Somewhere on the Mainland; Sunday Early Evening

[totalwildcard]

You asked Harley, it was a pretty good Sunday, so far.

She'd started out her day with no plan, and yet by happy accident (and it was definitely an accident, and not someone somewhere making room in a shared schedule to facilitate things, or anything deliberate on the part of anyone directly involved!) she'd run into Marc, and that had sparked a simple and easy plan after all: to drive him to the mainland for dinner, at a restaurant she'd overheard someone talking about on one of her off-island jaunts earlier in the week. It was supposed to be a family-run, no-nonsense little Italian place, and exactly the sort of thing Harley was in the mood for, especially right now with the company she had.

So life was indeed pretty good!

And Harley's mood wasn't soured even by finding out there was actually no parking available right by the restaurant. After some searching, she'd managed to find a spot some blocks away - which was to say, she'd sniped it from right under someone's nose with a truly reckless move. Which had led to some blaring horns from other cars. Which was all good in Harley's book! She had more important things to be thinking about, anyway!

"And the tiramisu's supposed to be amazing," she was saying, as they got out of the car. "Like, 'someone's 97-year-old tiny little Italian grandma made it' kind of amazing. D'you think they'd let me order that for an app and not just dessert?"

(NFB for distance, for the one modded with permission + some NPCs)

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

Light touches were good. He wasn't yet in a headspace where hot and heavy would work. But light and gentle was nice. He wasn't going to examine why but it was nice.

"I've got it on good authority that if you've got stuff to complain about I'll hear you," Marc said. He gave the hand he was holding a light squeeze. "'course that motivates me to give you things to be happy about."

[totalwildcard]

Harley was just following the mood. Or the same urge that had had her suggesting the bath in the first place, after seeing how he'd run himself ragged just fighting his brain: she just wanted him to feel good. Unwind a little. Relax. Light and gentle just flowed from that.

If anyone had asked, Harley would have claimed it was because he'd helped out with the goons. But it really wasn't transactional like that.

"And what am I happy about?" she teased, with a gentleness in that, too. "Feel free to say the car makeouts, it's true."

[hasaknightjob]

"Kay but if I do it's gonna sound like I'm copying you," Marc said. He was joking, but it was laid back. Much like himself as he was effectively boneless in her arms.

(Well, mostly. Ahem.)

"But anything I can do that gets you the good kind of noisy. I'm into it."

[totalwildcard]

The part of him that wasn't boneless was where Harley was cultivating that reaction, so it was perfect.

"That's a good one!" she said. "I'm into it, too." Duh. "Think you can really use some noise in your life, and I am happy to provide."

[hasaknightjob]

There was a nice, unhurried build of heat where Harley's hand was. She was hitting just the right pace to make this part of the relaxed, feel good vibe.

Marc's lips quirked in a wry grin. "My life seems quiet?"

[totalwildcard]

It was much more about simple touch than it was about things like pressure or anything in that realm, even now that Harley's slim fingers had actually wrapped around him. About -- yes, well, exactly: something unhurried. Just an easy extra sidenote to their conversation.

"Voices in your head don't count, sweetie."

[hasaknightjob]

"Now who's moving goalposts?" Marc asked. He threaded his fingers through hers as their hands rested on his chest. "I like your voice better anyway."

No offense, Steven.

[totalwildcard]

Harley's fingers gave his a little squeeze, as they settled in between hers. Reflex, of course.

"See, that's why ya need it," she decided. "I ain't English, for one."

That really didn't need stating. The accent really spoke for itself in every possible way.

[hasaknightjob]

Even so, Marc was gonna bust her balls about it.

"Shit, really?"

[totalwildcard]

And Harley was going to snicker, hard.

"Ooh, I've had you fooled!" she declared. "Ya thought I was all 'cheerio, good day, mate, give us some tea!' but I'm just a basic Brooklyn broad!"

Her half-assed English accent, there, was in fact fully Australian.

[hasaknightjob]

As always, Marc was proud of the snicker.

"Damn," Marc said, oh so serious. "I was hoping for somebody to class up the joint."

[totalwildcard]

"Ohhh, you fucked up big time, there!"

More snickering, yes.

"Not a classy bone in my body!"

[hasaknightjob]

"Not even when I'm facing the other direction."

What? She wasn't the only one who could take an opening line.

[totalwildcard]

No, but Harley took them at such a higher frequency that whenever he did, it was a gift. She practically cackled.

"Oh, but you got everything else goin' for ya, and we can just be real classless together."

Also, yes: hand? Still moving, still all leisurely and nice.

[hasaknightjob]

The cackle got Marc smiling, if you could imagine such a thing. It would've happened even without the way he was responding to that nice and easy stroke. (Though that wasn't hurting his general good feelings by any means.)

"Just as well. I don't even own a tux."

[totalwildcard]

Harley didn't have to imagine shit when she could see it! Most of it, anyway.

"And I would just get it off you, anyway."

Probably while getting distracted and sidetracked like three times along the way, since that seemed to be their thing, but still.

[hasaknightjob]

"See? Then I gotta buy a new one," Marc said. "Not worth the hassle."

He shifted underneath her as one stroke hit particularly nicely.

[totalwildcard]

For all of her distractable nature, Harley could be attentive when the motivating factors were right.

And they were very right, here. So she was going to do her best, right now, to repeat the motion that had drawn that particular reaction out of him.

"No, you can wear what you want," she agreed.

[hasaknightjob]

That got another pleasant shift out of Marc.

"Like you?" he asked.

[totalwildcard]

Oh, well, then Harley just had to keep at it, didn't she? And just slightly firmer with her touch, too. No big change, but still.

"If I'm whatcha want."

Yes, of course she was smirking.

[hasaknightjob]

"Does seem to come up pretty often," Marc said.

Tiny bit of word play there but he'd never admit it.

[totalwildcard]

Harley was going to chuckle all the same.

"Oh, like it's comin' up now?"

[hasaknightjob]

"You seem to always have a hand in that," Marc said.

Okay that one he'd admit to.

[totalwildcard]

"I have been told I get my grubby little mitts on everything."

Now, that one wasn't a pun so much as just a fact.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc held up their two hands, looking at hers thoughtfully. "Doesn't seem grubby to me."

Which wasn't disputing the other part, no.