bigapplesauce | She'll teach those hatches! [Open to Multiple]

Current Location: Rebel apartments
Current Music: July 16th, 2013 (backdated)

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She'll teach those hatches! [Open to Multiple]

Well, if there's ever been a reason for Sunshine to start pushing herself in the magic-handling department, the arrival of a mega-toxic kali nightmare goon from wherever-the-hell - and a subsequent text containing a ward symbol against said nightmare goon - definitely qualifies. Gods, has she missed wards. And, okay, she finds it a little hard to fully trust the effectiveness of a ward symbol drawn by… well, anyone aside from an accredited wardsmith (herself included)… but if there's even a slight chance that it'll work, she will gladly wallpaper the entire damn building with the thing.

Better to start small, though, especially if what she's going for is 'permanent.' Which is why she's standing outside her own apartment door with the little image of the symbol pulled up on her phone. She examines the picture with a tight little frown, memorizing the details in case intent is not enough. Then she tucks her phone into the back pocket of her shorts and braces her palms against the door.

Okay. She can do this. It's big - far bigger than anything she's attempted before - but it's only wood. Easy compared to metal or stone. And her grandmother said she could do anything in bright sunlight, and there's plenty of that shining in through the window at the end of the hall, all of two feet to her right. So.

Sunshine shuts her eyes, pictures the ward symbol as clearly as she can, and shoves.

A bolt of power runs down her arms and into her door, the recoil strong enough to force her back a pace. She opens her eyes, regains her balance, and takes in her new door.

At first, she thinks it was a bust; the change is so subtle. But then she realizes that the ward symbol is there, right in the middle of her door and as large as a dinner plate. It's visible only because the grain of the wood abruptly changes direction, like an incredibly fine inlay. She steps closer and runs her fingertips over the line where symbol ends and door begins, but she can't feel a seam.

"Gods," she breathes. Could she darken it? Probably, yes, if she tried again. Make it a bit more obvious, if that's what's needed. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. It worked. How's that for permanent?

Okay. She'll come back to her own door later. First, she has to do Spike's. And then the main entrances. And then the windowsills. ~~And then literally every other flat surface she can reach.~~

[ooc: Sunshine is gonna spend the day WARDING ALL THE THINGS, so feel free to have your character run into her in any given hallway, down by the front door, or even up on the roof. Pretty much anywhere in the rebel apartment building is fair game. And hey, she'll probably ward your door if you ask nicely.]

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"What is wrong with you?" he shouts back, gesturing back the the window. "How many of those did you do? I saw an awful lot while I was trying to find you." There had been at least ten. How many does it take before it wears her out completely? "How many are in the building? Dozens?"

He pushes his hair back with a hand, quick and nervous. "Why couldn't Arizaphale do it?" He flails out the hand, encompassing a rough circle. "Pow, the whole place is warded. You didn't need to do it. You should be recovering. Not going and....and running yourself down to zero again!"

Sunshine stiffens, then scowls. What the hell makes him think it's okay to yell at her? He's not her mother. Well, fine, if he wants to play that way, she can shout just as loudly as he can.

"I'm not a goddamn invalid!" she snaps back at him, spreading her arms illustratively before planting her hands on her hips. "I'm fine. Gods, it's not like my master plan is to throw up wards until I fucking collapse!" Can she get a little credit, here? "I'm pacing myself."

She hesitates a beat, then lowers her voice to a vicious stage whisper, which is about as quiet as she's capable of getting. "Aziraphale helped, but he's not exactly at a hundred percent right now. All the more reason to make sure Lucifer can't just waltz into his apartment building."

Edited 2014-10-09 03:20 (UTC)

In response to her harsh whispering, Spike lowers his voice, but doesn't become any less adamant. "You healed me until I had to carry you. You don't exactly have a sparkling track record when it comes to taking care of yourself, Sunshine." He hesitates, not entirely sure of what he wants to say next. He just wants her to be careful. "It sounds like you've never even done this kind of thing before. How do you know what it will do?"

A book appears above his head, but he acts quickly enough to grab it and let it drop to the ground without hitting him. He doesn't look at what it is. He doesn't need sarcasm in the form of book titles at the moment.

"Look," He rubs at the back of his neck, a little scared that he's going too far with this. "I don't doubt you can do it. But maybe he can track these back to whoever made them," He waves his hand in the general direction of the altered window. "You could be putting yourself in danger, and I don't have healing powers that work on you."

