Pledge of Allegiance
Pledge of Allegiance
Summary: When the Legsykitten is down about the Spiderman's appointment to CAG, the Kissybear does his best to cheer her up. Double entendres are had by all.
Date: PHD61
Related Logs: Fight Night II
Players:
Matto..Legacy..

Matto sits up on the edge of his bunk, two rounded half-loaved of keyed wood nestled in his palms. He keys a silent pattern on one end, a slower pattern on the other end.

Thea shuffles in, late, in her off-duties, the remnants of tape on her hands. Her head's down. It's late.

Matto looks up from his keying as Thea enters, and slowly begins to draw the two convex circles of wood away from one another, the material in between expanding to show that the item is a palm accordian, on which a weedy, carnival-esque song of celebration begins to play.

Legacy glances over and offers a little smile. "Hey Kissy," she says tiredly, quietly. "Got a good sound."

"Thanks, Cap'n," Kissy returns an easy smile, "Did you run out of bubblegum?" he asks her, continuing to play with a simple keying and a steady motion of his hands outward and inward punctuated by a jerk of motion when a note needs special emphasis.

"I beat the shit out of Marek in fight night," she says quietly, heading to her bunk. "Not to beat him up, but to show that bad blood stays in the ring and I'll support him in whatever he does. Any bad blood between us was left there. Poet looked at me like I was the one who singlehandedly wiped out the Colonies." Depressed? Yeah.

The song trails off with a note that goes on past its prime and wails off into obscurity, and Kissy straps the instrument shut, tucking it by his pillow and jumping down, trailing after Legacy, "Oh, Legsykitten. I'm sorry. You know how Poetryslam can get. He takes things personally, if there's anything ever to be taken personally. And sometimes even when there's not. How did Spiderman take it?"

She kicks her boots off and curls up on her bunk, on top of the covers. "He slunk off with his tail between his legs," she says softly, quietly. "And you should have seen the way others were looking at me. If the Marines weren't cheering me on, the pilots were censuring me."

Matto settles down on the edge of the Legsy's bunk, leaning with his elbows on his knees, head torned to one side to regard his Captain quietly. "Isn't, you know, kicking ass and taking names the entire point of fight night? You should be proud. The Spiderman is a tough guy. It's not like you went in there and beat -me- up or someone equally incompetent at fighting."

Thea closes her eyes. "I thought I was doing something good, Kiss," she says softly. "Showing the crew that any bad blood he and I had was left there, that I accepted Torch's decision, that I accepted him as CAG."

Matto leans back, drawing himself more fully inside, still watching her, one hand reaching out to rest on her calf and stroke comfortingly, "Maybe you need to make the point more clearly. Tack up a notice in Red Squadron berthings or in the ready room."

"Even though it still bothers the hell out of me," she offers quietly. "No command experience. None. His wing is full of discipline problems. I've got two years with an elite squadron of pilots and ECOs who are, if you don't mind my saying so, damned professional and well adjusted. It was a slap in the face."

"Have you gotten to speak with the Major about her decision, at all?" Kisseus ventures softly, "I mean, honestly it -did- seem a little strange," and this from Kissy, who is quite possibly the most difficult person in the world to offend. "How's she doing, by the way, the old lady?" His thumb trails in opposition to the rest of his fingers in a subtle grasp, working at the muscle of her lower calf.

Thea's muscles are like blocks of cement. If her legs are that bad, her back must be agony. "She's in a coma, Kiss," Thea replies. "They don't know if she's going to pull through. For now, she's stable." There's no real emotion there. No passion. Just fatigue. "Can you hand me my pills, please? The sleeping pills, not the muscle relaxers."

Matto stands up and goes to the Captain's locker to get her pills, "Maybe she was delirious when she gave the order. I'd probably be a little discombobulated if I were going into a coma," he points out mildly. "Maybe you could talk to the Commander about it. I mean, it -is- a valid concern." He finds the pills in question and brings them back to the bunk, sliding in behind her, "Get on your stomach," he tells her, leaning over her to hand off her pills, "I can see I've got my work cut out for me."

