You say you're fine

Who: Dorian and Megan
Where: Alexandria
When: late

He’d found his way back to Marquette and the bookstore, dragging his feet as he let himself in. He could have gone home, but home wasn’t where he wanted to be. Being Famine wasn’t always a bad gig. Dorian liked spreading the right knowledge, liked people taking the right knowledge and often they did good things with it. Though sometimes, sometimes when he spread the right knowledge he knew he was clearing a path for Death to follow in his footsteps. Though it was the job, it was the balance they sought, sometimes it was hard to do, hard to walk away, knowing he’d just set something tragic in motion and not be worn down by it.

Pulling off his jacket he only turned on only the light by the counter, a small green desk lamp that cast an odd glow in the room. Taking his usual seat behind the counter he reached below it for the bottle and glass he kept there, pouring a hefty amount into the glass and knocking it back with one gulp.

It had taken time but Megan had finally grown used to the strange creaks and smells of her new place. Loneliness had her restless more often at nights -- wolves were nocturnal but she’d managed to keep a relatively normal kind of sleep schedule. However the more and more changes she had started to make in life, the more positive things tended to be, she found herself adjusting. Staying up later, not tired as often.

It was one of those nights when she was still up past the late hour, working quietly on a model plane when she heard movement coming from the store below. She tensed for awhile, curious. She hadn’t heard anything break, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t trying to break in. Cell phone in pocket, Megan grabbed up the baseball bat she had resting by her door and silently made her way downstairs. She didn’t look entirely threatening in her pajama shorts and thin camisole, but she had a pretty mean swing and that was what mattered. Reaching the back room of the shop, she inhaled deeply for any strange scents. She caught a myriad of faint ones but it was only Dorian. “I know it’s your shop,” she told him, letting her baseball bat rest on the steps. “But you’ve got a wolf upstairs. Might want to text next time you decide to drop in.” She noticed the bottle and glass on the counter and frowned.

Dorian was halfway through his third glass when she came down, but he only shrugged. You’d smell me before you swung,” he said, not quite looking back and opting for finishing off the glass instead. “And I’m not used to someone being upstairs yet. Sorry.” Setting it down he poured out another portion, looking down at it before taking a smaller sip.

Megan padded barefoot over to him and perched herself up on the counter beside him as she tended to do. Another slight sniff and past the alcohol she could smell different things. Unfamiliar things that clung to him like another skin. Air and dust and smoke and flowers and grass. “Maybe,” she said, teasing in her dry way. “What’s wrong?” It was new (to her anyway), him coming into the shop in the middle of the night drinking. Those things were usually meant for home, weren’t they?

Dorian swirled the amber liquid in the glass for a moment, sighing a little. Tilting it back again he drained half of it before setting it down. “Would you believe me if I said work?” he asked, glancing up at her. Normally this would bother him, that she was so much taller than him when he was sitting there, but it never really had with Megan, even less now. Part of him had to wonder what she would do if she saw the wings.

She watched him steadily as he contemplated his glass. She took in the tense line of his shoulders, the way the hair fell into his eyes and the lines of worry that creased at the corners. “You mean your extracurricular activities?” she asked blankly, her voice giving away nothing. Not her frustration, no judgement. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Those ones actually,” he said sighing again. Setting the glass down he ran his hand through his hair, looking at her again. “Not much of a choice, but it’s all I have.” He looked back down at the glass, swirling it again. “Just a rough day.”

Megan reached out and pushed a piece of hair off his forehead fondly, trying to make him feel better. She still felt frustrated that she didn’t know those extra things that she was up to but she was starting to accept it. There wasn’t another choice, was there. Besides, the last time they argued over it had ended oddly, with him kissing her forehead and her not knowing how to reconcile that. “Wanna come upstairs? We could watch a movie. Get your mind off of it.” Get hers too.

Dorian was starting to feel the buzz as she touched him, head tilting with it slightly. “Upstairs...” he said slowly, then looking up at her. “Thought you said you didn’t like the place reeking of me.”

