Logs:A Beautiful Bouquet of Blossoms for Buff Blue Babe

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Cast

Sturm, Teagan

Setting

Sturm's House

Log

Okay, so. The New York trip was pretty fucking intense- and the following morning was a bit of a clusterfuck, huh? You know what's not a clusterfuck? Well. Anymore. Sturm's childhood home!

It's been probably twenty-ish minutes since Sturm told Teagan where to find her, and the Jotun is where she's been since returning from New York. On a couch - only this time it's her couch - in the den if her home. The blinds are drawn, pjs are on, there's music on the stereo, and a full pot of coffee in the kitchen. Now's about the time Teagan oughta be arriving so she changes into a set of clean clothes, and - though her hair is definitely looking a little scruffy on account if having slept on it while it was wet - she's largely presentable.

Now, where's Teagan? Perhaps at the door?

They've had a shower (and a good cry) and went to go have a nap in Johnnie's room, because that's the only place in the house where the occupant will know that they're there even if they're Light Shy. They've had a texted conversation checking in and when they left, Sigrun was either still in the forge or somewhere else, and so they have arrived.

Normally they'd just slither in.

Today, someone knocks at the door.

It takes her a minute to finish pouring the coffee before she can answer the door - and when she does, she's carrying a pair of mugs. One black, the way she drinks it. The other, Teagan's, with a lotta cream and a little bit of sugar.

Sturm's hair is down in all it's silvery-blue glory, and she's wearing a tank top from some local band's merch stand with a pair of jeans with so many holes, they're liable to get turned into cuttoffs when summer rolls around. No jacket. Bare arms, and visible tattoos.

"Hey." She invites Teagan in, handing over their mug. "You never answered my question, by the way." Oh no, it's an ambush. "You never said how you were doing."

They extend their hand to take the mug, and as soon as they've done so -- thus freeing up one of Sturm's hands -- they place in that outstretched hand the flowers they'd been holding behind their back. They're proper flowers, not something picked up from a gas station or something -- they must have found some really awesome person with keys to a flower shop who was willing to open up when they got a text message at 11 PM. Every flower in the careful arrangement is blue: forget-me-nots, cornflowers, blue-fringed daisies, blue orchids, columbines... it's a truly stunning arrangement, made with talent and care.

And entirely, entirely blue.

Teagan's cleaned up, wearing a fresh Downtrodder t-shirt and clean jeans, and they probably even cleaned up their boots. Hiding their face behind the rim of their mug, they take a swallow of their coffee, and still don't answer the question.

Sturm looks down at her hand - at the beautiful bouquet of blue buds and blossoms - and blinks a few times. Just. Deadass quiet... and then she does one of those little snort-laughs. Then a second. Teagan knows the kind. It's what Sturm does whenever she's nervous - or doesn't quite know how to respond to something.

... and then it's just a full on sputter for a few seconds. When she's fully recovered - which takes a few more seconds - she looks up at Teagan, and then lifts the coffee cup to her mouth as if absolutely nothing had happened.

"Alright," she takes another sip - though the cup can't hide the deep shade of blue she's turning. "As far as diversions go, that was pretty good - but also... fuck you." (Smol edits because I didn't catch them on my phone :P)

Now it's Teagan's turn to splutter -- they almost choke on their coffee, because they were in the middle of taking a sip in order to hide their face.

"You think I woke Charlie up, went over to the shop that she works at, and got her to make me a bouquet of entirely blue flowers at eleven o clock at night just so I don't have to tell you how I'm doing?" Teagan asks, and they actually look kind of indignant. "Give a butch a little credit now and again. I brought you flowers because I wanted to, and because I'm pretty sure no one's ever bought you flowers before, and ... because after today, you fucking deserved them."

They're still not answering the question, but the protest seems genuine, at least. "Am I having coffee on your doorstep, Sturm?"

"Probably not, but maybe." The tiniest of sounds escapes from the Jotunn's lips. A very little, very satisfied giggle. "... but you're correct," she lowers the mug to reveal a genuine smile - hell, it's more than that. She's fucking beaming. "These are the first flowers anyone has ever given me."

She gestures for Teagan to come in, shifting the bouquet to the crook of her arm so she can shut the door behind them. "Come into the kitchen with me so I can put these in a vase, and then you can explain to me all about what I did to deserve the flowers."

She starts heading towards the kitchen, clutching the flowers to her chest.

