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Characters: Barkenzi. Karclay. Kenlay.
Summary: the couple moves in and things get cute from there.
Date(s): before the au event and just after barclay arrives.
Warnings/Notes: kenzi is a warning in herself but also probably some language and general couple mushiness.

Okay, so this is a big step for Kenzi. The whole moving in thing. The whole shacking up with a fella, with your lovah thing. Co-habitation wasn't a point she'd ever gotten to with a guy, not a guy she loved, that is. Her roommate experience was limited to, well, just Bo.

She was feeling a little out of her element but for the first time, she was cool with it. Mostly because, Barclay. Barclay has this weirdly calming presence, whatever eccentricities Kenzi has seem to be tempered by, well, his temperament. Not that he was some mellow stoner dude, he has his own flare but maybe that was just love for you. It made you better.

And there was no doubt that Kenzi was cuckoo for Barclay-puffs.

So when they found an old lighthouse, it was one of those sitcom moments where they both looked at one another and nodded, knowing this was the place they were meant to live in. She, despite usually being very unreasonable, didn't come home with a bunch of paint buckets of black paint. The buckets she did lug in were a deep blue and a deep purple (for different rooms).

"Hey, Odell, get your booty out here, I need help carrying these cans I commandeered!" Way to give him a head's up about your plans for the day, Kenz.

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"Is it commandeering if everything in this city is free?" Barclay's voice floats out to greet her. He's coming up from behind. In his left hand, he's holding bags full of painting tape, brushes, a couple of rubber aprons that Flourd had managed to locate. Barclay has the sense that these aprons are actually meant for butcher shops, but he thought it was better to take them than not. In his right hand, he has a prodigious bucket of water.

It's very novel-- these days, buckets come with lids. Ingenious. But then again, he supposes that factory production and/or F.A.T.E.S.' convenient reality manipulating whatever mean for mathematically precise and easy fits. The conveniences of the modern and/or sci-fi life. Anyway: he doesn't spill and ruin their floor, which is good because

he's nervous too. Excited-nervous. He's just better at not letting it on. Still, when he finally makes it in, his grin for Kenzi is enormous. He puts down the water bucket first, stooping to kiss her skijump nose. In the same motion, he takes a paint can. "The ladder's still outside. You know, I'm quite glad we haven't got much in the way of neighbors. I feel like they might try and kill our daemons, thinking they're pests."

"I'd like to think I managed to abscond with the paint in a way that would be considering "vexing"." She was very purposefully using big words to make herself sound more impressive but also because she figured it would make him laugh. He seemed to like her the way she was, rougher around the edges and very little like any of the ladies he probably knew back home.

But hey, cue the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as Barclay's lips brush against the tip of her nose and he smiles at her that way. It's all so damn domestic and she finds that she isn't feeling all that itchy about it. It's freaking nice. And she relinquishes one of the paint cans to him easily, moving to two fingers of her newly freed hands so that she can press them quickly to his lips (she can't reach his lips without arching up or standing on her tiptoes so this is the best she can do while she's weighed down).

"I'm pretty sure mine will still somehow manage to get himself shot." She throws a pointed look at her daemon who was, the meantime, being completely useless,laying on his back in the middle of the room, eating some scraps that he'd 'commandeered' from his lady's lunch. Kenzi steps over him to set her paint can down on a nearby table, pulling her knife out of her boot so she can pry the paint can open.

It's true. She makes him smile. It's nothing to do with her rough edges this once, nor her vocabulary. The women back home would not have absconded with the paint; they would not have thought to pick colors and a brush, to paint a home beside him. It wasn't women's work, if it was something that anybody thought to do at all.

But here she is. Clever with her words, easy with her humor, and decisive in her color choices. His mouth brushes her fingers. She's clever with her hands, too. He watches as her small knuckles and slender digits find a knife, start to work a can of paint open. The daemon doesn't get a look; in a moment, Barclay's own companion, Flourd, wanders over to sit with the raccoon.

He sets down the water. "Perhaps we should make collars for them," he proposes. "We have a color scheme already, we could do well to expand on the concept." He pries off the lid from the water bucket, carefully. No spilling. "And once we're quite done, perhaps we should have some guests. They call it a 'housewarming,' I believe? Do you like that sort of thing? I've never done it before, but I think I'd like it."

It seems their daemons have a begrudging respect for one another, perhaps a slowly growing affection if only because they both of their masters are so enthralled with one another and they undoubtedly had to suffer through a night (or two) of some loud ass reunion sex. That can certainly bring two creatures together.

Kenzi does glance at Meow Meow at the mention of collars, looking devious for a moment and the raccoon stares at her with a look that is both wary and disapproving. Kenzi is the opposite of a Disney princess but she and her daemon are playful companions. "Oh, I think Meow Meow would love a purple spiky collar." The raccoon makes a sort of chuffing sound before Kenzi looks back at Barclay.

"A housewarming party, huh?" She looks tickled by the idea. Mostly because she'd love to picture Vex and that boy toy of his doing something as domestic as a barbeque. "I've actually never done one either so obviously... we need to pop that cherry."

"We'll invite half the village," Barclay says. He moves over to her, bumping her smaller shoulder gently with his own. And then he's stooping to do as she'd asked a moment ago-- to help her with the paint cans. He doesn't know where the purple's going to go, or the blue, but he's very curious to find out what her grand designs have in stock for them. "The other half can cry about feeling quite left out. They're supposed to bring us gifts, right?

"I don't suppose we can request anything specific." There's a gentle scuff of metal as the cans come up in Barclay's grip. He takes a long step toward the next set of stairs-- the lighthouse is tall and winding, after all. More like a castle than anything else he's ever lived in. He's tired of living in ships. He wants this. Solid land, a place that'll take to her style. "Houseplants and food are all I know of the usual stuff. Do you think anyone can get ahold of monkey-faced orchids? Would the memory be too bittersweet?"

He imagines that she remembers. It'd been a monumental moment for them, back in Eudio. Though dead and gone it is.

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this got marked unread somehow, RETURNS WITH CAPE FLUTTERING

:D

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