A ride home

Posted on Thu Aug 29th, 2024 @ 15:57 by Cameron Johnston & Mhairi McIntyre
Edited on on Thu Aug 29th, 2024 @ 16:15

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Avalon Institute, Workshop
Timeline: Wednesday, 27th of January, 1993
1947 words - 3.9 OF Standard Post Measure

Mhairi, still feeling the adrenaline rush of cruising through the highlands in what was basically a street legal Japanese race car, sauntered into the workshop to find the one person she always felt like she could come back to in this place. "Hey." She called out, her voice smooth and just loud enough to be heard. "I thought I'd swing by." She leaned up against one of the many metal racks holding all sorts of mechanical and electrical bits and bobs.

Though it wasn't accurate to say that Cameron lived in the garages, not when a good few of his classes took place in the adjacent workspaces that resembled at least an approximation of a stereotypical classroom, it was definitely the place he found himself gravitating back to in between work commitments. Later evenings, well past lights-out for students, had been set aside for work on the jet, but there were plenty of hours between the end of formal classes and curfew where his attempts to be involved in the night-time routines had more or less been met with a firm directive to keep out of the way. Perhaps it was his penchant for starting half of the pillow fights, or orchestrating impressive stampede races up and down the internal staircases, or any number of other instances of being a bad influence that made him exceptionally popular amongst the student body and not so much the favourite of those in charge of getting the students to bed at a decent time. He'd tried countless times to make sure he was pulling his weight with the boarders but the general consensus seemed to be that he was better of stuck under an old rust-bucket for a while.

Not that he thought Mhairi would take too kindly to the description.

And, even as a joke, it was really only Claire and Jon who could get away with making it, being the most clued in to the direction his early evening jogs usually took him. He'd technically been intending to take one tonight, though admittedly the time was getting away from him a bit. Being 'collected by the missus' was not an entirely unusual thing, but he had very clearly lost track of time considering he was currently stood in the middle of the back workshop, dressed in what appeared to be cycling gear, jogging up and down on the spot with an emphasis on extending his knees as high as they would go. Perched high on his head, the man-bun was an added bonus.

"Looking sharp." It wasn't a familiar sight, and while the suit really hugged his features Mhairi wasn't quite sure what to think of it. Since he wasn't responding to her calls, not even the most recent one in which she had raised her voice slightly, she picked up what appeared to be the outer metal shell of a toaster and hit it against the side of the metal rack she had been leaning against. The clang reverberated through the workshop.

"If you're going to provide an epic action sequence soundtrack, at least try to keep in time."

It wasn't so much that Cameron hadn't noticed his visitor, more that it was easier said than done to decelerate instantaneously without repercussion. He was hardly up to full pace jogging on the spot, but since the current gist of his investigation seemed to centre around the friction-resistance of his outfit, there had definitely been pockets of elevated speed, quite a number of them judging by the slight sheen of sweat that left his hairline damp. Slightly more playful than he'd been inclined to be lately, Cameron turned on the spot whilst still jogging and emphasised his predicament, and subsequent expectations, by punching the air in front of him whilst gyrating his hips to the 'pow pow pow!' of an imagined pop ballad.

"She's a maniiiiaaac, maniiiaaac on the floooor."

"I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again before the day is out, you're a weird lad." Mhairi smiled and crossed her arms in front of her chest, waiting for him to finish whatever routine he was clearly in the middle of. "I upgraded Alastair's car, he took me for a ride around the highlands." She indicated travelling by spinning her hand in the air before returning it to her own warm embrace. "Thought I'd stop by, see how you're doing."

"Speaking of maniacs..."

Cameron let the insinuation speak for itself, though his tone was light and the implied seriousness of the potentially unflattering summary of Alastair's sensibilities barely registered above an outright jest. The guy drove like hell's hounds had a score to settle but he did it with skill enough to warrant more admiration than condemnation. Reaching for the towel he'd somehow thought ahead to bring to his private fabric testing, Cameron scrubbed his face free of most of its perspiration and hung it around his neck as he wandered over, arms outstretched in a dubious invitation for an embrace.

"The car goes fast enough but what's its stamina like?" Another sideways thrust of his hips back and forth tempted a comparison. Attempting to steal a kiss, Cameron added, "I'm doing great. Give me another year or two and I might have devised a way to save the world and keep the chaffing to a minimum."

"You know what they say, no good deed goes unpunished." Mhairi closed her eyes for a moment as she drank in the kiss. Regardless of the witty retorts back and forth the kisses always made sure to make her realise just how important the man had become to her in a relatively short time. "You look like you competed in Barça last summer. What's with the bike shorts?"