Sunshine pushes a hand through her hair and walks in a tight little circle, a concession to the part of her that just wants to bolt the hell away from this conversation. The bulk of her feeling is just furious indignation, because she's been smart about the warding. She started with the most vital points of entry, paced herself, stayed in the sun as much as she could, took breaks when she needed them - and that's not even including the supercharge that Aziraphale gave her. She's been smart, and she's been careful, and she doesn't deserve to be scolded like she's a goddamn child debating the merits of putting her hand on a hot stove.

But a small part of her is terrified, because he's right about one thing: there hadn't been anything measured or intelligent about what she'd done for him. It hadn't been smart, it had been sloppy and desperate and out of control, and she'd like to think it's because her magic took the reins and not because she freaked out and handed them over, but she isn't sure and she doesn't want to examine it. And the goddamn tragic fact remains that she can't explain how this is different without acknowledging that she was an embarrassing wreck over him, that he's the frigging anomaly here, and she just… can't do that. Not right now. There are more important things to be done.

She barely glances at the new book, and shakes her head in preemptive denial of that fucking awful hypothesis about Lucifer targeting her, which is pretty rich coming from someone who walked up and punched him in the face by way of a 'hello,' but no less upsetting for that.

"So, what," she says, her throat starting to ache with oncoming tears, "I'm just supposed to do nothing? Let him target the people who are drawing on their doors with, with fucking markers instead?" She turns away again, gripping a fistful of hair in frustration, then whirls back around to face him. "You can't tell me to just - just sit on my hands when I can help keep everyone in here safe! And that includes both of us!"

"No!" He huffs out a breath, exasperated. He knows he's going in circles here, and he's hardly making his point. His point being...what? He pulls back a moment, trying to figure it out for himself.

"I don't want you to stop." She's definitely competent enough to do this. Obviously, because she has done it, and she hasn't passed out yet. And despite his worries, he has no reason to believe that she could be tracked through her wards. There are just too many possibilities in his head about ways this could go wrong for her. What if the wards aren't even the right wards? He doesn't know enough to even know what they mean.

He realizes quickly that his entire reason for being upset is that he's feeling worried and protective, and that's no reason to stop her from doing anything. This is him, being an arsehole and making her cry because he doesn't want her hurt... and in a situation where she'll probably be fine, anyway.

He waves a hand and brushes past her on the way to the stairs. "Do whatever you want." He had planned on going out, but he doesn't quite feel like it anymore, so he heads back to his flat.

Oh, so now he doesn't want her to stop? What is he even driving at, here? Sunshine just stares at him, wavering between confusion and anger, until it suddenly becomes clear that what he's driving is a goddamn getaway car. He just leaves, and she turns to watch him enter the stairwell, her expression a rictus of mingled incredulity and indignation.

For a moment, the hallway is silent, and Sunshine realizes with a hot rush of embarrassment that anyone who lives here is probably holding their breath and hoping their squabble is officially over. "Gods!" she hisses to herself, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes to stop the tears. What a frigging hypocritical coward. Okay, fighting in a hallway wasn't exactly a finest hour for either of them, but the way he just bolted was worse. Because they can't just leave things there, which means she has to go out of her way to… to sort this crap out, and she's not even the one who started it. What was she supposed to do, send him a memo?

… Well, maybe she could have. It's true that she didn't set the best precedent for significant magic handling in his presence, and she can (begrudgingly) understand why he might be… concerned. But that doesn't excuse swooping down on her out of nowhere and yelling at her.

Sunshine sniffs, gives her face one last scrub, then resolutely continues her work.

It's only two floors up before she has to pass Spike's door to get to the window, and his apartment isn't big enough for her to not feel him in there. She frowns at the door as she walks by, then stubbornly turns her attention to the window. She ends up giving it a harder push than she needs to, the color a ridiculously dark, rich navy blue, like she's trying to prove a point. She sighs, not even needing to lift her hand to know it's doing its job, then walks slowly back to Spike's door.

Well. If she doesn't do it now, she'll either lose her nerve or cycle back into full righteous indignation. Sunshine lifts a hand and gently raps a knuckle against the door, just above the dark topmost curve of the inlaid ward.

Once he gets back to his flat, Spike pushes through into his dark bedroom, flips on the light and flops onto his bed. That had gone poorly, but worse is that he really does care for Sunshine. A lot. And judging by their relationship so far, that's probably bad news. That's probably really bad news, because the extent of her caring seems to be not wanting him dead (which is, granted, better than some of his past relationships).

He pushes himself up and is about to pull down his journal and a pencil from the shelf in his closet when he hears the knock at the door. He hastily puts them back, shuts the closet door, and comes back to the main door. He wavers for a moment with his hand on the door knob. He really does hope it's Sunshine, but he's not looking forward to this conversation.

