OOM - Pam's room

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam would've objected to being carried.

But, ah, what the hell. She'd earned it.

And she wouldn't have been able to do anything about it anyway, because the moment Eric wrapped his arms around her, her body just gave out. It didn't want to be upright anymore. It didn't want to move on its own. It didn't want to lift a thing.

Besides, Eric is comfortable.

She didn't care where he was carrying her, just as long as it was away.

And then, even though Pam's eyes were closed and her senses were nearly shutting down from sheer exhaustion, she knew that they'd stepped into Milliways. Somewhere at the back of her foggy mind, she thought, Perfect. She'd never wanted to be here more than right now.


She smells Jemma, and she hears her voice. She would say hello, but, meh, too tired.


They arrive in her room.

Comments

[onceaviking]

Eric hadn't realized that he was paying attention to the sounds. From the bathroom.
Not until he felt himself relax, just a little, at the sound of the blowdryer.

She was okay.

He didn't really notice he was still stroking Jemma's hair,p. soothingly.
And not really for her benefit.

The talons of the fear of losing Pam were slow to let go.

The deepest sorrow, to loose a child.

To loose a child.

He found himself nodding. Yes. That would be where he would start. Russell Edgington would feel that sorrow and pain. To loose a child.

All he had to do was make sure he was alone with soft, pretty, preening Talbot. Just long enough.

[protect_and_survey]

She fell asleep being petted, and wakes up to the same - a large steady hand, steady and soothing.

...

Combined with the fuzzy-headedness of bloodloss, it's giving her a distinct feeling of being lost in Wonderland at the moment, unable to quite get her bearings.

Bed.

Right. Dratted ridiculously comfortable bed that will be her downfall and possibly swallow her whole. That one.

...

She should get up. Or. Uppish. Make an effort, as it were.

The petting's nice.

Up, Simmons.

"This thing should come with a warning label." Jemma mutters as she works on the whole 'sitting up' thing. It's a process, where the distinct woozy feeling is not helping things one tiny bit.

[lazy_but_loyal]

When Pam's hair is sufficiently dry, she pulls it back and ties it into a loose ponytail.

Then, out comes the makeup bag. She goes for a more subdued look, with lavender eyeshadow and a soft pink shade of lipstick.

She isn't doing this for Eric, or even for Jemma. She does it for herself, because this is how she restores normalcy to whatever situation she's in. When she can make herself look pretty and feel fabulous, then she is in control. And lately too much chaos has been fucking things up, so pardon her while she applies some goddamned mascara.

[protect_and_survey]

It takes some stubbornness, but eventually Jemma is sitting upright, and is feeling rather proud of herself for her accomplishment. She really hopes she doesn't run into Hill in the hallway. Or Fitz. ... Actually, anyone who knows her, that'd be grand.

"I didn't ask." She notes, after some owl-eyed observation of Eric and his graphically-decorated attire. "Are you alright?"

[onceaviking]

"What?" Eric says, and then "I'm fine."

He's not. And the lie may not be as smooth as it normally is.
Then he looks at the bathroom door and says, softly, "She's alright," and the emotion in his voice is no lie at all.

He gets up from the bed.

"I'll have some food sent up for you. You should eat, "he says to Jemma.

He'll need to look into getting a will drawn up. When he gets back from the King's.

'And Jemma?"

He does not like to be beholden. But he acknowledges when he is.

"Thank you. "

He raises his voice. Even though he doesn't have to.
"I'm going downstairs, Pam. I'll be back later."

Not leaving her before he's said goodbye.

But he needs space. And blood.

[protect_and_survey]

He's gone before she can do much more than babble a half-coherent 'you're welcome' (that doesn't come out nearly so concise), so she gives it up as a bad job and settles back to take stock of her situation.

She doesn't get very far (this is becoming a somewhat tiresome theme) before there's a tiny rattattat on the door.

Jemma's just fine with ignoring it, but it gets repeated before too long.

"Um. Pam?" But evidently someone gave the waitrats door keys, because the door swings open to admit two hard-working rats. They trundle past with the heavily laden tray, and after setting it up to their satisfaction, take themselves away again.

"... I'm not sure if I would be more or less reassured if that was a hallucination."

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam hears Eric leave.

Her hand pauses in the middle of applying lip liner, and she glances toward the bathroom door, frowning slightly. She hopes he's not going to go brood. She really doesn't want to have to snap him out of it.

As she finishes up and packs away her makeup, she hears the soft tapping on the door and is intent to ignore it as well. But when Jemma calls her, she exhales a little sigh, and steps out of the bathroom in time to see the rats leaving.

She blinks.

"Mmmnope, not a hallucination."

That's really taking room service to a new level.

Barefoot and smelling of lavender soap, she ambles over to the bed.

"Enjoy your catnap?" she asks, cupping Jemma's cheek and lifting her chin to look at her eyes. As gentle as her touch is, it's not so much a gesture of affection, but one of practical concern.

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma is, to be honest, a bit glassy-eyed. The combination of blood loss and ridiculously comfortable bed (seriously, she can hear it calling to her, it's absolutely absurd) make her preferred course of action to just go back to napping. She's resisting it. Really.

"Rather - though I think I'm going to end up sleeping for days." There's a pause, as Jemma side-eyes the tray.

"Is that a bowl of whipped cream?"

Honestly, there's going to be such a long discussion about boundaries with Eric, it isn't even funny, she just needs the energy to face that.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Oh, Eric.

"Somehow I don't think that's a particularly great source of vitamin B12."

Boundaries? What boundaries? Eric doesn't know the meaning of boundaries.

