Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense: Section 51

[walking_napalm]

Liz's Spanish officially sucks.

She always knew that, but the last four days on the Yucatan Peninsula served as a strong reminder.

(Walking through the halls of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, Liz glances down the fork that would take her toward her own room -- and she goes the other way instead. It's a very easy decision.)

Still, she no longer has to rely on a piss-scared green agent to allow her to talk to locals, she's totally getting pizza later, there is one very crispy goat-mutilating creep back in Mexico, and she gets to sleep in her own (okay, more likely Red's own) bed tonight. That makes this situation a definite win.

Liz is carrying a duffel bag over her shoulder as she cranks the vault door open; she's still dressed from the mission, gunbelt on and stab vest tucked under her arm. Her boots are dusty; there is a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose (the damn sun), and her left hand is bandaged.

She half-smiles to herself, small and warm, as she quietly slips through the door and is greeted by Steve McQueen and Bubbles, among others.

Comments

[bprd_agent_red]

Liz's entrance is made all the quieter by the blaring TV. That and the rumbling laughter of Red, sitting on the edge of a (sturdy) tabletop watching the antics of one Wile E. Coyote, super-genius.

"Don't do it, Mac, don't do it," Hellboy cautions the screen, a Baby Ruth in one hand and half a box waiting beside him.

[walking_napalm]

Liz cracks a grin, rolling her eyes and shaking her head; she sets her bag down carefully, then the vest on top of it. She times the closing of the huge vault door just right; it doesn't clang so much as click when you're gentle with it, and she hauls it shut just as the anvil drops on Coyote's head.

She's always been good at making very little noise in combat boots.



She drapes an arm around Red's neck from behind, splaying her hand across his chest and leaning over his shoulder. "You know," she says, but she can't keep a straight face and her smile is giving her away, "you have a perfectly good chair."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Oh! He did it!" Red exclaims as the anvil drops and the door closes.

Liz takes him by surprise and his shoulders jump then he turns and his features break into a wide grin.

"Liz! You're back!"

[walking_napalm]

When Red turns toward her, Liz shifts and braces her hands on broad shoulders, still leaning down enough that her face is level with his. "Thanks, Captain Obvious," she says, rolling her eyes and grinning fondly, and she tilts her head to steal a kiss.

('Steals' implies brevity, though, which this kiss does not possess.)

[bprd_agent_red]

The lack of brevity is all right, Red wouldn't stand for it anyways, not after she's been gone.

Pressing his lips against hers his eyes close and his stone hand settles on her hip while the other gently touches her cheek.

"Miss me?" He asks after they break.

[walking_napalm]

Her mouth curls into a slow smile. "Maybe," she says, though the smile is answer enough.

It's a good thing the furniture is sturdy, because Liz gets a knee on either side of Red's hips and rests her weight on the table (well, and on Red). She winds her arms around his neck.

"A little bit."

[bprd_agent_red]

His arm wraps tighter around her to help her up and he's grinning.

"I can tell."

And then he's kissing her again, to let her know he missed her a little bit, too.

[walking_napalm]

She's startled by the move (though she probably shouldn't be), which means that for the first couple of seconds, she's trying to laugh and kiss at the same time.

It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

[bprd_agent_red]

It is a tough job, and Red decides to make it a little tougher.

With a smirk, while their lips are still locked, one finger on his hand starts to dig into her side a little, wriggling there in an attempt to tickle her.

[walking_napalm]

Before, it was a little chuckling; it was contained.

Now, it's a full-blown yelp of laughter, as Liz immediately pulls back and shies away from his hand (which is pretty impossible, considering that she's in his arms).

"Red!" comes along with it all, and she swats his shoulder. "You big jerk--"

(It should be noted, though, that she's still laughing.)

[bprd_agent_red]

"What? You say you missed me a little bit and now I'm a jerk?" He asks in innocence, continuing to tickle her before easing up.

"So, how'd it go?"

[walking_napalm]

"That's why I didn't say 'a lot,' " she says wryly, after whacking him again, gentler this time.

If they're going to have an extended discussion, much as she loves Red, Liz would rather have it while sitting in an actual chair. She pats his chest softly, hand lingering over his heart (with a little smile directed at him), and hops down off the table.

And, while she's at it, something to drink would be nice, too.

Over her shoulder as she crosses the room: "It was one of those things we saw in Texas, for sure." She opens the refrigerator door and ducks out of sight for a second. "Bigger, though; smarter, too." She emerges with a can of soda and bumps the door shut with her hip. It takes two hands to open the soda, which makes it more immediately apparent that her left hand has been expertly taped up.

