fifth_garde | (no subject)

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[He'd drove all night, habitually remembering to drink from the cold flask of cheap coffee he'd picked up from a diner and even more habitually to chew on aspirin. He had to keep the pain in his arm at bay, occasionally it would spasm causing him to jerk the wheel to one side. His eyes were aching, and either that was because of the exhaustion or the emotions which were rattling around in his head, both of which weren't things he was able to take care of right then.

He'd eventually caved in and put on the radio, listening to some random popular music station so he wasn't left with just his own thoughts. He didn't exactly enjoy the music but it was better than utter silence, every now and again he'd press a wad of napkins against his temple, which had crusted over but wasn't entirely finished bleeding yet.

Finally reaching the town he'd left Owen in earlier that day, or actually the day before considering it was now five in the morning, he could've simply ran but he'd either end up running into a wall or phasing half way through one and winding up dead.

He parked the car in the same car park he'd left the BMW and transfers the chest from one trunk to the other, after all he'd rather ditch Al's car for the stolen motor, regardless of the convenience of having a car with actual insurance papers.

Finally he drags himself into the corridors of the hotel, it seeming deadly quiet for the fact it was so early, he vaguely remembers Owen's room number having only seen it once before and slumps against the doorframe, tapping lightly on it and hoping Owen would hear.]

Owen? 's me... I mean, Five, y'there?

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Unfair? [He grins, lowering one hand to squeeze Owen's ass.]

From where 'm standin' 's great. Not unfair.

[Please excuse his very manly (and very quiet) squawk of surprise.]

A-Ah...!

I would ask what's gotten into you, but I suspect I'd be walking myself into a punchline.

's what I want in me y'should be thinkin' about. [He drawls this, playing the role of seductor.]

That's what I'm really trying very hard not to think about.

[And he's just now realising he probably shouldn't say 'very hard' under the circumstances.]

Oh fine, we'll be prudish. [He gives Owen's ass another squeeze for dramatic effect before shoving his hand back into his own pocket.] I'll at least let y'get on the plane.

It's not prudish, it's avoiding getting kicked out...!

But I appreciate it. I'll make it up to you later.

[He's just not sure how much later, but he will.]

If we were kicked out we'd probably still make it there fast.

[He grins at that.] I await my reward, then.

Yes, but at least one of us needs an exit stamp on their visa. The official kind.

I'll try to live up to your expectations.

's a good way t'mold yourself in life. [He smirks, after all he didn't really expect Owen to indulge Jason's ever whim and wild fantasy. Just some of them.]

Well, maybe a little. Just not exclusively.

[He just reaches out to punch Owen in the arm. At least they were in the departure lounger, where Five would consider getting another drink...]

Come on, let's go raid the snacks and drinks in the club lounge.

Now that's what I like t'hear before a flight. [He's just going to survey what other people might be here... he's still a well-trained alien at the end of the day.]

[And it will give Owen a lovely chance to watch him watching, nibbling peanuts and sipping wine.]

[He barely acknowledges the bourbon in his hand, trailing his finger over the rim of the glass, keeping up with natural movements while he assesses the other people. No-one gave him more than a second glance, except for some business man in the furthest corner of the bar and Five was pretty sure it had nothing to do with his status as an alien. He turns back to Owen, grinning.]

All good here.

I can see that.

[Side eye.]

'm just careful.

[Nudge.]

That wasn't what I meant. Careful is good, I'll never knock you for careful.

[He just grins.]

's just about the only thing 'm careful about. Jus' wait until I leave the oven on.

What? No. No, no, no. You're not allowed to be the kitchen disaster. I'm the kitchen disaster.

I can cook, the food'll be good. But 'm kind of forgetful so I'll end up leavin' shit everywhere.

Oh, so at least we'll be well fed before we blow ourselves up; good to know.

I'll have to make sure it's an electric oven...

Could totally still cause a fire, just wait. 'm like a natural disaster every now 'n again.

I am alive with anticipation. And I'll also be certain to have fire extinguishers on hand, too.

Good idea, jus' never let me get too tired. 'n always have coffee on hand.