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Who: Geordie Riddell, Buffy Summers, Jilly Coppercorn, and anyone else in House 7 who might want to jump in!
What: New feather arrival.
When: Saturday, Sept 1. Night.
Where: House 7
Summary: Geordie wakes up in not quite the same place he fell asleep.
Rating: PG/PG-13 at most, for mild swearing.

As gigs went, tonight's had seemed especially good. He hadn't planned on playing at the Harp and Roses that night, only to watch Amy play alongside a traveling band. But the music had been too good to resist. And of course, he had his fiddle with him.

Hours and mugs of ale later, it had seemed a good idea to follow Jilly home. The hour was late, he still revved up from the music and she from that crazy dancing she and her friends were so found of. It'd be easy to get lost in the streets of Newford, streets that weren't nearly as safe as Jilly liked to think them to be. It wouldn't be the first time he crashed at her place or her at his. Better to keep an eye on her, however inebriated that eye was, than let her wander the streets late at night alone.

Barely a word is said as they clamber up the stairs to her loft. The hour is late and the tiredness is starting to seep into his bones. Her old, beat couch sounds more and more appealing by the second. Once inside, he drops his fiddle case to the floor and kicks off his boots.

He's out the second his face hits the cushion...

...and still fast asleep when he appears on the couch in House 7 sometime later. He yawns and turns off his back to his side but doesn't open his eyes. Whatever it was poking into his back doesn't seem to be such a bother anymore.

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Jack forgot about pants for a moment and very conveniently ignored Buffy. He did manage to grab hold of an odd little candy dish to cover his shame.

It was a ceramic saguaro candy dish. He had no idea where it came from, or who ate all the peanut M&Ms that had been in residence on it.

"You know Jilly? Who the devil are you?! Were it you what ate all my M&Ms, including but not limited to the green ones?!"

Edited 2012-09-04 03:33 (UTC)

"Oh my god."

Whatever answer he might have come up with, Jilly wasn't waiting to hear it. She doesn't even spare a glance for the Slayer or the pirate as she practically vaulted herself around the chairs and coffee table and tackles him to the couch.

It's a chaotic and messy tangle of limbs and wings in the dark, but somehow she manages to get her arms around him.

"Tell me you're real! You're really real and you're really here."

...Which...doesn't really offer a lot of answers for anyone looking on.

"...If he knew her, he should've just said so."

Buffy huffed and fell back to the same side of the room inhabited by her intrepidly censored pirate. "Maybe then I wouldn't have threatened so much almost bodily harm."

Although the Slayer had a protective streak of her own, she needed no reason to harbour any suspicion after what looked like a very obviously delighted reception from her once-sister and still-housemate.

"I'll replace them, by the way," she quietly addressed Jack on the subject of his poor M&Ms. Patrolling was hungry work. A girl needed her protein.

He barely has time to do little more than open his arms to intercept Jilly's hug when he finds himself falling back on the couch. For such a small woman, she makes quite an impact. He winces a little as his wing hits against something and a shooting pain goes through him. Whatever was sticking into his back before is now back.

But the hug is returned without hesitation (because why wouldn't he hug his best friend, even in a dream?), if not a little slower than usual. That uncomfortable sensation of something pushing into his back returns

Strangest. Dream. Ever.

"Um," he says when he finally has a chance to breathe in and speak. Geordie laughs, a little nervous. "I guess I'm as real as anything else in this dream."

A dream Jilly's really going to have a laugh over in the morning.

"You threatened him bodily harm? He's just a bloke on a couch.

A bloke Jilly is currently being all huggy and kissy and cuddlesome with..."

And if Jack felt a twinge of jealousy about that, he wasn't going to reveal that to the slayer. Or anyone, for that matter.

"I can hear you, you know."

But it's said with a laugh. She should let Geordie go, but she can't seem to untangle her arms from around him.

"And you're not dreaming, Geordie, me lad."

Well.

