dovelike | (no subject)

Entry tags:

futureverse,
kal

(no subject)

Six months ago, Eirene became engaged to an alien.

Fix months ago, she returned to her own world for almost two months, to make arrangements with Time himself so that she could pass through the Bar into Clark's world without things falling apart in her homeland without her presence.

Three months ago, the goddess returned to Clark's world with an agreement to go home twice a month to keep abreast of things and never leave her realm without a symbol of peace, barring any childbearing in which it would not be safe to travel.

Two month ago, she met with Senator Kent (and her future mother in law) and agreed to take cooking lessons when Martha had time.

An hour ago, Eirene completed her first solo dinner preparations, an early Halloween meal for herself and Clark. Except he's not returned from the office yet. Being late is generally an assumed thing with her fiance, and she's used to it. Really, it would just be nice if he called.

So she doesn't start panicking.

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He closes what distance there is left between them and leans down to smell her hair. "I think I was pretty involved in making sure you were having a damned good time when I had my fingers inside you."

She can't help the trembling at his close proximity, and that may be a factor in the hoarse aspect of her voice. "You did. I'm not disputing that." He's near enough for her to feel the heat radiating off of him, which doesn't help either.

"Clark, you held me ... my arms down."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't move away from her.

"Some chicks get off on that. You don't, that's cool. But all you had to do was tell me, not throw a tantrum."

"I know. I'm sorry." She takes a shaky breath, reaching up to scrub at her eyes. "I panicked." It's not the best defense in the world but it is the truth.

"You panicked," he deadpans. "Because I did one little thing you don't like. You know, you're going to have to get over shit like this if we're going to be spending forever together."

Entirely wrong thing to say, Kryptonian. "Shit like this? Like you did, with that get up." She's noticed the outfit, and boy, that expression is not a happy one. "While I was out calming myself down, you were looking for someone to what ... sleep with? You know, I'll find my own way home. You go have a good time."

Eirene steps back and turns around, intending to do just that.

He grabs her arm again, lightning fast.

"Well, if the chick who's supposed to be catering to my needs decides to flip out at every new thing we try, then maybe I should be looking for someone who can actually handle a little variety." His grip tightens. "Or at least one who doesn't high tail it before finishing the job."

That --- that hurts. Blue eyes widen, filling with tears, and Eirene employs something that she rarely uses outside the bedroom; her own strength, to rip her arm out of his grip. If it bruises, she doesn't care.

"If that is the way you want it, then go. Find yourself a willing girl. This one won't be treated like ... like a bed slave."

He snorts and rolls his eyes again.

"If you honestly think me getting a little enthusiastic about fucking you makes you a whore or a 'bed slave', then you seriously need to catch up with the times, sweetheart."

"What you did wasn't being enthusiastic. I sleep with you almost every night, remember? I know what that sort of bed-play feels like. This? Was you getting off and using me to do so. There is a big difference."

Beat.

"And since when do you ever use language like that."

"And I'm not supposed involve you when I want to get off? Make up your mind, here."

He's going to ignore her question about his vocabulary, because it's just not important to him right now. "So it wasn't all rainbows and roses. Sometimes sex is just sex. What's wrong with that?"

"Obviously, we see sleeping together differently. I thought each time was special." She presses her lips together in an attempt to ward off even further embarassing herself in public, "Tonight is Halloween. You like holidays and I wanted to--"

Something occurs to her right about then, prompting a string of cursing in Greek. Then, "Oh, dear Zeus. The food." A quick glance around proves no one is paying attention, allowing Eirene to float up above the treeline and figure out where she is.

And blurs towards home a moment later without another word.

There's a very loud sigh, even if there isn't anyone to hear it anymore, and then he follows.

"I turned it all off," he says, once he's inside the apartment. He's not stupid.

Eirene doesn't respond right away; she's too busy carefully pulling the bakeware from the oven and staring down at the ruined meatloaf.

"Thank you. It would've been my fault if the building caught fire and people died."

"Yeah, it would have." That's said fairly casually, as he toes off his shoes and flops on the sofa. "What got you in a domestic mood?"

Eirene scraps the burnt offering into the trash before setting the pan in the sink and filling it halfway with water to soak. "That was the first dinner I made by myself. I was going to surprise you."

She heads into the bedroom a few minutes later, when the kitchen is clean again, and removes a duffel bag from her collection. Several pairs of underwear, two pants, and two shirts go in.

When she turns around, he'll be in the doorway. "Well, I guess neither of our surprises went over very well, did they?" He eyes the bag. "Where are you going?"

"No, I guess they didn't." She adds a folder and a notebook to the pile before zipping everything inside, and then looks around for her sandals.

"Headquarters. I'm going to spend the night there and see if I can help out with anything."

He leans against the doorframe. "Like what, handing out some of your 'home cooking'?"

Her chin lifts. "Like healing anyone who might be recently returned from a mission." The sandals are slid onto her feet, and the bag across her shoulders, before she even considers moving to the doorway. "Please move. I would like to go."

"You're not leaving." And he's not moving.

"Yes, I am. Please move out of the doorway." Said quietly, each word enunciated within an inch of it's life. Clark, she isn't kidding.

"No, you're not." Clark, it seems, doesn't care. He takes a step toward her. "You're mine and you're staying here."

"Yes, I'm yours. No, I'm not staying." There is a few inch wide gap between Clark and the frame now, prompting Eirene to try and slip around him into the hallway.

Her arm is caught yet again, and he pulls her back in front of him. "I said you're not leaving."