Damon and Harley, Monday Afternoon
May. 13th, 2013 03:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainHarley meets Damon in the gym...when she nearly breaks his ribs. He's not much a fan of the munchkin, and does his best to make that known.
Harley was decidedly *not* training as she made her way toward the uneven bars. This was just fun. Professional, controlled fun, but relaxing all the same. Besides, she'd need a spotter to really train on this apparatus.
Her iPod was clipped to her shorts at her hip, and the earbuds were snaked up the back of her shirt to keep the cord out of the way. Don't Give Up came on, which suited her just fine at the moment. She sprang lightly onto the low bar, swung up to standing, then hopped over to the upper bar. A quick spin brought her to a static handstand - and oh, didn't that feel good? - which she let fall, took another spin for momentum and transitioned back to the lower bar, catching herself and sending her legs wide. The building momentum was her favorite part, so she stuck with easy transitions between bars, focusing instead on upping the speed and keeping the grace: motions even and controlled, flights smooth and effortless, toes pointed.
Lost in the music and movement, Harley had no idea she wasn't alone.
Below her, dangerously close to the uneven bars, but not quite giving a damn, Damon watched the kid, one eyebrow up, arms folded casually across his chest. He'd come down to the gym to get some strength-training in, but upon seeing the very small blond...thing...wiggling back and forth between the bars, he'd had to come take a closer look. Granted, he knew next to nothing about gymnastics, but from what he could tell, she must have been some kind of professional. Still. Tiny.
It was a little hypnotic, in a way, all the back and forth and up and down and around - he squinted for a moment when he realized he'd been watching longer than he meant to, and finally raised his voice, loud enough to be heard through whatever music was pumping through those earbuds, "Hey, Squirrely."
Harley was mid-swing on the upper bar when the voice startled her. What was he doing there?! That was not a safe place to be! Her body reflexively tensed and attempted to grip the bar tighter to check her speed.
Which backfired spectacularly when her hands slipped into the Pocket space, leaving her flying straight at him.
In a slow-motion moment of blind terror, Harley's eyes met Damon's and she knew exactly what was about to happen - and it was going to hurt. Hurtling through the air and completely unable to stop or change direction, it was all she could do to pull her elbows and knees clear and brace for impact.
Then she slammed into him and they crashed to the mat.
Damon hadn't had time to move, or really do much of anything but instinctively shift forward and hunch his shoulders to protect his neck and spine. Then, the little girl slammed into him, driving all air and thought out of him with all the weight of a much heavier projectile. Years of playing football forced him to stay on the floor until he could actually tell that he wasn't injured, but it didn't stop him from letting out a string of curses aimed in the general direction of the little blonde acrobat.
With a little groan, Harley opened her eyes and found herself sprawled across someone's chest. Things hurt, but they'd landed on a mat with her arms and legs on either side of him, so probably no concussions or major damage. She puffed a little sigh of relief, but froze as her brain registered the profanity - swearing usually meant injuries. She pushed herself straight up to take her weight off of him and scan his body for damage (nothing obvious at least?), then bounced to her knees beside him as her panicked, rapid-fire apologies bubbled over.
"Holy crap, I'm so sorry!! Can you breathe? Are you hurt? Oh man, don't move yet-" she pressed lightly on his chest in case he was thinking about getting up, then started patting her hands over his torso to check for injuries. "I'm so so sorry - I've never done that before, I swear! Tell me if anything hurts, okay? I just can't believe-" No sore spots on his shoulders, sternum, or collar bones, so she moved on to his ribs. "Where's the damage? Do you want me to get Josh? How can I help?"
Damon just stared at the little girl, at first in disbelief, and then an annoyed expression. Where the hell did they grow these things? "Well, for one, you can stop feeling me up," he told her, shoving her hand away as he sat up.
Harley gaped, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. "Wha- No! No, I wasn't- I was just- I could've really hurt you!"
"Granted," Damon groaned, checking his bruises, "A few years older, a C-cup or more, and I might not mind as much..."
That was so unexpected that it took a moment for her brain to process. When the meaning did hit her, she jerked backwards, throwing one arm back to brace herself and unconsciously bringing the other to cover her chest. "Excuse me?!"
The raven-haired teen rolled his eyes as he pushed to his feet, wincing slightly at a sharp twinge in his ribs. "Relax, munchkin. You're far too young and flat-chested to even count as a woman."
Who said things like that?! Her lower lip pouted as she watched him wince. "I'm thirteen," she quipped - that was at least kind of a woman, right? "And I'm tougher than you."
"Oh, is that why you decided to dive-bomb me from the uneven bars?" Damon narrowed a look at her.
Harley immediately looked down at her hands in shame. She hadn't lost control since she manifested. No serious injuries this time, but if this had been a competition...
