Kyle and Erin brush the edge of the future until the inevitable urge to reset the clock kicks in.
Location: Dauntless - Echo Bunk
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1528
Bunkhouse Echo. It's not exactly Bunkhouse Charlie, also dubbed "Bunkhouse Charisma", but it's the home Kyle Costello has been assigned in her floating beast of war over Sagittaron. The more the days go on, the more she's adapted to it, and the less time she actually spends in her own bunk. As the days have passed, the bunk above Erin Hayes' bunk has become a bit of a storage bin with just enough room to sleep in if one were to shove a few bags to the far edge of the sleeping space.
Kyle Costello, invited or not, has somewhat moved into the bunk beneath hers. There she lays now, with one earbud in her ear and her eyes up to the various magazine cuttings she's taped to the top of Erin's bunk. Cars. Pyramid. Caprica. THE PLAN. After days of travelling back and forth from the warzone below, Costello has found a moment of peace.
With the faint drumline of one of her silly Caprican rap crews in one ear, she taps her toes with scratched-off nail polish against each other. Lounging in her regulation black skivvies and a tank top, Kyle puffs her cheeks together and blows a sigh up towards a picture of a jeep, staring at it like she's putting it together with her mind.
Is Kyle bored?
Boredom is anathema to trash pandas. It's a little known fact: if, at any point, there is boredom, they are compelled by spirit and sign to try and alter that. This can be done through a variety of methods, some of which are unhygienic, others annoying as shit. But raccoons are good at making people take action because, dammit, rabies and communicable diseases remain a problem.
Erin has finished adjusting the newly-created mag-lamp in just the right place. She seems satisfied where she is, kneeling at the head of her bunk and piled in with Kyle such that the space is a little cramped. Like her totem animal, she spies Kyle looking bored and lonely, and directs the shiny beam of light from her device at her bunkmate annoyingly. Right in the eyes.
"Woot! Looks like this thing is working, eh? Heh." And she gives Kyle a gentle kick. "What do you think?"
WHOMPF. The light flares down over Kyle's eyes without any warning, putting spots in her eyes like an MP is shining a light into her face, asking her about how much she's been drinking. Or how little. There's plenty of leave on drinking. On the ship? Little sips of contraband to keep the edge off.
"Oh Gawds!" Kyle blurts out, throwing her elbows up over her eyes and rolling into Erin to protect her poor eyes. The earbud falls out, droning something about 'booty'. "Lady, if I'm blind I can't look at your-" Kyle grunts, batting the heel of her hand against Erin's hip, trying to find that sweet nerve cluster.
"I'm up!" Kyle pools out from her laying out, pushing on elbows until her back is sliding up the back of the bunk wall. Her face elongates, blinking at the splotches in her vision. She reaches out, taking the lamp, testing the swivel.
"Seriously, Erin, you know we did the frak out of this thing. I love it." Kyle looks to Erin, then back to the lamp with a dopesick grin. "Next comes the microwave and the coffee maker, right? Maybe in my bunk upstairs, though, because I don't want a coffee maker where we sleep. That just sounds like a bad bad idea."
"Aye, what, you don't think the lights are blinding?" Erin snorts, and then laughs and points because, let's face it, she's childish like that at times. "Aw, c'mon. This thing is powerful enough to send remote signals for miles. We should attach them to a Raptor or APC some day." And then, a laugh of victory. "Products! We have products!"
And then, impulsive as ever, Erin flings herself atop of Kyle, and starts to punch her playfully. Oof, oof, oof. Nothing serious, of course, mostly because it's a prelude to an impassioned kiss on the mouth, followed by a sigh of contentment. "I love you so much, you doofus, even if you listen to music that sounds like the rhythmic thumping of cars repeatedly smashing into walls."
She makes a face. "What are you listening to, by the way?" Because more mockery is on the menu. "And what is the message of these -- are these lyrics or something?" Erin nabs a headphone like the most annoying girlfriend you can imagine, and tunes in with a face of disdain.