He opens the door, and there she is. It's almost a relief, despite the precarious feeling of the situation, to see that she's still alright and that she's willing to come see him. "Want to come in?"

Well, it's not as if he gave her much of a choice on the 'going to see him' front. The only other option was furious avoidance, and her energy could be better spent elsewhere. So, fine. Never mind that he's the centuries-old one; she'll be the frigging adult.

"Yeah." Sunshine brushes past him and over to the couch, where she sits with enough force to drive a startled rustle from the cushions. Not the most promising start, and she makes an effort to rein in her anger before she just ends up yelling at him out of nowhere.

"So," she says instead, an implicit invitation for him to explain what his goddamn problem is.

He sighs as she storms in. Not off to a great start, then. He closes and locks the door, then follows her to sit at the opposite end of the couch. He's given this a little thought, but maybe not enough. "If I'm gonna be your boyfriend," ...he still definitely needs confirmation on that too. She hadn't exactly been thinking clearly the first time he'd asked her about it. "I'd appreciate some warning before you go off warding half the building against the devil himself."

Sunshine flushes, less because of the 'boyfriend' comment (though it's a pretty bold opener given the circumstances, and it's probably going to require some proper acknowledgment) than because of the metaphorical slap on the wrist. He has a point, but she still doesn't appreciate how he initially expressed it, and she's not going to be the first to apologize, here.

"And if we're stuck on the same little island as the devil himself, I probably won't always be able to give you an engraved RSVP before I do some defensive magic-handling," she points out.

"I'm not asking for that." Defensive is different, and Spike's really never had any problems with powerful women doing powerful things. What he's worried about is Sunshine doing something like she had when she'd healed him. What happens if she overstretches her powers again and he's not there to bring her back home?

"I saw that thing on my door..." And he had been worried. "You couldn't have knocked? 'oh by the way, I'm warding up the building, see you later?' Something?"

But wards are defensive, too. More than that, they're a comfort. She hadn't realized how much living in an unwarded building had been wearing on her until she realized there was something she could actually do about it. It's like she's finally sealed off a persistent draught.

Sunshine sighs, unsure of what to say. She's still not willing to concede that she owed him a warning before she warded the building - preventing Lucifer from walking into Spike's apartment and putting his fist through his chest again seems like a higher priority than putting his mind at ease about her magic-handling.

Gods, is that was this is all about? He just realized that she was up to something and got all... aggressively fretful?

"I'm fine," she says again, her tone a bit more gentle than it had been the first time she said it (though it's still not entirely devoid of exasperation). "I've been careful, and Aziraphale did…" she hesitates, a little uncertain of the technicalities, "something, gave me a sort of… magical boost. I do know how to not totally exhaust myself in that department." And she stops there, because that really does beg the question of what the hell happened two days ago, and ugh, way to just walk into it, Sunshine.

The softening of her tone is a little bit of a relief. Maybe he isn't completely messing this up, after all, but he's not going to let this all go quite yet. He's interested in whatever 'magical boost' Aziraphale had given her, but his mind is fixated on something else altogether. If she knows how to manage her magic enough to be safe, what happened the other day after Lucifer had attacked him? She'd stopped healing him when he'd asked, but after a while it had started up again and she hadn't been able to stop. That doesn't seem like someone in control of their magic to him.

"Then why did I have to carry you up to the roof the other day?"

He wants to lean forward an touch her as a reassurance to himself, but they're too far away from each other for that. Instead, he just grips onto the back of the couch, letting his fingers dig into the fabric nervously.

Yeah, there it is. Sunshine pushes her hair back, frustrated with herself for setting up that question so perfectly. Of course he bolted right through that open door. Of course.

She huffs, a cross between a sigh and a mirthless laugh. "Because…" Gods, just kill her now. "Because it was you. Because you had a massive carthaginian hole in your chest and I couldn't--" she stops abruptly, pressing her lips together, because if she keeps talking her voice is going to break and then she's just going to start crying again.

A paperback with a cheesy cover falls out of thin air, hits the back of the couch, and slides behind it.

"Oh." He hadn't really expected that. Because it was him? He's not even sure how to process that information, because it's shifting around all of his preconceptions about how much she really cares for him. In a good way. He still can't completely wrap his head around the idea that she might actually be attached to him, but it's still definitely good news.

He lets go of the back of the couch and scoots to sit down next to her. "Since when? I mean, I..." He's definitely had feelings for her for a while, but this is new. "That's...you'd miss me?"