"I said I was sorry," she said sullenly from her place on the mat. "And I didn't mean to, it was my power... Doesn't make me less tough." She shot a pointed glance at his ribs and used her best over-sweet tone. "You alright there?"
Damon smirked at the insinuation. "I'm fine. But if you'd like me to throw a hundred pounds at you and see if you don't come away with a few bruises, then we can compare notes on toughness."
Harley disappeared a hand to retrieve her water bottle and offer it to him, because that seemed like the thing to do for the guy you just meteored. Even if he was kind of a jerk. She also raised her eyebrows at him. "Dude, I was there? And I didn't block my body, so we probably have all the same bruises." Maybe her breath was still a little shaky, but that had to be adrenaline too, right? "But no broken bones this time, so that's an improvement."
"Dude," Damon mimicked, wry and amused despite his bruises. "You hit me, not me and the floor. Do us all a favor and go open a physics book sometime."
Harley suppressed a laugh: this was a mat, it was made for falling on. Sure, a little extra crunch, but it's not like they'd landed on the hardwood.
"But it's padded! And..." He hadn't taken the water bottle, so she tossed it to him. Without waiting for him to catch it, she rolled backwards and pulled herself into a handstand, tucking one leg for a yoga tree pose. Achy but steady, she picked up one hand and scratched her head thoughtfully. "...I'm actually pretty good at physics."
Damon rolled his eyes then caught the bottle reflexively. He moved to stroll off of the mat, but circled her all the same while opening the top. A sniff confirmed his suspicion. Water. Not that he could have expected a kid like that to be carrying vodka around with them, but it would have been nice. "You have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?"
"Nope." Tucking her head, she rolled forward and came smoothly to her feet. She looked him over with a professional's eye, wondering why he thought she should recognize him. Also, why he had sniffed her water. Now that she was really looking, though, there was something about him that made her uneasy. The way he held himself, the way he moved - everything seemed to direct her attention back to those freaky-intense blue eyes.
She caught her breath a little as some weird instinct in her chest told her to run. She shook it off (...but tried to stop making direct eye contact). He was just a jerk, no need to overreact. "Nope," she repeated, shrugging. "Sorry. I don't know most people still."
The edge of his lips twitched up, and he stopped moving, meeting her gaze intently. "But you're scared anyway. Good instincts. You should listen to them. I'm not a nice guy. I'm not even a somewhat okay guy. If I wanted to, I could have you singing 'On the Good Ship Lollipop' and twirling in place."
When River had passed on Simon's warning about the two mind control guys at the school, Harley had immediately thought that it was probably gossip or prejudice or something. This had bothered her 'give everyone a chance' mentality, and she'd dismissed it. Now she was trying to recall every word, and she could judge herself for it later. He had to be the one with the eye power.
...which logically meant Harley should really look away, but she found herself transfixed. Somehow, breaking his gaze felt like showing fear or weakness or something. Her gut said 'keep watch and play dumb,' and not to let on that she'd been warned. So she chose her words carefully. Sort of. "Crappy power, man. What's your codename, the Musical Man?"
Taking a sip from the bottle, he eyed her thoughtfully. "Incubus."
That made her blink. Her dad's favorite band? Still wary, she scrunched her eyebrows at him in genuine confusion. "Like... 'Love Hurts' and 'Anna Molly' Incubus?" she asked, head tilting to one side.
Damon rolled his eyes at that. Kids. Seriously. "Google it, genius. What's your superpower, anyway?"
"Just a little reality bending," she said, trying for a dismissive, 'the full explanation is too complicated for you' tone. With a glance down at her skin-tight tank top and shorts, she added in her best brat voice, "Didn't you wonder where the bottle came from?"
Yeah. She pulled off 'brat' really well, even through her fear. Part of him wanted to reach out, suck her dry, and then let the little kid try to smart talk back at him. And, for a moment, that desire manifested in his eyes. It was brushed aside a moment later, and he tossed the bottle back at her, turning to leave. "Great. Do us all a favor and bend yourself back to wherever you came from."
Harley caught her water with a startled squeak, which she did her best to stifle. His face had just done the scariest thing...
Afraid he might rethink leaving if she responded, she silently held her ground and watched him warily until the door closed behind him. Once alone again, she was torn between telling herself off for letting a fellow student intimidate her and, well, being thoroughly intimidated. He couldn't actually do anything to her, right? School rules and all? Still, for all the kids she'd met with potentially hazardous super powers in the school, Incubus was the only person who scared her. That last look, it was like he wanted to hurt her, would've enjoyed it even...
