Homelife

Title: Homelife
Time Period: July 11, 135 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: After a stressful workday, there's a comfort found at home.

It has been a difficult couple of weeks for Mariah, trying to run a shop and keep its actual owner from drinking herself to death. Not to mention the bedridden mother wrapped up in all this. And it seems to have been steadily more taxing as the days go on. She hasn't complained, not yet, but it shows.

And tonight, after getting the shop closed and Sorcha settled, at least until the other women runs of to go drinking again, she comes through their green door to drop right onto the newly acquired couch. It does not look comfortable, but at least she's off her feet.

With everything that's been going on, Cas has been actively trying to avoid giving her anything to stress about. Which has included cleaning up the place and even, occassionally, making sure there's something for her to eat when she gets home. Often traded for, something cooked by someone else—

But it seems he's tried to avoid anything that could add to her stress. Which often means he works extra hours too.

And when he doesn't he's helping the McKay's around their house. Tonight must have been one of those nights, when he finished his chores at the stables, and came home to help the McKay's. He's trying to pay his way, too. He's in light work clothes, still, when he steps out of the other room, rubbing his hands with a towel. He looks as if he was washing up, though not taking an actual bath. Those are saved for rare occassions, still, and usually only around her. "Hey," he says, looking for a moment as if he was going to ask her a question. How was her day— how's the job. He bites them back, instead, somewhat literally. "Want something to eat?"

Peeking up from the back of the couch, Mariah still smiles seeing him there. "Yes," she says as she shifts enough to get comfortable. And sitting up. "But I rather a kiss hello," she adds, proving it hasn't drained all life from her just yet.

"And I think I'll cook us something tonight." Which, from her expression, is probably a thank you of sorts, even if she makes it sound more like taking her turn at the chore. "How's Eclipse?" She hasn't been out to see the horse in a while, given that she works days now.

The request for a kiss is met with a smile, and Cas moves over to the couch to lean down and give what she requested— without quite requesting it, really. "Hello," he says after he pulls back, still smiling a little.

With a soft plop, he sits down next to her, relaxing into it whether it's what would be considered comfortable or not. It's more comfortable than the floor, or the wooden benches he's used to these days.

"Eclipse is good— luckily for me he's what is considered a very cold blooded stallion. I've even tried stabling him near mares, and he's doesn't panic. There's only a few more things I have to teach him before I'll show him to the boss." Though he wouldn't doubt if the boss hasn't given him a look over without him, anyway.

"Hello," Mariah says with a softer smile after that kiss. And when he sits down, she leans over against him, as if there isn't a whole stretch of couch for her to use.

"Good. I'll have to come out and bring you boys lunch again soon. Sounds like he's been doing good enough to get spoiled a little." Apples, no doubt. "I'm sure Edmund will be impressed." She tilts her head to look up at him, "I mostly successfully made a dress on my own today. Sewed my finger a few times, but they say seamstress blood is good luck. Honestly, I think they say that so we eel better, but I'll take it." If there's one plus to all her extra stress, it's that necessity has made her a fast learner.

"Sewed your finger? Sounds painful," Cas says quietly, reaching to take her hand up as if he's looking for the pieces of thread sewed into her hands. Even if he doesn't find them, he's still bringing her hand up close to his mouth to kiss her fingers. The poor abused fingers.

"Good job on the dress. I'd offer to help, but I think I really would sew my fingers together. Or to the dress. Or… something worse." There's worse, right.

"It is! You wouldn't think those needles would hurt so much, but they do." Of course, when he kisses her fingers, she pauses a moment before she adds, "Really really do." Innocence.

She grins at the offer, though, and she leans up to press a kiss to his jaw. "You do help. You've been taking care of everything around here. Don't think I haven't noticed. And, you can always be very complimentary even if the dress looks a wreck. It doesn't, but, you know. Just in case."

Despite the fact she will need her hands if she's going to make them anything even resembling dinner, Cas doesn't give them back over, holding the one he's claimed close to his face, pressed against his neck, really. "I'm sure it looks fine. A lot of ladies in Dornie run around in worse," he says, as if he'd taken the time to look at them. And judge their dresses.

"I know my clothes are worse, though I don't own any dresses." And he doesn't intend to, likely. After a few moments, he adds as a re-tangent back, "I haven't done that much. I should probably stop by your shop every so often, see if I can help there, but…" But Sorcha made him nervous last time he tried? No that would be a little rude to admit, of a new widow.

"Honestly, you're probably safer not to. For now. She's… not doing too well. I'm trying to be there for her, but it's hard. I can't fix this for her. I mostly just try to keep her from doing something she'll regret when she gets over this part." Mariah holds out the hope this is just a phase of Sorcha's brand of mourning. It's too depressing to think otherwise.

"I'm trying to be patient through it all," she admits with a dry chuckle with fades into a sigh. "Poor thing, though. She really loves him. And now he's gone and they had all that… time away from one another. Makings of a tragedy there." If only there were a playwright in town.

"Not really a fan of tragedies," Cas says honestly, voice barely above a whisper. It's hard to be a fan of tragedies when one is surrounded by them all the time. Course he's the type to try and find a smile through it all. Somewhere. Somehow.

"You sure you want to cook? I have um… bread and cheese and some salted meat that we could eat. I can also bring home some fish to cook in a few days— I know how to cook that." It's one of the few things he honestly thinks he can cook, really. "I know where there's a lemon tree, too."

"Nor me, not of the real ones, anyway." She does love a fake tragedy much better. Given that Cas is infectious in the best way, his next words bring a smile to Mariah's face again.

"I was going to be magnanimous and altruistic and do it myself, but that sounds perfect right now. But I promise, I'll pick up my weight around here again soon." Her hands shift just a little, from his neck to his face before she leans in to kiss him again. A little better this time. Less tired.

And at least he smells clean. Or at least not too much like horses. The bad sides of them. Cas consciously tries to leave that smell at the stables, when he can. The kiss is returned, before he pushes himself up off the couch, still holding onto her hand as he stands.

"You already hold enough weight during the day, you don't need weight here, too. This will be a weight free place. No weight here," he says with a teasing smirk, kissing her hand again. This time her palm, just before he lets her hand go. Persumably to go and get food together for them both.

"You're spoiling me terribly," Mariah says, a protest on her tone, but her smile pops up in contrast. "No weight here. But just for a little while!" Her smile turns into a sort of dopey grin at the kiss to her hand, and when he moves off, she follows just enough to lean on the arm of the couch.

"I don't know what I'd do without you here," she says as a warm sort of expression of affection, her smile matching her tone this time around.

"You'd be terribly bored, I'm sure," Cas says with a grin and a wink, as he lingers near the couch for another moment. Almost as if he's tempted to get distracted. They miss out on eating so often by distracting each other. After a moment, he raises his hands, pointing fingers at her.

"Stay right here." Cause she'd be a distraction in the kitchen area as well. With a smile, he finally moves to go and find the food he'd traded for lately, to get it all on plates—

They can distract each other after they both eat.