I mean, my initial thought involves using shards of sugar glass and strawberry jam to make it look like like somebody's been stabbed, but that's more of a dessert thing. Then there's chalk outlines where the dishware would be, but that's a table setting thing. Give me a couple of minutes, I'll think of something for the main course.
I hate to be the one to tell you this, but people can get hurt even if you don't take time off. You're part of a team, not the entire team. As amazing as you and your abilities are, there are other people who are also capable of being pretty okay. It's not all on you.
[Her breath catches a bit in her throat when she listens to his voice, and she tries not to think too hard about the fact that she replays that note again and again.]
So. What time should I come over tonight to give you more than just tingles?
[See, this is why she's going to save her whispering until she can see him in person, because then she can at least see his reaction. And, with any luck, feel it as well.]
[ Which is why, when she arrives and he answers the door, the first thing he says is- ]
6324.
[ He cheated- there's a mileometer-like counter on his chest, which ticks up right before her eyes as he takes another breath. It's visible because he's answered the door shirtless, though wearing an apron made to look like a blood splattered. As if he's been out chainsaw massacering, Texas optional. ]
[Yamada is always the very definition of "Extra," and so MJ shouldn't be surprised by any aspect of the way he answers the door. But it's still a lot to take in, each additional detail more delightful than the last.
But she's never one to express delight; at most, she's smirking as she gently rolls her eyes, stepping inside and casually offering a kiss to his cheek as though he doesn't look like he's just committed a murder or several.]
Pretty sure that's cheating.
[She says this as she taps at the counter on his chest, and if her hands linger over his chest just a touch longer than absolutely necessary... well, that's his own fault.]
[ He likes her subdued reactions. Every joker needs a straight man- he's usually pretty dry himself, but MJ draws out his more ridiculous side. It has done wonders for his comfort with his strangeness. His smile is small, proud and knowing at his earned cheek kiss. ]
No one has written rules for half my ideas.
[ The counter ticks up from MJ's touch, as his breath hitches a touch. Even the small things still get a reaction. ]
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I hate to be the one to tell you this, but people can get hurt even if you don't take time off. You're part of a team, not the entire team. As amazing as you and your abilities are, there are other people who are also capable of being pretty okay. It's not all on you.
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It all makes perfect sense, but tell that to my subconscious.
[ He's got that Spider-Man responsibility thing, she really do got a type. ]
no subject
[Self-sacrificing heroes who carry the world on their shoulders sounds like the most frustrating kink she could possibly have. And yet....]
If that's your way of telling me you want me to whisper sweet affirming nothings into your ear as you sleep, I can do that.
no subject
But that sounds amazing. Just don't plant secret orders to destroy your enemies. Well, maybe one. As a treat.
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I promise to whisper nothing but affirmations and maybe only *one* subliminal takedown attack.
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Because I actually think the whispering idea is extremely nice.
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Maybe after our date, if you don't have to rush off anywhere, we can go to bed and I can practice my whispering.
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Barring an emergency call in, I'm all yours.
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I like the sound of that. Especially those last three words.
no subject
[ He responds with an audio note. His rumble of a voice saying just what she wants to hear. A slow, deliberate and certain- 'I'm. All. Yours.' ]
no subject
So. What time should I come over tonight to give you more than just tingles?
no subject
[ He's pretty sure he has an inkling of the reaction he's gotten, and spends a moment feeling smug about it. ]
no subject
I can definitely swing it. See you then.
no subject
[ Which is why, when she arrives and he answers the door, the first thing he says is- ]
6324.
[ He cheated- there's a mileometer-like counter on his chest, which ticks up right before her eyes as he takes another breath. It's visible because he's answered the door shirtless, though wearing an apron made to look like a blood splattered. As if he's been out chainsaw massacering, Texas optional. ]
no subject
But she's never one to express delight; at most, she's smirking as she gently rolls her eyes, stepping inside and casually offering a kiss to his cheek as though he doesn't look like he's just committed a murder or several.]
Pretty sure that's cheating.
[She says this as she taps at the counter on his chest, and if her hands linger over his chest just a touch longer than absolutely necessary... well, that's his own fault.]
no subject
No one has written rules for half my ideas.
[ The counter ticks up from MJ's touch, as his breath hitches a touch. Even the small things still get a reaction. ]
no subject
[She slips past him, shrugging off her jacket as she heads in the direction of the kitchen.]
Did you need a hand with dinner?