Show Me the Ropes


colette_icon.gif tasha_icon.gif

Scene Title Show Me the Ropes
Synopsis They'll be down by dinner. Maybe.
Date May 4, 2010

The Lighthouse

There are several ways to combat the cold in extreme climates. Thermal insulation, a well-prepared fire, proper clothing. When conserving heat is concerned, a well-known fact is that the human body radiates heat at a rate of 100 joules every second. This is the same energy as radiated by a 100-watt light bulb.

The laws of thermodynamics and cold mitigation are not the sole reasons that two young people are sharing a bed on the second floor of the Lighthouse come morning. While the dim, gray light coming through the curtains in Gillian Child's bedroom is a subtle when compared to an alarm clock, Colette Nichols' unique sensitivity to light means that even the slightest change in illumination can be felt on any one part of her body even when she's asleep. Normally this is circumvented by sleeping with the blinds drawn fully and a blanket pulled up over her head. There have been, as of late, other more pressing matters distracting her from her usual sleeping habits.

That particular distraction is laying on her side with her back to Colette this very moment. One arm around Tasha's waist, a hand on her stomach, Colette lays at the brunette's side, face buried in the back of her hair and nose pressed to the base of her neck, trying to pretend that morning hasn't come yet. Though there's a comfort found here, in the arms of another, a comfort that Colette has not been able to find so honestly in too long a time. There's nothing salacious about their arrangement, nothing beyond the tangle of legs at least.

Tasha's request to Colette is one the young teen took to heart, the request to take thing slsowly, and the patience required for that is something Colette has cultivated over these last few years. With her nose buried in the back of Tasha's hair, Colette breathes out the barest slivers of a sigh, fingers ghosting over Tasha's stomach slowly and nose brushing through her hair again. If she's going to be awake, she may as well not be alone.

"It's morning…" is the quiet warning Colette offers, voice hushed, nose bumping the back of Tasha's head.

There comes a sleepy grumble, Tasha burying her face deeper into the pillow, burrowing deeper under the covers, her fingers, slack a moment before, clutch Colette around the small of the back and pull her a little closer to her own half-awake form. Tasha is not a morning person, as has become clear in the last several days — if given the chance, she would sleep til noon every day.

"It's the nightingale and not the lark," she mutters, which Colette may or may not recall from her ninth grade literature course as the argument Juliet presents to Romeo, when the morning dawns to separate the star-crossed pair. "And … I forget what she says, some weird-ass shit about it being a meteor or something to light his way. Did they smoke pot back then?" her muffled voice asks, before she moves her face from the pillow to Colette's shoulder.

"Man. I am not mature enough to get up and be responsible for people younger than me," she adds with a resigned sigh.

Hiding her ignorance of the classics behind a muffled giggle, Colette squeezes that one arm tighter around Tasha, placing the smallest of kisses against the top of her head. Breathing warmly into her hair, Colette smiles contentedly before warning, "Magnes is already up with them," which is something of a traumatic experience waiting to happen all on its own. With Tasha held close, Colette closes her eyes and threatens to fail at her own task of waking the other girl up, her hand sliding around from stomach to waist and then up Tasha's back to rest between her shoulders, cradling the brunette in her arms.

"I'm sure he's watching cartoons with them right now and eating cereal out of the box, so one of us needs to totally cook breakfast," Colette adds with a giggle, nudging her nose against Tasha's forehead before placing a kiss below that spot warmly. "But… he should be fine for a little bit longer."

Eyes partly closed, Colette stares down into Tasha's lighter hair through the dark fringe of her lashes, letting her nose brush through the teen's brown hair slowly. "Bet you never thought babysitting would be a Ferrymen job, huh?"

A soft contented sigh and a slight shiver run through Tasha's body simultaneously, and her face lifts from Colette's shoulder to the other's cheek, grazing slightly parted lips along Colette's jawline. "Not after dropping off the rugrat here, no. Like I said, back in Boston, I was the youngest person with them… they probably thought they were babysitting me. It's weird to be with people my age here," Tasha says quietly, her lips curving against Colette's cheek into a smile. "Almost exactly my own age, in some cases."

She finally leans back, sleepy eyes opening to look into Colette's greener gaze. Her own brown eyes narrow a bit and she gives a shake of her head, breath catching in her throat. "I am sure I look like hell — how can you look so beautiful first thing in the morning?" she whispers, reaching up to push a lock of black hair out of Colette's eyes.

