Lachlan shouldn't eat a spicy chicken sandwich and several shots of scotch before bed. For one thing, it's not exactly a healthy combination and he's not getting any younger. For another, it causes crazy things in his stomach and, thus, in his head while he sleeps. That's how there came to be a twitchy, jerky, mumbling, and altogether restless Scotsman in the bed. Sure dinner with Cass was fun, and it's always great to have her sleep over, but he should've chosen something else to top off the evening. There's nothing comprehensible that can be made out in the erratic bursts of grumbles and whimpers from his side of the bed, but by the sound of things, he's not having a very pleasant time in Dreamland.

From her side of the bed, Cass isn't actually asleep. Well, she was for a little while, but as soon as the alcohol she consumed with Lachlan left her system she found herself awake and unable to fall back asleep. So, now she's up with a hardcover journal looking sort of book, writing things down. It's like she's really taken Lachlan's advice at trying to write down everything she would want to remember should the unthinkable happen. The bedside lamp is on, but she's tossed a cloth over it so it's a lot less bright than normal so as to not disturb the sleeping Scot. At first the tossing and turning is noted, but not thought much of. Then, when she realizes that he sounds like he's having a nightmare, she caps her pen and reaches out to give him a shake. "Lach."

Mumblemumblegrumblegrowl twitchjerk. When he's shaken and his name called, Lachlan suddenly breaks away from his epileptic impersonation and startles awake, almost half-scrambling off the bed with a rather unmasculine yelp. He manages not to get too far, actually — a few inches at best — before it dawns on him that he's, well, /here/ and not still in wherever-it-was in his dream. Once this realization hits, he relaxes again with a quietly exhaled curse and settles on the pillows once more, covering his head with one arm to shield his eyes even further from the light. Goddamn it all.

Slipping the ribbon that holds her place in between the pages of her journal, Cass frowns and pulls the cloth off the lamp so that the light has it's full potency. "Lach…what's up? Bad dream?" What with the cursing and tossing and turning and mumbling. Putting her journal on the nightstand, she puts the pen down right next to it - mindful that it doesn't fall off the side. Then, she wiggles down and shifts over so that she's lying right next to him, throwing an arm across his waist.

Gah! Light! Everywhere! (Or maybe just on the nightstand.) And then there's someone talking to him and Lachlan lifts his arm just enough that he can peek over at the clock. Nngh. It's not morning. "Yeah," he mumbles groggily. "S'nothin'." Just a bad dream. He's had them before, he'll have them again. This one was just stupid. His free arm drops to rest over Cass' arm around his waist as he tries to get his bearings. Light, and Cass wasn't laying down a second ago. This starts to click after several seconds, so he adds, "Wha're ye doin' up?"

Snuggling closer to Lachlan, Cass closes her eyes. "Want to talk about it?" Of course, this is Lachlan and he doesn't really do the talking thing very well, but she'll at least let the offer linger out there just in case he does. "Oh, I was just starting to write everything down. Just in case." There's no need to discuss what that 'in case' is. He's already having nightmares and she doesn't want to add to them. The very subject may lead in that direction, but she's not going to lie to him about what she was doing up.

But no, Lachlan doesn't want to feed those nightmares either — though this one wasn't really about all the dangers that are currently looming — so he's happy to let that subject settle with just a nod and a murbled, "S'good." Quick, change the subject! "Nah, was stupid. Dunna need ta talk 'bout it." Quick! Change the subject again! After a moment's pause, he rolls over on his side to face Cass and presses his forehead to hers so that he can squint at her scrutinizingly (and very sleepily) at close quarters. "So. Ye tellin' yerself tha' the Scotsman was a big mistake, then?" Well, it's back to the journal, but he's at least making light of it.

"If you say so," Cass replies, mumbled a bit into his chest. If he's no longer worried about it, she won't push the subject much more. Then, she raises her head just in time for Lachlan to press his forehead against hers and she grins at him. She's not quite as sleepy as he is, as she's been up longer, but she does still have a tired look about her. "Dear Future Cass, if you're still with that guy who talks with dogs, you've made a huge mistake." She's obviously teasing and anticipating Lachlan perhaps taking it the wrong way, she tightens her grip on him. "No. Haven't gotten that far, really. So far I've got Jack and Mr. Nakamura scaring the crap out of me by telling me about paintings that tell the future and then Jack using his power in front of me for the first time. Then, the serial killer who can control people with his voice. I'm just up to the part where I lure you back to my shop to steal from you." Her grin broadens.

