paradisalogs | [Closed] Video games, go!

She had a wide smile to match his, arms raised in victory as her last kill logged her as the winner. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. And that is how you kick someone's ass, Kittikins. I'm a lean, mean, death-machine."

Happy Kenzi was happy, doing a little victory dance where she sat.

"I know you will be. You won't leave the room so long as I'm catering to your every whim. I'll be earning my keep." She had a pretty smile when it was genuine and happy. Disconcerted, he had to look away.

"You're really good at this, Kenzi. I'm officially impressed."

"Two weeks, Kitt. Said by your pretty pouty little lips," she got up on her knees, leaning over to tap his lower one with a wide grin, then jumped up on her feet.

"I don't know what I want you to do first; rub my feet or run me a bath. Maybe bath first, because, eww, feet."

"And you've even been drinking. I'm still not sure quite how you did it, but I'm still impressed." What, two weeks? Not two days? He watched her, shaking his head again. He was doing that a lot with her.

"Bath. Please." He could afford to be good-natured about it for the moment. He might not be in two weeks.

"Mmm, bath. Yes. Hot and with bubbles, please," she sighed as she rolled onto her bed, lying on her back and lifting her leg up straight - then further forward until she could work on the lacing of her boot. Being lean came in great for being flexible.

He wasn't watching. That would be wrong.

"You do realize I'll have to be on your side of the room for this, don't you? If that's all right, of course."

"Oh, pff. Obviously that rule is only in place when you're not doing stuff for me." And it certainly didn't apply to her.

One boot off. Next boot up.

"One needs to be sure of these things. Etiquette. Good manners don't cost anything."

He made his way to the bathroom, running the bath just as requested, even making sure to get the temperature just right, the bubbles all... bubbly. And fluffy. And he most certainly was not watching her while he did so, because again, that would be wrong.

She hummed as her boot hit the floor, sitting up and reaching for the half-empty second bottle of wine, taking a swig and smacking her lips in approval. She was about to reach for her shirt to pull up over her head when she remembered she wasn't alone - and her roomie wasn't a girl. Oops.

Oops indeed. Fortunately for her he was taking a moment to tidy up the bathroom, getting things ready for her. He was even humming to himself, a favorite classical melody.

She came in, unbuttoning her pants as she did, bottle of wine dangling from her other hand. "S'it all ready, you amazingly good loser?"

He eyed the wine with a hint of slight disapproval pursing his lips. "All ready, m'lady." He even gestured grandly at the bath. Talk to him in two weeks about being a good loser.

"Ooh, I like that. 'M'lady'." She gave him a waggle of her brows, then nodded her head at the door. "Out, unless you want a show."

Which she wouldn't give, but since he seemed to be all shades of freaked out by nudity, she thought that would do it.

"I thought it added a nice, appropriate touch. Oh." He nodded, scooting out the door. Maybe he'd try that game again, on his own this time.

When he left, she closed the door, setting the wine bottle down by the side of the tub, and stripped. Clothes kicked off to the side, she stepped into the bath, letting out a sound of pure pleasure. Good god, that felt good. "Unf..."

He looked up over the sound of the game, shaking his head before returning his attention to it. She sounded like she was having a good time. Humans certainly enjoyed their comfort, didn't they? If he was honest with himself, and he was, he'd admit to reveling in a good wash and wax, but that was only because Michael took care of those things himself, and Kitt did love teasing Michael about having to do such menial work as scraping bugs off his windshield. It also gave him the opportunity to squirt Michael with his wiper fluid, always a plus. He sighed, putting down the controller, allowing the memories to wash over him. No sense in pretending he didn't miss being with his friends.

But there was only so much wallowing he could do before he'd become morbid. The game provided a good distraction. And he couldn't hear Kenzi that way.

Game on.

She took her time in the bath, waiting until it became tepid and the rest of the wine was gone before draining the tub and getting out. She left her clothes in a pile, snagging a towel to wrap around herself before coming out.

And there he was, playing the game. She snickered softly, padding over to her bed. "Having fun?"

"I'm having a very good time. I think I'm getting better at killing things." He said it with some pride, then frowned at himself, then shrugged and went back to said killing of things. If he noticed only the towel, he did a very good impression of pretending not to. He was grateful he'd remembered to leave a large towel in the bathroom for her to use.

"Well, on your next pre-round, how about you take a break and come give me that footrub... slave."

She grinned, going over to her dresser and pulling out a pair of pj bottoms and a shirt. She slipped those on under the towel, then pulled the shirt on over top of it, tugging it off and letting it drop to the floor before jumping on her bed.

Oh, she was enjoying herself FAR too much. He hoped his pride could take it.

No underwear. Interesting. Not that it was his concern to notice such things. He sized her up, then very deliberately paused the game and put down the controller, then stood and walked over to her side of the room. To her bed.

"This counts as Day One, you know. Just so we're clear. And I've never done anything like this before, so let me know if I hurt you." So saying, he looked at her feet dubiously before sitting down so she could move her feet into his lap.

She let out a dramatic sigh, lifting her feet to nestle in his lap. "If it must, it must. And I'll let you know. Just don't... like... dig in or anything at first. That's never good. Feet are tender and fragile."

Who wore underwear to bed, huh? WHO DID THAT? Underwear was for day wear, otherwise she'd be going through them like kleenex.

"I'll try to remember that."

Okay. Feet in his lap. He could do this. He couldn't remember ever having to research how to do a foot massage; such things generally weren't necessary in his line of work. But he could do this. He picked up one of her feet, and mindful of his hand, began to massage it, working the tension out of her muscles with tentative fingers.

He wore underwear to bed. Didn't everyone?

No, Kitt. Everyone didn't. Duh.

Of course, any remarks to that effect would be lost when her eyes rolled back in her head and she relaxed back into the bed in a pile of goo. "God... I know what you're doing for two weeks."

He was sure normal people did.

"It's good then?" He sounded nervous. Hopeful? Relieved. If he was going to do something, he was going to do it right.

"Mrfle." That was the response he was getting. And she was going to wriggle a little on the bed, letting out another small sound of oh-so-happy.

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