[Shaw makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat and slouches further in her chair, her eyes rolling up to study the ceiling. He won't make it weird, and as annoying as Root is being about the idea, it's not a bad idea. It's not necessarily something she would have proposed herself, but she can't deny that it's interesting. No, more than interesting - intriguing.
She licks her lips, then drops her gaze back down to the two of them.]
[ Root loves being annoying about good ideas. She realizes it makes her somewhat insufferable, but hey, that's part of the fun. As for whether it will mean something -- she's truthfully open to it either way. Root is an anarchist at heart, and she doesn't particularly care about labels. Carver can be a good time, and a team mate, and important-but-not-as-important as Shaw. Many things can be true at once. ]
Great, glad we established that, [ she says, still a bit impatient. She often feels like she's waiting for everyone else to catch up with her, and now's no different.
To Carver: ] To answer your earlier implied question, I don't mind if Shaw sleeps with whoever she wants, but sometimes her taste is... [ a delicate pause ] unfortunate. You, I like.
[ He tilts his head toward Shaw, assessing, then to Root. Wondering if this is all a grand joke they're having at his expense and whether he wants to be a good sport about it. There's nothing he gains from snapping at them, Carver supposes. He likes their company, both of them. They make sense and that's a precious thing in this world, easily lost, easily broken. ]
So. [ His tone is bland. He lifts his eyebrows in Root's direction. ] You wanna watch?
[ This is a joke if they laugh. Perhaps something more if they don't. He's deciding as they go. ]
[Shaw had been about to retort that her taste is great, actually, thank you very much; she has slept with some impeccable specimens. But then Carver asks his question, and squabbling with Root takes a backseat to sorting through the mental images that this suggestion has drummed up. She's not laughing. She is definitely not laughing. Give her a second.]
Hush, sweetie, we already know where you stand in this conversation.
[ She loves Shaw for many reasons, but really, there's just not a lot of people who would put up with Root's vaguely condescending and dismissive way of flirting. And she trusts Shaw loves her in whatever capacity she does, because frankly, who else would go to all this trouble to make the sexual scenario of her dreams? Root is such a considerate girlfriend. She knows what Shaw probably wants out of this and she's the one doing the negotiation.
Root smirks at Carver, stretching her legs out and leaning back leisurely in her chair. She sips her whiskey. ]
I won't even heckle, [ she says by way of answer, tone earnest. ] Might give some pointers, though, if you're open to it. I know how to read my girl.
[ Root, as she often does, seems perfectly content to arrange things. She’s got a tendency sometimes to say things seemingly to gauge the reactions or possibly just for the fun of it, a habit Carver shares and thus finds amusing when it’s aimed elsewhere. It makes things slightly more complicated in moments like this.
Even so, this doesn’t feel like a joke. Just a conversation they’re having.
He hums a little, considering them both. ]
It’s been a while, for me.
[ He’s not in any particular mood to explain why. But it ought to be said before this turns into something. ]
[Shaw punctuates this with a point in Root's direction, an exasperated look plastering itself across her face.]
No... sex commentary allowed, from anyone. Actually, you know what, never mind; I'm pulling out of this half-baked idea.
[This is absolutely not a serious threat. If it were, she'd leave the room. But instead, she stays put, and nothing about her body language or facial expression indicates anything but the most mild level of annoyance. Can you put up with their push-and-pull banter, Carver? Because that might actually be a prerequesite.]
[ That's practically a dare. Root pouts at her exaggeratedly, though of course on Root it's quite a believable expression until you know better. ]
I said I wouldn't heckle. You sure you're not interested? We can test that.
[ She places her glass of whiskey down, pushes her chair back, and climbs to her feet. She walks around the table not toward Shaw but toward Carver, expression open and mildly challenging, with a wicked edge like she's inviting him to pull a prank with her. ]
May I?
