scurlock | oom: room 25, eventually

After the birthday party to end all birthday parties (or at least, a good amount of rum, and fireworks, and singing, and s'mores, and more rum) out back, Doc eventually stumbles his way back inside. The cask of rum makes it as far as the Bar, who agrees to hang onto it until Doc can get someone to help him carry it upstairs.

Doc has enough troubles with the stairs on his own, but he makes it eventually.

He's pretty damn sloshed, and holding a still hot and melty s'more on a paper plate. He smells like woodsmoke, with a hint of saltwater, and a splash of alcohol, his skin flushed and red from both the booze and the cold outside.

But he finds her door just fine, and knocks on it.

(Who knows what time it is.)

"Darlin', s'Doc. Open the door. I got somethin' fer you 'fore I git my ass t'bed, but s'not like I can give it t'you with the door closed." This is said to the door. "Promise I ain't here t'steal y'way, though might like that. Like that lots, achsually, but ain't t'day. Fall off m'damn horse and be left sittin' in the dust," he laughs. "S'quick, swear t'God. Y'jus gotta open door."

He's humming under his breath while he waits, leaning on the door (and the doorframe) to keep his balance. If the damn hallway would just stop spinning...

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He appreciates that.

Once the bacon is eaten (he doesn't finish it) and the water drank, he sets the plates aside and then lies back down on the bed, on his back, eyes focused on the ceiling.

A pause.

"...did I come to your room last night?"

She helps him clear the plates, shifting so he can pull the blankets back up around his middle if he would like.

She doesn't answer him right away.

But the giggle might just give him his answer.

Doc looks at her. Warily.

"...I wasn't singin', was I?"

She nods.

"Singin', and quotin' verse. Read a few nice poems t'me. Told me y'wanted to steal me away."

She masterfully holds back the smirk just threatening to break through.

"Well least I wasn't makin' a fool of myself," he mutters, closing his eyes.

A small smile.

"Was a hell of a party, though."

"I was just teasin' you," she admits with a soft laugh. "You didn't do none of those things.

"'Cept for the bit about you wanting to steal me away. That was true."

It's a few moments of silence before she flicks her eyes up to meet his, smiling shyly.

"Y'said there were fireworks," she remarks, dropping her eyes away again and brushing a loose curl behind her ear. It doesn't stay.

"An' you brought me a... ss...s'more?"

"S'more, yeah. I made you one. Y'take marshmallow an' put it on a stick, and roast it till it's hot and meltin' and then put in on chocolate and smash it between two cookies. They're mighty tasty, if you ask me."

They go great with rum, too.

Doc stays still a moment.

"And well, then I didn't make no fool of myself, 'cause I do want to steal you away sometime."

"Mighty tasty, indeed," she agrees with an easy smile. "Ain't ashamed to admit I ate the whole thing, right there 'fore crawlin' back into bed."

That should paint a visual.

"Said you would teach me how to make them, next time we go out ridin'. Which I hope is soon."

She smiles quietly a long moment, before scooting a little closer to him. She fusses with the blankets a bit, making sure they're pulled up snug around his body.

"Thought the definition of 'stealin' meant you don't tell nobody, 'til you're already off with the loot? Now that I'm in on your plan, how do you know I ain't gonna try t'stop you?" she teases softly

"Because you want me to steal you away," he says simply, as he leans up and presses a kiss to her cheek. "And you know it."

Doc doesn't need to say much else, beside that.

But he does anyway.

"It's awful cold out near Liberty, right now. Snow out on the range."

The smile on her face should give him all the confirmation he needs, as her cheeks flame red with the words.

"Is it, now?" she murmurs, emotion tight in her voice. She isn't entirely sure why he brought it up.

Idle conversation.

"Middle of February can git downright chilly. You'd have to bring a coat."

She lifts her eyes back to his face calmly.

"I would?" she asks.

"...we'd both have t'bring a coat?"

He's still got a bit of a headache.

She can't help but chuckle a little, if for no other reason than that he looks so utterly lost. She reaches out a hand and smooths back his hair.

"Sorry. You're right," she murmurs.

"So, when exactly is it you're plannin' on showin' me Liberty?"

"Whenever you'd like to go," he says.

A beat.

"When I ain't got a hangover."

"Ah, so there are stipulations," she teases.

She leans down to place a kiss at his forehead.

"Wouldn't want you moving from this spot, anyways. Not until you get a bit more color back, at least.

"You want to get a few more hours of sleep, sweetie? I don't mind skedaddling, if'n you need to rest them eyes of yours."

Doc nods slightly. "I think that might be a good idea. I could use a bit more rest...was up pretty late."

Another pause, as he thinks.

"At least I think it was late."

She chuckles.

"It was early," she informs him, straightening up the dirty dishes and getting things in order for him, so he won't have to move much. "Scared me half to death when you came a-knockin'. Thought the place was burnin' down or some such."

"Don't blame you. I must've made a helluva racket."

He leans up on one elbow, then looks at her. "Thank you, though. For comin' by t'make sure I wasn't sick as a dog or somethin'. That...that means a lot."

"You were on the floor most of the time, fightin' back peals of laughter," she nods, honestly. But there is affection on her features.

"Thought you might could use an extra hand today," she shrugs lightly, by way of a 'you're welcome.' She smiles.

"And to be honest, I was hopin' you'd have more'a them s'mores left over I could pilfer, but I was stuck lookin' after you, instead," she winks.

She's kidding.

Mostly.

"Like I said. We'll make some -- soon."

Doc smiles honestly, then reaches for her hand and covers it gently before giving it a small squeeze.

Thanks.

She nods, ducking her head with the affectionate gesture.

And she squeezes back.

"And you can tell me all about that party," she says, standing from her spot on the bed. Their hands stretch with the distance, before they finally break, fingertips falling from fingertips. "But get some sleep for now. I'll come back to check on you later on."

She tucks him in one last time, carding her fingers through his hair, and then she picks up the tray of dirty dishes and heads for the door.

"Sounds good," he agrees, nodding and watching her go.

Once she's gone, he looks after the door, then smiles and sighs a little as he rolls over to go back to sleep. His head is still pounding, but with the food and the fact that it's still pretty dark in his quarters, it's not that bad.

He'll be better later.

For now, he's going back to sleep.

oom: room 25, eventually

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