“I didn’t say that,” she pointed out. “I was commenting on the fact that everything smelling like you was making me confused but it made me feel safe too. Less lonely. But now things smell like me too so it’s less annoying,” she smirked a little at him and slid off the counter. “Me and modelling glue anyway. I was making an airplane. But I have a bunch of movies if you’re interested. And popcorn.” Megan offered him a small smile in hopes to make him feel better.

He was going to go with her, taking the bottle with him probably, but he paused for a moment, looking at her curiously. “Confused?” he asked.

Megan looked back at him with her own curious look. “I told you before. It was distracting and confusing smelling you everywhere. Invading everything. I’ve gotten used to it.” She paused, thinking that maybe he didn’t quite understand what she meant and she huffed a little as she thought of how to explain. “Like... you’re hungry for something sweet and all you can smell are chocolate chip cookies.”

He watched her, listening as he tried the process that. The simile helped somewhat at least. “Alright so you’re hungry for a strapping guy and all you have is Dorian?” he said, smiling more as he got up, taking the glass and bottle with him.

“I...” Megan frowned, unsure of how she was meant to respond to that and wondered if her analogy came off wrong. “I have popcorn. And Terminator and Matrix and a bunch of other movies. You can pick.” Still unsure of things, Megan led the way upstairs, carrying her baseball bat with her and when they reached the little apartment, she began snooping around for her bags of popcorn. The apartment was littered with different model airplanes and trains and cars, some clothes tossed over things. With all the space, she’d been lax on being neat and it was very much Megan in those rooms. She didn’t have many books and her laptop hummed on the little coffee table, tetris screensaver chugging away.

Of course she wouldn’t get that. Shrugging Dorian followed after her, looking around the apartment with a smile. “It doesn’t look like I ever lived here,” he teased her as he made his way around to the couch, setting down the bottle and glass next to her computer. He had to move a tank top, something very girly compared to the old tshirts that used to lay around, out of the way before he sat, but when he did that was it, just falling back into the couch for a long moment with his eyes closed. “I don’t really care. I’m mostly hoping I can drink enough to fall asleep.”

Finding the box of popcorn she ripped the plastic off with her teeth and tossed it in, pressing the appropriate buttons and looking over at him. “Was it really that bad?” she asked him as she came closer. The noise of the microwave faded a little as she moved into the living room area and looked down at him before noting her clothes scattered around and began picking them up in some semblance of respectability.

Dorian let out a sigh then opened his eyes, watching her for a moment. “You do know I don’t care right?” he asked with slight smile as she picked up her thing. Leaning forward he poured another glass and leaned back to drink it, slower this time. “It was actually.”

“Well, it’s still bad manners,” she said softly. Dumping the clothes in a pile by the dresser she sat down on the coffee table beside the bottle of liquor, hands on her knees as she looked at him, a gentle look on her face. “I want to help you with it, but I don’t know how if you don’t give me anything to work with,” she said frankly. Honesty was her best weapon. When she didn’t understand or was unsure, she needed to ask otherwise miscommunication happened and she didn’t want that, but she also didn’t want to have the same disagreements again. “I may not be able to give advice but... I can listen. I’m good at that. The listening.” She gave him a slight smile in turn in hopes that she was encouraging.

He considered it for a moment, then took a long pull on the glass. Leaning forward he rested his elbows on his knees, he looked at her, closer to her than before. “It’s a matter of balance, the side job. And with balance, that means sometimes good comes with bad,” he said, giving her a little more than usual, but feeling like he wasn’t actually telling her anything.

Again, Megan didn’t move when he leaned in like he did as she had no reason to do so. She watched him with that gentle look as he spoke and she tried to understand where he was coming from. “That’s what happened this time?” she prodded.

Dorian nodded. “Yeah, not a good day,” he said shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. “You don’t have to put up with me. I can just go back downstairs,” he told her.

The buzzer on the microwave rang and Megan listened to the popping start to die down and the smell of butter filling the apartment. “Do you want to do that?” she asked, not looking away from him. “I invited you up here, didn’t I? I think that means that I’m perfectly fine putting up with you.”

