amutantingotham | AU ; George Stacy

AU ; George Stacy

[She's nervous to be here. Nervous because she knows what she needs to do, and does think she might actually enjoy it -- but because the idea of actually betraying someone she's come to pity, come to like -- is a little daunting.

The actual betraying will come later, of course, as right now she's just going to be getting the blackmail material.

She takes a breath and knocks on his door, putting on a face that's a little more distressed than she really is.]

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Hey, I didn't want to assume that you actually had a bed and that this wasn't just a pull-out for you.

[There's the smallest hint of a smile. She does actually enjoy his company, it's a shame that he's a mutant-hater.

She brushes her fingers over his several times in the course of moving some of the files into a pile, and when he offers her a shower--]

God -- I don't smell like the sewer, do I? I knew climbing down that manhole was a bad idea. I'll definitely shower before I use your blankets.

[He'd forgotten how nice it was to have somebody touch you.]

There's a bed. There's a whole other room actually but. That's where I'll be going to get you blankets.

...And uh-something new to wear. [He hesitated, breathing hard for a moment] To sleep in uh-

Is it safe to go back to your apartment?

If they're watching it, it's just going to give them a way to find me again.

[There's nobody watching her, although they're waiting for her word on what to do next. If anything, there's someone outside George's apartment right now.]

I can just -- uh. I'll throw on a t-shirt or something.

[She's heading to the bathroom, though, shrugging out of her shirt just before she gets to the door. There's a bra underneath, plain cotton and sensible.]

...right, and probably a -- towel.

[She's leaning against the doorframe with her mug of tea, sipping it and watching him expectantly.]

[Aha. Ha. Proprieties.

Proprieties? You? The guy who's wife divorced him? The guy who half the city loves and the other half despises? You're a half-drunk old man and she's..

He watched her movements for a moment before offering her a towel. The shower's a small stall. When he hands it to her their fingers brush again and he suppresses a shudder.

They'd been working close for weeks. He hadn't gotten laid since Maddie left. Something about her had woken something up.

Fine. Put it back down, put her on the couch.]

....Let me know when you're done.

[When their fingers brush, she leans instinctively closer to him. The mug is on the edge of the sink for now, and she's looking up at him like she might -- do something. She takes the towel into her hands after a few moments too long of the silence that's more tension than awkwardness and then lets out a soft breath.]

...yeah, I'll -- do that.

[When she goes into bathroom, she leaves the door open just a crack. She makes sure the water is hot enough to give her skin a good flush even in the few minutes she's in there, and when she comes out -- well, she's wrapped in the towel and nothing else, cheeks reddened.]

That's loads better. I really appreciate you -- letting me stay here, tonight.

[He had been preparing for bed-no late night passing out on the couch in front of the TV apparently-

So when he sees her all flushed-he moves past her to grab his bathrobe and wrap it around her shoulders with a surprised look on his face but his hands don't move

Holding it closed right above her breasts.]

...You don't have anybody to take care of you. I- [I understand that. I had a daughter once] I understand that..

[And he raises one of his hands to tuck hair behind her ear.] You're young.

[And she can't help but lean into that touch. No matter how old she is, no matter how much she convinces herself that she doesn't need anyone's approval -- well, there are some self-esteem issues you never really get over.]

Maybe not as young as you think.

[She drops the towel. Grand acts of nudity are kind of her thing, mutant-and-blue or not.]

[He's uncomfortably aware of a stiffening between his legs as he realizes he hasn't let go of her hair.

He drops it. Reluctantly. So reluctantly before pulling forward and kissing her hard. One hand slides down her shoulder to her arm, the other moves to press her against him..

and he pulls away.]

No. No way. You are...you are [you could be her. you could.]

[She's got all sorts of unresolved baggage with rejection in this exact situation, telling her that she's too young and that she isn't what he wants and he just wants to be friends.

The kiss is nice right up until all those issues come crashing down on her, and when he pulls away the panic and hurt in her voice isn't fake.]

Please...

[She doesn't pick up the towel, but she does reach to try and grasp his arm. It might be a hair too fast, but there's no way he'd notice -- right?]

Please, don't do that. I need this.

[Too true in too many ways, more than he'd ever be able to understand -- at this point, at least.]

[He hesitates.]

...Someone to keep you safe? [He's old and broken and she's young and fair. He wants to say no. Because the last person who he tried to save-who was like that..

his eyes are moist and instead he kisses her hard again, pressing her against him.]

[Deep down, maybe that is what she wants.

She doesn't answer right away, though, and instead focuses on returning the kiss. Her arms curl around his shoulders, fingers tickling the back of his neck.]

Yes.

I can do that.

[He presses into her, hand sliding down one leg. She's so short. It makes him smile.]

...I used to be good at it, but I could...I could try again maybe and together maybe we could...make this city a better place.

[The mis-placed faith of a believer. He leads her over to the couch and his hands stay again. just holding her.

For the moment]

[Well, at least she's familiar with the jolt of self-loathing that shoots up her spine. She bites her lip, reaches her had up to brush over the side of his face.

Maybe she can convince him that the mutants aren't so bad.

She knows that's silly and weak, so she kisses him hard again to stamp out the thought. She can't lie to him more than she already has.]

[they half drag half fall over onto the couch and George unbuttons his shirt with his left hand while holding her close with his right.

his eyes stay open, never leaving hers.

He trusts her.]

[In the interests of avoiding those trusting eyes, she starts pressing kisses across his jaw and down his neck.

Her hands venture down, aiming to get his slacks off.

If he keeps looking at her like that, there's going to be -- problems.]

[He arches his back as best he can to assist in that. This was the last thing he'd been expecting.

It really has been at least a year. He's already half hard and his movements are clumsy as he tries to think of something to do-for her specifically.]

[She's torn between trying to make this pleasurable for her too and trying to just -- get through this so that she can have something to use against him.

Her jacket is still where she put it down, the pin with the built-in camera facing them.

Once she's got his clothes off, she's sliding down his body, lips tracing his chest, his stomach. Surely he knows where she's headed.]

[His shirt's open and his pants are down. It's a compromising position.

George for his part is lying back against the pillows of the old worn couch, hands in her hair.]

You are really good at this.

[She just manages a small smile, hazarding a glance up to him. Just a small one, before her mouth is venturing lower. Nothing completely inappropriate yet, but her lips are against his hip bone.

This is more than enough. She knows that much, knows it.

She reminds herself he'd never accept her the way she really is. Some small part of her wants to think that he would, and now that's all she can think about.

Damn.]

Better than you know.

[And she draws back now, looking for all intents and purposes like she's just ... having second thoughts. She is, but probably not for the reasons he's going to think.]

[He notices her hesitation.] You okay?

...no, not really.

[More honesty, and she's losing her nerve. Going all the way would be a better, more secure bit of blackmail -- but that seems unnecessarily cruel.

She draws back enough to pick up her jacket in a smooth motion, pull it on hastily.]

I should go. I'll -- figure something out.

[And now he's the one who's hot and bothered]

...Jennifer..it-

[How compromised is he?] ...Yeah okay.

[Is there a nasty bite to his tone? Yes there is.]

I'm sorry, George.

[She shakes her head, flustered, and when she looks down she can feel her composure slipping.]

Really sorry.

[The pictures show up on his desk the next day, menacing block letters on the back of the high-resolution photographs.

NOT THE BEST FACE TO SHOW THE PUBLIC, MR. STACY.

WE'RE WATCHING YOU.

Jennifer doesn't show up for work that day, nor the next. ]

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AU ; George Stacy

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