"When I'm cave-Kyle, I'm cave-Kyle. Light is the enemy." Kyle bats Erin's finger away once. Twice. The third time gets a laugh out of the Caprican. "Products!" Kyle giggles loudly. "When the war is over we can shine them into the sky and do that wurr-wurr-" Hand signals. Kyle twists finger over finger like the premiere lights do when they shine into the sky when a club is opening. "-people get paid for that sort of thing, you know. Erin? Erin? Erin what are you do-"
One of the finer aspects of Kyle Costello is that she punches back. She's read the Erin Hayes playbook, too. Lock an ankle around the ankle, get the elbows down to protect the ticklish ribs. Kyle devolves into half-spent syllables as she half-whines and gets in her own punches back, but is midway through dancing with her elbows when the kiss comes in.
And a sweet kiss it is. The elbows drop to Erin's knees. The defenses come down.
"Close. They make those beats by hip-thrusting headboards against drywall." Kyle mumbles against Erin's mouth, grinning downwards to a grind of their foreheads before parting. She leans back against the wall, lazily draping her wrists over Erin's hips. "I love you, and I know you hate it, but that stuff reminds me to not be all serious about things all the time. It's about important stuff, like-" Kyle brings her hand down on Erin's backside. "-booty and pool parties. Stupid stuff." A beat. "I like my music stupid sometimes."
It probably strikes Erin, at that time, that she simultaneously takes everything and nothing seriously. She stares at Kyle for a couple of seconds, thinking, and then says, "Well." And that's it. For another couple of seconds.
"I guess I can get behind booty and pool parties. I mean, parties and pools. Maybe not so much booty; I've got more than I think I can handle for a lifetime, you know, what with me sleeping with everyone on this ship, it seems like." A nervous laugh follows. "I mean, that doesn't bother you, right? That -- that I've been around a bit with, um -- you know, other girls?"
Erin's fingers have found their way onto Kyle's clothes, where they knot up and clench, and hold tight. There's a bit of uncertainty in her voice; this is a topic that hasn't been talked of much, even if raised once or twice. Affirmation is important. Very important.
The reaction to Kyle's response will depend largely on what's said. It may involve another kiss. It may involve some biting and rough horseplay. Or more punches and kicks. Laughter.
"What's important to you?" That's the follow-up question.
"Oh my gods-that-I-don't-pray-to, are you still worried about that?" Kyle's eye on the left needs plucking. The follow-up swat to Erin's backside is more gentle than the last, but with the added edge of scold. Kyle ruffles her nose towards Erin's face and clears her throat. "Hey."
Kyle becomes a horrible ride at the Faire. Bare legs meeting at the hips in black fabric straighten and bounce, scooting and hobbling Erin Hayes in place until Kyle is brought face to face with the panda, give or take the shoulderstraps of her own tank top being gripped onto.
"Erin Hayes, I have probably been with more people than you, if you really want the list." Kyle continues, brushing a stray hair away from Erin's eyes that dared to get in the way of the heavy eye contact. "On this ship? No. I've only been with you on this ship, but that you've been with other girls tells me that you know what you want and that's me so..."
Kyle pats her hand again. This time, less scoldy.
"Home is important." Kyle continues. "That lamp is important. Getting us both out of this to head to Caprica and, I don't know, be frakking idiots who make lamps is important. You-" Kyle reaches between them to tug on Erin's dog tags. "-are important."
Kyle lifts her brows quietly, as if trying to nudge her point into completion.
"I love you, Erin. I give zero fraks who you've frakked so long as I'm getting more of you than they did."
Erin is quiet. She listens. Blood rises to her cheeks and neck, making her rosy and flattered. Her eyes lower. Her body shifts.
She lifts a hand up to Kyle's face, and brushes away a lock of hair. When her eyes come up, they are watered and wet. Whatever she needed or wanted, she got. This is an important thing.