For the first time since she tackled him to the couch, she looks back at Jack and Buffy...and quickly remembers why that was a bad idea. She does her best to look only at Buffy. "He's not, right? And I'm not? It's a new cycle?"

He feels real. She's never had a dream that was so utterly clear. But she needs to hear it from someone else, just to be sure.

"Exactly," she hissed back at Jack. "A bloke. On my couch. In the middle of the night! Need I remind you that I'm the one who's had Nina stab me and then that space-man guy pull a gun on me and then..." Well. Kiss her. But that was one thing that, like Jack's slight twinge, she wasn't racing to share.

"Frankly? I think I'm entitled to a dash of stranger-in-my-house suspicion."

With all the ease of flicking a switch, Buffy turned away from her pirate and addressed the question posed of her. Her arms folded over her chest and she smiled -- finding Jilly's happiness infectious.

"No one's dreaming, sweetie." What endearments she rarely spared for lovers, she always spared for friends. "We're due for a new batch this month and he's obviously one of them."

"Except me," Geordie butts in, reminding everyone in the room - and himself - that this could not be real. Because that naked man still has wings and, he had noticed when hugging her back, so did Jilly.

And Jilly Coppercorn certainly did not have wings. For all her talk about fairies and animal people, she was as human as him.

Very carefully, he moves Jilly on his lap just enough to see the other two people in the room. She doesn't seem willing to let go of him yet and well, who's he to argue?

"I'm dreaming. All of you and all of this, because there's no way this could be real. I really shouldn't have had that last beer at the Roses."

"Erm -- possibly, Jilly, you shouldn't be lap-sitting?" That was the prudish response to the situation from Captain Jack Sparrow, whose romantic relationship with the artist had transformed into something six million times more complicated after that particular Valentine's shift.

"And we're real. I'm real. Right down to my enormous saguaro."

Lap-sitting.

Kissing.

Oh. Well... that was an easy enough one to fix.

"It's not like that."

She does shift, though, sliding down onto the cushion next to him without actually breaking his hold on her. "He's my best friend."

Best friend or not, she was ignoring his protests about the beer. Geordie wouldn't be Geordie without skepticism. It only made her more sure this was real.

"Buffy...Jack...this is Geordie." Those words were said with pure awe.

She'd been here a year and a half. She'd given up on seeing someone from home a long time ago.

Saguaro. She tried to hide a very real and very lively giggle. The Slayer would deal with him later.

"Hi, Geordie. Trust me, if I'd have known you were on the guest-list? I would've rolled out a less sharp welcome mat."

There's a look in Jack's direction, even if Geordie would prefer not to look at the naked man. He raises an eyebrow, not exactly challenging but certainly skeptical. What did he care if Jilly was on his lap? And why would he ever think she'd kiss him? The idea was laughable. Or at least had been ever since that trip to Tyson seven years ago.

With a sigh, he lets go of Jilly and uses his hand to scratch at his temple. He's not exactly sure he believes any of this. Not a dream. People - Jilly - with wings. The scythe that still sits on the chair nearby. It definitely sounds like a dream to him.

"So... saying this isn't a dream," he begins and then quickly glances at Jilly. "Not that I believe that. But if it isn't, who are you guys? And where are we?"

"I am the pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow, and these are my women."

Might as well be wicked about it.

"Jack.

He's kidding."

She hesitated. "Mostly."

Buffy? Oh. Buffy didn't speak. Buffy didn't need to speak. Buffy just had to look. And although she looked at Jack quite specifically, there was an air all about her of self-possession. A presence, if you will.

Let no one doubt who was the defacto den mother of the house.

(But if she had spoken, she probably would have once again demanded that the pirate go grab some clothing.)

Edited 2012-09-05 01:45 (UTC)

For a moment, Geordie worries. Jilly would tell them if she needed help. If not him, than Sophie or Wendy. Angel. She wouldn't let Angel down like this. But it's hard not to think it. A naked man, claiming two women only really means a few things.

Like a pimp.

