When his hand wraps around hers and he guides her in, he shuts the door behind her properly, for once. Sweeney knows he shouldn't lead her to the bed; it's a dumb idea. He should put her on the couch for this conversation. And yet.
They reach the foot of it, and he spins her gently, allowing her to sit of her own volition. Sweeney sucks his lip as he remains standing in front of her. It's going to sound stupid. He knows it is.
Fuck it.
"So. Ya know Hunter." Obviously. "An' Flapjack?" That one he's less sure about, as far as to whether they've been formally introduced. "The chatty bird that's sometimes part of his staff?"
Laura can't take her eyes off his face, even with growing more and more confused at what was going on and why he wanted her to come over. She can't help be nervous for some reason. Was he about to tell her he graduated and was running off with Maggie and Iris and Misty? She knows it's ridiculous but her luck isn't historically great with guys.
She sits, looks up and nods. "Yeah, I've seen them around."
Laura hadn't officially met Hunter but they'd passed each other when she was taking care of the puppies and he was headed to the infirmary.
"Why?"
Was he running off with Hunter and his chatty bird?
Laura can see how hard he is trying and really, she thinks she has an idea of what he's trying to explain, but he's clearly passionate about making sure exactly what he's brought her there to be a part of it somehow. Her face softens.
"Did you make one? Is it of an animal, too?" she asks, honestly and genuinely interested because this is part of him.
Her questions quiet his mind. Good. She understands. Well, enough anyways. Sweeney wets his lip and nods.
"I did." He closes his eyes for a moment, and with a roll of his wrist, he produces something vaguely egg-shaped, like an oversized pinecone that hadn't blossomed. It's large enough that, while he can hold it in one hand, it sits a bit wider than it. When he offers it to her, it's clear she'll need both of hers to manage it.
Strangely textured with bumps and smooth lines, it may take her a few to deduce that it's meant to be a balled up hedgehog with wings and a bird's tail wrapped under it, to keep the shape condensed. The wood itself is unfinished.
"I was hopin' ta lacquer soon, but...I wanted ta get yer help first."
Laura, takes it with two hands, cupping it and then holding it less awkwardly in one hand while the other braces and turns it as she looks at the detailing. Her expression is fascinated and when he states he wants her help, she looks back up at him.
"Sure, help with what?"
She's thinking something easy like help name it or hold it so he can use both hands to chisel something else into it.
His lips part, but nothing comes out. All of the sudden, he realizes he has no idea how this part is supposed to go. The tips of his ears go bright red.
"I, uh--" Looking at the floor between them seems to make it easier, at least a little. Sweeney wets his lip. His voice drops.
"I was hopin' ya might...I mean..." He sighs, pulling off the band-aid. "I'd like ya ta mark her before I seal her." Right, that's going to need some clarification.
"With yer blood. Just a smudge."
Okay, this has gone creepy. He tries to rein it back around with a small shrug.
Laura does her best to follow through the uncertainty and nervousness and when it finally comes out what Sweeney would like from her, she smiles. Mostly because he vocalised his want for her to be a part of him in whatever way this palisman was going to be.
There's no weird looks or hesitancy, only an assured nod and an easy-going, "Of course, I will. I'd be happy to."
And really, she's touched beyond words, though she doesn't want to seem overly so.
The relief that washes over him is palpable, and Sweeney drops to one knee to get more on eye level with her. He kisses her without further warning, but it's not particularly lustful. It speaks to his gratitude, for both her understanding and her agreement. Breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to hers.
"Thank you."
The words are simple, but carry the weight faeries put on them; one of the three phrases most rarely given and never frivolously sacrificed. His lips find hers again. Parting after a few seconds, a breathy chuckle slips out.
"F'gure maybe, this time, you can save me."
Sweeney's not overt, but the implication is not hidden: if he's lucky, there's enough love in her blood to bring him back to life, no matter how long it takes.