They still haven't told Sturm how they're doing, of course. And while that may not have been the point of doing all of that, it sure doesn't hurt, does it? The Mirrorskin's boot scuffs at the mat in front of the door, like some kind of dork or something. When Sturm confirms that -- yes, in fact, these are the first flowers that anyone has ever given her -- Teagan's cheeks silver briefly, and they duck their head forward a little bit, the corners of their mouth curling upward. "Good," they offer quietly. "I mean, you know. Not that ... no one's gotten to give you flowers before."

"Just that I get to be first." Scuff. Scuff.

They tuck their free hand into the pocket of their coat, holding their mug of coffee in front of themself like a shield, and trail along after her like some sort of lovesick swain. "I dunno. I mean maybe you were just that pretty, doll."

"Seems to me that if all it took was being pretty, you probably wouldn't have been the first one to give me flowers." She rounds the corner at the end of the hall, setting her coffee cup on that old wooden kitchen table for just long enough to get a vase down out of the top cabinet.

"Don't think I'm gonna forget you haven't answered yet," she turns to flash Teagan a little half-smile from the sink where she's waiting for the vase to fill. "... but put your coffee down for a sec, I need a hand with making sure everything ends up in the vase without getting bent stems n' shit."

She gently places the bouquet down on the countertop, and now her hands are totally free... be a shame (but not really though) if Teagan were walking into a surprise hug. The kind that is definitely involve their feet leaving the ground.

"That's very true," answers Teagan. "I dunno. Maybe I just thought that after how everything went down earlier today, you deserved to have someone bring you some damn flowers and say 'thank you for not going apeshit when my family decided to show our collective ass once again' or 'thank you for actually wanting to see me after you had to go through all that on my behalf' or 'heck, you're really great and I hope that didn't fuck up absolutely everything.'" Their words are sort of a mutter. "And don't worry about Sigrun. She's sort of -- well. She's Sigrun. Summers be like that." The last thing they want to talk about right now is the disconnect between themself and their motleymate.

"Oh, sure." They put their coffee down on the ground, completely missing the gremlinosity which is about to occur, because apparently they're super good at lying but way less good at figuring out when someone's doing a tiny lie in their direction.

It's okay, Teagan. It might be easy to forget now-and-again, but Sturm is Winter - and also, she's trying really fucking hard to make sure this next step of the plan goes off without a hitch.

Sturm shuts the faucet off as they approach, and then suddenly the closest arm shoots out and hooks the Mirrorskin 'round the middle - and then she yoinks them up off the ground, and into an incredibly tight hug. She's real quiet as she buries her face in Teagan's shoulder - and she holds them in her arms for a few seconds.

"It is what it is," her voice is a bit muffled - y'know, on account of she's pressing her mouth into their shoulder. "It could've gone better... but it could've gone worse, too - and no, it didn't fuck anything up."

There's a sudden yelp -- Sturm is lucky that Teagan didn't have the vigilance of Ares up at that moment, or the whole thing would have been ruined. But they weren't considering 'going to Sturm's' as a potential combat situation, after all. The Mirrorskin is snatched up off the ground and held in the air in a crushingly tight hug, and after that initial yelp of surprise? They let out a long, slow sigh that ends in a downward curl of sound in the back of their throat, a two-note 'hrr' as their leather-clad arms wrap around Sturm's head.

The creak of briarwolf leather is the only sound from them for a moment or three, feet dangling in the air as they rest their head against the top of her head, nosing at the base of one of her horns. "Oh, doll," Teagan sighs, fingers sliding into her loose white hair, gently scritching at her scalp. "I'm so glad." They sigh heavily. "I'd say you get used to it, but -- you don't, really. You just learn to accept that sometimes living with Summers means that people will beat their heads against one another now and again." Their long-muscled arms tighten around her shoulders, and one hand slipped into her hair cradles the back of her head as if it's the most delicate that's ever existed.

"Figured it'd probably be something along those lines," Sturm nods - voice still muffled by Briarwolf pelt as she nuzzles the Mirrorskin's shoulder. "Thought I was gonna have to put myself between y'all for a second or two - and then basically for the rest of the conversation, in case shit got heated." There's a little snort. She fuckin' made that pun on purpose! Can you believe it?

She holds the embrace for a just few moments longer. Until a low - contented-seeming - rumble sounds from somewhere in the back of Sturm's throat, and reverberates through her massive frame. Then, very suddenly, she lifts Teagan up the rest of the way - gently placing them in a sitting position on the kitchen cabinet. Now that they're at eye-level with her? She places her forehead against theirs - making direct eye contact.

"Now, my question." She's grumbly again, but it's probably a bit hard to take her seriously after that display. "You good? Don't make me put you on top of the fridge..."

