Difference between revisions of "2046-07-09 Returning Home"

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(Created page with "{{Log Infobox |title=2046-07-09 Returning Home |com=No |scenelet=No |date=2016/07/09 |location=Micaela and Diego's Apartment - New York City |participants=Diego, Micaela, |sum...")
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|log=The apartment is about the same as they left it on first look, the clean lines and modern furniture unblemished by clutter. But a small amount of dust clings to some surfaces, suggesting disuse. An unpleasant smell has settled in the kitchen and is slowly reaching through the rest of the apartment as well.  
|log=The apartment is about the same as they left it on first look, the clean lines and modern furniture unblemished by clutter. But a small amount of dust clings to some surfaces, suggesting disuse. An unpleasant smell has settled in the kitchen and is slowly reaching through the rest of the apartment as well.  

Latest revision as of 20:39, 9 July 2016

2046-07-09 Returning Home
Date Posted 2016/07/09
Location Micaela and Diego's Apartment - New York City
Participants Diego, Micaela
Summary Diego and Micaela return home after Federal questioning and their adventures in another universe.
MiMicaela.jpg DiDiego.jpg
The apartment is about the same as they left it on first look, the clean lines and modern furniture unblemished by clutter. But a small amount of dust clings to some surfaces, suggesting disuse. An unpleasant smell has settled in the kitchen and is slowly reaching through the rest of the apartment as well.

"Please tell me we have some strong painkillers," Micaela wishes, words strained. "Or alcohol. Or both." It seems unlikely that Diego is going to bring her /both/, but she is starting to sound a little desperate now that they've made it home. She is less well than she made it seem. Achingly, she settles her figure carefully onto the couch instead of the bed, mostly because it's closer.

Diego has been careful to the point of hovering with Micaela on their route home, refusing to let her so much as touch a door. He follows her into the apartment, both their bags slung over his broad shoulders and full of what items haven't been ransacked by the Federal Agencies. A thing he took rather personally when they were /pawing/ at his clothes. Curling his nose in disgust at the /smell/ emanating from the kitchen, their bags are swiftly set down so he can empty the fridge in a blur of motion. Pausing, he ties up the trash bag brusquely as his ears catch up to Micaela's request. "Si. Mia amor, we have alcohol. I think the painkillers are just generic… do you need something stronger? I can get you something."

Sometimes...there are benefits to being married to a speedster. The efficiency in which Diego puts their bags away, then cleans out the kitchen and prepares to take out the trash is certainly appreciated. Even if that appreciation is silent for a moment. "I suppose the generic will do." They won't, but getting something stronger will require a doctor and she's honestly not up for that right now.

In particular there are benefits to being married to one who far prefers to be neat and tidy. There might have been some baking soda shaking into the fridge like salt to ward off bad spirits. Just in case. Setting down the bag, Diego swiftly collects his wife a glass of water and her requested painkillers before kneeling down at her side. "Here," he says softly.

"Gracias," Micaela says, taking the glass and painkillers from Diego with a slight smile. She does not waste time in swallowing the pills, either, leaning her head back with a sigh. Because they are not instant.

"De nada," Diego murmurs, sweeping a lock of hair back from her forehead. "Do you want me to get you anything else before I take out the trash?"

"...a cloned body?" Micaela arches a brow and looks over at Diego sideways through her lashes.

"Yours or mine?" Diego wonders, sliding a finger down her nose tenderly. He's going to get that bit.

Not at the moment he's not, though Micaela eyes his finger a moment like she's tempted. "Mine. Yours is in fine condition," she answers, reaching out to give his thigh a squeeze.

A note of breath catches in Diego's throat at the squeeze of his thigh, his eyes dark with an edge of desire as he looks down at her. "I do not think they could match perfection," he murmurs, expression soften as he leans close to lightly kiss her cheek chastely.

"I can't believe you are able to say that with a straight face to me right now," Micaela murmurs in return, but a smile touches the corners of her mouth as a little color does her cheeks. "They did pretty good work with what they had in that other universe."

"Perfection is still perfection, even with a few nicks and dents," Diego says lowly, dragging a thumb over the long curve of her jaw. "Si. You would not be healing so fast here."

