May All Your Bacon Burn [Prp]

[Tristan]

He slept with his head under the pillows, face down on his stomach, twitching like a dog in his sleep, but Tristan could never abide by sleeping for too long and peering over at the alarm clock on the bedside table he finally roused himself, slipping out of bed in a pair of plaid boxers. Sidney was still crashed out and the dark-haired man left her be, only passing his hand over her cheek to tuck back a stray strand of hair.

Usually he let Sid pick out the places they stayed, and tired of the Motel Eight's and Comfort Inn's she had chosen a little higher caliber place this time around.

Although it did nothing for his wallet Tristan let her, figured the girl deserved a break and something better than springs digging into her back all night long.

He had even gone the extra mile, picked up some essentials at the grocery store, along with a carton of icecream and fig newtons. It wasn't much, but Tristan could remember the days when something as simple as a two dollar box of cookies from the store made a world of difference, seemed to brighten up the fact you couldn't buy brand names and fancy frozen dinners like the rest of the world.

It was alright, he told himself. Just for the meantime and one day he and Sidney were gonna make it--make it to the big time and get signed with a label and he could give her everything he wanted to give her. Everything she deserved.

With a yawn he stretched languidly in the thin rays of sunlight that peered through the cotton blinds. He scratched himself and mosied on into the kitchen, cracking open the small fridge where he had stashed the breakfast materials. The gas powered stove took a bit of doing to get working, but within a few minutes Tristan had fished out a pan and was frying eggs and bacon, coffee already brewed in the pot.

Sabra had taught him some cooking skills, and after all, what kind of man couldn't feed himself? Down right pitiful to starve to death just because you couldn't take it out of your 'pride' to tie on an apron.

Which may have helped when scalding hot bacon fat landed on his bare nipple. "JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST!" The mountain man jumped back cursing and swatting at the mini burn, trying to evade the hailstorm of sizzling hot droplets of fat going right for his face and chest. "Good Lord, you'd think there'd be some warnin' for a man, but oh no, gots to be right in the nipple," He grumbled, reaching over to turn down the burner and flip the eggs.

The little hotel room filled with the scent of breakfast and with the application of the icecream container applied the burn didn't seem half so bad.

[Sidney]

Sidney does not take what they have for granted. She has lived the majority of her life in a poor home -- and so the nice hotel is agreed upon with grains of sand. Tristan is mostly the working man, bringing home the bacon (ha,ha). But she wouldnt be Sidney if she let him shoulder it all by himself. She wouldnt be a good girlfriend either.

Maybe he's learned not to ask her where she flutters off too some nights, or maybe he just never notices. But today is one of those days indefinitely. She's spent a majority of the night investing in their future -- and she's tired and hungry and a little stressed by the time she takes the shape of a canary and rises the hotel sideline. Riding out to the twelth floor and sitting - smack dab right there - outside of their nice little suite.

Tristan doesnt notice her at first, too distracted with his nipple's wellbeing.

"Good Lord, you'd think there'd be some warnin' for a man, but oh no, gots to be right in the nipple,"

But after she makes some humorous chittering sound, and takes to jump around and singing in and out of tune and pitch. He's sure to lift the pane to let the little tapping foot bird in.

She flies the circumference of his head in strained flaps, then glides to the couch and changes mid rift. Landing in a lazy naked slump on the sofa. Dark hair a mess and stomach rumbling.

"Come here," she says, cheered up of course by her man looking mighty fiiinnneee in a apron. "Let me kiss it better!" And there is light teasing in her eyes before she get's to her feet, knee's shaky and slips into the bathroom to wrap a robe around her shoulders and wash her hands.

" And aw, I liked that nipple.." She pouts as she comes out of the bathroom, removing her hair from the snag of the robe's collar. It's getting long now, just a half short of shoulder length. And damn fussy too.

[Tristan]

Intent on the bubbling white of the eggs, he tentatively pokes at them with the spatula. Tristan could never tell when the damn things were done or not, they looked sorta slimy all the time, but none the less he makes to flip them, cringes when he busts the yolk of one and immediately consigns it to his own plate.

Only the best for his girl.

Between that and his reddened nipple it takes Sidney hopping around and doing a regular tweety bird routine for him to look up. A grin blossoms over the big man's face and he drops what he's doing to throw open the window, watches the canary swoop about his head with wonder and awe. Sid was so cool. He sure wished he could take whatever form he pleased and being that he has thought awfully hard on it before he thinks he'd like to turn into a big brown bear, or maybe an eagle, or maybe, maybe he could turn into a hound dog and drag his doggy tongue all over Sidney's face and make her squeal and smile that shows her teeth, eyes creasing with mirth.

Yep, Tristan thinks, watching the air seem to fuzz around his girlfriend as she changes back, feathers to soft human skin and long dark hair, he'd like to do that someday.

"Come here," "Let me kiss it better!"

Rich laughter, the sizzle of bacon and the shuffle of paper plates as he turns back to his manly duties. "How 'bout you come here? I'm cookin' for ya, woman! Come get your breakfast." He switches the burner off (safety first) and makes sure to hand her the plate with more bacon and the good egg.

"And aw, I liked that nipple.."

He stills for a moment, watching her stride through the motel, sunlight dappling her form and the robe strings swinging about her hips. Moco skin, hair in tangles about her face, Tris had never fashioned himself much of a word smith, but if there ever was a sight to inspire him to poetry that would be it. His eyes narrow softly, "Did ya now? Mm, I'd be hurtin' worse ifin' it was your's." His soft smile morphs into a mischievous grin, intentions plain as day across his face and reaches forward with his free hand to tweak her areola through the fluffy fabric of her robe, not too hard, pressure gone as quickly as it came, Tristan ducking in anticipation off the cuff he'd surely get.

Bacon flies up in an arch as he hoists his plate in the air, making an evasive tactic, "NOT THE BACON, SID. HAVE MERCY."