The bewildered laughter from Teagan that answers Sturm takes precedence over every other answer. The idea that Sigrun and Teagan would actually hurt one another is a ridiculous one to the Mirrorskin. "Oh, nah, I just -- that's just how it is with us, sometimes. Sig and me, specifically. It's just -- " There's a long pause. "-- and this is one of those things you are gonna have to kind of understand if -- you decide you want to be part of this. Sigrun Ljosdottir is good at a lot of things. She takes good care of us, she works hard at making sure we're all fed and clothed and there's no one I'd rather have at my back when there's forty briarwolves charging us... but if you want her to open her face-mouth and make the speaky words that go 'I'm sorry for doing a thing I should not have done' ... "

"... she's less good at that." A soft, almost sorrowful little laugh. "Tomorrow morning she'll make a huge breakfast for everyone, something big and ridiculous, and she'll make sure there's bacon cooked until it shatters when you look at it, which is how I like my bacon, and that's how you know she's telling me that she's sorry for being a butthead." The Mirrorskin presses their face into the top of her hair, adding, "I'm only better at saying I'm sorry because I practiced."

It's a little weird being moved around like you're June-sized when you're a six foot tall lanky thing, but it's not unwelcome. Teagan huffs out a little surprised sound when they're set on the counter, and ... well. There's probably eye contact, because all Sturm can see are her own eyes reflected back at her in fractions and fragments. But there isn't much else for them to be looking at, or that they'd want to look at, given the givens. So they're probably making eye contact. And their forehead rests against hers. "You know, the true gremlin move would be to kiss you instead of answering." Beat. "And cats like being on top of refrigerators."

The idea of not immediately apologizing when you fucked up - and then, hell, following it up by apologizing for a bunch of shit that isn't even your fault - is entirely foreign to Sturm... but, she doesn't say anything about it one way or a other. She just nods, letting Teagan talk. It's obvious from just listening to the Mirrorskin talk about Sigrun that basically everything's probably fine. So fuck it. Nothing to worry about.

"Now," Sturm's lips twist into a frown. Also? Oh yeah, she's got tusks. Just in case Teagan was assessing the field for hazardous obstacles that might impede their distraction plan. "You could do that - and I probably wouldn't even stop you." She makes a little tchk sound with her teeth. "... but, wouldn't it be better if you got all the distractions out of the way first. 'Cause I'd just just have to interrupt you to keep asking - and you'd have to keep kissing - and I'd have to keep interrupting to ask. Then we're stuck in a loop like Groundhog Day, and it's totally on you."

She drops the very thin hint of mischief from her voice. "So. Are you doin' okay? I'll shut the fuck up about it afterwards, I promise." Beat. "... Moon Pie?"

Oh, sure, they're a delectable treat down South where Sturm spent the better part of the past 5 years, but way to undermine your point by trying to sneak in a nickname test...

Look, they probably would say something, and they might have just been about to say something. They might have! It even looks like they were thinking about it! Their mouth pulls to the side as she explains the difficulties involved in potentially trying to distract Sturm via kissing, and either they're opening their mouth to actually tell her how they feel, or they're about to make some sort of smart-ass remark, but then that last bit, and Teagan sputters "MOON PIE?!"

... and pulls their head back hard enough to smack the back of their head against the cupboards. "... hrrngh! Ow, fuck. Ow."

The Jotunn's face twists into an over-the-top and - let's be real - comical attempt at her usual disgruntled look. "Fuck you, Moon Pies are fuckin' good, okay?" ... but she can't quite stop herself from laughing along at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation - and, honestly, only laughs harder when Teagan bumps their head on the cupboards. "It's about time this goddamn house had my back - I am trying very hard at nicknames." Beat. "... but seriously, you're okay, right? After banging your head, I mean - I'll work on the other one afterwards..."

"Well, at least you're saying I'm delicious, or that you hope I am," Teagan mutters, rubbing the back of their head and grumbling about the whole situation. Hrrrrffff. Grumble grumble. Cats do not like looking untidy. Or, you know, clumsy. They let out a long, slow huff. "It was only a little smack. I've gotten worse during workouts," the Mirrorskin mumbles, and then they rest their head back against the cupboards that just now bit the back of their head. "I'm okay, Sturm. Not... great. Not wonderful. But not terrible, either. I don't ... like... when Sigrun digs in like that. I don't like feeling misinterpreted. I especially don't like it when I'm already feeling pretty fucking fragile from -- stuff."

"But uh." They reach up, then, to absently smooth a bit of Sturm's hair that had gotten stuck to her cheek out of the way. "All things considered... Everyone's home, in one piece. Some of us more together than we've ever been."