"Only in your lovely eyes." Micaela speaks quietly, the tip of her finger tracing a line along his brow and around the just of his cheekbone, briefly brushing at his long lashes. She sighs, though. "I'm here now...I may /not/ be healing so fast anymore."

"Mhmm. You inspire them to see it." Diego's lashes flutter closed for a moment as she brushes just the tip of her finger along his skin, over their dark fringe. At that sigh, he looks at her again with sympathy. "You are through the worst of it. For the rest, I will see you get better or take you to the doctor for what you need."

"I know." Micaela stops touching his face so she can slide her hand around the back of his neck, fingernails scraping against the short hairs there. "But getting better takes so much /time/, Diego. The doctors will only tell me to /rest/ more."

A slight shiver runs down his spine at the light rake of her nails against his neck. "I know, Mia Amor. But I will see that you get it if it is what you need," he promises quietly, eyes dark with that spoken promise and that of others. "I am looking forward to having you all to myself again so you must heal quickly."

"I know." She is repeating herself, but she doesn't care. Micaela needs him to /know/ she knows. Her fingers curl just a little tighter, gently digging into his neck. "You already have me all to yourself. I can't imagine I'll be going anywhere immediately." Of course, she is still bruised all over, wounded, and not to mention a little pale with pain and probably hunger. Not exactly in good condition.

His features visibly soften at her repeated words, a little of the fixed intensity eeking out of them slowly. "I do," Diego whispers, bending his head to press a kiss to her shoulder. "I will make sure you have anything you need. Are you hungry?"

Micaela closes her eyes a moment and hums softly as he presses a kiss to her shoulder. "A little," she admits after a moment of thought and a soft sigh. "Although the smell from the kitchen may have put me off that," she adds, brushing her fingers through his hair.

"{We are not eating any of that,}" Diego promises with a curl of his lip in disgust at the reminder of the kitchen. He smiles fondly at the drag of her fingers through his hair, leaning into the touch with half lidded eyes. "Do you want me to go get you something? I will move you somewhere more comfortable if you like."

That actually makes Micaela laugh, though she almost immediately regrets it, wincing. Doesn't stop her from then smiling at Diego. "{I would hope not. Even some of the stranger Spanish dishes are still preferable.}" She is teasing. Mostly. Neither of them are eating out of the /trash/. "I don't really want you to go anywhere...but you should probably get something. Otherwise we're having wine for dinner."

"{Our food is not /strange/…}" Diego counters with mild exasperation that is greatly eased by her smile. He is aware she is teasing. But still! "You know… there is this marvelous thing, called delivery," he reminds with a slow grin.

"{Some of it really is, love,}" Micaela retorts with a laugh, though this one is significantly quieter than the last. She is teasing. He could tease her back much the same. "Delivery...and that isn't too /slow/ for you?"

"{We just came from a place where the noodles /moved/ and you are still calling my food strange? Good god, woman,}" Diego says with a low laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to that smile. He does tease her back. "Mhmm," he rumbles, pad of his thumb sliding along the curve of her cheek. "I am sure I can find a few things to do with myself around here. Dust. Clean. Start the laundry. Put away our things…" Trailing off he slides his arms carefully under her knees and behind her back, picking her up with the utmost care.

"{I did /not/ eat the noodles that moved,"} Micaela points out primly. There /were/ other options, Diego. Not all of them wiggly. "Hmm..." She arches a brow as he starts listing things. "Only if you do all of that wearing only an apron-" It's a suggestion that is interrupted as he slides his hands under her and picks her up carefully. Equally carefully, she loops an arm around his neck. "Putting me away, are you?"

"{They were delicious if difficult to pin down.}" The noodles. There were other options but those that weren't wiggly often had an odd or overly crispy texture. Lifting a brow at her suggestion, Diego sweeps her up in his arms with only a slight noise of effort as he rises from his crouch. "That would not be hygienic, Mia Amor." His arms curl briefly tighter, cradling her against his chest. "No. I am taking you home to /our/ bed." There is an edge of quiet possessiveness there, well aware of things that came too close.