Lachlan takes the joke as it was intended: with humor. He grins broadly and snorts in an amused fashion, pushing his face forward just a little for a light kiss between sentences. Hardee-har-har, Cass. The Scotsman listens attentively to the rest of her explanation, grinning again at the last bit. "Ye dinna steal from me b'cause yer a horrible pickpocket. But yer a great kisser, yanno. Even when yer high as a bloody kite."

Grinning, Cass takes the kiss with a grin and then leans forward for another one. "Yeah, well, the only way I could have ever come up with a plan such as that one is when I was drugged out of my mind. And I /would/ have had that necklace if your pocket lining didn't get in the way. You'd have been none the wiser." Which is kind of why she's such a bad pick pocket, but she isn't admitting that one! "Well. You're not so bad yourself."

Pffff! That is the sound of a skeptical Scotsman, after he (of course) accepts the second kiss. "Yeah righ'," Lachlan snorts. "Ye asked me back ta yer shop b'cause ye though' I was damn sexy, an' ye just used tha' other stuff ta cover fer it." /Someone/ thinks highly of himself. "An' yer a bloody awful pickpocket, otherwise ye wouldna've caugh' hold o' tha' pocket linin'." He tips his head forward again for a third brief kiss. "Yeah, ye kept comin' back b'cause I'm a great kisser." Ego, he has it. And hey, all this talking is good practice for just in case.

"Oh, was that it?" Cass' eyebrows raise in an amused fashion. "See, I seem to remember calling you a bad person and nearly throwing you out. The only thing that saved you was your adorable accent." She reaches up to tweak his nose. Because if /he/ can do it, than she can, too. "Well. Never said I was a good criminal. Never did anything like that before." Slowly, she leans forward, as if she's going to kiss him, but then she says, "Oh, is /that/ why I keep coming back?"

Mmmmbeeeeeep. Scotsmannose: tweak'd. Lachlan closes his eyes and grimaces as though recoiling from the tweaking, but he doesn't actually draw away. It's all just a dramatic display. "M'accent's manly." Not adorable; /manly/. But he doesn't really sound affronted by the terminology either. He's happy and content and in a very good mood — it would take something drastic to alter that. "Yer still a bloody awful pickpocket," he supplies helpfully, but when Cass moves forward as though to kiss him, he's all ready to receive it — only it never happens. Buh! There's momentary surprise, confusion, then a big broad grin at the question. "Yeah, tha's why. An' I'm great b'tween the sheets." Mm-hmm.

Cass lets a giggle escape. "Adorably manly." That's right, she'll keep using it. Because it's funny to call Lachlan adorable. Which he really is in her mind, but she won't actually let on to that. "Not /bloody/ awful. Just…awful. The pockets just don't seem to want to cooperate. It's their fault." The grin and comment gets a roll of her eyes. "I've got a secret. Shh." She leans forward and then says very quietly, a mischievous smile on her face, "It's because I can't open jars for myself."

/Pff/. At least he got her to acknowledge that it's /manly/. He'll let the 'adorable' part slide for now. Lachlan even rolls his eyes a little at the crack about the pockets. Sure, Cass, sure. It's the pockets. /That's/ what's wrong. Mm-hmm. And then there's a /secret/. The Scotsman's interest is immediately piqued and he even leans forward a little to pick up the faintest of whispers from Cass — and what he /does/ pick up takes him entirely by surprise. /What/. /WHAT/. He starts to snicker and laugh despite himself, the grin returning in place of the previously appropriately solemn expression. "Yeah? Well d'ye know why I keep comin' back?"

It's quite easy for Cass to blame pockets and other people when it comes to her inability to steal. But, then, she's not going to actually deny it. Because she knows that she's a lousy pickpocket. Seeing him laugh and grin at her joke, she looks quite pleased with herself. Leaning in so that she can in turn hear why /he/ keeps coming back, she lets her grin fade into more of just a goofy smile. "Why?"

There are many answers to that. She's pretty, she's smart, she's funny (even when she doesn't try to be (hello, pole)), she's a great kisser; perhaps because, even in his worst moments, Cass has seen the good in Lachlan and judged him on that merit rather than his faults. Are these the answers he gives, though? Nope. Instead, the Scotsman snakes a hand down and unfurls one index finger. "B'cause ye've got a tattoo — righ' there." /Poke/. Yes. That tattoo is the sole reason he keeps coming back.

Grinning, Cass quickly reaches down and grabs that poking hand. Because it /tickles/. "That's the reason, huh? And here I thought it was my devastating good looks." But, she can't keep a straight face through that. She's already giggling before she finishes. Only in part because of what she's saying. The other is because of the ticklishness.