[ She's looking for a kiss, but is respectful enough to stop a foot away, not touching without permission. Root leans her hip against the table, facing him sideways. ]
[ This is the part, Carver supposes, where he ought to tap out if he’s going to tap out. They’re teasing the way he’d tease his brothers and sisters back when they were all playing infantry games, a familiar back and forth. If he’s going to flinch, best to do it now. They might tease but he doubts they’d push if he said no.
He watches Root move closer. Bright eyed and focused, as she always is. He takes in her expression, the jut of her hip, the way Shaw sasses back at her but doesn’t shut it down. Thinks, why not?
Really, why not?
He takes another drink, then sets his glass down with a definitive click and motions her closer with a jerk of his chin. ]
[Shaw has never considered herself to be interested in voyeurism. She's been in situations where someone made out with another person in front of her, with the aim of either titallating her or making her jealous or both; in every single one of those situations, it only ever bored her, annoyed her, or made her feel nothing at all.
This is different. Maybe it's because of who's involved, or maybe it's down to the intentions (Root clearly isn't trying to make her jealous, but Shaw also gets the feeling that turning her on isn't the only goal, either). She sits up straighter and scoots forward an inch or two on her chair, leaning in just a little. Continue, please.]
[ She's not trying to make her jealous in the traditional sense. More like she's relying on Shaw's sense of FOMO to kick in and get annoyed that she's being left out of the fun.
Carver's such a good sport, too, which gives him points in Root's book. She hadn't been totally sure how he'd take this -- the conversation itself or this direct request -- but so far she likes how easy it is, that he promised not to make it a big deal and then doesn't.
Permission granted, Root doesn't hesitate. She deliberately places one knee on the seat of the chair between Carver's legs, her hands settle on his shoulders, and she leans down and in. Root isn't deliberately commanding, but her unhesitating decisiveness almost demands everyone else come along with her or be swept away in her wake. You're either along for the ride or she's leaving you behind.
Their lips meet, hers supple from colored lip balm, and Root doesn't rush. She arches over him in what should be an awkward pose but instead comes across as coaxing, patient, a little teasing, fingers curling over his shoulders. How much does he want? She's good at reading physical signals. ]
[ This is uncharted territory for Carver, the sort of game he never played even before the world ended and certainly never this close to sober. In those days he’d either been with Riley or still in love with Riley after that door slammed shut and made him the kind of lonely that hung out in dive bars for a fight or somebody to yank him into the back alley; either way, the only kind of collision he could stand. He fears, quietly, that he’s got no talent for this sort of thing anymore. That he’ll only ever be a wound to other people and the least courtesy he can do to the ones in his orbit is not to infect them with his bullshit.
The thought is there. So are others, chief among them that he likes Root’s smile and the way she walks with her feet firmly planted in front of her, how every step is certain and she means to hold her ground against all challengers. And then her hands are on his shoulders, small but strong, and she kisses him almost gently. Not the way he’d expected, or maybe been braced for. Not with teeth.
Funny, that.
He’s still for a moment, considering that, and then his hands settle on her hips, squeezing faintly. It doesn’t feel awkward, not like he’d thought it would. He kisses her back because he can, because it feels good, and so little does these days. Well aware that Shaw’s watching and this both is and isn’t a game, so they might as well give it a good showing. ]
[Shaw wants to kiss him with teeth. Even more than that, she wants him to kiss her with teeth; she wants him to leave bruises on her skin with his mouth and his fingertips. She wants to run her hands over his chest, the way she sometimes imagines doing when she spars with him or watches him train with his whip - and the way that, she can't help but notice, Root is not doing. Yeah, sure, his shoulders are nice too, but not giving his chest even a little bit of attention is a damn tragedy. What a wasted opportunity.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat - impatience, discontent, and okay, yes, a tinge of interest too - and paces closer, approaching from the side and circling them like a panther. Once she's gone about three-quarters of the way around, facing Root's back and Carver's front, she worms her way in a little more, bumping Carver's knee with hers and digging an elbow into Root's side. Move it. Let her in.]
