woke up afraid of my shadow

calypso-sam:

#c: sam #c: eileen #event5

"Yeah we got each other’s backs," she smiled briefly at Fitz before her attention turned back to Eileen, she felt her cheeks flush and she looked down at her notebook to hide it. "I uh… Ive been doing some researching…" she mumbled, tripping over her words when she met the other woman’s eyes. "I mean to give us a safe route, hopefully no surprises." explained.

"I think we need a clear plan, without one everything could go to hell, someone could get hurt…" Sam was always trying to plan things out, she hated when things went wrong, especially when things she was in charge of went wrong.

"Are we in agreement?"

'No' is practically blaring from speakers in her mind, reverberating off the back of her head and through her ears. It just makes it to her tongue when Sam answers and Eileen can’t help but mumble an agreement, though she huffs at her own sudden willingness.

The blonde’s demeanor, however, spikes a bit of self confidence in her. She sees the ruddy hue in her cheek and the inability to speak properly isn’t lost on her. The smirk that embeds itself in her cheeks in hard to contain. “No surprises. Just the way I’d prefer it.” It’s a compliment, though a poorly executed one.

Meticulous she was, maybe to a fault, but Eileen could definitely dig it. “Sounds great, but we kind of need the ship’s layout before we can determine the safest route. I think once we board we tap into the mainframe or whatever and try to get a outline or whatever. From there we can determine the safest route.” And then she looks to Fitz and the smirk is traded in for a look of appraisal. “You got anything to add?”

Walking behind them gives him a great view of Sam floundering, as usual, and Eileen pretty much already on her. Small victories. He'd have to text Asim, but he'd probably scold him for not focusing on his work.

(His mind wandered for a moment as soon as he came to mind, and he bit on his lip pensively. God, they were a mess. He'd--)

Oh, and then Eileen was speaking to him, staring him down as always. "I--eh, guess not."

"Samwise, you want me to lag behind and take those notes so you can see in front of you?"

calypso-sam-blog

Sam rounded the corner, nose stuck in a notebook as she scribbled down everything she needed to remember. She saw her team and swallowed, “Am I interrupting something? Fitz are you being an ass again?”

"Also do we have a plan?"

She is a literal moment away from twisting Fitz’s arm behind his back and shoving him against the nearest wall, nearest desk, nearest person —- anything really, as long as it’d hurt him. But the soft soprano of another halts her ire and instead of wrenching out and assaulting her fellow biologist, her fist clenches at her side and her jaw tautens some. “When isn’t he being an ass.” Her eyes roll exasperatingly and she rounds on the other, a harsh quip burning at the tip of her tongue — which quickly diminishes once she actually sees who it is. She blinks. Relaxes; shoulders loosen and slump. “Our plan is to get our shit and get out. That’s out plan.” It’s still rude, but infinitesimal compared to her usual ways.

#no theyre going to leave you in the dust fitz #event5 #c: sam #c: eileen #space siblings

"Alright, alright, Jesus." Then again, he'd probably been a little too friendly for his own good.

Nothing could prevent him from feeling like a little brother then, so he just decided to fall behind a bit and let the two of them walk side by side, if not for just a moment.

Which was probably the problem with Fitz--when he knew he was pushing it, he would back off, but a good amount of the time he sure as hell didn't notice. "Seems pretty straightforward. And we got each other's backs--right?"

With ease, hopefully, unless you plan to make our jobs difficult and fuck shit up. Don’t think about it too much — or else you probably will do something and we’ll all end up as kitchen supplies. Or worse: without our research and the doctor.

#c: eileen #event5 #space siblings

C'mon, Eileen, don't do me like that. [He nudges her in the arm with his elbow, then immediately regrets it.]

I guess we get what we can with the tricorder, even if it means running backwards. You and Samwise wanna lead the way, since you're the brains?

Okay, nothing personal, but how are we supposed to save this doctor lady, get our research on the Borg, and also not get turned into kitchen supplies all at the same time?

