tampered | in progress

in progress | closed

When; After THIS.
Rating; PG13, language
Characters;

notverypriestly
Summary; Priestly hurries to help Inara with her situation by feeding her obscene amounts of food. And probably letting her harass him ... sexually.
Log;

Priestly had ducked out of work a little early to hit up the market and grab a bunch of food to cook for Inara. The place had been almost empty, allowing him to get through it quickly and run back to his own place to get the final item necessary for his 'make newly blind Inara feel good' plan.

About half an hour later, he stood in front of her door, setting down a few bags so that he could knock briskly. She'd mentioned taking a bath so that discounted him just letting himself in as he might have done otherwise. As if it mattered, he ran his hands over his newly red hair in a self conscious, nervous gesture. "Lucy, I'm home!"

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Inara had taken her bath but as promised, she'd finished in plenty of time. She was dressed in a loose robe/dress thing with a wide neck that slipped down off one shoulder. Her hair was still damp and crazy curly because she couldn't see to do it. She had no makeup on for the same reason. She'd managed to find her lipgloss but she wasn't sure what color it was. She felt her way to the door, shuffling a bit in order to 'feel' her way to the door. Even though she didn't get the pop culture reference she knew it was Priestly at the door. She fumbled a bit, opened the door and stepped back.

"Priestly? Please, come in."

If she could have seen his newly red hair, she would have liked it. Red was her favorite color.

Priestly smiled and then remembered that wasn't going to be enough. "Hey there." He said it quietly as he stepped into the apartment and set the bags down onto the floor. After closing the door for her, Priestly took one of her hands in his own, so that she could be more aware of where he was.

"You need anything? I got a bunch of goodies, but maybe we can set you up on the sofa for now. Thirsty? I can put on some water for tea." He rambled a little bit out of anxiety, hoping he wasn't making an ass of himself.

Inara appreciated Priestly holding her hand. It made her feel less disconnected from everything. She hated the dark so that made being blind even harder. She squeezed his hand in appreciation. Letting him help her went against every instinct she had. She was used to serving people, not the other way around. She struggled with admitting tea would nice before she finally gave up.

"Some tea would be lovely. I apologize for being a very poor hostess right now."

He chuckled at that as he lead her further inside, guiding her around the little tables and other accessories scattered methodically throughout the apartment. "If you weren't suffering right now I'd tell you to shut your damn mouth, Inara. You're fucking blind, and not required to be all hostessy at me. I brought food, you're going to sit and be taken care of like a good friend, okay?"

Priestly guided her so that she could feel out for the sofa, and once she was seated, he propped up some pillows around her. He moved away back toward the bags, but he continued speaking as he did so. "You wanna know what today's shirt is?"

After Priestly's little outburst, Inara let him get her all settled on the couch, deciding he was probably right. He hadn't come over here to be served after all.

"Please. And what color is your hair today? You've got all the piercings back in?"

The last time she'd actually seen him had been the Halloween party, when he'd taken everything out to dress as VanHelsing.

He moved into the kitchen to begin her tea and to find his bearings so that he could cook her up a good meal. Raising his voice a little, he called into the living room to keep up his chatter. "Red! Well, it's a little more magenta than red, but it's pretty! And yeah, I'm all silvered out again, which is nice - I don't feel naked anymore."

There was a pause as he located a few pans and started a burner to boil water. "And the shirt? Found it at a thrift store, I got a few scared looks and a chuckle out of some girl on the street. It says 'manwhore!'"

"Good. You looked nice Halloween but not like yourself," Inara told him. She kept her eyes closed, listening to him puttering around the kitchen. She found it easier to avoid freaking out that way. "You know false advertising is generally frowned upon."

"Thanks-- hey! Who said it was false? Maybe I'm like, high end and have been vetting you for the past however long! Pay me and see what happens," he laughed as he rummaged around for her teacups and the other paraphernalia. Once he had found everything, the water was boiling. He was pouting a little now, seeing her teasing comment as a challenge. "I could totally be a manwhore."

Priestly made his way back to where she was seated, getting comfortable next to her. "I'd be some kind of fetish, or something. Punkwhore!"

"I'm certain they have that you know," Inara teased him. She in fact was certain they had fetish companions. She knew some of them. "Cash only I presume? My bag is over there." She was teasing him. Not that she had any thing against paying for sex or being paid for it.