[ Carver is also much sweeter than she's expecting, in a way that makes Root a little tender. Awww. Tough macho guy who could put her on the ground in a split second, and he likes her being sweet with him? That's definitely appealing in a way men usually aren't.
She feels Shaw ungracefully elbowing her and breaks off the kiss with an exhalation of laughter. ]
Don't look now, [ she murmurs, purposefully ignoring Shaw as she maintains eye contact with Carver and smirks. ] Sameen thinks I'm not kissing you right.
[ That's easy enough to tell in the impatience, and Root's assumption that Shaw is not out there looking for fuck buddies to have tender merciful sex with. ]
She wants to mark you up, [ Root whispers like it's a secret. ]
[ He can feel Shaw's movement like a physical weight settling over the room, even though she's quiet with how she places her feet. Deliberate about it. A good soldier, he thinks, even with Root pressing close and distracting him. He grins as Root breaks and Shaw comes in, her knee pressed against his. In a different moment it'd feel crowding, he thinks, uneasy, but it doesn't here.
Funny, that.
He squeezes Root's hips again, one eyebrow cocked. ] Not where people can see, [ is all he says. He doesn't mind carrying bruises. It's a reminder of the real.
Then he reaches out a hand, risking it, and touches Shaw's elbow. Tugging her closer. ]
[Stop reading her for filth, Root; it's annoying. She very deliberately gives Root her back, but in a way that's only meant to be a caricature of a rebuff; she'll play at ignoring her to make a point, but only because she trusts that Root won't actually feel rejected.
And maybe also because experience tells her that Root can do some very interesting things with her back, when she has the opportunity.
Carver, on the other hand, gets her full front as she lets him reel her in with that brief touch. Running her fingers lightly over the collar of his shirt, she wonders out loud:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She licks her lips, then drops her gaze back down to the two of them.]
I wouldn't make it weird, either.
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Great, glad we established that, [ she says, still a bit impatient. She often feels like she's waiting for everyone else to catch up with her, and now's no different.
To Carver: ] To answer your earlier implied question, I don't mind if Shaw sleeps with whoever she wants, but sometimes her taste is... [ a delicate pause ] unfortunate. You, I like.
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[ He tilts his head toward Shaw, assessing, then to Root. Wondering if this is all a grand joke they're having at his expense and whether he wants to be a good sport about it. There's nothing he gains from snapping at them, Carver supposes. He likes their company, both of them. They make sense and that's a precious thing in this world, easily lost, easily broken. ]
So. [ His tone is bland. He lifts his eyebrows in Root's direction. ] You wanna watch?
[ This is a joke if they laugh. Perhaps something more if they don't. He's deciding as they go. ]
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-- Wouldn't be opposed.
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[ She loves Shaw for many reasons, but really, there's just not a lot of people who would put up with Root's vaguely condescending and dismissive way of flirting. And she trusts Shaw loves her in whatever capacity she does, because frankly, who else would go to all this trouble to make the sexual scenario of her dreams? Root is such a considerate girlfriend. She knows what Shaw probably wants out of this and she's the one doing the negotiation.
Root smirks at Carver, stretching her legs out and leaning back leisurely in her chair. She sips her whiskey. ]
I won't even heckle, [ she says by way of answer, tone earnest. ] Might give some pointers, though, if you're open to it. I know how to read my girl.
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Even so, this doesn’t feel like a joke. Just a conversation they’re having.
He hums a little, considering them both. ]
It’s been a while, for me.
[ He’s not in any particular mood to explain why. But it ought to be said before this turns into something. ]
Direct all you want.
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[Shaw punctuates this with a point in Root's direction, an exasperated look plastering itself across her face.]
No... sex commentary allowed, from anyone. Actually, you know what, never mind; I'm pulling out of this half-baked idea.
[This is absolutely not a serious threat. If it were, she'd leave the room. But instead, she stays put, and nothing about her body language or facial expression indicates anything but the most mild level of annoyance. Can you put up with their push-and-pull banter, Carver? Because that might actually be a prerequesite.]