"You know, for the first time since I've joined up, I don't want to fight any more." She shakes her head. "There's just, I don't know -- I know it's important, I know I need to keep fighting because, if I don't, well, maybe there's less of a chance that this war ends, but -- " Beat. " -- I've just -- never felt this way before. Not that I can remember."
She stops herself. Best to stop herself there.
"Do you think, if we invited them, that Calhoun and Wagner'd come live where we end up?" Beat. "Caprica, I'm guessing, since you can't shut the frak up about those Buccaneers and how much you love the food at home."
And then, she pulls off her tanktop. And reaches out to roll the screen around the bed, until it gets caught where the lamp is, and is stopped there.
"I've been...trying not to think about it." Kyle starts slowly, wetting her lips as she says it. The toe dips into the water of private thoughts thought once to be better left to silence while sitting upon a rumbling washing machine. "Like, if I start to think about needing the war to end that it'll just get harder the longer it goes on, but it's there and-"
Kyle pauses when Erin's tank top comes free. Her eyes draw downwards, looking over the woman in her lap with a flutter of the vein running alongside her neck. Out of reverence or a moment of distraction, Kyle doesn't say, but when Erin returns her eyes back to Kyle, she looks back into them.
"If I told you that we could go where Wagner and Calhoun go, wherever that is, do you have some kind of magic that'll make this war end while we're still young?" Kyle's cheek dimples in a halfway bitter smile. She reaches again to Erin's dog tags and tugs at them, then lays them in place between her breasts. "We could visit Caprica. I don't care, Erin." Kyle quiets and holds her upwards stare. "Baby, I really, really don't care where, so long as there is an is."
Kyle falls silent, reaching for Erin's fingers.
"We're on the same page, Erin."
Hopefully. That is, one person is clearly trying to get naked. If the other person is not on the same page, then it's going to be a real awkward jaunt down to the mess hall.
"I care." Shrug. "I don't have a place to go. I mean, a home to go to. Not really." Erin makes a whooshing sound. "Don't think I could go back to Aquaria now. Too many, like -- too many memories. Of good things, of bad things." She licks her lips, and then gnaws on her lower lip for second. "You know, they say that, after war, it's a good time to just restart things. Make a new life of it. That sort of thing."
She would slink out of her underwear, but that's damned hard with Kyle on her. Shimmy. Shake. Squirm. Eventually, she takes off that last article of clothing, baring her scarred mid-and-lower section without care. And her underwear? It is daintily laid atop of Kyle's head.
"By the way, I've had gas all night, so -- " Moment over. Ruined. Erin grins widely. " -- don't frakkin' bounce on me, or I'll shit the sheets."
Kyle's so reeled in that she's playing with the hem of her own tank top in the moment. She doesn't have doe eyes (Kyle couldn't manage such a thing without extra makeup), but when Erin's speaking the soft, twinkling look comes to Kyle's face. Lips parted, she brushes at Erin's skin, trying to convey just how much she doesn't care about the other unimportant things.
Lips open and close. Kyle's cramming her eyes to the corner of their sockets for replacement words to things unsaid, and it's then when Erin crashes the wrecking ball into the moment. Kyle blinks and stares dumbly at Erin, mouth agape, with underwear on her head.
Erin Hayes may have just as well announced that she got a Cylon tramp stamp.
'What the frak' Kyle mouths to Erin.
"I'm going to frakking kill you." Kyle grabs the underwear off of her head and throws it against the edge of the bunk where it tumbles out onto the walkway. "Seriously?" Kyle begins to crawl to her knees with a menacing look in her eye.
"Are you frakking serious-serious, Erin, because if you're frakking serious you need to tell me now." Kyle lunges at Erin, starting a new fight to punch-punch at her bunkmate. "If you shit this bed I am sleeping upstairs tonight."