She was rattled and sore; she needed to think about this, and now felt seriously vulnerable in the empty gym. Untangling her earbuds from the back of her shirt, Harley tucked her iPod into her Pocket and scampered toward the locker room.
Harley was decidedly *not* training as she made her way toward the uneven bars. This was just fun. Professional, controlled fun, but relaxing all the same. Besides, she'd need a spotter to really train on this apparatus.
Her iPod was clipped to her shorts at her hip, and the earbuds were snaked up the back of her shirt to keep the cord out of the way. Don't Give Up came on, which suited her just fine at the moment. She sprang lightly onto the low bar, swung up to standing, then hopped over to the upper bar. A quick spin brought her to a static handstand - and oh, didn't that feel good? - which she let fall, took another spin for momentum and transitioned back to the lower bar, catching herself and sending her legs wide. The building momentum was her favorite part, so she stuck with easy transitions between bars, focusing instead on upping the speed and keeping the grace: motions even and controlled, flights smooth and effortless, toes pointed.
Lost in the music and movement, Harley had no idea she wasn't alone.
Below her, dangerously close to the uneven bars, but not quite giving a damn, Damon watched the kid, one eyebrow up, arms folded casually across his chest. He'd come down to the gym to get some strength-training in, but upon seeing the very small blond...thing...wiggling back and forth between the bars, he'd had to come take a closer look. Granted, he knew next to nothing about gymnastics, but from what he could tell, she must have been some kind of professional. Still. Tiny.
It was a little hypnotic, in a way, all the back and forth and up and down and around - he squinted for a moment when he realized he'd been watching longer than he meant to, and finally raised his voice, loud enough to be heard through whatever music was pumping through those earbuds, "Hey, Squirrely."
Harley was mid-swing on the upper bar when the voice startled her. What was he doing there?! That was not a safe place to be! Her body reflexively tensed and attempted to grip the bar tighter to check her speed.
Which backfired spectacularly when her hands slipped into the Pocket space, leaving her flying straight at him.
In a slow-motion moment of blind terror, Harley's eyes met Damon's and she knew exactly what was about to happen - and it was going to hurt. Hurtling through the air and completely unable to stop or change direction, it was all she could do to pull her elbows and knees clear and brace for impact.
Then she slammed into him and they crashed to the mat.
Damon hadn't had time to move, or really do much of anything but instinctively shift forward and hunch his shoulders to protect his neck and spine. Then, the little girl slammed into him, driving all air and thought out of him with all the weight of a much heavier projectile. Years of playing football forced him to stay on the floor until he could actually tell that he wasn't injured, but it didn't stop him from letting out a string of curses aimed in the general direction of the little blonde acrobat.
With a little groan, Harley opened her eyes and found herself sprawled across someone's chest. Things hurt, but they'd landed on a mat with her arms and legs on either side of him, so probably no concussions or major damage. She puffed a little sigh of relief, but froze as her brain registered the profanity - swearing usually meant injuries. She pushed herself straight up to take her weight off of him and scan his body for damage (nothing obvious at least?), then bounced to her knees beside him as her panicked, rapid-fire apologies bubbled over.
"Holy crap, I'm so sorry!! Can you breathe? Are you hurt? Oh man, don't move yet-" she pressed lightly on his chest in case he was thinking about getting up, then started patting her hands over his torso to check for injuries. "I'm so so sorry - I've never done that before, I swear! Tell me if anything hurts, okay? I just can't believe-" No sore spots on his shoulders, sternum, or collar bones, so she moved on to his ribs. "Where's the damage? Do you want me to get Josh? How can I help?"
Damon just stared at the little girl, at first in disbelief, and then an annoyed expression. Where the hell did they grow these things? "Well, for one, you can stop feeling me up," he told her, shoving her hand away as he sat up.
Harley gaped, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. "Wha- No! No, I wasn't- I was just- I could've really hurt you!"
"Granted," Damon groaned, checking his bruises, "A few years older, a C-cup or more, and I might not mind as much..."
That was so unexpected that it took a moment for her brain to process. When the meaning did hit her, she jerked backwards, throwing one arm back to brace herself and unconsciously bringing the other to cover her chest. "Excuse me?!"
The raven-haired teen rolled his eyes as he pushed to his feet, wincing slightly at a sharp twinge in his ribs. "Relax, munchkin. You're far too young and flat-chested to even count as a woman."
Who said things like that?! Her lower lip pouted as she watched him wince. "I'm thirteen," she quipped - that was at least kind of a woman, right? "And I'm tougher than you."
"Oh, is that why you decided to dive-bomb me from the uneven bars?" Damon narrowed a look at her.
Harley immediately looked down at her hands in shame. She hadn't lost control since she manifested. No serious injuries this time, but if this had been a competition...