Lips parted and face flushing bright red, Colette hardly looks like she knows how to take a compliment. Green eyes wander away from Tasha for a moment, goofily offering up a laugh before she looks back over to the brunette and quirks her lips into a smile, leaning in the lightly ghosting her nose across Tasha's, then letting her lips brush warmly across the slightly younger teen's, a very small and fleeting gesture of affection. "I'm sure my messy old racoon eyes are totally attractive," Colette says with a playfully sarcastic tone of voice before squeezing inc lose to Tasha, sliding an arm beneath her neck and lifting up one leg to lift over Tasha's, hooking ot back around and holding her tight.

"I— " Colette's voice cracks into silence, and she nervously offers a laugh as she hides her face against the pillow, looking up with one eye squinted shut after a moment. "I— think you— look… um, you…" Tension runs through Colette, and she's still having a hard time being honest with her words, that sheepish nervousness unlike how she's been before.

"Sh'up you're gorgeous," comes out all at once, breathed into a very hesitant kiss that ghosts across Tasha's cheek, then finds its way down along her jaw with a nuzzling of her nose, finally to her neck. "I— " Colette hesitates reflexively saying something, then just brushes her lips across the side of Tasha's throat in the silence. "I don't have the right words," Colette admits quietly, nose tucked away in that corner of jaw and earlobe at Tasha's neck, lips brushing gently there as she speaks.

"M'happy…" she admits, letting her fingers gently curl against the fabric of Tasha's shirt at her back, "I'm— so happy, n' a little… scared?" Colette's voice grows softer there, her cheeks feverishly warm against Tasha's skin. "Scared that m'going… to… I— dunno."

"You shut-" Tasha begins, laughing and about to protest, before Colette grows serious and Tasha bites off the rest. Her brows knit at the other's unease, the awkward voicing of the fears and joys both of them feel in tandem. The lips against her neck bring a little shiver again, and her one shoulder comes up almost as if to protect herself from Colette; instead, she cradles Colette between her cheek and her shoulder as the other speaks.

"I know."

Tasha's whisper is soft and she takes a breath before going on. "I'm happy, too, and I'm scared, too, and I'm afraid because if I mess it up, I feel like … like I'll lose my best friend, even though I've only known you like two weeks. And I'm afraid of hurting you, because you deserve to be happy — you deserve to be joyous and have nothing but good things and I don't know if I can be all the good things you need, especially when I'm new at — at everything — but… but…"

Her lips find Colette's, brushing lightly before she presses her forehead to Colette's the way Colette usually does to hers. "But I will try."

The noise Colette makes in return is a half-hearted whimper. The brunette's arms wrap tightly around Tasha in an adamant embrace at those words, head shaking very subtly from side to side to allow her forehead to move across Tasha's. "You're not gonna' mess it up," Colette's tone of voice is determined there, stubbornly so. "You're— so sweet an'— I mean— even if you weren't… I— I dunno, I— I was ready to stay friends with you even if you weren't, like— you know— " Colette tenses before she says, "likeme," in a single breath. "I think you're too awesome, I— I totally admire you for doing all'a the stuff with your life I wanted to. Like— like school and just— you're…"

There's a soft noise in the back of Colette's throat, and she squeezes Tasha gently again, lifting her chin up so that she can silence her own failure at words against the other teen's lips. It's a soft, tender kiss, but an obviously restrained one that exemplifies the affection she's withholding. It was easier, in retrospect, with someone whom words weren't important. It made it easier for a girl who has a hard time with words to express herself, but ultimately felt more hollow at times.

Words are hard.

"M'not going anywhere unless you want me to," Colette finally decides to say, breath fluttering over Tasha's lips, that hand at her back sliding down slowly, toying with the bottom of her shirt and idly brushing knuckles over the warm, bare skin at her waist. "Long as you want me, m'yours… 'cause— 'cause I've never had nobody, that like— um, God I suck at this."

Colette whimpers noisily, then presses her nose against Tasha's. "You're just a little newer at everything than me," is probably the most simple and yet comforting thing Colette could say. "Really I— I'm not— an— expert or nothin'. I get scared too."