"{If you say so.}" Micaela wouldn't know and never will. "The point isn't to be /hygienic/." Of course, that makes it about the opposite of cleaning. Not that it seems like Diego is actually interested in doing house chores, at the moment. In his arms she sighs, softer and more pleasant than before. He presses against some of her bruises, but only lightly. Being held is worth it. "I see..."

It's not a point he really cares to argue. The alien cuisine of Knowhere is not a point of pride and familiarity like that of his homeland. It doesn't seem that Diego cares to argue much at all at the moment, not with his wife safe in his arms. "Another day when the rest of the house is less messy, perhaps," he suggests, drawing her into their bedroom. While there is a little dust on some surfaces their air purifier is running and the bed is not covered in it. Micaela is set down gently with a slowness that is entirely for her sake.

Micaela has met few arguments that she hasn't wanted to win, but she doesn't press either point tonight. She has neither the energy or the interest in it. "You'd look good," she murmurs, leaning her head against Diego for a moment, until she is set down on their bed. Head tilted just so, she looks up at him with dark eyes and offers a smile. "I'm beginning to think I worried you there, out in space."

"That is because you like the thought of me in nothing," Diego murmurs against her hair, a smile sliding along the strands. He follows her into the plush sheets, sitting down on the edge and picking up her hand in his. His fingertips slide over the the familiar ridge of her knuckles, the point of her fingers, and the bright gleam of her diamond. Her smile is met for a moment before his eyes fall, not speaking for a moment. Instead, he simply holds her hand.

"No, I like the /sight/ of you in nothing," Micaela corrects, smile slanting crooked and dark eyes sparkling. The smile fades a little, softens, as Diego sits down on the bed beside her and picks up her hand. She follows the path of his touch with her eyes, lingering on their held hands for a long while before she looks up at his face, trying to catch his eye. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

It is a long moment before Diego looks up at her, prompted by the squeeze of her hand. It is another before he manages to speak as if words are caught on the twist of his smile. Yet, when his gaze does fall on her it is filled with the intensity that he struggles to frame in words. "Te amo," he breathes.

Micaela does not do well in long silences. She stares at Diego, small wrinkles appearing between her brows as they knit together slightly in uncertainty. When he finally looks at her again, she draws in a quick breath for the intensity found in his eyes, surprised a little by its appearance in the moment, if not by its existence. "...I really did worry you." Words fall from her lips in a whisper, followed by a slightly louder, "I love you too."

Such silences are uncommon between them, particularly on Diego's end. "A little," he admits with a low sigh. It is an understatement. Never breaking her gaze, he draws her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into the curve of her palm. "I am not… Accustomed to not being there to catch you. Not anymore. If anything were to happen to you..."

With a sigh, Micaela stretches one of her legs out a little--the one that had previously been injured, with it's still tender scar. "It's not like you have to worry about that anymore," she points out, breaking eye contact. "We're out of the fight. Nothing's going to happen to me."

There is the sensation of him releasing her hand, but before it can even fall Micaela finds herself pinned. Diego's forearms framing her shoulders as he leans over her, careful not to jostle her or put any weight on her wounds. "If you had fallen, Mia Amor there would have no end to the fight. Not until their blood was spent or mine was," he says, the low timber of his voice vibrating against her skin. That ferocity is at odds with the gentle kiss he presses against her skin.

It's the shift of weight that makes her look back at him and the pinning that makes her lift her brows. Micaela shifts slightly in his hold, moving wounds away from pressures, making herself a little more comfortable. His words are met by a sharp intake of breath and a quick beat of her heart. "And I would have done the same," she says low, through the sharp cut of her teeth, meeting his ferocity with her own. "But that's not what happened."

"I know." Diego's words are painted against the curve of her neck, along the line of her jaw. His kisses tender and precise as if mapping every inch. She is fine. She is here. Every touch reminds him of that truth, until his forehead leans lightly against hers.

Micaela can't find anything to argue with in that. Her pulse beats under his lips as she tilts her head back just a little. Lids flutter half closed, so that when he finally leans his forehead against her, she is regarding him through her dark lashes. "I'm fine," she reminds in a whisper. "It will take more than an intergalactic war to take me down." A terrifying thought. "Us down." Or a comforting one.

