ONCE BURNED was made by MEL. Copying, altering, or stealing any of the site's content is prohibited. All of ONCE BURNED's characters are the original work of their owners and may not be replicated or stolen. All images and graphics belong to their rightful owners and ONCE BURNED does not claim to own any of them.
Penny held no desire to start in on the beer placed in front of her. In all honesty, she was hoping her pallet would be burned from her own beverage before she could get to the bottle. All this time at the table, and the only contact she made was with some sort of alcohol. Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out to her counterpart, but it seemed that turned into a game within itself, and Penny wasn't one to lose so easily.
"I can handle anything you throw at me." Those words were likely to turn into regret later that evening, because they both knew they were untrue. Lucy was the only person that Penny couldn't handle, even from the start.
She leaned back in her chair, legs crossing over one another.
Distraction had taken over Penny so much that within the few short minutes her love was gone, she hadn't thought to check her phone. It was a feat that only Lucy could take claim to; Penny couldn't recall the last time she let her mind rest away from the idea of their son, especially now that she was without him. The untouched martini had made its way back towards Lucy's side of the table, replaced with a bottle instead. She had to suppress the smile, because letting her know she was impressed by the choice was too nice for Penny to actually do.
"Alright, fine." Penny settled with instead, sinking the last olive back into the clear liquid before she brought the glass to her lips. "I thought you were concerned about crying?" She asked after another moment, finally letting the corner of her lip twitch upwards.
It seemed that as quickly as Lucy had brought herself close, she was pulling away again. It wore the psychometrist thin as she sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose the moment her wife was headed towards the bar. Of course she would bring two beers back. She brought the glass to her lips again, taking another slow burning sip of the rough alcohol that would surely impair her judgement later. She couldn't recall the last time she drank like this.
She stole a few glances towards her wife's turned back. How she played the game so well. And there it was, real confirmation that Lucy was never good at learning. Penny plucked up the toothpick, sinking her teeth into one of the large, gin soaked olives.
Proximity was always a danger, especially when downing a glass of wine had put Penny at the start of a very early buzz. Her hands gripped each other as she remained with perfect posture in her chair, jaw aching from the way she clenched it. She wouldn't dare. Then again, this was Lucy. Any sort of instruction to not do something seemed to come back in tenfold with the opposite when she had that particular grin.
She glanced, briefly, at her lips. The breath Penny took in was a little too shaken.
What was supposed to be a classy night out without their son for the first time was quickly treading into dangerous territory. The moment Lucy made it to her feet, Penny found quick advantage with not being eye level with the ink manipulator. It showed in the delay it took for her gaze to travel up to Lucy's face, to catch that look she wore as she offered an explanation. Or was that a possible request? Penny was sure she heard a formal please at the head of her sentence, but it took her a moment to realize it actually came out of her wife's mouth.
"If you come back with a beer, you're drinking this." Penny stated flatly, jaw clenching as she thought back to their car in the parking lot. "And you probably will cry." It wasn't so much a threat as it was a general statement of someone that knew her so well.
Mate - a nickname that wasn't one on the short list of ones she was often referred to by her wife. She was thankful that it wasn't often, either. The look on her face likely showed that, twisting more from it than the burning sensation that came with pure gin. She put her hands into her lap, dark eyes breaking contact to glance down at the table before them - to inappropriately humor the thought put in her mind - before shooting back up towards the ink manipulator.
And when she looked back up, she caught sight of the Australian pushing away from the table. Her nose crinkled. "You have a drink, Lucy." She threatened with a searing tone.
It was a back and forth that reminded her of when she first started regularly spending time with the ink manipulator. Lucy had this fire that knew exactly how to light Penny's already short fuse. Her lips remained pursed, only breaking as she brought the first of what was apparently her two drinks to her lips. Her jaw clenched at the taste of hard alcohol. Rarely was she one to opt out for a beverage over wine, and the taste would take time to get used to.
"Are you implying I cannot read you?" Penny turned her wife's words on her, eyebrows quirking upwards briefly. "Now that's a thought."
Penny didn't make note of the probably concerned look the server had as a glass was shifted in her direction. No, dark eyes narrowed on her wife - her love - who she was fighting the desire to slap. Just a little bit. Not a word came from the psychometrist, not even a thank you to the poor person that had to wait on them this evening.
Her fingers twirled around the pin in her drink, two large olives secured on the end as she swirled it around the pure hard alcohol in the long stemmed glass. Once the server was gone, she dared to speak. "One of those is yours." It wasn't a suggestion.
With mention of her ability, Penny immediately pursed her lips into a hardened, thin line. Amusement never took form in the idea of the psychometrist ever actually used her abilities. The thought never would have occurred to her, but the idea of someone poisoning their meal irked her.