"I'm not, like, successful with the school stuff," Tasha says, a little breathily at the hand on her skin below, her sigh warm on Colette's neck as she cuddles into the embrace all the tighter. "I dropped out, remember? Hardly awesome, Cole." Not that she failed out, but she certainly feels like it was some sort of a failure on her part — even if she believes the cause she's joined instead.

"I might try to go here — but I don't… I don't know. Ferry stuff might interfere and then it's another waste of my parents' money," she says quietly, her own hand sliding beneath Colette's shirt, fingers tracing up the spinal column slowly.

"If you're mine as long as I want you… I'm yours, too, Colette," Tasha whispers. "We can be scared together," she adds as her lips find Colette's neck again, "and you can show me the ropes."

The first sharp breath is from the touch of a hand at her back, Colette's eyes fluttering shut and a shivver running down that very same spine beneath Tasha's hand. Swallowing noisily, Colette leans into the embrace, loses her words att he touch of lips to her throat and just lits her head tilt to the side in silent offering, only a long lock of black hair getting in the way of her neck, tucked haphazardly behind one ear as it is. Her hair's growing out, little by little.

"Mmm— may— " it's almost words Colette gets out, "maybe we can— school to— together?" It's almost even a full sentence, before she completely loses of focus of both what she was talking about and also the fact that she was trying to wake Tasha up so that they could go downstairs and help take care of the children of the Lighthouse. Admittedly, Tasha is awake, it's just not so much the responsibilities that were laid out for them that's flitting across Colette's mind at the moment.

"Ropes?" Colette says too teasingly to be a genuine uncertainty. "I— don't know about ropes," the teen admits sheepishly, the blush on her face flushed down her neck across pale skin, "but you— you know— I'm open to new ideas," she adds with a teasing laughter, squirming there beside Tasha, a giggle of laughter rising up in the back of her throat.

The kids (and Magnes) can wait.

Tasha's fingers curl around that wayward lock of hair and the others at the nape of Colette's neck, tugging the other girl closer for another kiss — this one less shy, more certain, with a touch of mirth as she laughs at the rope joke. Tasha's hands grow bolder beneath the covers and she gives a teasing nip to Colette's neck.

"Ropes? We can do better than that — our dads are both cops. We can get handcuffs," she says with a smirk, her hands catching both of Colette's and pinning them playfully to the mattress. But then her fingers interlace with Colette's, fingers squeezing gently, sweetly.

"Cereal out of the box sounds like a really healthy breakfast, if you ask me. We can cook lunch…"

Words are hard, making it fortunate that Colette has by this point lost all capacity for them.

Green eyes shut, not out of tiredness this time but something more analogous to bliss. Her voice hitches in the back of her throat, chin lifts up and the barest sound of a hushed whisper filters out of her mouth. One foot scrapes along the sheets, heel digging in the high threadcount of a borrowed bed. With her fingers wound with Tasha's there's Colette's hands to go, pinned down to her sides in a manner that causes her back to arch from the implications. Breathily she tries to form words, but they're honestly half-hearted things, things that might have been words like 'stop' or 'wait' or 'are you sure' that are more for the other girl's protection than any real sense of hesitance on Colette's part.

While Tasha had said slow, this here has taken that warning and thrown it to the wayside. It's only now that she even registers the nip at her neck, the very thing she'd hesitated on earlier. That'll teach Colette a lesson about restraint.

By this point noises are the only things Colette can make, these tiny little squeaking things that chirp from the back of her throat and sound so surprised in the way a bird might be when caught by a cat. Breathing is as hard as words right now, fluttering to match her heartbeat while it races inside of her chest. This suddenly escalated faster than she'd expected, and for all the noises she makes might be construed as protest, the smile she has says only surprised contentment; lips parted, toothy and completely lost in the fact that someone's sparing this sort of attention on her.

"I— I thh— thought— " Colette barely manages well after the nip, "you— thought— I thought— " words are still hard, "thought— I was showing you— not— not ah— the— " so she just gives up.

Tasha laughs, a merry but throaty thing, and she rolls suddenly over onto her back, taking Colette with her so that Colette's on top of her and they are nose to nose — much like they were not-so-many days ago on an icy porch.

"I think I can figure it out…" she murmurs, head tilting to peer up at Colette's green eyes, her own half covered by a lock of her brown hair. "Or we can find our way together… and later," she shifts to kiss Colette lightly again, "we can cook…" and kiss again…


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