Now came the time when Priestly blurts out something without thinking through it first. "Are you kidding? If you were really my John, I would not let you pay me!" The statement sunk in, and because it was a little too close to fact, because he would gladly strip down that instant if she'd asked, he blushed and fell silent for a little bit.

After taking a moment to recover, he segued into making her tea. "Uh, er -- how do you like your tea?"

She can't see the blush but she could interpret the silence as embarrassment. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm not certain I'd be a John in that case though. I'm fairly certain at that point, you just call it consensual sex."

And she seques right into tea. "A little bit of honey and some lemon. Please."

He took care of her request, stirring in the ingredients on the tray resting on the table in front of them. "I brought a mix of my favorite foods, and some are kinda on the cheap side but I promise that doesn't mean they're bad." Priestly leaned forward to blow on the steaming tea until it cooled enough to allow only some steam to rise.

"Here," he said, as he took both her hands in his and guided them toward the cup and saucer. "I got stuff for BLTs but I also grabbed some Manwich for sloppy joes. It's ground beef with seasoned sauce that you put on hamburger buns. Definitely comfort food for me. You'll either love it or think Earth That Was was nasty as hell." He helped her as she lifted the cup, but move his hands away once she looked like she'd manage. Priestly was over-helping, he knew, but he couldn't make himself be less attentive. He didn't want Inara to feel alone.

The over-helping was appreciated and it had the desired effect. She felt mothered and like he didn't mind being there to help her. She took a sip of her tea and smiled slightly at him.

"Priestly, I lived on a space ship for over a year and ate little more than protein powder most days. I don't have an aversion to cheap as long as it tastes good. And the tea is perfect. Thank you."

"Well, if I make it you can count on it tasting good. Just call me the motherfucking Emeril of the City." After a moment, he realized the pop culture thing and chuckled. "He's this cool chef guy on TV that was kind of a fad for awhile. Whenever he'd add some kind of signature to a dish, he'd yell bam!"

He began to arrange the table so that Inara could easily reach everything. "I guess I'll get food started now. Have you had bacon yet? Because I was thinking I could make little tiny bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwiches like finger food. I figured utensils aren't advisable in this situation."

"So will you be yelling Bam or have you got your own signature word?" Inara asked with a slight smile. She reached one hand out until she felt the table then she very carefully placed her tea on the table with her other hand. She turned to Priestly and nodded.

"We had bacon in my world and I do like it. You're probably right, utensils could be dangerous right now." Her fingers drummed against her legs, insecurity and nerves making themselves known. "I'd rather neither of us go to the hospital because we've been stabbed but a fork or a knife."

"Ooh, that's a good one, maybe you can help me come up with something? Maybe something Mandarin!" While he spoke, he gingerly reached forward to take her hand again. Usually she was composed, a picture of control, but the blindness made her jittery.

As far as he knew, losing one sense made the others hike themselves up. Hence the literal hand-holding. "That wouldn't be a good thing, with you all gimpy and me completely irre-fucking-sponsible? Definitely be a dramedy."

Inara automatically closed her fingers around Priestly's. In a way, he was right. She was tactile to begin with. It was the sense she was most comfortable with and in a way, the one she trusted the most. Touching made her feel safe. She thought about his proposal a moment, trying to come up with something appropriate. "Hěnguài! is weird. Or méiguānxi means no problem. "

Her brow furrowed and her fingers tightened on his a moment. "Can I-I keep seeing you in my head dressed like VanHelsing. I want to touch your hair and your piercings just to assure me that you look like you again. If you're not opposed to it or if it wouldn't make you uncomfortable."

Normally, Inara kept her insecurities buried. That wasn't really an option right now.

"Méiguānxi!" He tested it out a few times, unfortunately making a goofy face that made him almost smack himself for when he realized that Inara couldn't see it. "I think I like it. I'll try it out when I'm chopping onions at work next time."

Her request didn't make him uncomfortable in the least. Priestly was so used to people giving him odd looks and shying away that whenever someone actually expressed the desire to be closer, he took advantage. But he also wanted to be smooth and not a hyper freak as usual. "Oh, yeah, that's cool." He was going to leave it at that, he really was. "I don't mind at all, actually. I always get the people that stare, and I can tell they kinda want to poke at me but I don't usually go for it. Had a kid tear out the lip ring once and it was...not pretty. But you, you're you! ...Just don't pet too hard, I might make a mess."

Well. He tried.