He let out another sigh and looked up at her with a sad smile. “I don’t really want to do that no. It’s far easier to pass out on the couch up here than with my head down on the counter down there.”

“So pick a movie if you want and I can get the popcorn. Or we can sit here and eat popcorn and stare at a blank screen. You can talk and I can listen or we don’t have to talk.” Megan shrugged and nudged his knee with hers. The sad smile of his hurt inside and she wanted to make it less sad. It was hard when Dorian was in such a low mood. It made her feel down too.

When she nudged his knee, he reached out for her knee, patting it gently. “You pick the movie. Get the popcorn and come sit.” Close to him hopefully, but he didn’t ask for that. The last time he’d liked that, feeling that close to someone and maybe it would help again.

Rolling her eyes she got up and headed into the kitchen. “Put on Pirates then,” she called out to him as she searched for a bowl for the popcorn.

Pirates. Dorian got up, looking around and finding the right DVD in a stack and picking it up. Making a face he flipped it open and put the disk into the player. Taking the remote he moved back to his spot on the couch he flipped to the menu screen.

Coming back with the bowl of popcorn in hand she settled down on the couch beside him close enough that the bowl was in easy reach and pulled her legs up to tuck underneath herself. “You said it was my choice,” she reminded him, noting the slight face he had.

“I know I did, I’m just trying to figure out why you of all people would like this movie.” He gave her a smile and settled in more, not really interested in the popcorn, but rather his glass of whiskey instead.

“What do you mean?” Megan asked, confused as to why Dorian seemed to think she couldn’t enjoy pirate movies. Okay, so maybe she liked certain people in the pirate movie but she didn’t see why that was so surprising. “It’s a good movie. It has Orlando Bloom in it. I think it’s a win for everyone. Not to mention the fencing is pretty cool.”

Dorian turned his head and looked at her like she was crazy. “You think he’s cute?” he said. “He’s so pretty. You like pretty?” He thought of her as more interested in the rugged type more than anything else.

“Well who else is there?” She nodded to Jack Sparrow featured prominently on the screen. “Johnny Depp looks like he hasn’t seen the shower in ages and he’s a bit too kooky for my tastes. Will is,” and at this point she started blushing and feeling a bit self-conscious because he was giving her that look but it didn’t matter. She was defending her choices at this point. “He’s sweet and true and would do anything for the woman he loves and I think that’s hot to have someone so devoted and caring. Not to mention that even when he’s afraid, he still goes through because it’s the right thing to do. That and in the second one, he gets more rugged and dirty so all the wonderful things rolled into one package.”

Dorian stared at her for a moment then reached out to put his hand to her forehead as if checking for a temperature. “Seriously? You just gave me a spiel on love?” he asked, blinking a little. Was he drunk already? Buzzed yes, but drunk?

She swatted his hand away and wasn’t sure if she should feel hurt at the sheer shock that he was exhibiting that she may in fact have a romantic bone in her body. Her face shuttered a bit and her cheeks still burned although this time it was out of embarrassment than confessing that she may, in fact, have a crush on Orlando Bloom. “I have eyes, you know,” she said defensively. “And I do have the idea that maybe one day the right person will sweep me off my feet and tell them that they love me.” She looked back at the television and while she didn’t move away from him, her body was a bit rigged as she watched Elizabeth Swan save young Will’s life on board the ship. She may have been a detached, quiet, not quite socially aware person but she did have eyes and she did have fantasies and dreams like any other twenty-year old woman. She didn’t see why it was so shocking.

“Having eyes and wanting to fall in love are two totally different emotions,” Dorian pointed out, not looking back at the movie, but watching Megan instead. “You didn’t strike me as someone who’d want that, not enough to find it in a movie about pirates at least.”

She wanted to point out that she knew that, but she allowed Dorian to have whatever opinion that he had on that stay. It wasn’t all that important anyway. “I’m surrounded by how many devoted couples or people who are in love with someone. My parents really loved each other. I want it to. Just because I probably wouldn’t make a good girlfriend to someone doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to be someone’s girlfriend or mate.” Her voice was soft and she pressed back into the couch cushions just wishing they’d swallow her up. “So I have to find it in a pirate movie or an action movie. I can’t really stand romance movies unless it’s Pride and Prejudice.”