"I'll be fine."

"Get that," she nods along slowly. "It fuckin' sucks when you're saying shit that's just getting misunderstood and spit back at you." There's a long, slow exhale - and then Sturm hooks her thumbs into her belt loops. "We don't have to have a conversation about it - 'cause I don't want to dredge up any bullshit for either of us - but I'm sorry you had to see a bunch of shit in my dreams that fucked with your head." Beat. "It means a lot that you put up with that to help me."

There's a pause, and then she changes the subject before it has a chance to blossom into something more serious. "... but yeah, I'm assuming that you probably taste just fine. People have different preferences, sure, but seven different people's glowing recommendations probably aren't wrong." She clears her throat. "... and I'm glad everyone's back in one piece, too."

They turn their head and look off across the kitchen, giving Sturm a profile that they've seen a bunch of times, but this time, right up close. They're silent during the bit about the dredging. "I offered, and I don't regret it," the Mirrorskin answers, taking in a deep breath and letting it out through their nose. Their broken-mirror eyes glitter right up close, and reflect bits and pieces of Sturm's blue-white skin in fragments and fractions. "Men who abuse the power they have over other people are fucking miserable shits who should die screaming." There's a moment where Teagan scratches the back of their left wrist, where the marble bit of their silver-and-marble bracelet rests against the tattoo that reads this machine kills rapists.

"I don't regret it," they reiterate, turning their head to look back at Sturm, right up close. And that's where they leave that.

A lopsided smile after that. "I guess that's true," Teagan laughs, adding, "But the real question is whether you want to be able to make your own review."

"I believe I've made my stance on that pretty clear already, Moon Pie." She makes another one of those little tchk noises, and chuckles softly. "Case in point? The playlist I made for you, and - if you wanna get more specific about it - the song you teased me about."

She busies herself with transferring the beautiful flowers into the vase she left sitting in the sink. Once everything's situated she sets them onto the counter by the coffee pot - now the number two and three on her list of favorite things in this kitchen.

"... but if that was all that mattered, I'd have definitely done it by now." Oh, I guess we're at this part of the conversation.

"If you call me that again, it's definitely not going to be a happening thing." Teagan's nose wrinkles up, and when she moves away from where she put them on the counter in order to put the flowers into the vase and all that, they slide off the counter and pick up their coffee in order to start sipping it again, leaning against the counter. They watch her fussing with the blue-and-white flowers and the decorative greenery, absently gnawing on their lower lip.

"Mmm," Teagan noises, but doesn't interrupt, apparently assuming that's not the end of what Sturm has to say.

She blows a raspberry at them. It's a very non-verbal fine, fuck you, because she knows what Teagan's exact retort will be if she chooses to verbalize it.

She turns, fetching her forgotten cup of coffee - and then pouring a little more into the mug. Just to keep the temperature up. Wordlessly she offers the pot to Teagan - just in case. "Well, I reckon we're probably on the same page about how to handle things, right?" Her face disappears behind the mug. When in Rome, right?

They hold their mug out to Sturm to get just a bit more coffee, and then wanders over to the fridge to get themself a little more cream. Their back's turned toward Sturm, then, which keeps both of them from having to look at one another. Topping off their mug, they answer, "I couldn't tell you, because I don't know what it is you think is the best way to handle things. So, uh, it would probably help if you told me what you think is the correct way to handle things." With that, they put the bottle back in the fridge, and close the door. All of this happens real slow, so as to give Sturm the ability to hide their face, and let Teagan hide theirs, too.

"Don't know if you should trust my thinking when it comes to what's the best way to navigate your partner's feelings. You know her a lot better than I do," there's a shrug - though Teagan can't exactly see it, anyway. She leans against the countertop - laying her forearm flat against it - which causes the old wood to groan.

"... but I don't actually know. I was hoping I could get you to say your answer first, and that knowing whatever you wanted would make it easier."

"I honestly don't know at this point," Teagan answers, closing the fridge and leaning their back against it, bringing their cup up to take a swallow of it. "Kind of a 'damned if we do, damned if we don't' situation, isn't it? The thing with Sigrun is that she's completely incapable of any kind of artifice. Like, she literally couldn't lie her way out of a paper bag if someone's life depended on it. She just can't. So what she says tells you exactly what's on her mind."

"What's tripping me up is that she's talking about 'two, three, seventeen times' when ... I literally never brought stuff with you up with her more than once. The one other conversation was about how hard it was to deal with what I was seeing in your brain, and what I'd seen in her brain, and how that related to the shit that happened to me a hundred years ago. So if she's thinking that I keep bringing it up to her, when we've barely spent any time together just the two of us since this all started, and I haven't, then the best I can guess is that it's eating at her brain to feel like she's an impediment."