"I don't know if these things are chupacabras or not, but whatever they are, they're definitely making plenty of babies." Liz pulls a face and takes a sip of soda.

[bprd_agent_red]

As she gets a drink he unwraps another candy bar, grabbing the remote and turning down the volume on the cartoons.

He spots the bandaging and his eyes fixate on it a moment then go up to her face.

"You all right?"

[walking_napalm]

Liz blinks at him, then follows that look of his to her hand. "I'm fine," she says, coming back across the room and lightly touching his chin, reassuring. "I mean, White's got a dislocated shoulder and Mendoza lost a couple pints of blood. I got off easy."

[bprd_agent_red]

His chin lifts a fraction at her touch and a smile smooths out the worry on his features.

"You're better than they are. They gonna be okay?"

[walking_napalm]

"They were both headed to medical the last time I saw them; they'll make full recoveries," she says, and she pats his cheek gently and perches on the arm of the chair that always faces the televisions. (Liz, on the other hand, is facing Red.)

"I think Mendoza's a little traumatized, though; he's probably gonna request a transfer. I thought he was going to have a heart attack a couple've times." Balancing her soda on her knee with one hand, she uses the other to unbuckle her gun belt.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Was it that bad?" The things they encountered in Texas were nasty, but even Myers wouldn't have been panicked by them.

Eh, maybe a little.

[walking_napalm]

"We spent three nights trying to track it, and it turned out it was tracking us," she says, wryly. "We've seen worse, but for a first mission -- it got a little dicey.

"Plus I fried it and half the field around us, when it bit me." She doesn't sound particularly sorry about this, despite the fact that the objective had been to capture a so-called chupacabra to help further study of the creatures, or to at least bring back a carcass. It's dead now. Liz is okay with that.

Dry, as she leans over to set her gun and belt on the table: "I think that freaked Mendoza out a little, too."

(Liz's control is improving, and so are her feelings about other people's reactions to what she can do. But she still doesn't like other people being scared of her.)

[bprd_agent_red]

"What a wimp."

It might not be the nicest thing to say given that their job is pretty rough and takes some adjusting but, knowing how Liz feels about people being afraid of her it's the mildest comment he can make. He's thinking a lot worse.

"You said they were multiplyin' out there?"

[walking_napalm]

Balanced on the armrest of the chair again, one arm wrapped around herself, Liz half-smiles at what a wimp. She's got an idea of the intent behind it.

"I don't know," she says, shaking her head. "We thought we got 'em all last year in Texas, though, and obviously, we were wrong."

One of the cats hops up on the seat, then onto the back of the chair, where it proceeds to bat at Liz's hair; Liz pulls a face at the cat and reaches up with a free hand to lift it down and into her lap. Once its ears are being scritched, the tabby happily subsides.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Hmm."

It's something they'll have to watch, but that's not his job. His job comes when more of the things turn up and they need some knocking around.

He watches Liz pet the cat and a thought occurs to him. Tilting his head (and holding a smile in check) he asks, "You aren't gonna become a were-goat-sucker, are you?"

[walking_napalm]

"Yeah," says Liz. "I'm going to suck out all of your blood once you're asleep. The cats, too."

She rolls her eyes.

Patches, meanwhile, obviously doesn't mind the thought; she's purring.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Well damn. Good luck catching Steve McQueen and Zippy, they're on to you now."

[walking_napalm]

Liz's smile is sudden and broad, bright; the kind that can only be startled out of a person. She comes within inches of a laugh.

"Yeah, well," she says, the corners of her mouth still curved, "good thing you're a slower target."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Yeah, well, Manning is even slower. I'll bet you could have him sucked dry before he knew what was happening."

He smiles, hoping to encourage that laugh the rest of the way out.

[walking_napalm]

"Mmm," Liz shakes her head lightly, "nah." She shoos Patches out of her lap so that she can lean over to untie her boots and toe them off. "Can you imagine how bad anything from Manning would taste?" She pulls a face.

"Anyway, they ran about a million tests in Mérida and again in Miami," thunk goes one boot and judging from Liz's expression, it's one hell of a nice feeling to get that boot off, "and I'll talk to Abe tomorrow just to be safe, but we're pretty sure Mendoza and I aren't gonna start craving literal Bloody Maries anytime soon." Thunk. The other boot hits the ground and she flops backward in the chair, the backs of her knees hooked over the armrest.