"You'll have to tell me what sort of reactions you get," Inara told him, pleased she'd been able to suggest something he'd liked.

As soon as he'd said he was okay with it, Inara scooted a bit closer, her knee bumping his hard enough to make her wince. She hated being clumsy and she felt incredibly clumsy right now. "Duìbùqǐ," she apologized quietly. The wince turned to actual laughter at his last words.

"You can borrow one of my robes. I won't even know," she teased him. She was tempted to tell him it wouldn't be the first time but that would have made things uncomfortable because in her case it had always been a try again later sort of situation. This wasn't that and she was pretty sure this was not the time to turn it into that.

She reached up one hand very tentatively, her fingertips barely brushing his cheek first then up to his eyebrow. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she felt the eyebrow ring. She let go of his hand and ran her other hand up his cheek into his hair. It was stiff with glue.

"Red, right? Kind of magenta."

Her hand drifted over his head down to the back of his neck while with her other hand she found the stud in his chin then glided her fingers across his lips to find the ring there.

"Okay. You look like you." She hadn't moved her hands yet, fingertips still resting against his bottom lip; palm against the curve of his neck.

Priestly didn't have much to say. He didn't even have the ability to think about all non-boner inducing topics, because he was pretty sure he was being groped in an Inara fashion. Which, while it was kind of violating and close, it also fell under the category of completely awesome.

In addition, most of the blood had rushed immediately out of his head, the one on top, anyway. It was better that she couldn't see him at that moment, with his eyebrows lifted high and corners of his mouth pulled tight. She would, however, feel his jaw drop open and then snap shut again a few times. There were words in his mind, but they were not in any kind of coherent order and for some reason the connection to his mouth had been completely severed. He did manage a few hoarse squeaks.

Her first comment about his reactions was taking on a completely different meaning.

Well she wouldn't call it groping of course but she supposed it would have fallen into that 'Inara fashion' category. She felt his mouth go tight under her fingertips and the way he did the fish gaping. Why yes that is smugness and pride on Inara's face. It also went a long way toward making her feel more like herself. He didn't look at her any differently blind (or sans the perfect hairdo and makeup) than he did any other day. She ducked her head around a bit of a cocky smile then turned her face back up to him so he could see the expression on her face.

"Priestly, Baobei, I'm no where near the danger zone. You should breathe because if you faint I won't be able to find my smelling salts."

Priestly laughed then, between her amazingly up to date (or, technically, historically accurate) statement and the sudden glow she was sporting. He couldn't help it, she just managed to be cool even when blind and completely freaked. "I'm thinking of rezoning the body, because I'm pretty sure there's a second danger zone, now, Inara."

"Then I'm fairly certain you're...what's the technical term..." she stopped, pretending to think about it a moment. "Screwed."

She was just barely holding onto not laughing now.

He chuckled again, shaking his head at how much of a one-eighty he just saw Inara pull. It was nice to see her more comfortable again. "All right, woman. Before you kill me with words, I'm going to go make some food."

Priestly stood slowly, in case she needed him for something, and once he managed to get past the little coffee table, he made for the bags and started in on his feast preparations.

Inara curled up on the couch as Priestly went into the kitchen. She found her mug of tea and curled her hands around it. Priestly made it easy to laugh because he laughed at himself so much. She listened to him rattle around the kitchen with her eyes closed.

"It smells good," she told him, voice raised a bit.

It didn't take long, frying the bacon and chopping ingredients was something Priestly did almost on a daily basis, so the guy had a system. He'd snagged a giant doggie bag of fries from work (hey, the boss pretty much ordered him to!) for his own dinner, but 5 minutes in the oven and they were heated up and made for the perfect side dish.

"All right, milady, we got a fucking feast here. You got your mini BLTs, perfect for not looking like a crazy homeless person when eating, cripsy Blue Light fries. I mean, c'mon you know there are perks to hanging out with the foremost sous chef in that joint, and by perks I mean awesome leftovers," he joked. Priestly laid out everything, which only really amounted to a couple of plates and generous napkins. "Aaaand oh shit, you need something to drink. Water? Uhh, what do you got in here?"

And he was off to the kitchen again to fumble around.

"There's bottled water in the fridge and some iced tea. Water is fine for me. Thank you," Inara said. She started to get up, bumping the table as she did, her hand going to the arm of the couch. She sat back down with a soft sigh. "Top shelf. Glasses are on the shelf above the mugs."

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