triangularity | for Stefan

for Stefan

Maggie spends the first part of the evening on her laptop, liveblogging in one chat window and using the other half of the screen to monitor threads on her section of the After the End Times forum. Maggie's good with people. She never minds a turn on forum duty, and as a beta on the site, she pays her dues just like everyone else who isn't a department head. It's a refreshing change, actually, to have an entirely merit-based system where her last name doesn't mean a thing.

As the first movie winds down, Maggie sets aside the computer, standing up and stretching. She did look around enough to take stock of the room. Almost everyone here is a regular. She knows all of their food and drink preferences, and she fully expects a couple to stay for half the week.

So of course it's the newcomer who caught her attention. He seemed amused by the movie, and she agreed with him on this one. Funny how a horror movies aren't scary at all when the world has turned into one.

Whoever invited him probably pointed her out to Stefan. Maggie got his name from the security scans at the door, but she isn't especially worried about strangers in her house either way. She tosses the remote to another Fictional, letting him take over and set up the next movie.

Stefan's the only one who needs to tell her what he wants, which makes him the logical choice for help fetching it. Maggie makes her way across the room, leans over one arm of the couch, and and introduces herself, probably unnecessarily. "I'm Maggie. Help me carry snacks from the kitchen?"

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Once again, he melts at the touch - but he turns his head and returns that kiss on the cheek.

"You'll be the first one to," he confesses, because her attention is the only kind he wants for this series of poems. (The replies and comments are always fun to read, but no one keeps him on his toes like Maggie.) "Should you want that, I mean."

That was the best thing to say. Maggie's whole face lights up, and she leans in closer, pressed up against Stefan's side. She takes his face in her hands, kissing him on the mouth this time. She's gentle but sure, not a bit of hesitation in it.

"I can't think of anything I'd like more. It would be an honor to get the first look at your newest work."

As she kisses him, Stefan gently wraps his arms around her neck. Maybe it was a little forward, to presume that she'd want this contact - but she initiated it. She would also let him know if it were Too Much.

"Then it's all yours." He laughs, letting so much joy seeping into his voice. Maggie's the first person who's made him feel like him in a long, long time. "That's a promise."

Just so she knows, he'll return the kiss, equally as gentle.

Maggie likes forwardness, she likes touch, and she definitely likes Stefan kissing her back. She's a little more playful on that second kiss.

Then she grins at him. "I'll have to return the favor and send you something before I publish it. I am feeling rather inspired at the moment. I wonder why."

And hopefully he doesn't mind her just staying wrapped up around him now that they've started, because that's an awfully appealing prospect. Maggie slides an arm around Stefan's waist and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Gee, it's a little hard to say," he says, in-between laughs. Stefan can't even finish a sentence, but he suspects he doesn't need to. (There's plenty of time for talking and learning later.)

Now, he leans in, gently kissing the tip of her nose. "But I'll look forward to it."

Kiss number three's his favorite: he's still gentle, as if he can't believe that he's here, with her, on what may possibly be the most romantic date he's had in 30 years. His affection grows more desperate over time, though, as if he really thinks it's a dream - and that when he wakes up, he'll be all alone again.

Maggie has no objections at all to the turn that third kiss takes, leaning into Stefan and bracing a hand on his chest. Her part of it isn't desperate, but eager and delighted and sincere. She isn't going anywhere.

If she was grinning before, Maggie's smile when she pulls away to catch her breath is incandescent by comparison. "I'm so glad you're interested. Not that I'd have objected to good company from a poet by any means, but I did hope." That kiss lived up to her idle hopes very nicely.

He takes a moment to memorize the radiance on her face. Stefan's once again grateful for his photographic memory; it lets him relive the good right alongside the bad.

His heartbeat grows faster as he realizes where her hand's shifted, and - well. A gentleman would know when to pull back and insist on them having a proper meal. Room service should be here any minute. Even he can't look distinguished when he answers the door all dishelved.

“I'm always interested as far as you're concerned,” he admits, his voice turning breathless. “But uh... before we go further, we should probably eat...”

Maggie laughs warmly, teasing, "I'm not the one who decided where that last kiss went. You act as if I'll start pulling your clothes off before we so much as eat dinner."

A playful kiss on the cheek, and then she settles back to rest her head on his shoulder. "There, see, I can be perfectly well behaved."

“Then that makes me the ill-behaved one,” he confesses, though his gratitude is as plain as day. For someone with eternity at his fingertips, he sure feels like a teenager all the time, with emotions and feelings running through his brain faster than he can stop them.

(Or maybe it's been too long since he's last found someone to love. He's not sure which.)

“Makes me think I'll have to take a few pages out of your book, won't i?”

"I don't know," Maggie muses, her tone mostly serious through the lingering amusement. "I haven't had the chance to read much yet, but I'm intrigued by the first page or two of yours.

"I might like to read that one all the way through at some point."

“Ah, well, I'm a pretty open book.” He can't quite hide his amusement either. “You're welcome to read me all you want.”

It's a good thing, he thinks, that he can hear the all too familiar sound of the room service cart heading over. He pulls back only reluctantly, tugging on his shirt and turning his head towards the door.

Maybe the food'll help him behave a little better.

She unfolds herself off the couch and goes to answer the door with a smile.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she tells him, "Good. There are few things better than a well-written poem or book. In case my career choice wasn't enough indication, I like reading."

Which could have more meanings than one, considering the content of some of the writing Maggie makes a living with.

"I'd sure hope you do," he teases, rising up and surveying the food as it's brought over. It looks even yummier in person, and for a moment, he wishes he were human again so that he could really savor the flavors.

(Instead, he supposes, he'll have to make do with the chilled "smoothies" he had left behind in his hotel room.)

"But seriously, you've got pretty good taste."

Maggie grins and leans in for another quick kiss before she settles back onto the couch, plate in her lap. "You realize you could be complimenting yourself with that one." Her taste in romantic partners clearly encompasses Stefan.

She takes a bite of her chicken, which is every bit as good as anticipated. "Mmm."

He blinks back genuine surprise as he takes a moment to realize that he sure had accidentally given himself a compliment. (At least she'd taken it well!) Stefan opens his mouth, then decides better against it as he helps himself to his order.

"I hadn't," he admits in-between bites. "My mind was solely on the food."

"I know it was," Maggie assures Stefan with a very light nudge to his shoulder, still amused. "The food is good too. Feel free to try a bite of mine."

Note the 'too' there. Maggie is entirely too careful with her words to slip that in by accident. She's quite satisfied with her taste in date, thank you.

"Thanks, but I'm plenty satisfied." He holds up his plate, unable to fight the grin tugging across his lips. Even if Stefan's less careful than Maggie in this moment, the inference wasn't lost on him.

"I promise, you'll know when I want a little more."

A slow, suggestive smile spreads across Maggie's face, then she takes another bite and licks her lips. "Is that a promise?"

Flirting back is very much appreciated.

"One I'll take to my grave," he promises, reaching for a fork and digging in with great gusto.

Let it be known, here and now: there really is no date like one with Maggie Garcia.

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