"Practicality." To spare her the joy of his slight sheen of perspiration, as well as to provide an opportunity to display his current outfit at closer proximity, Cameron took a step back and stared down at the shorts. They didn't leave a lot of room for guesswork, and were borderline unflattering if non-discreet bulges were something better left to the imagination. "Claire's got us doing prep-work," he admitted, a divulgence without specific detail because he didn't really think he needed to outline the kind of preparation that might be required. "And it gets a bit frustrating when my limits are dictated by how long I can make my pants last."

"The friction must be horrible." She had never really considered that part of the equation. She always assumed that mutant abilities kind of governed themselves. "Never thought of that. Would WD40, or some sort of lubricant, help?"

"It might oil the squeaks out of my rusty thighs at some point," Cameron agreed with a characteristic half-smirk. "But I'm less concerned about my personal situation, fate had been considerate enough to make me reasonably friction-resistant. It's more the problematic nature of trying to kick someone's ass with my own flapping about in the wind. Functioning naked is more an emergency protocol than standard procedure, or at least I hope that'll remain the case."

Mhairi slowly quirked an eyebrow at that, the fact that he knew how to word that so quickly meant that it was either a real concern of a real experience. She couldn't help but laugh a little, "Yeah, better make sure there's no flappin'." She nodded in agreement. "Do you have time to take me back home? Perhaps have a bite to eat?"

It barely occurred to Cameron, who often didn't stop to listen to his own thoughts long enough to get quite so deep, that a little-over-three-months had been more than enough time for him to start to successfully navigate the hidden subtext to Mhairi's propositions. For a particularly direct woman, she didn't like to wear her vulnerability too obviously and it was usually a matter of figuring out what she wasn't saying that spared him the need to outrun flying objects later on. Watching her now, he could just about make out the uncertainty behind her eyes, which was probably mostly the result of having no idea from their last discussion just how much of a relationship he was willing to preserve. The conversation with Jon returned and, though Cameron couldn't profess to be any more willing to see his girlfriend put in harm's way, there was something to be said for not provoking her stubborn need to prove herself too.

Utilising reflexes that put him at a distinct advantage, for all he hadn't often capitalised on it before, Cameron stepped forward and in one fluid motion, scooped her over his shoulder.

"Was it a wee piggyback y'were after, lass," he started with his horrendous impression of her accent, "or were y'hopin' t'ride something with a little less speed?" The bike in its corner would be a smoother ride than direct transportation, which Cameron rarely risked even with fellow mutants and certainly not over a distance of miles, but the threat was meant in its own way to be an olive branch.

From her position over his shoulder it was too much of an opportunity not to slap his arse a bit harder than would constitute a playful pat. "A telt ye no' tae butcher ma accent." Mhairi laid it on extra thick as her open hand connected with his lycra arse. "Yer enough o' a menace on a motorbike, ah'm no' riskin' an ower-the-shooder carry." She pushed herself upright and slipped down back to the ground in front of Cameron, looking him straight in the eyes as she passed them on the way down and not losing eye contact. She then planted a kiss square on his lips.

Without wanting to interrupt, Cameron lifted an index finger to interject and waited until there was a break for breath that permitted him to mumble, "I'll have you know, I am the very model of grace and agility." When that didn't seem to meet with a lot of agreement, he hung his head, stuck out his bottom lip and turned in abject defeat. "Let me put some actual pants on."

When he emerged several minutes later properly kitted out for a ride, the only residual effect of his training on Cameron's appearance was the fact that he'd left his hair tied up, having reached a length where the ridiculous fountain that stuck upwards from his forehead before fanning outwards was actually a decent measure to ensure he could see. It disappeared swiftly enough beneath a helmet in any case, after which Cameron held out the jacket and helmet set aside for these impromptu rides and went to walk the vehicle into a position where Mhairi could climb on successfully.

"Home then food? Food then home? Another nefarious, as-yet-unrevealed plot?"

"Definitely food first. We'll sprinkle the nefarious plots throughout." Mhairi grabbed the protective gear and threw it on. From beyond the darkened visor she spoke with the heaviest voice she could muster, "Luke, I am your father." and she reached out a hand as if using the force. They had seen the movies recently, though in the end she wasn't sure if she had proposed it or he had. it wasn't really up her alley, but the line had stuck. Especially effective shouted at her father from behind a welder's mask.

The rap of knuckles against her helmet heralded a playful unwillingness to entertain inaccuracies. "I'm telling you, you wait until the store has the VHS again." Swinging himself onto the bike, Cameron waited for his ride to seat herself and then shook his head as he lowered his own helmet into place. "100%, he did not say that."