That got a darker laugh out of Dorian as he polished off the last of his whiskey and reached to pour another. “I’m not in love,” he said pointedly. “And you wouldn’t make a bad girlfriend. You’d be a challenging, but if that’s what you want you’d be fine.”

Megan didn’t understand what was so funny and she watched him pour another drink before pouring some for herself in an empty water glass on the table and having herself a shot. “You’re distracted,” she pointed back. “You’re in love with your books and ages and then there’s Kayos, right?” She shrugged and took a healthy gulp, letting it burn down her throat. Drinking seemed to be more appealing than slightly stale popcorn. She didn’t say that he didn’t seem to have interest in her besides the weird end to their conversation the other day that she was still confused over.

“I’m distracted?” he asked, looking back at her. “And you nailed it there. I have my books. And a stupid crush on Kay who is more suited for Hunt even though his head is cracked in half.” It wasn’t as self deprecating as it could have been, more just stating a fact. “So no, not in love. Not...probably not ever going to be.”

“You’re always distracted by something. Hunt or the end of the world at the moment or just by books or Caleb or bad things that you have to do,” she clarified and was surprised to hear that about Kayos and him. It wasn’t that she harbored a crush on Dorian, per say. She was attracted to him, yes, but they were close enough in their relationship that it didn’t register much anymore. He was just the Dorian to her Megan, two strange creatures in a bookstore. It kind of defied categorization to her. “You have plenty of time to find the right one. Years even,” she said because she felt that she needed to offer encouragement. “It’s cute when you’re distracted, even if it can be a little annoying. You care about people and you’d do anything to help.” She gave him a little smile even though she still was annoyed that he was so shocked that she had romantic feelings. “I think the only thing that’s missing is the sword fighting.”

“You’re comparing me to pretty boy Bloom,” Dorian pointed out, giving Megan a half smile. It was hard not to laugh at the comment about him having time. He didn’t have years. He had lifetimes. Immortality with no one to share it with. “It’s not just me, who’s not likely to find love. We’re not really loving creatures us Lockwood men. I’m the closest we get to it and the odds of me...well it’s low.”

“I’m sorry?” she said in regards to the Bloom comparison but he was smiling so maybe she hadn’t screwed that have. “But you’ve still got time. If not now then maybe in a few years or something. Me, well, if I want to have kids, my clock is already ticking.” Her lifespan was drastically short compared to his and it wasn’t something she thought about until they got onto the subject.

Dorian was fighting to tell her that it didn't matter now. Not with him being immortal. Looking at her instead he rubbed his chin. "Is that what you want, to have kids?"

She was quiet as she considered it. Kids were, at the heart of it, the point of mating. To propagate the species. “I’d like to, I think. The downfall is having to leave them behind when they’re so young. It sucks.” She hadn’t discussed this with anyone before, not even her therapist but then, it hadn’t actually come up in conversation yet. “I’m only going to live for a little while longer if I’m lucky. It might be selfish to want kids, or to have them.” Megan looked back at the television where at this point Jack was making his daring escape after rescuing Elizabeth. “I guess the nice thing is for whomever I end up with -- that is if I do -- if say, they’re not a wolf, they’ll be around longer. If they didn’t want to be with me they wouldn’t have to wait for very long for me to kick the bucket and they could move on.”

"Don't think of it like that," Dorian said. "Anyone who winds up being with you wants to be there and someone who has kids with you is gonna want you around for the long haul." He hadn’t thought of her shorter lifespan though, one that would seem ridiculous short to him when he loved lifetimes past her. The pain at the thought was sharp, enough that he reached for her, brushing at her hair lightly.