#event5 #calypsoopen #calypsostarter #please as usual read this in the heaviest boston accent possible

[ She always forgets he exists; at least she tries to, but it’s kind of hard what with him being in her space constantly. At least he keeps a distance. Filling out an ‘accident’ report would be a pain in the ass. ] I highly doubt there will be a conveniently distressed civilian ship in need of our saving, Fitz. I highly doubt our research is enough to save us, regardless of how awesome it may be.

Last time I checked, they don’t really care all that much for science. Mainly, they’re just meat heads with raging hard-ons for guns and shit.

#ignore text #c: eileen #event4 #space siblings

You didn't get the memo? [He hoisted himself up to sit on his counter and fiddled with his PADD for a moment, before turning it around.] USS Parthenope. Sent out some distress call, like, an hour ago.

Divine intervention. I mean, no, it's not about us, but we still have a second chance.

widowsledger-deactivated2015091

So, basically, because a handful of idiots couldn’t keep their fucking mouths shut we’re all gonna pay.

That’s fucking great. Ace, man. I really hope I don’t find out who it is, not for my sake but for theirs.

#c: eileen #event4 #stop trying to bond with her fitz

Nah. [He steps over to his space in the lab, going through a few drawers before turning back around to her.] We lucked out. We're gonna save a civilian ship, and that gets us brownie points with the fleet. And if they look at the research we've found then they'll know we're invaluable.

Wham-bam.

2, 3, 7, 8, 11, 12, 15, 22, 24, 25

2. I can write stuff pretty well. Most people figure I got an imagination, but they still get surprised when I really use it.

3. Mostly old school stuff. Always loud.

7. If I'm not being professional, I sound a little immature--actually, even when I am. I still got the Boston accent, but it's not as bad as it used to be.

8. Left.

11. My ninth grade biology class. That was the shit.

12. Yeah, once or twice, but I felt bad about it.

15. Probably getting blackout drunk or just fooling around. Not being too nervous.

22. Gotta stand up a little straighter, swear a little less, and drink a little less.

24. Beer all the way.

25. I guess I should have known that I wanted to do this at all.

ask meme v2.0

Asim deadpanned, staring at Fitz and then quickly rethinking the past few minutes. Sure he could see how things could have been taken negatively, but he wasn’t out to hurt the others feelings. “I am not trying to be a dick. I’m sorry. I vas..ah never mind.” He smiled and patted the man’s knee before strolling over towards the only sink in his room, and sure enough found the glass.

After filling it up, he handed it to him before pushing the man over slightly so he could climb besides him. “You are not bad in bed by the vay. Very opposite of bad.”

"Aw." Fitz grinned, scooting over to allow him some room. "I'll have to make you fill out a form, or something, performance report. Highlight reel." Fitz sipped on his water and tried not to spill it on himself, glancing over at him.

"Nah, I get it." He propped himself up on one elbow so he could actually drink it properly. "Good rule of thumb, not getting with people when they're smashed."

"I hate to blame the space amoeba, but I do. And you were ah practically throwing yourself at me." The man snorted and gave a slight shake of his head. Not necessarily true either. As much as he feared taking advantage of Fitz he doubted he could resist him for too long, no matter what he said.

Asim rolled his eyes, wondering if the girl he was describing could really be that bad. “Only drunk.” He helped him through the door and set him down on the bed, taking a second to look around his room. “Do you vant water or anything?”

Fitz frowned slightly, trying to contextualize what he was saying; he couldn't decide if he was being sensitive or if Asim was being harsh. Fuck it. "Yeah, my mistake, I'm hopped up on pheromones and sharing a room with a hot guy. Please tell me you're not being a dick because I'm bad in bed."

As soon as he let go, he sprawled back on the bed comfortably, then sat back up to rub at his eyes. "Probably should have some. There's a glass by the sink."

