lazy_but_loyal | OOM

Entry tags:

OOM - Pam's room

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.

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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.

"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.

"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.

"Near Washington DC - thankfully far enough away from the city to avoid the traffic, usually." This is, of course, assuming that she always remembers to go home and then come back and thus need to encounter traffic in the first place. "How about you - Eric said something about Louisiana?"

"Shreveport, which I like to call the ass-end of Louisiana, because it's a fucking shithole," she replies flatly, shaping her thumbnail with a file.

"My family was originally from London. But after my parents threw me out I traveled across the States on my own and settled in San Francisco. That's where Eric and I met."

"You're British?" Figures, all the best people are.

...

Don't tell Fury she even thought that. Though she suspects he has somehow, mysteriously, already found out.

Pam pauses her manicure and raises her eyes, an eyebrow arched.

"Well, if you wanna get technical about it, yeah," she drawls.

Because her deep South accent is a dead giveaway, isn't it?

Jemma finds it fascinating (noticing a trend, yet?) - it's one thing to know accents shift over time, but Pam's lost pretty much any identifying London markers.

"I know a few linguists that would just love to meet you." She notes dreamily, distracted from her food.

...

Linguistics is sexy. ... Doesn't everyone think so?

The eyebrow stays arched.

"Really. Are they cute?"

She smirks and resumes filing her nails.

"Eric still knows Old Norse. He taught me Swedish, too. Just to remind him of the homeland from time to time. You wouldn't know it from the way he sounds, would you? Believe me, though, you piss him off and he starts swearing like a Viking again."

"Not as cute as the biochemists." She replies, feeling daring. "But it must be fascinating, to hear a language that has morphed so much it's no longer recognizable." She doesn't expect that she'll ever hear it, if making him angry is the trigger.

Or rather, she hopes she won't. She can't imagine that's a good situation.

Pam sees what Jemma did there. She does like the daring ones. Well played, Jemma.

"I don't know about fascinating," she says with an indifferent shrug, "but it's a sure sign that he means business. Probably the only other people who'd understand it are Norse historians and me."

And Godric.

Pam pauses at the thought of her grandsire. How Eric would never hear his own language spoken to him as it once was.

Funny how this human's ideas are making her ~~feel~~ consider things she'd never thought of before.

She looks over at Jemma.

"Reached dessert yet?"

"Well, there'd be at least two people who understood him in my world, but one's Thor and the other one is evil, so there's not much choice." The descriptor of 'evil' is evidently well-earned in Jemma's opinion, because her tone dips briefly into 'icy' on the word.

But she's rapidly distracted by the question.

"Er. I. Yes?" It's true, she's run out of other food, and she's holding her cup of tea like a lifeline. We all blame Eric and his rather obvious insinuations for her blush. (It's easier that way)

The name seems to light up her face.

"Thor? Oh, he's definitely cute."

Whaaaat, it's the big blond Viking thing, shut up.

"I didn't know he was from your world. Huh. Interesting."

She eyes Jemma, clutching her cup of tea, probably keeping it heated by that blush of hers.

"No rush, honey. I just figured that as soon as you were done, I'd show you my appreciation for helping me out tonight."

"Oh... is he here?" There's nerves there that weren't when she came into the room, hard rattly nerves she is doing her best to suppress. "And really, it's fine, it's... there's just so much I can't help with, and I could here, and... well."

She shrugs, looking away.

"I insist."

And when Pam insists, well...she insists.

"Anyway, Thor is actually on the Security staff here. He stepped in when Eric and I recently had a little-- trouble with another patron."

"Tall, blonde, muscles out to here and vague impression that he may be part golden retriever? Jemma asks, having spent way too many days going over any and all information that may be related to the Chitauri attack.

"Red cape, giant hammer," she adds with a smirk. "Yep, that's the one."

She only just manages to not make 'giant hammer' sound dirty.

"Obviously he's not the same Thor that Eric's people used to worship or whatever, but it's close enough of a representation. What exactly is he in your world, though? Not a god, surely."

"Have you seen those arms?" Jemma asks, vaguely disbelieving. "No, he's not a god, but he does a good impression of one."

She snorts a chuckle, as she sets the nail file aside and briskly polishes her fingernails with a brush.

"Yeah, well, true. And yeah, he was pretty impressive. For a not-god."

Then, flipping her hair over her shoulder, she gets to her feet and ambles over to the table.

"But enough about hot Norsemen. How about cute scientists? Particularly the one sitting right here."

Pam rests one hand on the back of Jemma's chair, the other on her hip. Jemma is going to have some form of dessert, one way or another. Pam insists.

"Um." Jemma blinks up at Pam a tad owlishly, but she'll blame that entirely on the fact that Pam is a) very attractive and b) right there and this is all rather distracting. "The one sitting right here is fine, really, not even the least bit tired."

Missing the point, but not tired!

"It doesn't matter anyway, if you're tired or not," Pam drawls, leaning in and sweeping a finger under her chin.

"All you gotta do is lie back and let me do all the work."

Jemma has no poker face to speak of, and quite clearly she is torn between desire and disbelief.

"Please... don't tease." She understands academically that Pam thinks she tastes good, and has put together enough of the pieces to understand that in Pam's world, there's quite a lot of people who will happily give a vampire a meal in trade for sex. But so far as she can tell, Pam doesn't seem... attracted, much, to any of those people.

Pam takes her chin in her fingertips and tilts her face up.

"One thing you should know about me, sugar, is that I don't tease."

And she bends down to kiss her firmly on the mouth. Just to illustrate her point. In case Jemma doesn't get it.

Here's something Pam ought to appreciate about scientists: When data comes along that disproves one of their theories, the good scientists will change their theories to fit the new facts.

Jemma is, at the heart of it, a very good scientist.

She still doesn't understand why Pam is interested, but honestly, that's a detail that can wait until later. Much later. Some time when there isn't a needy whine in the back of her throat.

Oh, Pam has no doubt that Jemma is a very good scientist. It's quite clear that she's quick to process the fact that she's being kissed very deeply by an attractive vampire. So clever.

But Pam wouldn't lie or tease. She has needs other than feeding, and that's really all the why there is to it.

She pulls back from the kiss. Swiping a fingertip into the bowl of pudding, she holds it up to Jemma's lips, looking down at her from under lavender shaded eyelids.

"Now," she says, her voice a slow, velvety purr, "you're going to take off your panties. Then you're going to get into bed. And then I'm going to thank you in ways you never thought possible before. Okay, sugar?"

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protect_and_survey - 2014-10-25 04:45 (UTC) - Expand

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