Laura brings the carved wooden shape closer into her when his lips find hers and she brings up an available hand to hold his face close. He says thank you, but really, she wants to tell him she's the one that should be showing the gratitude. It means more than she can convey, but it's in her eyes when he looks into them.
"Every time," she replies. There was no way she wouldn't ever save him if she could do it. There simply wasn't a place where she existed that he didn't either. And it's a fact that is becoming more and more clear to her everyday. Of her own accord, she steals another kiss and then glances down at palisman egg.
She holds it out to him. "Do you want to do it right now? Because I'm ready when you are."
He really hadn't thought about what the step after would look like; he'd been so hung up on getting through the talk.
"--yes?"
It's not actually a question, just a lift that speaks to his unsureness. But he able to get through it with a nervous smile. Sweeney reaches into his jacket and produces a short, assisted-open knife, and, after snapping it open, he offers it to her hilt-first.
"I...I was thinkin' 'bout a thumbprint on her forehead, if ya don't mind."
Now did seem as good a time as any, Laura thinks, though it does occur to her that maybe there was another step or two before he was ready for her to contribute something of herself to finish it's personal meaning and that there, was touching.
She moves the egg back to her lap and presses the blade top to the fleshy part of her thumb. Before any blood can drip off, she hands back the knife and sets her thumb down to leave a perfect print where Sweeney requested it.
Laura looks up. It was her turn to look nervous . "How's that?"
The motion is smooth as he takes the knife and eases it shut, sliding it into his pocket. His eyes stay fixed on her face as she focuses on the task, and they don't dip after she's done and looking up in question.
"Perfect."
Because of course it is. The shape doesn't matter; it's the Intent. It's always the Intent. And both of there's is pure in this. His smile is warm as it spreads.
Sweeney takes her hand and guides it towards him so he can gently suck her thumb.
Her other four fingers fan out, trailing along his jaw while she stares intently into his face. There's something more in the way she looks back at him -- an obvious tenderness and affection that had been growing more and more apparent since her coma several months back and the holidays after when he'd given her the vial of his blood.
They still may not understand what they have together. Or, even what to call it. But, to Laura, it supersedes any word associated with the "L" word. The one that gets thrown around all too often. She is slowly understanding it's more. It's profound and not simply one thing.
"Thank you for asking me," Laura says it quietly, leaning in to kiss the edge of his mouth.
"Thank ya fer havin' me," he manages around her thumb, perching it gently between his teeth while he speaks. With one more slow suck, he slides off of her and kisses the pad more chastely.
"Fer bein' part of me." The words are as tender as his eyes. For at the end of the day, the palisman is a part of him; that's the whole point.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Unless
I mean
Probably fine.
[There are always good odds that they'll still end up naked, even though he doesn't intend it.]
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on my way now.
--
[ she makes it in less than a couple minutes and raps twice on Will's door. ]
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"Hey." Right. Did the easy part. Sweeney wets his lip and offers his hand so he can usher her inside.
"Would ya like ta come in?"
It's stupid, he knows, but the formalities run deep, and he's still getting used to being the one doing the inviting.
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"Yeah, I would," she smiles with a nod.
What the heck does this guy have planned?
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They reach the foot of it, and he spins her gently, allowing her to sit of her own volition. Sweeney sucks his lip as he remains standing in front of her. It's going to sound stupid. He knows it is.
Fuck it.
"So. Ya know Hunter." Obviously. "An' Flapjack?" That one he's less sure about, as far as to whether they've been formally introduced. "The chatty bird that's sometimes part of his staff?"
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She sits, looks up and nods. "Yeah, I've seen them around."
Laura hadn't officially met Hunter but they'd passed each other when she was taking care of the puppies and he was headed to the infirmary.
"Why?"
Was he running off with Hunter and his chatty bird?
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His eyes bounce to the ceiling as he tries to give her the cliff notes. Or at least enough of them to make the actual talk make some sort of sense.
"So, Flapjack is a palisman." Sweeney gestures slightly with his hands, as if it will help.
"It's--it's kinda like a daemon. But made of wood." He peeks down, trying to gauge if she's following at all.