"Do you want a bit of my blood? It'll help you recover much faster than just a steak and chocolate pudding alone. Unless you want to sleep for the next couple of days. I'm sure there's stuff you have to do."

[protect_and_survey]

"Well, I do, but..." A SHIELD scientist's work is never done (even when you think it is, because someone from Operations is right now this very minute finding something / contracting something / dying of something that will put everyone back on call and then raise a million questions that Fury will want answered by end of business tomorrow), and she's never been much of a fan of downtime to being with.

"Don't you need it? You're only just looking better."

[lazy_but_loyal]

"I'll be fine. You'll only need a couple of drops."

She then smirks a little.

"And hey, you can do it for science."

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma pulls a face at that, because evidently tired and hypovolemic Jemma is approximately five years old.

"If you're positive - I'm pretty sure Eric will have my head if you suddenly aren't alright again."

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Honey, I'm positive," she says in a tone that implies that she's not going to argue the point. "And he won't have your head because I'll be fine."

It's not that Pam cares. She only cares that Jemma doesn't randomly keel over or function at less than her full capacity as to attract attention. Jemma is a smart girl. It won't do for her to be nodding off or forgetting how to use words.

Pam sits beside her.

"Ready?"

[protect_and_survey]

"... Yes?" Jemma doesn't sound sure of this, but suddenly she's not sure what this involves, and she can think of all sorts of options that she's pretty sure she'll never ever be ready for.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam's fangs drop.

And she pricks the pad of her own thumb. Blood oozes thickly from the puncture, a dark red that's almost black.

She cups Jemma's cheek and presses her thumb to her lips, encouraging her to drink what she can before the wound heals. There's a very strong scent of iron, stronger than that of human blood, and the taste will be just as intense as how it smells. Sweet, salty, coppery.

In a small dose, all of Jemma's senses will sharpen, and any fatigue she feels will fade. Any more and she might experience hallucinations, so those rats delivering dinner might not seem like such a big deal. So Pam takes her thumb away as soon as she thinks she's had enough. The side-effects vary from human to human, though. Perhaps Jemma isn't as prone to mildly tripping out as others.

Or, y'know, feeling a bit horny.

[protect_and_survey]

"Whoa." Her posture straightens abruptly, and she feels like she got a dose of the good lab coffee, the stuff they get from operations crew that appreciate their work. "That's... I can see why this would be a problem. In your world."

And if she's blushing (she is, she is hypovolemic and she's wasting red blood cells on blushing), it's only because Pam is gorgeous and sitting right next to her and she was just sucking on her thumb and that's kind of hot.

Jemma clears her throat carefully.

"Oh, tea." Thank God.

[lazy_but_loyal]

There now. Jemma looks, and feels, much better. Pam can tell.

She retracts her fangs and sweeps her hand down Jemma's back.

"Vampire blood is sold as an illegal drug," she says. "That's how much of a problem it is. And there are certain vampires who call it sacred, but whatever. Still, it's not like I'm letting anyone stick a straw in me. I only give it in very special cases."

And she eyes her pointedly.

[protect_and_survey]

"Right, right, got it," She sounds vaguely harried, which... should pretty much indicate how often her SO has to point out exactly where the 'hands off' signs are. "I shan't be asking about studies." She did already say she wouldn't treat Pam like a science experiment. Feeling off balance and flustered by the whole thing, she scoots off the bed (dangerous bed) to fetch that cup of tea.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam watches her cross the room to the table, looking pretty spry.

"No. But do tell me if you feel anything...weird."

[protect_and_survey]

"Weird?" Jemma clings to her cup like a lifeline. "How... I mean, no, I'm fine, not weird." It's perfectly normal to feel attraction, honestly, and surely vampires don't celebrate being alive like many humans (she does not envy the poor medical staff on board the Helicarrier after the New York City attack, she imagines it got repetitive).

"Just because you are all gorgeous and there's insinuations and suddenly I'm feeling much better does not mean that I can't keep a hold of myself."

Nnnnope.

...

Jemma abruptly blushes.

"That... part wasn't meant to be out loud." Oh just shoot her now. Please.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam just smirks and leans back on one hand, her robe parting to reveal a lot more leg as she casually crosses them at the knee.

"Of course not, sugar."

Vampire blood is very telling when it comes to a human's libido.

"Your steak is getting cold."

[protect_and_survey]

Steak, right. She eyes the tray - meat, bread, broth, and sugar. She supposes there are worst ideas post blood-loss. Maybe for vikings salads were things that happened to other people.

Yay scurvy?

Anyway. Jemma diligently addresses herself to the food, trying her best to remind herself that she's an adult and as such has this thing called self control and can just not ogle Pam. It's a thing she can do.

Mostly. It's a very nice view.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam gets up and brings that glass of water over, setting it on the table near the bowls of chocolate pudding and whipped cream.

"Still a good idea to keep hydrated," she remarks. "How's the food?"

With her senses of smell and taste heightened, this relatively simple fare should be the best food she's ever had. Or at least the most interesting. Hopefully not as interesting as a hippie on LSD might find it, because Pam finds that annoying.

[protect_and_survey]

"It's amazing - I really should find out what he ordered, you just can't get good steak where I live now." She has enough manners drilled into her at various points of her life to not wolf it down like a half-starved dog, but she has discovered she's hungry, and isn't wasting any time fixing that problem.

...

Much time, anyway. Look, the view's even prettier up close.

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Good."

And it's good to see her eat. This way Pam knows for sure that she's keeping up her strength and not doing herself any damage by forgetting meals. Funny how humans will do that, forget to eat. How is that even a thing.

"Where do you live?"

It's just small talk.

Pam wanders over to the vanity table and starts filing a fingernail.