first time for everything

[formoftherapy]

Kite wakes up first.

(They didn't sleep properly--cat naps lasting a few hours, only to wake up and fumble toward each other with varying levels of intent.

They give each other kisses and bruises and scratches, their hands and mouths and bodies. It's an even exchange and nothing is lost.)

She slides out of bed, tugging one of the pillows down to fill the space where she had been. She puts on her jeans and Tony's shirt, then goes downstairs to the kitchen.

Comments

[if_inconvenient]

"You will be driving," he cautions her.

Not psychic. Just... Sherlock Holmes.

[formoftherapy]

Kite does not pout; she just stabs her pancakes a little more forcefully.

[if_inconvenient]

As tempted as his mun is to throw Tony in here, Sherlock concludes that tact has won out: there is no sign of his double, and the pancake supply is dwindling rapidly.

[formoftherapy]

Kite drags her thumb through the syrup and melted butter mess on her plate, licking it clean.



"Should start heading back," she says at last. "Mom'll be wondering where I got to."

[if_inconvenient]

He takes a drink from the bottle instead of responding.

[formoftherapy]

Kite stacks her plate, the mixing bowl and the frying pan in the sink, filling each with warm soapy water.

That done, she heads out of the kitchen.


She's back in five minutes, with her purse and wearing her shirt rather than Tony's.

[if_inconvenient]

By which time, Sherlock is no longer in the kitchen.

He took the bottle with him.

[formoftherapy]

Kite snorts.

"Figures."



She slips out the front door and heads for her car.

[if_inconvenient]

He watches her leave from the window at the end of the third-floor hallway.