He frowns, amiableness turning into something more serious.

"Jilly doesn't belong to anyone but herself."

The ceramic saguaro didn't budge. If anything, its expression became more threatening and pissed off.

"I know that, son! I've only kidnapped her the one time. And I brought her back directly."

Oh God.

"Jack, you're not helping."

She squeezed Geordie's arm, trying to pull his attention away from Jack. "I meant that he's really a pirate. And Buffy's...they're together." Because that was safer than trying to put labels on whatever their relationship was, currently.

"I know this has got to sound crazy, but we're honestly not in Newford anymore."

She sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She once again settled her hands on her hips. Buffy wasn't quite sure what she was the most bothered by, really. Jack's insistent nakedness or that discomforting sensation of adrenaline leaving the body or perhaps the vicious (or so she'd heard it) way in which Jack had claimed two individuals in a way that she could not even begin to explain the wrongness of.

"...You know what?" Buffy looked at Jilly because she was just about the only person the Slayer could currently look at without feeling either terribly regretful or terribly humiliated.

"I'm gonna go get him some pants."

And she marched out of the room.

"They're together," he said as he gestured to Jack and the woman leaving the room. He didn't mean for the relief to slip into his voice but it was there. Jilly wasn't with the pirate man. Good. That was good.

"And she's getting him pants." He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to wake up. Upon opening his eyes, though, the situation had not changed. Only the pretty blonde - Buffy - had left. "We're not in Newford. What is this, then? That spirit world Bones likes to talk about?"

"Spirits, aye." The cactus plate slipped slightly as Jack made a yes there are spirits here gesture of affirmation. "And she's fetching me trousers so that-----------

How the devil do you know Bones?!"

The grouchy doctor had been Jack Sparrow's best friend before the Malnosso had sent him home. He rounded on Geordie with a new intensity of interrogation.

For a moment, it was all she could do to stare helplessly after Buffy, suddenly fielding this conversation alone. Taking a deep breath, she sorted out all the questions they were tossing about and did her best to answer them all in one fell swoop.

"Yes, they're together. Yes, she's getting him pants. This place is called Luceti. I don't know if it's actually in the Spirit World or not....And not that Bones."

As she walked away from the front room, she could hear conversational leftovers. Words and voices and, mostly, she tried to tune them out. Jilly's hesitant application of the word 'together', although entirely fair, made her heart hurt just a little too much. Things had gone all ambiguous-shaped and that wasn't a good shape to be. She and Jack desperately needed something 'us-affirming'. Perhaps tomorrow they could...

Aha! Denims. She snagged the tidy and folded pair of pants from the bottom drawer of a dresser she'd cleared out in order to make room for Jack's things. Her fingers scrunched around the thinner fabric of a simple tshirt, so she took it too.

Buffy was back in matter of mere second.

"What was that about Bones?" She tossed the jeans at Jack and then stood in front of him for modesty's sake -- for all the help that would ever actually do.

Geordie never had reason to doubt his sanity before today. But now, he really was wondering whether that last beer had been spiked. Jilly knew some pretty odd, even cantankerous people, but he never recalled meeting someone as disagreeable as Jack. Except maybe Aaran, but he wasn't friends with Jilly - or anyone Geordie was close to. He almost felt a little guilty thinking this. This dream was growing uncomfortable fast. Thankfully, though, the pretty blonde had the sense of mind to step in front of the pirate while he put on the jeans.

...a pirate wearing jeans. That was almost as preposterous as the Crow Girls being, well, real crows. He sighed, leaning back on the couch and doing his best not to roll his eyes.

"He's a fortuneteller down from the rez." For a moment, a brief smile flickered across his face. "Ask Jilly though, and she'll tell you that Bones is some Kikaha animal man mix. What was it? Dog and raven? ...come to think of it, ask Christy, and he'll tell you the same. But he's just a harmless busker, same as me."

Albeit one who would be a lot more comfortable in this situation than Geordie felt right now.

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