drown the urge for permanence and certainty; crouch down and scrawl my name with yours in wet cement

[herotypical]

Who: lists_to_port & slaying
What: carpentry; catharsis; cutting a deal
When: october 17th; noon onwards
Where: house seven
Summary: buffy wants to build something for jilly's return. buffy also wants to borrow a boat.
Rating: clean enough to start but it's these two so don't be surprised if the rating climbs a couple hundred tags in.

Today looked just a little bit brighter. Not by much, granted. But enough to make a difference and enough to sweeten the sense of industry that was unfolding her backyard. The heat helped; the day was warmed than the ones before it and strangely warm for a late October afternoon. Buffy had quickly given in to summer's last hurrah and was hoarding her last chance to wear shorts before autumn established its firmer grip on the month and on the village. Misery and grief were very, very slowly opening up to allow silver linings and miniature blessings. And one such something was working just a few feet away from her. Not quite so silver, though, and she suspected his lip would curl if she referred to him as miniature anything. Buffy worked the plane across her chosen soon-to-be-planks of wood and she watched Jack Sparrow from the corner of her eye. Perhaps a tarnished, coated kind of silver that resisted polish like two too similar poles on a magnet. Blessing was a harder one to pin down. The word seemed as though it should be anathema to a rough-reptuationed pirate. But then again? In a number of ways, Buffy knew that Jack was less rough than she was.

The afternoon's project was a simple porch swing and it was a little bit of home improvement to impress Jilly with once she returned. And it was a way to keep busy while they waited for her while they waited out their grief. Keeping busy, she found, helped her focus. The work tricked her now and then into smiling when she hadn't intended to. Silly little mistakes would take place -- fumbling with a tool or trying very hard (without much success) to remember carpentry terms once taught to her by Xander Harris -- and somehow these mistakes weren't discouraging. They were comedic. They were okay. And Buffy knew that none of it would be possible had she been left at the house alone, this week.

So she worked diligently at Sparrow's side and took moments now and then to appreciate his work ethic before it inspired her to press forward with her own. And she soon had another plank smoothed and sanded. Buffy pushed it aside and sat back with her palms crushing into the grass that was just a little too long. It wasn't as though the place was crawling with lawn-mowers, after all.

"What colour, Jack?" She asked as she blew a fine stream of breath up and across her brow. Fluttering bangs and clearing her vision. "We should paint it. It should be painted. What colour?"

Comments

[herotypical]

"Because I think today'll be my last chance to before next summer. It's too warm out for hot coffee. O-or, I wanna pretend that it is. Willful suspension of disbelief."

She then tipped her drink towards him. "Wanna try? I promise it's delicious. It's like a chocolate-y caramelish and milky but only vaguely coffeeish party in your mouth."

1/3

[all7seas]

"Soooooooooo sugary, then." Jack eyed the drink a little suspiciously. Then: "Right. Can't hurt to give it a go."

2/3

[all7seas]

3/3

[all7seas]

"Hmmmmmmm."

[herotypical]

"Well? Hmmmmmmmwhat?"

[all7seas]

"Oh. Sorry. It's the first time I've ever hosted a vaguely coffee-ish party in my mouth, actually."

[herotypical]

"Earth-shattering, isn't it?" Asked with every indication of expecting it not to be. Not for him, at least. Though Buffy now happily reclaimed her cup.

[all7seas]

"Tonsil-meltingly sweet, really." She could have it; Jack was not overfond of sugar in his beverages. "Not nearly as delicious as the pie you're going to bake for me."

[herotypical]

"Your tongue's broken."

Another hearty gulp. "W-wait. I'm making you a pie? Since when? Do you realize how difficult those are? That's...that's like creating a universe. Similar levels of difficulty."

[all7seas]

"Mmmm. Universe pie. I cannot wait, Annie, for you to bake this universal pie for myself."

It had already been decided, apparently.

"I enjoy quince. Ooooor mince. Or currants. Or anything with gravy. Or without. Or apples!"

[herotypical]

"...How about pumpkin?"

Thanksgiving would be upon them, soon. After Halloween. She had promised him a feast at Seven with herself and Jilly and Bones. That plan was a little more then scuppered, now. Perhaps the other sailor-types ought to be invited just to flesh out the ranks. Make it cheerier.

/going out for a little while!

[all7seas]

"Pumpkin." Buffy, he will absolutely take what he can get. "You know, before Mistress Kay were sent home? She promised me a proper turkey dinner."

That might have been some rather obvious hinting.

"And I never got a chance to go turkey-hunting for her."

o7

[herotypical]

"Turkey?" Huh. It had been like Jack had read her thoughts. "Thanksgiving. You're still gonna come by for Thanksgiving. Even if..." Even if McCoy wasn't here, there was tradition to be upheld. And Buffy liked to go all-out for the turkey feast.

"Can't we just pick up a frozen one? I mean -- I don't know how to cook a real turkey. Though I guess all turkeys are real turkeys. Except Tofurkeys."

[all7seas]

"Tofurk...

I shall hunt and slay the turkey, Annie, and you shall cook him."

They had been talking about Thanksgiving before McCoy had been sent home. The festive meal had been on the pirate's mind. Something to plan for and look forward to. Something beyond the horrors that were likely going to stand for All Hallow's.

[herotypical]

"I refuse to pluck feathers. And Archie has to help with the cooking. Me? Not a chef. Also not a...what do they call them on boats?"

[all7seas]

"Erm...you mean the cook? We'll pluck any and all feathers for you, lass. You will not have to pluck a thing. You may relax with a beverage of your choice and put your feet in an upwards position whilst we take care of everything. Promise."

[herotypical]

"Except, apparently, the pie."

[all7seas]

"The pie you have to make, aye. Get all floury and have to wear your pretty apron and all that."

The last part was definitely winding; Jack Sparrow, playing with fire. The fire that might cost him a pie.

[herotypical]

"I don't own an apron. Pretty or otherwise." Sorry, Jack. On Thanksgiving, Buffy's not the one stuck in the apron.

She drained her iced mocha with a flourish. "Maybe I'll have to pick one up. Two. Pick two up. Matching. His and hers." A barely contained smirk suggested that she, too, was playing in the flames.

[all7seas]

"You think I'm not manly enough to be able to wear an apron? Hmmm?" Jack had slowed down on the coffee, now; in fact what was left of it was growing too cool for his tastes. "If you prefer it, I could always wrap you up in a bit of gingham and burlap."

[herotypical]

"Oh, I'm not calling your epic manliness into question. Just assuring you that you'd look laugh-out-loud hilarious in one.

And don't think for three seconds that I couldn't make gingham cool again."

[all7seas]

"I think we're both missing the true opportune moment, here: a leather dress, Annie. Just a short little one. Wipes clean in an instant! No need for an apron at all, or gingham, or burlap!"

At "epic manliness," of course, the pirate's chest puffed out very proudly indeed.

[herotypical]

"O-oh! Jack! Do you hear that?" A grand, dramatic mockery was made of sitting up and listening very intently to some imagined clatter. "That's the sound of a pie not getting made for you. Get used to it. Feel the serenade."

1/2

[all7seas]

"Don't make me so unhappy in that special way you have. You know I'd adore a pie. You can make it with absolutely not a stitch on, for all I care!"

2/2

[all7seas]