Diego presses the edge of his teeth against the beat of her pulse, smile slow and languid at the reaction. Kissing his way along her skin, he leaves a soft path of heat and sensation. With his forehead leaned against hers, he smiles at the reminder and presses close to kiss her solidly. "Si." It is a comfort. "You could take on the world, I'm sure, if you decided it."

Those teeth catch a quickening edge to her pulse. The heat of it can be felt when he leans close to kiss her and Micaela kisses him back, looping an arm around his neck. "Probably," she breathes in answer, laughing once. "With you by my side."

A low note rumbles against Micaela's lips as she returns Diego's kiss, his mouth catches at hers with a hint of fire. He breaks it with a smile as she laughs. "Only place I plan to be," he promises with a winning grin. "At least, until I need to go get you dinner."

"Good," Micaela declares, her smile slightly crooked and smug. Her fingers play along the line of his shirt collar. "Although now you've reminded me that we haven't eaten in forever." It was not /forever/, but it has been several hours.

"Mhmm." The sound escapes Diego at a rumble, his body shifting as if intending to press against hers before he stops. "What do you want to eat?" He wonders, placing a kiss at the edge of her jaw.

Micaela bites her bottom lip as Diego shifts, then heaves a long sigh, rolling her eyes up at the ceiling. She grumbles a little in answer to his question at first. "I'm tempted to make you surprise me," she drawls.

"Later," Diego promises with a note of heat, pressing another kiss against her neck before he shifts off of her. It leaves him sitting on the bed next to her once again. "That just makes me tempted to go get one of your favorites."

"Don't make a promise unless you intend to keep it," Micaela warns, watching Diego with dark eyes and a look that's a little sharp. She sighs again, leaning her head and shoulder against him when she shifts to the side. "It's New York. You could probably get anything you wanted."

Caught up in those dark eyes, the edge of Diego's mouth hooks in a slight smirk. His hand slides over her head, through her hair, as she leans it against him. "I may not be able to have you as usual, Mia Amor… but that does not mean I can't have you at all," he promises lowly. A hand slides over her skin, temptingly. He laughs at that. "Si. Probably. Tonight, I think I will make it quick…" Rather than his usual patience…

"I swear, Diego Andrade de Prado-Teller," Micaela begins, looking up at her husband with an unflinching gaze, "I don't care if I /am/ bleeding again, if you don't finish this time..." Somewhat ironically, she doesn't finish the threat. She probably doesn't think she has to. Let his imagine make it the worst. "Oh, just tonight?" She teases with an arched brow.

Diego looks down into that dark, unflinching gaze with a heated look, smoothing his hand along her shoulder and down her arm. "No, Mia Amor. I'm going to make sure you finish this time," he promises, thumb sweeping along the inner curve of her forearm. "There will be no bleeding." It will not be as acrobatic as what they were getting up to on Knowhere. Scoffing, he rolls his eyes at her teasing. "Si. Tomorrow we may cook." Maybe.

"Good," Micaela says, satisfied by that promise as she smooths her hand along the length of his thigh and gives it a squeeze. This time, when she sighs, it is more content, for his words and his touch. "That's probably for the best." She's lost enough blood in the last month. "Hmm, cooking. Someone's feeling ambitious." She teases, but doesn't sound disinterested.

Drawing his fingers through her hair, Diego looks down at her with a crooked smile. "Si. I do not want you to have to remain in bed longer than you wish, particularly not for less than pleasurable reasons." She would go insane. "We could use fresh food after all the alien cuisine we've eaten in the past few weeks."

Arguably, Micaela has already been going insane and inflicting it on others. The rest of X-Factor is probably glad they don't have to spend another week in a barracks with her. Or both of them. "I am very tired of being bedridden. At least I'm allowed to walk about now." It's no small thing. "We could...I kind of like the idea." A slow, soft smile creeps across her features.

They don't make the best of housemates. "You are healing well," Diego agrees softly, looking down at her recovering legs with a smile. His fingers thread their way along the hairs at her temple, lightly stroking. "Then that is what we will do."

Micaela wiggles her toes when Diego looks down her legs. "Alright," she agrees quietly and shifts to snuggle in closer to her husband. At least until he leaves to get them both dinner. And then again, when he returns.

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