She pops two, dry, before putting the bottle up on her shelf and rolling over onto her stomach. "She talked with him about it before she got shot," Thea tells Matto quietly. "When she was diagnosed with cancer. There's a tumor. She was going to tell the wing…she insisted on it…" And then Thea's crying, quietly, face against the pillow. "She wouldn't report to medical for treatment like I told her."

Matto gets onto his knees, one knee planted to either side of the Legsykitten's thighs. It might possibly be considered a compromising position to anyone who doesn't know Kissy that well. But appearances nevr mattered much to the Pilot, and he leans forwad, beginning at the base of her back, rolling his thumbs into the muscles just above each hip, then twisting his hands to rotate a knuckle into the muscles as well, hard and slow, maybe painful, but easing out the knots. "Wow," is the sum of his verbal reaction to the news, "Well, she's reported in now, like it or not. No wonder she picked Spiderman. She's a Viper jock all over. Too important for sickbay, right? Can they treat her for the cancer while she's out? Or do they need permission or whatnot?"

Like. A. Brick. Her back is a solid mass of knots, beginning at the bottom. "I don't know," she says finally. "I guess they could treat her. She wanted to be treated, but not until after she'd told the Wing. Not until she'd made an announcement. She was putting it off." There's a quiet sound of pain, but she doesn't stop him. "I'm just tired of fighting, Kiss. I'm tired of being strong."

Matto takes the knots one at a time, kneading with his knuckles until he identifies one, then leaning in with an elbow to press it into submission, taking time in between assaults to brush his warm hands softly over skin, alternating pleasant caresses with the pain inherent in making her back more relaxed. This may well take all night. "Yeah? I've been tired of fighting from the moment we started fighting. But I keep telling myself, well… I just have to be strong for one more day. Maybe tomorrow the Cylons will finally shoot us down and we can be done with this whole human race fiasco. Just have to be strong 'til then."

There are a few bruises on her back. It's clear that she wasn't the only one to land blows. There are also one or two curious little marks on her skin, almost like little scratches. All she allows herself are quiet whimpers of pain, no more. "But I can't stop," she says softly. "Not and protect you all."

Matto pushes the back of Legsy's top up slowly as he works his way inch by inch up her back, leaving red skin in his wake. After grinding out a particularly troublesome collection of knots, he rubs his hands together and holds his palms a few millimeters above skin, radiating heat downward as his thumbtips trail paired up her spine. "You won't stop. You'll take it one day at a time, like the rest of us. Just worry about tomorrow. Getting through what needs to be done. The next CAP. The next rotation. The next jump. And Legsy? We're here for you, too, you know? We are not gummy bears, despite all evidence to the contrary. When you need -us- to be strong for -you,- that strength will be there for you. Always. Okay?"

She's quiet for a bit at that, just letting the tears come. Amazing how far she's come in two months. Before, she wouldn't let her pilots see her cry. Now…well, one or two might see tears. "I think I'm going to need it," she says on a soft sigh. "I'm going to need that strength. I just feel…wrung out, I guess. It's probably time to haunt the tool room again." She's starting to sound sleepy now, as if she'd drift off.

"We've got your back, Legsykitten," Kisseus affirms. "When Torchlight was CAG— we answered to YOU. When Spiderman's CAG— we answer to YOU. Nothing's changed there. We're Black Squadron. Ghostriders. This is how things go." This is approximately as militarily-oriented as Kissy has ever sounded, here, now, as he works his way up to her middle back. "… What's in the tool room?"

"That's where I pray, Kissy," she says with a little smile on her lips. It's not much of one, but it's a smile. "It's where I clean tools and think. There's a certain measure of peace to be found there, something I can't find in the chapel." Huh. Who knew?