"Yeah, tha's 'nother reason," Lachlan concedes, even if Cass /is/ joking. And as he speaks, his lips are curling up into a downright /evil/ little grin. Slowwwwwly he starts to tip forward even more, almost right on top of the bookseller now. "An' this 's 'nother." His free hand suddenly snaps out to start mercilessly tickling, tattoo and anywhere else he can get away with it. MUAhahahaha!

Uh oh. Cass knows this evil grin. It does not bode well. As quickly as she can, she starts to unwind herself from Lachlan and tries to get away. But, it's not fast enough. Not only does he already have an arm on her, but it's hard to try and scramble away with a tangle of sheets. She squeals and jerks, trying to get away, finally curling up into a fetal position to try and minimize tickle space area.

BWAHAHAHA. Yes, Lachlan truly is an evil, vicious, terrible man. He continues to tickle mercilessly, attacking every little crevice that he can reach in spite of Cass' flailing and curling. Even when she's gone into the fetal position, he doesn't let up for a bit, attacking armpits and ribs and neck until finally the struggle just doesn't seem to appeal anymore. Only then does he give it up, and by that time he's kneeling again, bent over his hapless victim like some great big Scottish tickle-vulture. Of evil. Laughing himself (because it's contagious), he slumps over onto his side again next to Cass. "Yer too easy, baby."

After a little while, Cass is still in the fetal position. "Lach…can't…breathe…" she's laughing so hard that she can't breathe and it's not the fun kind. Her sides are aching now because of the evil tickle vulture. It takes her a little while, but she gives Lachlan a glare. She's not /really/ angry at him, but that was not fun! Well, two can play at that game and she /knows/ where Lachlan is ticklish. Once she has her breath back, she surges forward to dish out some of what she just got.

There's a brief moment of worry — very brief, but real — when Cass expresses an inability to breathe. Whoops, did he overdo it? But then she recovers just fine and doesn't actually seem to be in any cardiac distress, so the moment passes instantly. Lachlan is content to just lay there until she's regained her breath, grinning impishly in the face of that glare — and then releasing a sharp giggle-yelp when he's suddenly on the other side of the torture. Gah! Augh! No! GACK! Wordless, incomprehensible protests are sent up, not all of which sound exactly manly, and these are accompanied by hopeless flailing and squirming. ABUSE. ABUSE.

Oh, but Cass isn't about to let up so easily on her abuser. And now the student becomes the teacher! Or something like that. Anyway, the bookstore owner keeps tickling Lachlan until she deems that he must have learned his lesson. Then, she sits back and crosses her arms in front of her. "Don't like it so much when /you're/ being tickled, huh?" she grins.

By the time Cass is done with him, Lachlan is just about in the same position as she was when he tortured her: curled up with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He's almost as breathless, too, and has to lay there gasping like a landed fish for a few seconds to recover sufficiently. When he finally does, he unrolls and stares up at Cass with a big fat grin. "But ye know's fun ta tickle someone," he retorts. Then, a little more seriously, he reaches out one hand to poke her nose, as he is wont to do from time to time. "Yer m'girl." It's said with no small amount of fondness, however choppily thanks to a lack of oxygen.

At least they're even on that point. They've both been tickled to the point of lack of oxygen by each other. "No no, what I did was not fun. It was revenge. And a lesson. One you should remember next time!" But, the grin on her face should belie any seriousness. She's obviously teasing. The poke on her nose makes her wrinkle it just a bit and she laughs, laying down next to him again. "So you've been saying." Now that tickling time is over, she can go back to the laying down and relaxing.

"Yeah well, s'true," retorts Lachlan, doing his best to effectively curl himself around Cass when she drops down next to him. There he closes his eyes contentedly, smiling. "Yer m'girl. Can tickle ye when I feel like." Smirkgrin. Yawn.

"It is," Cass replies, shifting a little to accommodate the curling. "I am. And I can tickle /you/ whenever I feel like it." Take that. The warmth and the cuddling is starting to do their trick and finally Cass is feeling sleepy. Breaking away from Lachlan quickly, she reaches over to turn off the bedside light, blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness. Not that that really helps. Feeling her way back to her original position, she curls up again.

"Yeah." Judging by the yawning state in which the word is spoken, Lachlan's not entirely sure what it is he's agreeing to, or maybe he's just agreeing because the sleepiness has hit him as well and he doesn't have the willpower to argue the point. Not too long after the light's out and Cass has settled, he slips off again into Dreamland, with a decidedly more pleasant outlook than what woke him in the first place.

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