"You only know this me, but like... I don't think I literally ever turned anyone down before I got to Philly. And Sig knows that. Someone I knew in Vermont used to call me a 'tomcat' for a reason. Sig knows it's way easier for a person to get me to sleep with them than it is to get me to have a serious conversation about how I feel, and that I do really like fucking. So I imagine that feeling like she's keeping me from dating-slash-sleeping-with-slash-smooching someone, whether or not she's 'keeping' me from sleeping with someone or because I'm choosing to not to sleep with someone out of deference to her feelings, probably feels to her a little like she's stopping me from being ... who I am."

"Which seems to be actively eating at her, regardless of whether I ever talk to her about it at all."

"Okay, but I... don't fucking get it? The line we're sitting at seems pretty arbitrary compared to all the other shit that's happened up until now. If situations were reversed, I'd be so much more upset to find her sleeping on the couch in my home with four-out-of-five-slash-six of my partners and a growing pool of spit on her shirt - 'cause that... how is that not pressure to make a decision one way or another?"

She turns around to face Teagan - fuck this facing opposite directions shit. There's no point on hiding anything now, right? "... which - like, of course it's in her head. 'Cause you and I have had... probably more than a dozen serious conversations about shit like this by now - which is definitely the bigger... thing? Between those two things. So. I don't really understand, because..."She trails off, gesturing between Teagan and herself. Winter's amirite? "Does not seem like less of an entanglement."

She shakes her head, taking a long sip from her coffee. Anything to avoid having to speak. Alas, it's not hot enough to burn her tongue, so. She sighs again, leaning her head up against the cabinet. "I know what I want, but..." a flicker of something crosses her face, but it's gone within the span of a blink.

"I dunno. I mean I'm not in her brain. But that line seems to be the line where -- if I had to guess -- Sigrun feels like shit tips over from being 'Teagan is a friend taking care of someone like I would want to be taken care of' into ... 'this is for real romantic relationship stuff.'" Teagan takes another swallow of their coffee; they've got their arm folded across their stomach, opposite elbow propped up on that arm. Their broken-mirror eyes reflect little bits and pieces of Sturm's blue skin, and they frown a little bit. "Maybe because, like I said."

"It's easier to get me to sleep with someone, usually, than to talk to them about my feelings. So she feels a little backwards about asking me to not do the thing that I usually do."

They let out a long, slow sigh. "But you feel guilty about wanting it, because... ?" They just call that out, and then ask.

"... because it's not fair?" The hand that isn't currently holding a coffee cup disappears into the pocket of her jeans. "It's not fair of me to want - like. How shit has played out doesn't really matter, because in the end I'm still basically an invader in her space?" Beat. ". . And I can't help the fact that I like so many of the people in her life, but she's right. I am definitely much closer to the rest of you than I am to her - which, I imagine is probably another source of frustration, even if we are spending more positive time around one another."

Sturm takes a sip from her coffee cup. Of course Teagan would pick up on her feelings. Fuckin' Mirrorskins and their reflecting things. "... so I guess it just doesn't feel good - to be sitting up against my own moral hard-line - and still wanting to be selfish."

The Mirrorskin blinks a few times. "... you think Sigrun is -- jealous of... me?" They pause for a long moment, and mumble, "... actually, that's ... possibly true." Their forehead wrinkles up, and they let out a long, weary sigh. "It isn't fair, no matter how you try to determine what 'fair' is. It's not fair to her, it's not fair to us, it's just... "

A huffed breath. "So where do we go from here?"

"Well. I think that she probably - at least a little bit - feels obligated to have some kind of positive relationship with the person that she escaped with - with whose fuckin'... fragmented soul chunks were found directly intertwined with hers? Come on, how do you not? I certainly fucking do..."

"Yeah. It's not." Sturm is quiet for a bit. So quiet it's like she isn't even breathing, and then? A big sigh. "I don't know," a sip of coffee. Probably not even for the purpose of hiding her face. "What do you think we should do?" Another sip - but all bets are off on her reasoning for this one.

"Oh, yeah, uh. I figured that. But I guess I just didn't string that together with the concept of 'jealousy' in any way." They puff their black-mirrored cheeks out.

"I don't know," Teagan confesses. They set their coffee down on the counter and wrap their arms across their stomach. "In some ways, it was easier when the answer was 'no.' Because then it was just clear. The answer is no. Now... " They wave one hand absently in the air. "I feel ... very awkward. And honestly?"