Death to Megan had always involved fire and silver bullets and blood running down her face and it scared her. She never thought she’d live very long because of it and Dorian’s touch startled her before she let herself lean into it, a rather canine whine at the back of her throat coming forward, unbidden and unwanted but it was there anyway. “I’m twenty years old,” she said as she pushed aside the whine. Her voice was barely audible above the clanging of swords. “I have what? Fifteen years if nothing gets me first.” It was a very matter of fact statement. She knew there were ways to extend her time. Maddie was a ghost. Thia a fade. But she didn’t want either of those. It’s not like she really had much of a reason to want to live past the usual. Not like Oz who had Sophie and responsibilities and reasons for staying around longer.

The noise hurt more, and Dorian touched her with more purpose, letting his fingers trail through her hair. "Fifteen years," he told her softly. "I will do my best to see to it." He drifted towards her, not wanting her to feel the way she did. "If that's what you want, you'll find it with someone."

Megan felt a hollow feeling inside of her chest; a gaping hole inside with something clawing at it as he stroked her hair and she leaned against his side, seeking his warmth and comfort. It was such an instinctive response -- any oddities she felt since last time had left in the need to feel comfort and safety as the subject matter brought up unwanted memories. “I like this,” she said quietly and it was true. The two of them sitting there watching a movie and okay, so he was a bit drunk and there was canyons between them at certain points but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. “With you. Here. It’s what I want.” He might take it differently than she intended and in her defense she wasn’t a hundred percent positive how she did intend it, just that she couldn’t ask for me because there was just something perfect about this.

When she leaned into him Dorian let out a soft sigh, moving so his arm was around her, hand still in her hair. It felt better than he was willing to admit out loud right away, some sort of grounding feeling after the day. "I'm not the best choice," he said softly, feeling older than he was and not wanting her to leave his side. He wasn't entirely sure what she meant exactly but he was sure whatever it was he still wasn't the best choice.

She nuzzled her cheek against his side as she got comfortable and the smell of air and smoke and whiskey and whatever that new smell was assaulted her senses. She thought about her other choices and came up lacking. She was an outsider among her friends, or so she felt. “You’re all I’ve got though, really,” she said. “And I don’t mind. I’m sorry.”

"I feel like I should be apologizing for that," Dorian said about being all she had. Though in a way she was all he had as well. His hand stayed in her hair as he settled in more. "You care if I sleep here," he ventured, not suggesting more than himself on the couch but going home seemed pointless. Not when this was so relaxing, easing the strain.

“No, you can stay. Movie’s not even half over anyway.” Megan fell quiet for a little while as they escaped on the ship and wondered what this meant too but it was difficult to think when his hand in her hair had her falling into a kind of peaceful stupor. “Nightlight isn’t much company anyway,” she whispered.

Dorian moved away enough to see her, looking down so he could find her eyes. "I was thinking the couch.." he started. "Did you want...company?"

She was missing something again. This time Megan was pretty sure of it. “Is that a euphemism?” she asked just wanting to be sure she was understanding him correctly.

Dorian shook his head and ducked his eyes from hers. "No, not like that. More..." He paused not sure how to say what he'd meant. "I guess i don't have to sleep on the couch is all."

It took Megan a moment to figure out what he wasn’t saying. Oh. It should have struck her as odd but the sad look on his face still struck her, the way he seemed to crave physical contact as much as she was and she wondered, exactly, what he had done. “Okay.”

Oh. That did throw him off a little even he'd expected it in a way. "Okay," he said settling back and wrapping his arm around her more. "Let's hope I'm not too drunk to get up."

“If that happens, I’ll just drag you over. I shapeshift so it’s easy.” Or they’d both fall asleep on the couch, whichever came first. What mattered was that they would not be lonely. At least for now.

Dorian nodded and ran his hand through her hair again. "That won't be embarrassing at all." The alcohol was taking over, so much that he didn't think about it when he leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

Megan wondered if this was going to become a habit. It was different from someone like her mother or father doing it when she was a child, especially given the oddities to their past two major conversations and Megan was still confused by it, still unsure but unlike before, when she would've been frightened, she wasn't flinching away. She was going with it. For now, nothing felt wrong, nothing felt threatening. In fact, it was kind of nice to be comforted that way. Wanted.