we have found our solace here in this unexpected place

[herotypical]

Who: slaying & lists_to_port
What: there is a tradition that needs to be upheld on the eves of horrors.
When: sunday night.
Where: good spirits, at first. then elsewhere.
Summary: debriefing and de-traumaing and all kinds of good stuff.
Rating: danger danger high voltage -- things get r-ratedish. fair warning!

Back on Friday, Buffy had scribbled a tense little note to Captain Jack Sparrow:

Need some time. Don't worry. Mission accomplished -- no deaths. Just gotta look after me for a bit. Good Spirits on Sunday night?

-- Buffy

After returning to the village, Buffy had wanted nothing more than to find the pirate and curl up next to him. But the fight with Derek had been harder than she would care to admit and she wanted to scrub as much of that from herself before rejoining the rest of Luceti. She had Giles to look after and she had her own mind to tend to and she spent hours focusing on those meditation crystals -- begging for peace. Peace was so far away.

But on Sunday, Buffy took a long long bath. She put loose, fashionable curls in her hair and she took the luxury of all the time in the world to dip into her make-up drawer and line her eyes and mascara her lashes and pick a natural, light lip gloss. The aim was to look healthy if she couldn't look happy.

She walked into Good Spirits with apprehension in her step and looked around for the man she had asked to meet with her there.

Comments

[all7seas]

"Smudged but not forgotten---still have your heart, Annie." He was almost through, now, and sad for it. One more touch against the skin just below her navel--a small, curlicued vine---and he kissed her once more, signaling the finish.

[herotypical]

It was her turn to prop herself up and try to sit with someone else already sitting on her. She wanted to see. Buffy used a hand on his arm to pull herself up the rest of the way and look down at her body. The spreading plant-life was the addition most easily viewed and so her attention is first caught by it.

"...Oh."

[all7seas]

Jack moved back once she had sat up, kneeling by her side with the quilt wrapped around him once again and an earnest expression on is face. "Not so bad, is it? I might have gone a wee bit overboard, little parchment."

[herotypical]

"Just overboard enough, I think." She dabbed a fingertip against one leaf -- hesitant to ruin it but curious all the same. "And if I'm parchment, what does that make you? With your oodles and oodles of already-been-inked."

[all7seas]

"The King James Bible. Oi, look but don't touch, savvy? That's true quality workmanship, there. One of a kind, even."

[herotypical]

"Right. Touch-free." She quickly withdrew her hand and settled it on the sheets below. "It's a shame it's so...actually temporary, you know. It's beautiful." Almost a shame. Buffy wasn't sure she could commit well to any permanent ink -- at least not in such a quantity. But it seemed sad to lose the art forever.

[all7seas]

"Buffy, it was a joke. You can touch yourself if you like.

...

The tattoos. You can touch the tattoos. Or. Yes. Stopping, now." He sprawled out on the bed beside her, examining the blue and green and kohl smudges on his fingers in the low light of the bedside lamp.

[herotypical]

Well? That's one way to rattle and wind up Buffy Summers. Her jaw worked wordlessly -- soundlessly -- for a good chunk of time before she snapped it shut and sat up more straight-backed. Rigid.

She felt around for the little clutch and took out the compact. Buffy popped open the mirror and used it to get a better view on her shoulder.

[all7seas]

Jack, meanwhile, was walking his fingertips up the inside of his arm, making little fingerprint-footsteps over Jilly's name. He was studiously not studying Buffy studying his work, except for when he was studying her, but trying not to look like he was studying her.

[herotypical]

Eventually, she turned to look at him laid out next to her.

"...This is a sparrow, isn't it?" Buffy is no ornithologist but she can put two and two together. Even though she's not a mathematician either.

[all7seas]

"Aye. That's a little sparrow, just there, yes. Correct."

[herotypical]

"You might as well have just scrawled Captain Jack Sparrow was here."

She joked, of course. It was a lovely little sparrow and she continued to admire it.

[all7seas]

"Would you like that, next? But where would I draw that one. Hmmm...Suggestions?"

He joked as well, and was highly pleased that she seemed to like the sparrow.

[herotypical]

"Hmmm...suggestions?" She echoed, coyly. Buffy snapped the compact shut and leaned over the pirate. "Well? When you think about it, the only option's pretty obvious."

She reached across him for the dulled eyeliner pencil and dragged the capped end over his skin as she reclaimed it. "On the part of me that doesn't actually exist because there's no way that's gonna happen." She punctuated the last few words with light pencil taps on an uninked portion of his side before flipping the eyeliner in her palm and scribbling a simple little smiley face with its tongue sticking out.

[all7seas]

Sparrow was quite ticklish, and that made him squirm. He reached out to grab her wrist.

"Nothing---nothing says more clearly, Buffy, that 'This Pirate Belongs to Buffy Summers and so Hands Off All You Other Wench---Women."

[herotypical]

The Slayer's wrist wasn't so easily caught; however, she didn't duck away and instead snuck closer.

"That's not what it says at all." But him saying it was interesting and it prompted her to avoid his grab a little longer to sloppily sign her name on his stomach. Rushed, though. To make sure she could get it down.

[all7seas]

".......I'll never bathe again."

[herotypical]

"Oh, yes you will. You will even if I have to catch you and drag you to water myself."

[all7seas]

"Mmmhmm. It strikes me, Annie, that we two are soon to get somewhat...smudgy." He traced a fingertip lightly along the edges of that flowering vine. "Makes me a bit sad."

[herotypical]

She breathed deep through her nose and at the peak of the breath she gave in to a soft, happy sound. "Not too sad, I hope."

[all7seas]

"Sad but not sad at all, really." Now he was outlining the words of the poem, memorizing its placement on her body. That Buffy Summers would let him take such liberties with her skin--this was a source of amazement to the pirate. She was so fastidious about her appearance, typically.

[herotypical]

Hesitation had been replaced with approval; after all, these additions were beautiful and although it was sad to think they'd never be seen again after they were washed away, there was a security to be found in their temporariness. More alarming will be tomorrow morning when Buffy will wake up a wife and a mother and be left wondering why she has a smudged sparrow on her shoulder. Or maybe she won't question it at all.

She carefully underlined her signature -- thick, imprecise lines because the pencil needed sharpening. "And there's always next time."

[all7seas]

When she finished, he placed a protective palm over the name. "Next time," he murmured. Then he reached for her.

Tomorrow he will wake up with no memory of this night, but with the distinct feeling that he has to do right by the woman he loves--that to give her a firmer foundation in himself, some permanence is required.

[herotypical]

Buffy pressed closer and probably transfered some shadow-and-liner smudges onto the art's perpetrator. She fitted her body next to his and knew that the vines would be the first to get disassembled. But she angled her shoulder away -- she would protect the sparrow as long as possible. Keep its lines from running and keep it safe and crisp from interference.

She kissed him -- sweetly and tender in the same vein as the night he had returned from the ocean.

[all7seas]

The pirate was actively trying, now, to take some of that kohl and shadow onto his body. The skull and crossbones---the legitimate tattooed one, on his stomach--became blue and green and gray like a bruise as he pressed against her. The kiss preoccupied him for some moments, but soon he was working on removing the last barriers that her clothing had to offer.