"I believe her when she says 'well do whatever you want,' but part of me is thinking 'okay but do whatever you want doesn't mean do whatever you want without consequences.' And ... " Teagan just goes quiet. "I want very much to kiss you. I think after everything, I've earned that much."

"Yeah. No was a much easier answer to work with - and now, it's... Yeah. Awkward. Also, "do what you want" isn't exactly an enthusiastic endorsement, so it's hard for me to hear that as anything other than just a "get this shit out of my face right now." You know?" Sturm sets her coffee onto the counter. Teagan can probably note that the cup is actually empty - a confirmation that it was just being using it as a makeshift mask. "You know her better than I do, though - and I know that I have issues... reading into shit that may or may not actually be there, so."

The Jotunn shoves her hands into her pockets - and then she's very still and quiet. "Yeah. I'd like that, too."

A long, slow breath out of their nose, and they look off to one side, frowning. "'Do what you want' can be Minnesotan for 'but if you do what I think you shouldn't, I'll fucking kill you.' But I think Sigrun knows by now that she can't tell me 'do what you want and tell me what that is' and then get mad at me for the decisions I make if she didn't tell me what she wanted. And worse, if she tries, I think June might cry."

And if that isn't a potent threat, what is?

Setting aside their mug of coffee, which is -- at least now -- also empty, Teagan watches Sturm for a long moment. "I'm not sure what else I want," the admit. "I mean. No. I'm very sure what else I want, but I'm not sure how quickly I think it should happen. Or in what order. Or whatever." They press their lips together. "But I think it's kind of ridiculous at this point to try to pretend we're not involved. Because we are."

"Yeah, that's... kinda what I was trying to say earlier, and failing to find the words for. I mean, you-" Sturm's features scrunch up for a moment, and she clears her throat. "Well. My clarity was perfectly in tact, so I can't blame that for my lack of... emotional defenses." Beat. "... but yeah. I think we're very involved at this point - and that it'd be pretty silly to try and deny that."

There's an enormous sigh, and - when she reaches the end of her breath, with empty lungs - Sturm looks completely and absolutely exhausted. The stress of the New York trip - and the emotional burden that she's been carrying for a month - are obviously weighing on her tremendously. "Okay. Well let's start with what you are sure you want? Or... what we think should happen sooner, rather than later?"

They stand so still for a while that it might be possible to think -- just for a moment -- that they've just switched off. And then Teagan pushes away from the fridge, crossing to stand in front of Sturm. Their arms loose, uncrossing, and one hand rises to rest at her shoulder and then slide down to the point of her elbow. The feather-light touch pauses there for a moment, then slides fingertips to her wrist.

"What am I sure I want?" Their face tips up to look at her. "Everything, Sturm. Everything you can give." The corners of their mouth curl up just a little bit. "I wasn't really kidding when I was being a fucking gremlin at you about the songs you picked, and what they mean." The touch that rests at the outside joint of her wrist is somehow deeply proprietary, and more intimate in its way than a kiss. "Not a bit."

"But first," they continue, "what I want is for you to stop looking like that. So what do I have to do to stop you from looking like a zamboni just ran you over and dragged you around?"

Up until the point that Teagan crossed the room, Sturm's eyes had been fixed on the floor. As if she could just drill a hole in the kitchen's shitty, ancient tile and escape through it. Their hand stops at her wrist, and her eyes rise slowly - and they stop and linger as if dragged - to meet their gaze. There's a small groan - from the countertop, and from Sturm - as she pushes off of her perch and stretches back to her full height.

"I figured you weren't, really." Her mouth wobbles at the corner - and then her lips tip up into a smirk. "In fact, it seems like usually, when you're being a gremlin about that sorta shit, you're actually just testing the waters to see how I'd react if you did it for real." She shifts her weight, cocking a hip and knocking off a small piece of the difference between her height and Teagan's. The hand that isn't being touched ends up with it's thumb hooked in her belt loop. "... but I have no idea what you mean about the zamboni thing. This is just what I look like, T."

... only, she must. On account of the fact that the exhaustion seems to be gone. Sure, she still looks tired - but it doesn't look bone deep in the way that it had moments ago. "Everything, huh? You sure? I've heard that I'm a bit of a handful. Got a helluva lot to give..."

"More to the point, in that case, I was testing to see if it was what you actually meant to say," the Mirrorskin replies, one black eyebrow rising slowly. "If you hadn't, then that would have been that. I like pushing limits when people want those limits pushed, but otherwise, not so much." Their fingertips rest at the outside bone of her wrist, slowly dragging in a small circle. The most exquisitely light touch. Their mouth curling up just so.

