[He agrees, vaguely, with his eyes shut--but after a second, he shifts forward so he can grab at the hem of his t-shirt, tug it off over her head, and hold it out to her.]
[She takes his shirt and smiles a little, pleased, and takes her own off, unbuttoning it, then undoes her bra, before she slips his shirt on and her bra comes down as she wrestles with it, and hands it to him.
And then her trousers, so all she's wearing is his shirt and her panties.]
[He takes it, without blinking, though he's watching the rest of her movements with great interest. The words get a grin out of him and he holds up the bra by the straps, and lays it flat across his bare chest.]
That, and the colour doesn't suit me. Right? Totally wrong.
You're a winter. Pink polka dots don't do it for you.
[Although it's a little faded, she hopes that some point soon the ship brings her new bras, which is an odd thought to have as she moves closer to him again, tugging him down so they're laying side by side, and she has her hands on his wrist.]
[He drops the bra off the side of the bed before she pulls him down to lay beside her. His snort is quietly amused, and he reaches out to smooth her hair back away from her forehead, leaving her face clear.]
Ooh, will you. Thanks. I'll make sure to wear it only for you.
[She presses her face against his shoulder, so he can feel her smile, her nose a spot of cold. If they die, if the Jump doesn't come, she'll be glad that they had met. Although she doesn't know, what will happen? He'll go somewhere, but she won't. She knows that too well.]
[He tucks his chin against the top of her head, settling down. The tickle of her breath and the press of her nose--they're more comforts than anything else.]
Yeah. 'Course.
[Like it was obvious that he was going to let her. But maybe it was. Maybe it's better not to overthink.]
[She considers it for a minute; it would mean getting up, ugh, but okay okay fine, she hauls herself up and gets a piece of chalk and moves to the door.
She takes a moment to remember how it goes, and finally sketches a ward out on chalk. She turns and makes a flourishy wave. No angels allowed.]
[Or, okay, now. He watches her a moment, not sure if he wants to go through the effort of getting up and helping, but, fine, all right, he's not about to be left behind by a girl. With a sigh, he throws his legs over the side of the bed, and leans forward to study the ward.]
That's it?
[Not necessarily unimpressed, probably shading more toward impressed, if anything.]
[She tugs at the hem of his shirt, and nods distractedly, before moving back to sit on the bed, pulling her blanket around herself and reaching for her slate.]
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You are.
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Well, then better for me I'll never meet him.
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[And he leans over to nudge at her with his shoulder, teasing.]
Hang on, did you trick that out of me? You did, didn't you. That was a set-up.
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[But he got her smiling, really smiling, so she doesn't seem to be complaining in the least about it.]
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[With a sigh, he tips his head back, lets it loll against the wall behind them.]
Oh well. Too late for me now. Think I'll just fall asleep.
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If you do, I'm staying.
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Without an invitation? Scandalous.
[It's not a 'no', though.]
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I am scandalous I guess. I'll just wear one of your shirts.
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[He agrees, vaguely, with his eyes shut--but after a second, he shifts forward so he can grab at the hem of his t-shirt, tug it off over her head, and hold it out to her.]
I like scandalous.
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And then her trousers, so all she's wearing is his shirt and her panties.]
Don't wear my bra. You'll stretch it out.
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That, and the colour doesn't suit me. Right? Totally wrong.
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[Although it's a little faded, she hopes that some point soon the ship brings her new bras, which is an odd thought to have as she moves closer to him again, tugging him down so they're laying side by side, and she has her hands on his wrist.]
I'll get you a nice blue one.
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Ooh, will you. Thanks. I'll make sure to wear it only for you.
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Thanks for letting me stay.
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Yeah. 'Course.
[Like it was obvious that he was going to let her. But maybe it was. Maybe it's better not to overthink.]
Just make sure you stick around.
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I should ward your room against angels, that way no one can come looking for me. They're the only people who ever really do.
I'll stick around as long as no one comes to interrupt.
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We could do it together. Magic, plus-- whatever your wards would be. Quite the exercise in cooperation.
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She takes a moment to remember how it goes, and finally sketches a ward out on chalk. She turns and makes a flourishy wave. No angels allowed.]
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[Or, okay, now. He watches her a moment, not sure if he wants to go through the effort of getting up and helping, but, fine, all right, he's not about to be left behind by a girl. With a sigh, he throws his legs over the side of the bed, and leans forward to study the ward.]
That's it?
[Not necessarily unimpressed, probably shading more toward impressed, if anything.]
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No angels. That's it.
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[He leans forward to study the symbol, with an expert air.]
Merlin. Can you do 'em against anything else, or only angels? There's not, say, squiggles against dragons, or anything, yeah?
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I only know them against angels. You would have to ask Dean for advice against other things.