Edited 2014-10-12 05:42 (UTC)

Oh, for--was that in doubt?! Sunshine gapes at him. Has he seriously just… taken the fallout from that sunlight fiasco and their dates and her response to his grievous injury and the giant fuck-off ward she plastered on his door, added all those together, and somehow, through some truly impressive mental gymnastics, reached the conclusion that she doesn't give a shit about him? Hell, she'd be the first to admit that she's not the most verbally demonstrative person in any universe, but considering what they've been through, the fact that he apparently doesn't even know she likes him just beggars belief.

"Yes," she says, lifting her head so she can transfer that hand to his shoulder (which she squeezes, gently, in a grounding sort of way). "I'd miss you." Then, with an undercurrent of incredulous laughter: "You idiot."

"Oi." he says in response, a token objection to being called an idiot that doesn't have any bite behind it at all. He lifts his arm up and back to wrap around her shoulders, then dips his head to hers, briefly burying his nose in her hair before pulling back a little so she can snuggle up to him, if that's what she wants. "I'd miss you too. Y'know, for the record."

Hey, he's earned the insult, nice as the delivery might have been. She doesn't hesitate to take him up on that tacit invitation to snuggle, though - see, nonverbal communication isn't that goddamn difficult - and she leans forward to wrap her arms around him and tuck her head beneath his chin. The part of her that's spent the past two days monitoring his healing progress notes, with quiet satisfaction, that there's no pained hitch when she hugs him. She knows he's better, but new habits die hard, too.

"I should hope so," she murmurs, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "No one else could keep you out of trouble." Well, maybe Aziraphale could - he even has the motivation, now that Spike's his star employee - but still.

Edited 2014-10-12 06:46 (UTC)

He tightens his arm around her a little as she settles in against him, glad that their argument seems to have worn itself out and for her reassurance that she actually wants to be here. He smirks at what she has to say. If anything, what she's been doing has been more like damage control than keeping him out of trouble. He's not sure that that's entirely possible.

His voice is full of amusement when he answers, "Is that what you're doing, keeping me out of trouble?"

"Well." She smiles wryly against the fabric of his shirt and strokes a hand down his side. "It's more of a solid attempt." Her smile fades a little as she remembers the way he just brushed aside her warning and ran right towards the monster in the park. "You don't exactly make it easy."

"True." He rubs his hand at her back a little, hoping to reassure her that he's safe now. She's been more than a little disturbed by the severity of his injuries...with good reason. They had been disturbing. But he supposes now that it's more than that. She's concerned for him. Because she likes...whatever this is.

He relaxes a little more, but there's still a lot that he's curious about and he doesn't want to wait until she's not here to answer him. Foremost being that he really would like to know what this is.

"...Am I your boyfriend? You said so the other night, but you were pretty gone by then." Maybe she was just delirious and couldn't think of another word.

Gods, she dates a guy for a week and then this happens. Okay, so it was a pretty eventful week, and it's not as if they were indifferent strangers beforehand, but there's still something faintly ridiculous about the question - or about the fact that he feels the need to voice it. Does she really have to spell it out for him? More importantly: is she going to have to keep spelling it out for him? Gods and frigging angels, she's not sure she has the patience.

Well. She considers the possibilities, her hand drifting over his chest and stopping - of its own accord - right above his heart, setting off a faint, internal ping: there.

"Yeah," she finally says. "I guess you are."

But she's not fully satisfied here, either, and she pulls back a little - enough so that she can look at him properly. "But if I'm your girlfriend," she says sternly, "you're going to have to find a way of expressing concern that doesn't involve yelling at me in public." Because that was pretty asinine, Spike.

Edited 2014-10-12 15:54 (UTC)

"Okay. I can do that." Or, at least, he hopes that he can do that. Next time he'll probably be able to realize that he's just worried and not actually angry in enough time to stop himself from being an arse about it.

He's not entirely sure what being a boyfriend entails, at least to someone that doesn't kill people in their spare time, but he's assuming just more of what they've been doing up till now. He'll like that, he thinks, even with the inevitable fighting.

Spike's serious expression breaks into a smirk. "So did I get the fanciest ward because you like me the best?" He had noticed, even through his worry, that the work on his door looks almost ornate next to some of the others that she'd done.

Sunshine gives him a searching look. Then, satisfied that he means it (whether he'll manage it is another matter, but at least she believes he'll try), she relaxes.

"Well," she says, shifting a bit closer and casually looping her arms around his neck, "I still need to redo mine, so it might not hold the title for long." Honestly, she doesn't plan on doing much to hers aside from darkening it and correcting the bits that aren't quite right, but she doesn't want Spike to get smug.

Too late, because Spike is totally smug about it. He dips his head down to kiss her, and lingers at her lips for a moment before pulling back with a smile on his face. "You definitely like me the best. Did you actually try to do all that, or did it just happen?"

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