Matto scouts out the terrain of her middle-back with his hands, kneading flesh and discerning knot from vertebra from rib, pressing down hard with his thumb to leave a red spot whenever he finds and isolates a knot which needs milling out, marking the Captain's back like a map marked for land mines before going about to detonate each blast at his own peril. "That sounds nice, Kitten. It's good you have a place like that," he answers with his own soft smile.

Her lower lip gets bitten pretty hard when he finds knots. She's going to draw blood if that keeps up - but she doesn't complain. She doesn't wriggle away. She just takes it like a man. "It helps the deck crew out and you meet nice people there," she says, drifty toned. Poor Thea. She gets stoned so easily. "Do you have a place like that?"

"Three…" Kisseus counts down as he comes to the end of his marked middle-back knots, letting the Captain know that relief is coming, "Not… nf… really," he elbows into that third to last knot, finding it stubborn, pushing into it with a thrust of almost his entire body, once, twice, three times before he eases it enough to work the rest out with his thumb. Straddled over the Captain's thighs and leaning over her back, this is definitely looking more and more scandalous by the moment. "My bunk, I guess. Two…" he moves onto the next one, which surrenders easily after the complete obliteration of its neighbor, "But on the whole I try to carry my peace with me wherever I go. Make every place a place like that. One…" he moves onto the last knot in her middle-back zone.

Ok, that one knot? That had her crying out, though it was mostly muffled by the pillow. What MUST the neighbors think? She tries not to squirm, but it's hard. "Ow ow ow ow ow," she murmurs. "Did you have to go so deep so fast?" It's only a little whine. "Sorry…hit bottom, I think." Oh, yeah. If anyone were awake, brows would go -up-. "That's a good thought."

"Sorry, Kittenface," Kissy replies, "That's the way Poppyflower likes it. Stop pussyfooting around and just jam it right in there." … no comment. The last knot is mercifully subdued and Kisseus begins to push the Captain's shirts up higher, over her shoulders, also crawling forward to straddle her lower back, now, hands grasping the tops of her shoulders as his thumbs try to find their way into the crevices beneath her shoulderblades. "I'm used to carrying everything I have with me. Travel light, live well. Peace of mind fortunately doesn't weigh much. Holy -shit- you're tight up in here."

Thea just groans quietly, long and low. "Oh gods, Kiss," she murmurs. "I…ayie, ayie, ayie." There's a bit of wriggling. On the back of one shoulder, hidden by her tanks, is a small bite mark, somewhat faded. "I go for a little more finesse," she says after a moment. "Make sure I'm ready before…unf." Yep, hit another knot. She carries all of her stress in her upper back, it would appear. The lower back was just the warmup.

"Alright, here, do you mind if I take these off?" Kisseus asks, starting to goad the tanks up over her head and arms, peering at the mark but not saying anything— yet. "I can go as slow as you need," he assures her, hands on her shoulders again as he begins to pull them back and then push them forward in a slight stretching of the muscles, trying to get them to slacken a bit so that he can get in there more readily, hands caressing her arms to put them into a position to best help the stretching, fingers then running up the undersides of her upper arms to give those a firm but relatively gentle massage up to her elbows and back.

There's a brief hesitation, then she simply slips out of the tanks to give him access. "Promises, promises," she grumbles good naturedly, settling back down on hte pillows. "It's not just me I'm worried about though, Kiss. What about you? What about your needs? If you need to go fast, go fast. It'll hurt, but only for a minute."

Matto has seen more naked people in his life than most, even if you just count all the naked body-appreciation parades he used to take part in back in the day, and, you know, sharing showers on board, a half-naked Captain barely warrants a bat of an eyelash. At her comment he quirks a brow and lifts his hands, flexing them and unflexing them as he tests out how tired they're getting, "I'll last," he judges, "Don't worry about it. You need this," he offers her kindly, going back to manipulating her arms, placing her hands on the covers and pulling up her elbows at an angle to make the muscles dip in as deep as possible below her shoulderblades, pulling her elbows up in a gradually more and more intense stretching position, helping her relax by rubbing down her biceps and and stroking her skin softly in the meanwhile as he draws her elbows slowly further up and back, stretching those shoulder muscles incrementally more loose.