All of this touching was new. Fitz continued to claw almost at his shirt, his head was bobbing slightly and the arm around his waist seemed to pull tighter with each slow step. Incredible work? Asim cocked a brow and glanced down at him, wondering how much good advice he could give to this friend of his. But of course he had fallen for his bad advice, so he was no position to say anything. “Sam is your friend then? Does everything you do have to be dealing with getting laid?” Asim chuckled and ran his hand through the man’s hair.

"I hope she vill get used to you, for your own sake." He hoped where Fitz gestured to was the actual direction as he herded them towards there. "Pin code test. If you can remember it, then I von’t say anything else about your current state."

"Ouch." He stumbled along, straightening up to walk alongside him. "I don't remember you being so unenthusiastic last I was in your room." He was teasing, of course, but he'd get over it if he wasn't putting out.

"She will. Maybe Sam will melt the icicle up her ass." He stuck his comm back in his pocket, and reached up to type in his code--failing the first time, and then getting it the second. "Only human."

"No, man, I vas just trying to make you feel bad, but apparently that did not work.” No, Asim was just more taken aback by the other word Fitz had called him by. God he just over thought things too much. Very typical. “Also, you are rather drunk, I don’t vant you to do anything the sober you would not.”

He glanced over at the screen, if anything just to please Fitz. “Why does this voman hate your guts so much? I can hardly see anyone hating you, you’re far too cute to hate.” Sure maybe if you had to spend all day with the man or share a living space with him. If you were rather OCD or hated any of his quirky little habits, then maybe he could see it. But hate was a strong word. “Vhere is your room at anyways?”

"No, it really didn't. I think you were trying too hard." He grinned and squeezed his waist, still stumbling a little. God, he thought he'd die if he spent another minute standing there. Like purgatory, the space between the bar and his own room. "I'm not that drunk. My--faculties are intact. Sam's probably getting laid this instant from my fucking incredible work." His fingers gripped in his shirt and he glanced back up. "I'm not going to do anything I regret. I'm kind of a pro at this."

Fitz shrugged, still running his thumb over the fabric. "Nah, it's normal. People like us don't mesh well. She'll get used to me. Maybe." Then he gestured to the hall some distance away. "This deck. 24C."

"If that is your only talent, I am worried." Asim rolled his shoulders, tapping the man on his nose playfully. "Oh it is very important, so important I can not deal with a drunk man hanging from my side, which is exactly why I am putting up with his sorry ass."

Asim regrettably looked down at Fitz and rolled his eyes.”I can expect you to go like this, you are a mess that needs to wait by his PADD for his friend.” But of course he wasn’t going to be able to deny his goddamn face. “You could uh go back to your room with your mother, how about that?”

"Man." He laughed, and traced his fingers over his shirt, deciding with some certainty things wouldn't work out the way he'd hoped. "What's gotten into you tonight? No fuckin' fun allowed. Are you really that bitter about me bringing up my mom?"

Whatever. He drew his comm from his pocket and glanced over it again, and then showed it to him--still no messages. "If Ortega sees me, it'll kill her mood because she doesn't like me, and she won't wanna get with my friend. It's, um--it's math. Also, it'll kill my mood, so."

Asim rolled his eyes, but wasn’t plan on not letting Fitz have his way. “Vell, vhere vould you like to go instead? The hallway has a nice atmosphere.” He shifted Fitz’s weight so he was by his side, wrapping an arm around his waist to hopefully help keep him upright. “I am glad.”

Glancing behind them, he wondered for a moment if they should have gone back, but it wasn’t his friend. And Fitz was right, they might ruin things, or he would at least. Whatever, he trusted his judgement.

"You said you were Irish and you could hold your alcohol, but no I have never been a vitness to it. But I am sure you are Fitz, champion of the alcohol, vhatever you say."

"It's a little-known talent." Actually, he tended to brag if it ever came up into conversation, but thankfully it didn't very often. "C'mon. Please tell me you're not working on anything too important."

"You can't expect me to go back to my room like this alone, I mean, come on." Fitz shrugged, stumbling a bit to hold onto him, then rested his cheek against his chest, grinning up at him. "That's just rude."