fandomtownies | El Burrito Loco and the Streets of Fandom, Friday Afternoon

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El Burrito Loco and the Streets of Fandom, Friday Afternoon

Look, Emma was a growing ermine. Of COURSE she was going to try and eat the burrito that was larger than she was before they even got back to the house. Jack could not expect her to ride nicely in a bag with a take-out box and not try to wedge herself into the box and eat ALL THE FOOD.

(Caring for an ermine was astonishingly similar to dealing with an evil-genius cat who had opposable thumbs. If she fits, she sits, and Emma was utterly convinced she would 'fits' into the box with the food and that meant it was HERS ALL HERS.)

Well, right up until there was the 'pop' of displaced air and Emma Frost was sitting on the ground, 'wearing' - for lack of a better term - a bag. And nothing but a bag. With the box of take-out sitting on her head like a demented hat.

At least she wasn't wearing any of the burrito?

"I hate this island."

[OOC:

bitten_notshy modded shamelessly! OPEN POST.]

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Give Jack a moment. He was going to have something to say, really he was. Something about how he was glad to see her, and he'd help get her some clothes, and all of that.

It was just that for the moment that came second to a truly demented giggling fit, the kind that ended with you half-bent over and clutching your sides.

Emma regarded Jack placidly, the same (evil) glint she'd had as an ermine when she'd gone utterly still before pouncing.

Then she - calmly - took the boxed burritos off her head and threw it at him. "Focus, Mr. Priest."

The burritos splattered against him, and Jack looked at her accusingly.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, through occasional snorts of laughter. "It's just -- you had a box of takeout on your head."

He looked down at his sweater. "I don't think the guacamole's going to come out of this, you know. Sad."

Look, YOU try keeping your dignity while wearing a bag and having a burrito-hat. Emma had needed to throw something, and the bag didn't have enough mass to actually be thrown with any effectiveness. Sorry, burritos.

"If your dry cleaner can't deal with a bit of guacamole, they aren't worth the money," she pointed out. "If you would be so kind as to lend me the mole'd sweater, I will be happy to order us some delivery once we're back at the house."

"You don't need to bother with that," Jack told her, hastily skinning out of the navy crewneck and passing it her way. He was glad he'd worn a t-shirt under it. "Seriously, I am glad to see you. Burrito hat and all."

Emma accepted the crewneck with all the dignity she could muster, and then realized that to put it on, she'd need to raise her arms. And the bag was... small. Quite small. And would not provide even a smidge of decorum should she try to put on the sweater.

Emma looked at the bag. She looked at the sweater. She looked back at Jack. Then she shrugged, effectively ruining the bag anyway, and proceeded to put the burrito'd sweater on.

Jack had seen nude women before. Not to mention that he'd seen her nude before. Hopefully he wouldn't die of shock.

There Jack was, steadfastly not dying of shock, though his eyes did darken appreciatively at that white rump poking out below his sweater.

"I'd offer my trousers too, but then I'd be going home in my shorts," he said. "Better to just get you back to the house so we can both warm up."

"I would think you'd gotten enough of my rump being white while I was an ermine," Emma managed, gritting her teeth because she was not going to blush or be embarrassed out in public like this. She was fine. Even if Jack was short and therefore his sweater left some... draft protection to be desired.

She tugged on the hem, doing her best to get it to 'scandalous miniskirt' length so she could walk without flashing the entire town every step.

"It was, but it was also furry," Jack told her. "I like it better this way. And you don't need to answer my thoughts."

He'd long since given up on that point, but reminding her was good. Without waiting for an answer, he reached for her and wrapped his arm around her waist so she'd be partially shielded by his body. "C'mon. You were out almost two weeks, did you know that? It's November now. I was worried."

"November?!?" she shrieked, indignity forgotten for a second. "Oh, hell, I hope I didn't miss classes or get fired or--"

Emma leaned back against him for a second, letting him steady her. This two-legs thing was hard after two weeks with four legs. "Oh no, my rent. I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"I took care of your rent and your phone bill," Jack assured her, nuzzling into her hair. "And I called Candy and told her you had mono and were on strict bed rest, and she said she could take care of it with the university."

Of which he had no doubt; Candy could be very persuasive.

"Once I knew it would be more than a few days, I covered as best I could."

"Great, now she's going to give me shit about catching 'the kissing cold' from you," Emma replied, but she relaxed slightly, some of the tension draining from her shoulders as the panic receded. "Thank you, darling."

"I could have told her it was herpes," Jack reminded her, and rubbed one of the relaxing shoulders as they began walking toward his house. "Don't worry about it. You'd do the same for me if I were a weasel for a fortnight."

"I'd tell everyone you had herpes and couldn't come to the door? I would not," Emma scoffed, deliberately misunderstanding him. "I'd say you had the syph."

"Gee,thanks," Jack said. "I'm so glad you turned back so we could have conversations like this again."

Oddly enough,that wasn't completely false. Missing Emma -- which he had -- meant missing her giving him shit.

"Me biting you every day wasn't enough scintillating conversation for you?" she asked, wobbling a bit as she tried walking. "I think my feelings are hurt."

"Probably not as hurt as my fingers," Jack exaggerated. "They looked like I took a bloody box grater to them after a few tangles with you."

Though, to be fair, he had touched her food.

He eyed the wobble in her steps and put a hand on her elbow to steady her.

Emma bit back a frustrated retort and let Jack steady her despite the sting to her pride. Her entire center of balance just felt wrong, and so she kept over-correcting, which only served to send her wobbling the other way. Plus, after two weeks of fur, it was cold and drafty and walking in bare feet hurt.

After another half-block she stopped, shaking her head. "I can't make it all the way to your house like this," she admitted. "...how attached are you to this sweater?"

"Not very," Jack informed her. "But how do you feel about piggy-back rides?"

He hadn't wanted to offer until she asked -- he knew Emma's pride -- but watching her struggle had hurt.

"I think my legs might drag, and then everyone will see my rump," she replied, managing a wan smile. "Let's try one other thing first. Hold me still for a moment?"

Emma closed her eyes, and let the change slide over her skin and through her body; closing off all feelings of embarrassment or awkwardness, cold or pain, disconnecting her sense of self from the animal she'd been for the last two weeks and re-setting her sense of balance.

The change was slower than usual, as Emma asserted control. Smooth. Painless. No snagging the nice sweater she was already wearing. It smelled like Jack, which was comforting and helped her focus.

When she opened her eyes again, her feet no longer hurt and she no longer felt the fall gusts. "There now...maybe I can take three steps without tripping over my own feet."

"Handy," Jack applauded. "Don't know why I forgot you could do that."

He reached to take her hand more delicately, fingers seeming hot against the cool of the diamond. "Now, shall we walk?"

"As much as I complain about not being able to practice as much as I'd like with my telepathy in New York, I get even fewer chances to be Princess Sparkle, as Hank so fondly calls this," she said, holding out a hand to admire how the light reflected off it. "I think even I forget, sometimes."

"Princess Sparkle," Jack repeated, in vague amusement. "Are you using that on the internet yet? If you aren't, you should."

"No, I'm currently using 'betterthanu' or 'homoSUPERIOR' when trolling the anti-mutant online groups," she admitted freely. "Not my most creative, but generic enough to make it harder to track back to me."

She ran her fingers thought her hair, watching how each strand caught the light. "...I have to admit, I'm half-tempted to return your sweater and do my best Lady Godiva impression. Just to say I did."

"Dare you," Jack said promptly, because he was an excellent enabler like that.

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