As he works, there are one or two little scratches he comes across. Not really deep, not even deep enough to draw blood, and they look to be about the same age as the bite. What might, maybe, get a second look is the faint hint of fingertip bruises at her shoulder blades. Given how pale she is, she's probably going to be bruised from the massage, so it's quite likely that any deep contact has her coloring. "Mmmmm. Not worried about you lasting, darlin," she drawls quietly, making a few more of those interesting noises. "I should have taken a muscle relaxer first. Would have been easier for you to get in."

"Well, that would be cheating," Kisseus notes, quirking a grin at her as he places his hand on her elbows and begins to flap them, toward each other, then away from each other, toward, then away, then both left, both right, both left, both right, then toward one another, away, toward, away. It looks patentedly silly, of course, but it gets her muscles nice and confused, slackening around each individual knot so that when Kissy finally stops trying to make Legsy fly away with him on her back, he can slide his fingers right in underneath her shoulderblades and snuff out each knot with a pinch of his fingers and a roll of his thumbs.

"Ahhhh," she groans quietly, arching as he gets in under the knots, squirming a little. "But I took another pill," she murmurs, burying her face in the pillow so he has access to the nape of her neck. "Oh, gods Kiss…Oh, that's right…right there. Oh, oh, yes…"

Matto trails his hands up the lines of knots ringing her shoulderblades, following the lines straight up to her neck, cuffing her neck in the palms of both hands, heating the skin as his thumbs gently work the flesh there, being very gentle, at this point, then pushing his fingers up through her hair to massage the base of her skull and drag his fingers along her scalp in a head massage, as well.

The groan becomes a low, quiet moan of pleasure, though she's trying to keep quiet, really she is. Once he's in her hair, she's putty in his hands, utterly and completely. The woman starts to melt beneath him. Poor Kissy.

Matto trails his well-groomed fingernails along the scalp, knowing well how to elicit gooseflesh, then pushes in with his fingertips to contrast firm massage with tickling touches, his thumbs moving behind her ears to the cluster of mandibular muscles there, working out the knots even there, in case she's a clencher. "Theeeere she goes," he murmurs to her as he feels the melting of a body in complete relaxation, "That's much better, isn't it?"

Whoops. He hits her ears, even brushes them, and suddenly there's a shudder that rolls down her whole body just before she goes stiff again. "Not…the ears," she murmurs, a definite change in her voice. It's not a bad one, but one he might be familiar with given Poppy. He clearly just hit the spot where all the nerve endings go on alert and sing 'Hello, Sailor!' Soon enough, though, she's coming out of the arch, back to the pillow again. "You're hired. Forever."

Matto sits up, in retreat from the no-touch zone, hands resting in the curve of her back, for now. "Well… that's good. Because that's how long you're stuck with me," he tells her with a smile, climbing off of her to flop down beside her, "Forty-seven ginger-headed sailors…" he sings a brief snippet of a song to which he's likely forgotten the rest of the lyrics. But he humms the next line, anyhow.

Legacy groans quietly and shifts over a bit to make room for him. Actually, she turns on her side, back to him, as if in invitation to spoon, and snuggles up against the man. Yep, sleepy Thea. Aching Thea. "Onna wall," she murmurs, like she's trying to produce the next line for him. The words are slurred just a little, though.

Matto spoons up on the Legsy readily enough. It's more or less how he spends his nights cuddled up with Poppy, anyhow, one hand slung harmlessly over her, granted, bare chest, but all in the cause of cuddles, his face pressing into the back of her head as he holds her warmly, drifting toward sleep, himself, the humming continuing intermittently to send Legsy off into slumberland, his breath warm at the back of her neck.

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