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Laura makes an 'ohhhh' with her mouth and nods, finally understanding.
She gets it now!
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"It's a helper?" Sweeney isn't sure it's the right word. "Or a familiar? Or--well, like a daemon," he repeats with a more confident nod.
"Anyway..." He's babbling. He can feel it. Ugh.
"At Yule, he gave me one." No, scratch that. Correct it. "I mean a log. For me ta make one. Fer me."
Fuck, why does he sound so shy about it?
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"Did you make one? Is it of an animal, too?" she asks, honestly and genuinely interested because this is part of him.
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"I did." He closes his eyes for a moment, and with a roll of his wrist, he produces something vaguely egg-shaped, like an oversized pinecone that hadn't blossomed. It's large enough that, while he can hold it in one hand, it sits a bit wider than it. When he offers it to her, it's clear she'll need both of hers to manage it.
Strangely textured with bumps and smooth lines, it may take her a few to deduce that it's meant to be a balled up hedgehog with wings and a bird's tail wrapped under it, to keep the shape condensed. The wood itself is unfinished.
"I was hopin' ta lacquer soon, but...I wanted ta get yer help first."
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"Sure, help with what?"
She's thinking something easy like help name it or hold it so he can use both hands to chisel something else into it.
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"I, uh--" Looking at the floor between them seems to make it easier, at least a little. Sweeney wets his lip. His voice drops.
"I was hopin' ya might...I mean..." He sighs, pulling off the band-aid. "I'd like ya ta mark her before I seal her." Right, that's going to need some clarification.
"With yer blood. Just a smudge."
Okay, this has gone creepy. He tries to rein it back around with a small shrug.
"I just...I want you ta be part of her."
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There's no weird looks or hesitancy, only an assured nod and an easy-going, "Of course, I will. I'd be happy to."
And really, she's touched beyond words, though she doesn't want to seem overly so.
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"Thank you."
The words are simple, but carry the weight faeries put on them; one of the three phrases most rarely given and never frivolously sacrificed. His lips find hers again. Parting after a few seconds, a breathy chuckle slips out.
"F'gure maybe, this time, you can save me."
Sweeney's not overt, but the implication is not hidden: if he's lucky, there's enough love in her blood to bring him back to life, no matter how long it takes.
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"Every time," she replies. There was no way she wouldn't ever save him if she could do it. There simply wasn't a place where she existed that he didn't either. And it's a fact that is becoming more and more clear to her everyday. Of her own accord, she steals another kiss and then glances down at palisman egg.
She holds it out to him. "Do you want to do it right now? Because I'm ready when you are."
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He really hadn't thought about what the step after would look like; he'd been so hung up on getting through the talk.
"--yes?"
It's not actually a question, just a lift that speaks to his unsureness. But he able to get through it with a nervous smile. Sweeney reaches into his jacket and produces a short, assisted-open knife, and, after snapping it open, he offers it to her hilt-first.
"I...I was thinkin' 'bout a thumbprint on her forehead, if ya don't mind."
Front and center.
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She moves the egg back to her lap and presses the blade top to the fleshy part of her thumb. Before any blood can drip off, she hands back the knife and sets her thumb down to leave a perfect print where Sweeney requested it.
Laura looks up. It was her turn to look nervous . "How's that?"
cw: faint bloodplay?
"Perfect."
Because of course it is. The shape doesn't matter; it's the Intent. It's always the Intent. And both of there's is pure in this. His smile is warm as it spreads.
Sweeney takes her hand and guides it towards him so he can gently suck her thumb.
Re: cw: faint bloodplay?
They still may not understand what they have together. Or, even what to call it. But, to Laura, it supersedes any word associated with the "L" word. The one that gets thrown around all too often. She is slowly understanding it's more. It's profound and not simply one thing.
"Thank you for asking me," Laura says it quietly, leaning in to kiss the edge of his mouth.
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"Fer bein' part of me." The words are as tender as his eyes. For at the end of the day, the palisman is a part of him; that's the whole point.