"Bullshit," Teagan answers. "Don't lie to me about shit like that anymore, doll. I know better." A beat. "And it doesn't look good on you to lie to me about shit like that." And all the while, they just stand there, looking up at her.

"I'm sure. Over time. Patiently. In a way that both of us want and which doesn't fuck up our family." Here's a reality: whether or not Sturm ever joins Direct Action, Sigrun's part of her family. "You think I'd put this much work into something -- or someone -- I didn't want for realsies?" That smile goes sharper. "Good, because I'd hate to think I was planning on putting all this work in if there wasn't much there for me to take." Their hand closes around her wrist now -- slender fingers close firmly around it, the gesture proprietary in every sense. She could break free easily, if she tried.

The look on Teagan's face says they're betting she won't.

"Of course it was what I meant to say," she snorts out a little laugh. "Don't say a whole lot, but I do try to make sure everything that comes out of my mouth fuckin' matters - even if it's not always terribly clear." Her weight shifts again - careful not to disturb the cat while they're making physical contact on their terms. "... but you can trust that I will let you know - very vocally and - in very explicit terms if you're pushing a limit that I don't want pushed."

Sturm's shoulders go up, and she scrunches up her face as she tilts her head ever-so-slightly to the side - the universal alright, you caught me gesture. "Fine. I won't," she turns her gaze back to Teagan. "If you won't." Secrets for secrets, and truth for truth. Sturm knows how mirrors work... and just as Teagan predicted, she doesn't even move a single muscle when their fingers wrap around her wrist - and begin to fog up on account of contact with the cold.

"And okay," her voice is low, quiet. "That's... what I wanted to hear. I have zero interest in jumping into shit in a way that could - even possibly - cause harm to the people you-" She clears her throat - as if rubbing a mispelled word from a white board. "We're connected to." She stands there - hip cocked, thumb hooked into her belt loop, her wrist firmly within their grasp - still as a statue.

"... but what now."

A soft curl of laughter responds to Sturm's snort of same. "But I didn't know. So I had to find out," Teagan answers. "And now I have found out that it wasn't an accident. It was what you meant." The corners of their mouth stay curled up. "I have no doubt that you'll let me know."

They watch her intently, fragments of her blue-white skin reflecting in their broken mirrors. "Not about this," Teagan agrees. Between a Winter and a Summer spy, they can't promise perfect honesty. But about what matters? That's as close as they can come to perfect honesty, yes. The mirror reflects her back to herself, watching her intently. Their skin fogs up, and their Summer heat makes steam rise from where they hold on to her.

"I know," Teagan agrees with the corrected word, and with the sentence around it. And then they just watch her for a while.

Fingers looped around her wrist, holding on firm and proprietary, the Mirrorskin rolls up to their toes, and answers the question by finally, finally kissing her, carefully and with ridiculous delicateness, as if she's made of porcelain and two feet shorter than she really is. That now, apparently.

Sturm responds to their silence - and to being watched - in kind, taking in all the little details of their mien. She can see herself in their skin, but she's looking at the mirror - not her reflection.

... and then, finally. Sturm leans down to meet their lips with hers - her hand leaves it's perch at her hip and tucks inside the briarwolf coat to land at Teagan's. There's a small movement - she brushes her thumb against their side and returns the kiss in the way that she does nearly everything involving touch. Gentle and connected, but rarely more than just delicate contact. But then - perhaps surprisingly - she leans into the kiss, gently tugging Teagan closer.

Sure, the Jotunn's wrist is still perfectly within their grasp, but there's no way she's going to just stand there and wait for more.

There are things Teagan is good at, and kissing is one of them -- they've had plenty of practice, at the least, though not with tusks involved. Which probably makes it somewhat ironic when that ever-so-delicate kiss ends with Teagan's blunted teeth briefly tugging on Sturm's lower lip, and then they rock back against the hand tugging them closer.

Fucking gremlin.

"Now the question is whether or not that was worth the wait," the Mirrorskin offers, chin tipped upward, broken-mirror eyes glittering sharply.

They don't pull away, though, just lean back against the hand at their side, mouth screwed up to the side wryly, looking

"Ffffuckkkkkk," Sturm's voice is a low growl - barely above a whisper. Her tongue slips out, tracking across her lower lip to the place where Teagan's teeth had been.

"It was worth it," her hand stays in place - but there's no more tugging. It just hovers there as Sturm break into a grin - freeing her bottom lip from between her teeth. "... but it's a bit like the first drink of water after a workout." She laughs. "Now I'm just fuckin' thirsty."