"I said I was sorry," she said sullenly from her place on the mat. "And I didn't mean to, it was my power... Doesn't make me less tough." She shot a pointed glance at his ribs and used her best over-sweet tone. "You alright there?"
Damon smirked at the insinuation. "I'm fine. But if you'd like me to throw a hundred pounds at you and see if you don't come away with a few bruises, then we can compare notes on toughness."
Harley disappeared a hand to retrieve her water bottle and offer it to him, because that seemed like the thing to do for the guy you just meteored. Even if he was kind of a jerk. She also raised her eyebrows at him. "Dude, I was there? And I didn't block my body, so we probably have all the same bruises." Maybe her breath was still a little shaky, but that had to be adrenaline too, right? "But no broken bones this time, so that's an improvement."
"Dude," Damon mimicked, wry and amused despite his bruises. "You hit me, not me and the floor. Do us all a favor and go open a physics book sometime."
Harley suppressed a laugh: this was a mat, it was made for falling on. Sure, a little extra crunch, but it's not like they'd landed on the hardwood.
"But it's padded! And..." He hadn't taken the water bottle, so she tossed it to him. Without waiting for him to catch it, she rolled backwards and pulled herself into a handstand, tucking one leg for a yoga tree pose. Achy but steady, she picked up one hand and scratched her head thoughtfully. "...I'm actually pretty good at physics."
Damon rolled his eyes then caught the bottle reflexively. He moved to stroll off of the mat, but circled her all the same while opening the top. A sniff confirmed his suspicion. Water. Not that he could have expected a kid like that to be carrying vodka around with them, but it would have been nice. "You have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?"
"Nope." Tucking her head, she rolled forward and came smoothly to her feet. She looked him over with a professional's eye, wondering why he thought she should recognize him. Also, why he had sniffed her water. Now that she was really looking, though, there was something about him that made her uneasy. The way he held himself, the way he moved - everything seemed to direct her attention back to those freaky-intense blue eyes.
She caught her breath a little as some weird instinct in her chest told her to run. She shook it off (...but tried to stop making direct eye contact). He was just a jerk, no need to overreact. "Nope," she repeated, shrugging. "Sorry. I don't know most people still."
The edge of his lips twitched up, and he stopped moving, meeting her gaze intently. "But you're scared anyway. Good instincts. You should listen to them. I'm not a nice guy. I'm not even a somewhat okay guy. If I wanted to, I could have you singing 'On the Good Ship Lollipop' and twirling in place."
When River had passed on Simon's warning about the two mind control guys at the school, Harley had immediately thought that it was probably gossip or prejudice or something. This had bothered her 'give everyone a chance' mentality, and she'd dismissed it. Now she was trying to recall every word, and she could judge herself for it later. He had to be the one with the eye power.
...which logically meant Harley should really look away, but she found herself transfixed. Somehow, breaking his gaze felt like showing fear or weakness or something. Her gut said 'keep watch and play dumb,' and not to let on that she'd been warned. So she chose her words carefully. Sort of. "Crappy power, man. What's your codename, the Musical Man?"
Taking a sip from the bottle, he eyed her thoughtfully. "Incubus."
That made her blink. Her dad's favorite band? Still wary, she scrunched her eyebrows at him in genuine confusion. "Like... 'Love Hurts' and 'Anna Molly' Incubus?" she asked, head tilting to one side.
Damon rolled his eyes at that. Kids. Seriously. "Google it, genius. What's your superpower, anyway?"
"Just a little reality bending," she said, trying for a dismissive, 'the full explanation is too complicated for you' tone. With a glance down at her skin-tight tank top and shorts, she added in her best brat voice, "Didn't you wonder where the bottle came from?"
Yeah. She pulled off 'brat' really well, even through her fear. Part of him wanted to reach out, suck her dry, and then let the little kid try to smart talk back at him. And, for a moment, that desire manifested in his eyes. It was brushed aside a moment later, and he tossed the bottle back at her, turning to leave. "Great. Do us all a favor and bend yourself back to wherever you came from."
Harley caught her water with a startled squeak, which she did her best to stifle. His face had just done the scariest thing...
Afraid he might rethink leaving if she responded, she silently held her ground and watched him warily until the door closed behind him. Once alone again, she was torn between telling herself off for letting a fellow student intimidate her and, well, being thoroughly intimidated. He couldn't actually do anything to her, right? School rules and all? Still, for all the kids she'd met with potentially hazardous super powers in the school, Incubus was the only person who scared her. That last look, it was like he wanted to hurt her, would've enjoyed it even...
She was rattled and sore; she needed to think about this, and now felt seriously vulnerable in the empty gym. Untangling her earbuds from the back of her shirt, Harley tucked her iPod into her Pocket and scampered toward the locker room.