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I said I wouldn't heckle. You sure you're not interested? We can test that.
[ She places her glass of whiskey down, pushes her chair back, and climbs to her feet. She walks around the table not toward Shaw but toward Carver, expression open and mildly challenging, with a wicked edge like she's inviting him to pull a prank with her. ]
May I?
[ She's looking for a kiss, but is respectful enough to stop a foot away, not touching without permission. Root leans her hip against the table, facing him sideways. ]
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He watches Root move closer. Bright eyed and focused, as she always is. He takes in her expression, the jut of her hip, the way Shaw sasses back at her but doesn’t shut it down. Thinks, why not?
Really, why not?
He takes another drink, then sets his glass down with a definitive click and motions her closer with a jerk of his chin. ]
Might as well, [ he drawls. ]
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This is different. Maybe it's because of who's involved, or maybe it's down to the intentions (Root clearly isn't trying to make her jealous, but Shaw also gets the feeling that turning her on isn't the only goal, either). She sits up straighter and scoots forward an inch or two on her chair, leaning in just a little. Continue, please.]
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Carver's such a good sport, too, which gives him points in Root's book. She hadn't been totally sure how he'd take this -- the conversation itself or this direct request -- but so far she likes how easy it is, that he promised not to make it a big deal and then doesn't.
Permission granted, Root doesn't hesitate. She deliberately places one knee on the seat of the chair between Carver's legs, her hands settle on his shoulders, and she leans down and in. Root isn't deliberately commanding, but her unhesitating decisiveness almost demands everyone else come along with her or be swept away in her wake. You're either along for the ride or she's leaving you behind.
Their lips meet, hers supple from colored lip balm, and Root doesn't rush. She arches over him in what should be an awkward pose but instead comes across as coaxing, patient, a little teasing, fingers curling over his shoulders. How much does he want? She's good at reading physical signals. ]
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The thought is there. So are others, chief among them that he likes Root’s smile and the way she walks with her feet firmly planted in front of her, how every step is certain and she means to hold her ground against all challengers. And then her hands are on his shoulders, small but strong, and she kisses him almost gently. Not the way he’d expected, or maybe been braced for. Not with teeth.
Funny, that.
He’s still for a moment, considering that, and then his hands settle on her hips, squeezing faintly. It doesn’t feel awkward, not like he’d thought it would. He kisses her back because he can, because it feels good, and so little does these days. Well aware that Shaw’s watching and this both is and isn’t a game, so they might as well give it a good showing. ]
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She makes a small sound in the back of her throat - impatience, discontent, and okay, yes, a tinge of interest too - and paces closer, approaching from the side and circling them like a panther. Once she's gone about three-quarters of the way around, facing Root's back and Carver's front, she worms her way in a little more, bumping Carver's knee with hers and digging an elbow into Root's side. Move it. Let her in.]
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She feels Shaw ungracefully elbowing her and breaks off the kiss with an exhalation of laughter. ]
Don't look now, [ she murmurs, purposefully ignoring Shaw as she maintains eye contact with Carver and smirks. ] Sameen thinks I'm not kissing you right.
[ That's easy enough to tell in the impatience, and Root's assumption that Shaw is not out there looking for fuck buddies to have tender merciful sex with. ]
She wants to mark you up, [ Root whispers like it's a secret. ]
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Funny, that.
He squeezes Root's hips again, one eyebrow cocked. ] Not where people can see, [ is all he says. He doesn't mind carrying bruises. It's a reminder of the real.
Then he reaches out a hand, risking it, and touches Shaw's elbow. Tugging her closer. ]
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And maybe also because experience tells her that Root can do some very interesting things with her back, when she has the opportunity.
Carver, on the other hand, gets her full front as she lets him reel her in with that brief touch. Running her fingers lightly over the collar of his shirt, she wonders out loud:]
Why are you still wearing this?