There's that hint of a deep blue blush creeping in behind her ears.

Another soft burst of laughter, and Teagan tips their chin up, and the smile that slides across their face is all lazy certainty and delightedly proprietary. "Oh, doll," the Mirrorskin answers, their other hand coming up to gently slide fingertips along her cheekbone, carefully brushing that let-loose white hair back over her shoulder.

"You been thirsty."

Their eyes glitter sharply again, and a flash of silver washes across their face. "Can't have too much too soon after a workout, though. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing."

Fucking gremlin.

"Oh, fuck off," her eyes roll up and her head goes back - but her words can't hide the big dumb grin that's splashes across her face. There's a genuine laugh, as she looks back down at Teagan. "... but okay, fine. You win, and I agree. Would just hate to go and kiss you too much."

Sturm likes cats - and that means she knows how they work. The Jotun's starts to retract her hand from Teagan's hip - slowly, though. Enough that they'll notice. There's enough room here for two gremlins in this conversation...

"Oh, what, no 'fuck you' anymore? One kiss, that's all it takes, and suddenly... ?" Teagan's eyebrows shoot up, and they turn their face to one side, letting out the biggest, heaviest sigh. So dramatic. So overwhelmed. "I see how it is! I do. I see how it is." That this is timed with the hand starting to retract makes the Mirrorskin tip their head back and begin to pull back -- though, of course, their firm grip around her wrist hasn't gone anywhere.

"Fine, lemme fix it." Sturm sticks out her tongue again - and her hand makes it back to her belt loop, where she hooks her thumb. "Fuck you, then." She leaves the phrase to hang in the air, her eyes fixed on Teagan - watching their every move, and only really stopping long enough for her gaze to flicker between their face and the hand they've got wrapped around her wrist.

And that was apparently the lead-in they were looking for, because with eyes glittering, they answer: "I thought we just said we weren't going to rush into anything, doll." There really is no winning with Teagan. Or maybe there's only winning with Teagan. Depends on the perspective, neh?

But it wins Sturm Teagan's return; they lean in against her, albeit still wrapped up in their heavy briarwolfskin coat, a bit of armor between the two of them still.

Their hand returns to her cheek, sliding fingertips over her cheekbone, down along her jaw. They roll up onto their toes, brush their lips against hers. "I shouldn't stay too much longer," they admit. "Because I'm not going to make good on any thoughts of not rushing if I do. And while there is absolutely nothing that most of me wants more, doll... " A slow breath in. "I'm trying to let my brain lead me on this one. I'm pretty sure I said when I was out of my mind how important that doing right by you is to me. But also doing right by me, by us, and by our family, too."

"It's not that clever of a segue when you have to ask me to tee up the ball for you." Sturm fixes the Mirrorskin with a lengthy, longing look before finally pulling them into a hug again.

She presses her eyes closed, and her chest and shoulders rise visibly from the very deep breath she takes upon hearing the phrase our family. "I know. I know." There's a little groan as she opens her eyes again. There's a little tchk noise as she sucks air between her teeth. "Yeah."

... and then she let's Teagan out of the hug, her last word trailing off into another one of those soft little growls - which she holds for a few moments before continuing. "Alright," her eyes dart to the vase of blue flowers. "I don't want you to go, but... let's be real. Same." She finally wriggles her wrist free from their grip - as if she doesn't really want to, but knows she has to. Just for now. So they can be good. And Teagan can leave.

"You want me to give you a ride home?" Sure, they don't need one, but... she's hopeful all the same.

They curl into that last embrace for the evening -- briefly pressing their nose against the side of her neck -- and then straighten up, finally letting go of her wrist. "I don't give a fuck about being clever right now, really. I just want to continue to tease the shit out of you." A brief brush of their hand up the side of her arm, and they take a step back, putting a little space between them. Their face is all flushed silver, and they absently adjust their briarwolf coat, tugging it closed around themself.

They may not be precisely only human, but they are ... well, only human. And proximity has effects, mkay?

"I know. I don't want to go." Their gaze skates to the flowers, but those may just be safer to look at. "I very much want to stay." But the way she reacted to 'our family' makes them very, very sure that this is the right thing. A step back, and they glance over their shoulder toward the front door.

"Yeah, I do." Their shoulders hunch slightly, and they glance toward the floor, sort of dopily, before turning to head for the front door. "Come on."

Sturm watches fondly as Teagan leaves the room, taking another deep breath. A smile spreads across her face as she takes a last look back at the flowers - and then she follows them out.