"So I think Manning's probably safe," she concludes, lifting her head enough to see Red over her knees. "Even if I was a were-goat-sucker, I'd have standards."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Tests," Red repeats, making a face. He doesn't like tests.

"Manning's not really my concern, I was planning on givin' him to pygmies next time we're in South America anyways. Just as long as you're not turnin' into somethin' scary with scratchy fur I'm good. Baby Ruth?"

He offers her one of the unopened candy bars after she's flopped back on the chair.

[walking_napalm]

It's a big, overstuffed armchair; perfect to curl up in. Liz does just that, tucking her feet under herself.

"No fur," she says. "I promise." She cups her hands, ready to catch (or reach out for, if need be) a candy bar. "The only way you're allowed to offer Manning as a sacrifice to anybody is if you can do it without getting caught."

[bprd_agent_red]

When she cups her hands he tosses over the candy, a lazy arc across the space between them that should set it down somewhere about her chest.

"I could say Manning got lost and they took him. No sweat."

[walking_napalm]

She laughs, unwrapping the candy bar that she snagged right before it would have landed on her. "And as for why Agent Hellboy didn't rescue the director...?"

General Grant vaults the chair and noses at the candy; Liz nudges the cat's head away and distracts her by scratching under her chin.

[bprd_agent_red]

"The pygmies were faster than I am."

[walking_napalm]

Liz chuckles quietly, around a nibble of Baby Ruth. She shifts to accommodate General Grant settling down on her knees -- and in the process of moving, she gets a whiff of her own hair.

The face that she makes is actually probably pretty funny, if you aren't Liz.

"Oh, God," she says (more complaining than surprised). "My hair still smells like blood-sucker."

(This sort of thing happens, when you blow up organic creatures in explosions and then rein in the flames before they can torch everything to ash, Liz is discovering.

That's one pro for just letting the fire burn out of control, like the old days.)

[bprd_agent_red]

"That's, you?" Red's tone is more relieved that disgusted. "I thought maybe I'd been sitting here too long."

Just to be sure he does a quick 'pit-check' then nods.

"Yep. Maybe that's why the cats are real into you right now."

He nods down as Mad Max comes over to rub up against the chair Liz is on.

[walking_napalm]

"Red," she complains, and for somebody who was that comfortable in the chair, she gets out of it pretty quick.

(She is allowed to say she smells; she approves less of her boyfriend saying so.

Even though it's totally true.)

"That's completely weird," she tells General Grant, as she puts her on the ground. "Gross. God, I need a shower." Liz steps over Mad Max on her way to the bathroom -- then pauses. Turns back.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

[bprd_agent_red]

"You said it," He replies around a mouthfull of candy bar, looking down at the cats like they're going to confirm it.

He has to think a minute about her question then shrugs.

"I dunno. How long have you been gone?"

[walking_napalm]

Liz exhales something of a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"Well," she says, taking a couple of steps backward, toward the bathroom door. "I guess you could always sit there another four days." One side of her mouth is tugging upward and her shrug is teasing; it says: or... "Unless you had something better to do."

[bprd_agent_red]

His brows lift and he forms his own smile.

"Nope, not a thing."

He stands up from the table, leaving his candy bar behind.

[walking_napalm]

"Are you sure?" She steps back again, almost as slow as her voice. " 'Cause I've got a couple ideas."

(They're all set after washing her hair, but still.)

"And I think they're pretty good." She crooks a beckoning finger at him, her mouth curving warmly. Her eyes are bright.

[bprd_agent_red]

The beckoning draws him in and he's standing in front of her, looking down and the promise her smile holds makes his grin grow wider.

"I'd love to hear what those ideas are."

[walking_napalm]

"Well," she murmurs, grinning back, and she hooks his belt with two fingers, "c'mere and I'll demonstrate." She leans up and fits her mouth to his; slides her free hand up his back to cup his shoulderblade.

[bprd_agent_red]

He bends to meet her lips and his arms wrap around her.

His eyes are closed and he's smiling with the kiss.

It's good to have her back.

[walking_napalm]

Liz said she only missed him a little, but they both know that wasn't the truth; she's putting the lie to it right now, settling into his arms between slow kisses, her fingertips pressing into his shoulder.

She's smiling faintly, too, and still is when they break. There are flickers of blue flame in her hair.

She tugs Red into the bathroom.

It's good to be back.