Penny let out a quick sigh, her eyes dropping to her now empty glass. Another one couldn't be brought to the table quickly enough. It seemed as if all the bottle up cursing was coming loose in waves with her counterpart. When her gaze met the ink manipulator again, she offered the most disapproving look she could, which - given their history - was likely the wrong move. Lucy was fueled by reaction.
Her lips parted, intent on a harsh reply, but the virgin dropkick - as Lucy put it - was returning, two martinis on the serving plate. She was silent as they were placed on the table in front of them.
The server might have been within earshot, but given Lucy's harsh nature, Penny would have been surprised if they listened to another word she said. It instantly seemed as if things had turned around completely. Her wife was settling back in her seat with that obnoxious grin, when minutes ago she was ready to leave. Penny leaned forward, forearms pressing to the table while tactfully keeping her elbows off it.
"They're going to spit in our food," she pointed out flatly, but she somehow doubted Lucy cared. It was so very much like her not to care, especially when the psychometrist cared about everything.
Very rarely would Penny give into a demand, even from her wife and especially if it was so harshly ordered. It was letting go of a little bit of the control she so desperately clung to, more so over the past few months. Although there was an ache in the corner of her mind wishing to check her phone, Lucy still knew how to pull her attention. If not from the way she spoke to her, but then the server trying to take her order. Her eyebrows quirked upward, lips pursing with the curse her love threw into the air.
Now, she was pushing it. As if Penny could preach on her behavior towards a stranger. "She'll have the same," the Brit replied coolly, correcting her wife and the server as she pressed her palms together, eyes refusing to leave the set that were so intensely locked with her own. "Thank you."
She couldn't tell - nor did she particularly care - how disgruntled the server was by then, but they had taken the pair of menus and walked off.
It was so rare for her love to use a harsh tone like that to the psychometrist - there were arguments, and then there was this. What was worse, was that Penny was denied the one thing she asked for. Her hand withdrew, eyebrows lowering with the sting of rejection. But there was more; two demands, or rather challenges for the Brit to prove herself. She exhaled a heavy sigh, reaching for her glass again.
Because she tipped it back, the dry liquid disappearing quickly before them. It wasn't the proper way to drink wine, but Penny knew more than anyone that Lucy wasn't the biggest fan of proper. A napkin touched her lips briefly as she took her phone with her free hand, sliding it into her purse. There was an overt desire to check it before it disappeared entirely - somehow, she resisted.
In perfect timing, the server returned to them for the order. "The squash ravioli, please." Penny gave her order, and with a pause she glanced at Lucy as he asked if she'd like another glass of wine. "No, thank you, but I'll have a dry martini."
She probably had taken a bigger sip of wine than she had initially needed to. When the glass settled back on the table, she was reaching for her phone and keys. Like it was really okay, even after Penny had stated she wanted to stay. The psychometrist hadn't even reacted to the curse that filtered through her wife's lips, because instead her dark eyes grew wide with the content of Lucy's statement.
Her hand stretched out across the table, palm up as her fingers beckoned for a connection. Instant regret filled the Brit's expression as she tilted her head to the side a fraction. "Lucy," she tried, but she knew there would have to be more.
"I wouldn't have said yes if I hadn't wanted this."
Penelope attempting to act normal was probably the biggest sign of an abnormality in the psychometrist. Nothing could hide the anxiety blooming within her chest as she glanced down to the black face of her phone, and then to Lucy's. There had been strict ruling of no devices at any dinner table they sat at, but a lot had changed since the birth of their son. This was just part of it now. As she glanced around, Penny was unable to catch her gaze, and her own dark eyes shifted focus to something more distant - she was barely there.
Until a familiar accent asked her a very specific question, and the Brit's head snapped towards Lucy, eyebrows shooting upward in surprise. Though, she really should have seen this coming. "No." Penny stated firmly, taking in a long, deep breath. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment before she finally reached for the wine, the stem of the glass slipping between two of her fingers before she drew it to her mouth. For possibly the first time, she considered having something stronger, but instead, she looked across the table to bright red hair and concerned eyes.
Do not overfeed him. He needs to be in bed by seven - he may not seem tired but he'll settle down. Any earlier, and he'll be awake in the middle of the night. I have a list of books you can choose from to read from him; they're by his crib. Call me if you have trouble with anything, or if he is giving you any trouble at all. Or if he starts crying. Lucy and I will both have our phones on.
It was just the tail end of a large list of instructions for her brother. Since his birth, Penny has not let anyone outside of her wife look after their son alone. But tonight would be the first - and possibly the last. Michael was the person she trusted most besides her wife.
So she sat at a table, back straight and hands in her lap with a closed menu in front of her. The glass of wine had yet to be touched. They had left all but twenty minutes ago, and the anxiety wore through her red lipstick.
