#ELIAS & KRISTIN. ( ac. ) ( organic damage. )

[rykerelias-archive]

     @magicandsciencemuses​ - kristin liked for a short lyric/dialogue starter.

drunk enough.

“And I'm just drunk enough to tell you exactly what I needed to say. I'm just drunk enough to tell you I need you, please stay --”

[rykerelias-archive]

                    @magicandsciencemuses ( kristin. ) liked for a soft starter. || accepting.

            “I think this even counts as ‘the good stuff’,” Elias commented, as he twisted the top off of the bottle of tequila, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he glanced up from the table set for two, in as romantic a fashion as could be managed with takeout anyways, and back up to where she wandered out of the shower, freshly scrubbed and dressed -- if one of his BCPD t-shirts and lace-trimmed panties counted as ... dressed.   A half rough swallow, a light clearing of his throat as he held out one of the shot glasses.  It wasn’t often they got time off together, much less nearly forty-eight hours of it, and he had no intentions of wasting a minute of it if he could help it.

[rykerelias-archive]

SEND “✘” FOR YOUR MUSE TO RUN THEIR FINGERS ALONG MINE’S SCARS!  

                      @magicandsciencemuses ( kristin. ) || A MEME. // accepting.

             ��Hey,” Ryker’s voice was low and half rumbled, a warm weariness seeping through him, through them, half intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He reached up to pull calloused fingertips through her dark, thick hair, a thumb brushing over her cheek, catching her chin lightly, a ghost of a touch across the line of her lower lip.   “I’m fine,” he reminded her as her fingers trailed over the still pink swath of scars that cut over his shoulder and chest, another to add to the ever growing collection of war stories written in his flesh.  This one, he’d earned -- deserved worse for not getting there sooner -- but the day and a half spent in the recovery ward at the hospital seemed to have taken more of a toll on her than it had him.  “Gonna take more than an asshole on a power trip to drag me away from you, you oughta know that by now.”

[rykerelias-archive]

TRANSFERRED FILE. || @theblueeyedvampire  William & Elias. VERSE: ac. ( organic damage. ) 001. THREAD: to be named.

    “Goddamn, you’d think this whole paperwork ROUTINE would be a hell of a lot fucking easier once there stopped being actual PAPER involved,” Elias groaned, tossing the stylus onto his desk, hands creeping up to rub against the bridge of his nose, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes for a moment before dropping away to the desk with a light thud.  His head craned, one direction and the other, a glance given to the digital readout of the time, a sigh escaping as he realized he was a good half hour or more past shift change – and it wasn’t like Tanaka was going to approve overtime.  “You headin’ home or you wanna go grab a beer or something,” Elias half questioned, half offered, as he made the motions to start shoving files and reports into his desk drawers, glance cast over towards Pratt who was making similar attempts at the next desk over.

    “Got that bloody right,” William grumbled, his own stylus tapping idly against the edge of his tablet. “Least they’re savin’ what’s left of the rainforest an’ all that, right?” He scratched at the skin of one bicep under his black t-shirt – wasn’t exactly dress code, but until Tanaka gave him hell about it, Pratt would wear what he damn well pleased. “Sure. Beer sounds good, mate. Course, I don’t have a missus to go home to.” As he stood and reached for his leather jacket, he smirked, tilting his head in the direction of Kristin Ortega’s desk on the other side of the bullpen. “Need me to tell her I won’t keep you out too late?”

One hand shifted, fingers working against the back of his head for a minute, a gesture meant to buy him a second as he tried to work out the best possible response to William’s query.  “Nah,” he settled on, with a faint quirk of his mouth as he tugged on his jacket.  “She’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”  Meaning, of course, he had no doubt that if she wanted to find him, and drag him home, she would.  Regardless of where he was or who he was with.   The edge of his mouth tilted upwards into a half hidden smirk as his gaze lingered on the dark-haired woman who was, as always, arguing with Abboud about SOMETHING.  “She’s still got a couple hours left in her by the looks of it, anyways,” he commented, shoving his chair under his desk and stepping free into the aisle.  “First round’s on me, after that, you’re on your own,” he advised, jesting lightly.  “I’ve been lookin’ at a place – for me and her,” he commented, turning the collar of his jacket up as they stepped outside into the biting wind of BCPD.  “Haven’t decided if I want to ask her about it first or just – risk her wrath if she doesn’t like the idea – OR THE PLACE,” Ryker mused.