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

[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.

[herotypical]

"It doesn't count as pilfering if I give it to you."

She leaned for a little longer before changing her mind and procuring a glass of water. Still feeling like a busybody.

[all7seas]

"Does so!" For himself, Jack poured a glass of cider. He watched her from over the rim. "It's been far too long, anyhow," he said softly.

[herotypical]

"What has?" Her tone was casual; she half-expected him to express a longing for missed pilfering opportunities. So her demeanor was kept carefully non-reactive as she sipped her H20.

[all7seas]

He WAS longing for those opportunities, in fact; but Jack had been referring to something else.

"Nothing, nothing. Shall I just pop round to the window in a bit? I need some air, first." The crowded house had gotten a bit stuffy and he was longing to clear his head anyhow.

[herotypical]

"...Go on. Get outta here. Go get your air. You've got as long as it takes for me to shower all the turkey fumes off of me."

And at that, she drained her glass.

[all7seas]

"And I think you smell divine, as always." There was a perfunctory bow before Jack leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek and headed for the door.

[herotypical]

"Oh. Sure. Divine for a deity of turkeys."

But she accepted the kiss with a half-smile and, after another whispered shooing, patted his backside with affection. "Go. Sooner you go? The sooner you can come back."

Eventually, she took the opposite direction -- deeper into the house, shutting off light-switches as she went.

[all7seas]

The night was cold, but, as expected, refreshing. Jack hummed that song about the whale a bit more before breaking off to brush some leaves from the porch of House Seven. McCoy had taken care of a lot of the yardwork while he lived there. It was yet another reminder of his absence, along with Kennedy's rememberances.

Jack missed him.

Finally, after giving Buffy what he thought was plenty of time, the pirate crept around the side of the house to her bedroom window. Lightly he leaped up and grabbed hold of the sill with one hand, pushing it slowly open with the other. It was getting sticky, this window. He'd have to take measures to fix that.

[herotypical]

She turned the water up extra-hot so that when she stepped out of the shower, her skin was pink and flushed from the heat. The evening had been a success, yes -- but she still felt the need to sanitize. Sterilize. Like after a patrol and like moving from one iteration of herself into another. Gone was the hostess, evaporated in the steam.

She dried herself off with a towel before tucking it around herself like a little towel-dress. She combed her hair and she brushed her teeth and she groomed away a pesky hangnail.

Buffy picked the chain holding Jack's ring up off the bathroom counter and clasped it back around her neck. She resettled it against the terry cloth. Fittingly enough, she too was humming the whale song as she wandered back to her bedroom -- a few moments later than Jack.

[all7seas]

He'd only had the chance to light one small, soft-colored lamp before she walked in.

Oh. Lovely. Lovely freshly-showered towel-clad...

"Hallo. The whale song. You liked it."

The ring stood out against the white of the towel, and Jack licked his lips when he saw it.

[herotypical]

"I like all the songs you sing," she confessed as she shook her fingers through her hair. Air-dying. "I like that you always have something to sing about."

It had been a problem of hers -- habitual though only once literal. Finding something to sing about.

[all7seas]

"'S a habit of many sailors, really. Not just myself." Kennedy knew a good song or two, that was for certain. Jack sat on the edge of her bed, watching her still.

"Feeling better, now?"

[herotypical]

"...Wasn't feeling bad." Just different. Over-concentrated. Super-saturated. But it occurred to her that Jack's concern allowed for that.

She sat next to him -- looking thoughtful and looking like she might be about to unleash those thoughts on him.

[all7seas]

"Hi."

[herotypical]

She leaned her shoulder against his. Not quite catching his eye.

"...Hey. If I descend into a total humiliating moment of complete and utter sappiness, just for a sec -- will you forgive me?"

[all7seas]

"As if I could hold THAT against you, sweetness. Possibly I might mock you for it later but only in the most lovingest way possible."

Jack wound his arm around her, resting flighty fingers for a moment on the terrycloth covering.

[herotypical]

She laughed quietly. One short breath of a laugh.

"Just -- thanks. I mean...okay, the turkey-hunting clearly made this whole thing possible so thanks for that but also -- thanks for other things. All the other good things."

Giving thanks, after all, was the name of the game.

[all7seas]

His hold on her tightened during that little speech. "Wasn't sappy at all. If I've succeeded in pleasing you, love...it's what I want."

Maybe he could just hold her like this for a while and permanently delay giving her any news at all.

[herotypical]

"...The only reason why you don't think it's sappy is 'cause you haven't lived through twenty-five years' worth of Thanksgiving cartoony propaganda." A beat. "Twenty-three. I guess the years here don't count. But I do mean it. I'm -- thankful. Full of thanks. A cornucopia of gratitude."

[all7seas]

"I look at you, and I see everything I could want. And dancing with you..." He cleared his throat.

"You want to get dressed for bed? I should probably..."

He tugged at his embroidered blue waistcoat--his best item of clothing, really, buttoned with silver over a pristine linen shirt.

[herotypical]

"Right. Clothes." She stood swiftly. A little too swiftly. Her haste probably found its motive in something similar to why Jack had cleared his throat. An unplanned admission of how...very difficult some of these sentiments still were. The less secure parts of the Slayer wanted to press him -- wanted to ask if he did indeed still think that she was everything he could want. She wondered if the ground was ever liable to shift beneath her. Swallow her whole.

And so she began to prattle while picking through a drawer for pajamas. "Quite the turnout, huh? It's a shame aged-just-right Archie missed out but...maybe he'll remember."