so pile your boots up in the corner -- hang your jacket from the door

[herotypical]

Who: anyone invited to house seven's thanksgivingstravaganza -- as well as anyone walking by who might be curious about all the brouhaha.
What: giving thanks!
When: forward dated to november 24th due to predicted holiday hiatuses!
Where: house seven!
Summary: friends, food, fondness. family. festivities.
Rating: g for goin' up.

House Seven was decked out in soft oranges and browns. Gentle reds and yellows. The table was shoved up against a wall and dish upon dish of delicious Thanksgiving dinner-bits adorned it. Plates to one side, a pile of cutlery. Feel free to line up and pile your arms high with roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, carrots and green beans, cranberry sauce, sinful gravy. Stuffing. Steamed broccoli. The amount of food would almost be laughable had the guest list not been so long. Chatter abounded.

It was, by all accounts, a fairly casual gathering. No ceremony (Buffy, by this point, was all ceremony'd out after some fiercely dedicated meal-prepping) to stand on and no customs to keep. Just food and friendship. The only thing customary about Buffy Summers would be her delighted, enchanted grin throughout the evening. Very little pleased her more than a social event that was going well.

Mix! Mingle! Make merry!

(ooc; threadjack into oblivion and don't forget to add your character to the entry tags! have fun! note that this is forward-dated. i'll be tagging around myself later this evening. )

Comments

[all7seas]

"Honor-bright. Don't leave anything pointy under the window, eh?"

[herotypical]

"...Only pillows. Cushion the fall. Protect your poor brittle bones."

[all7seas]

He smirked at her and blew a kiss before stuffing the rest of that sandwich in his mouth. It would be easier to talk to her when there wasn't a chance of someone marching into the kitchen and intruding on the conversation. Later.

[herotypical]

Later, then. And later found Buffy sending off one of the last from-away guests and then leaning against the closed door. Momentarily exhausted. But pleased -- and why shouldn't she be? The night had gone well. Better than well. It had been a glorious coming-together. So she flipped about and turned to face the interior of the house.

Sure -- Jack had mentioned climbing into her window but first there was a duty to the dishes that she had to rope him back into.

[all7seas]

Sounds from the kitchen would probably clue her in as to the pirate's whereabouts. Splashing; running water; a man's voice, husky and gritty, singing a song about a whale named Alfred.

Jack was working quickly and methodically, stacking the wet clean dishes on one side of the sink as he worked through the pile of dirty ones on the other.

[herotypical]

She waited in the kitchen's doorway for a while. Listening. Watching. Arms lazily crossed over her chest in a rare instance of them not being used to hold the world at bay.

Eventually: "Who names a whale Alfred, anyway?"

[all7seas]

"Aren't you paying attention? Sigmund names him that, back in verse four."

Another plate was delicately stacked on top of the rest, and Jack got to work scrubbing out a pan.

[herotypical]

"Yeah, well? While you were fourth-versing, I was busy sending guests on their way. Gimme a break."

Said the Slayer currently not up to her elbows in suds.

[all7seas]

"Sit for a spell?"

He so very much did not want her to help with the dishes. The worst of them had been done, anyhow.

[herotypical]

"Well? I was just going to stand behind you and lean but if you insist on the sitting..."

She drew a chair into the kitchen and sat on it. Backwards. Arms draped over its frame.

[all7seas]

"Sometimes, woman, it's as though you enjoy tormenting me." The pirate took a rough dishcloth to one of the larger pots, drying it carefully before setting it on the table.

[herotypical]

"Mmhm," she agreed. "Probably because you insist on calling me woman. I'm all for a free exchange of torment, here."

She dropped her chin onto her folded, draping arms. Watching him.

[all7seas]

Jack mouthed the word "woman" at her and flashed a cheeky grin before turning back to his work. Silverware. God, there was so much of it piled in the sink. It was going to make a clatter.

Perhaps if he made ENOUGH of a clatter they would insist he leave it for later, or not at all.

"Wonderful night, Annie."

[herotypical]

"...Don't make me come over there, Captain."

She thrust aside the evening's verdict and focused on his mouthed word. And then on the clatter of the cutlery. A wince.

[all7seas]

CLATTER CLATTER CLINK CLATTER CLINK CLINK CLATTER SHATTER.

"...Oops."

[herotypical]

The dull scrape of the chair against the floor. Quiet footsteps. Buffy reached for his elbow and drew him away from the sink.

"You? You're a hazard."

[all7seas]

"There was one accident and a veritable mountain of clean, safe dishes, woman. I am the most very best hazard you could ever ask for."

[herotypical]

"And there he goes again. How rude."

/bed for me now!!! night!

[all7seas]

"Most beautiful, lovely, wonderful woman?"

night!

[herotypical]

"...Better. But a little on the side of too little too late." Her fingers fisted lightly in the fabric of his shirt. A sure sign that any scowling was theatrical as she scowled while anchoring herself to him.

"What do you think? Those dishes -- a job done well enough? For now? You and me can tackle the rest of them on a leisurely tomorrow, spent together?"

[all7seas]

"I think yes: this is an excellent idea. Possibly one of your best ever. Well done." Jack's hands were still wet and soapy. He held them away from her so as not to dampen her Thanksgiving togs.

[herotypical]

Wet and soapy seemed not to bother her. She stuck close, confounding his avoidance attempts. "Best? You're welcome to hand me over that gold medal at any time."

[all7seas]

Gold medal...that SORT of put him in the mind of the topic he needed to discuss with her. Kind of.

Either way, the topic was now on his brain. And he still wasn't touching her. Instead, Jack backed toward the sink again, groping for a towel.

"Soon enough, I shall. And then you won't be rid of me, eh?"

[herotypical]

"Speaking of not getting rid of things...we still have enough leftovers to feed an army. Willing to take one for the team and bring a bunch back to Cullen House? Eat turkey for a week?"

She leaned back against the counter.

[all7seas]

"I suppose it'll keep if I store it outdoors...So, yes. Aye. I'll pilfer whatever overs you've got, sweetheart."

There was the towel---and there, dry hands.