Midnight Snack

[Snick]

Pratt was sitting in the common room of the keepers' quarters, in almost complete darkness. His eyes had adjusted to the scant light filtering through the windows. This night was very windy, and he could hear the waves crashing against the jagged cliffs just outside. A storm was coming in. Far away, lightning flashed and thunder crashed.



In his hands was a box of Jabberpocky. Tiny cries of 'don't eat me!' and 'oh dear god, noooo!' issued from every stick he chomped on. While normally, he didn't mind holding pleasant conversation with this particular treat before devouring them, tonight he just wanted a snack and the chocolate covered biscuit sticks from Japan were the most appealing thing in the vending machine.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The creak of the trees against the stone house, the crash of the waves thundering against the rocks, the lonely cry of the horn of the lighthouse warning sailors to stay away, the flashing glare of the light from the house itself . . . Siobhan was wide awake and afraid. Never mind it was midnight. Never mind tomorrow was the first day of classes. "Arwen?" Siobhan whispered, not wanting to wake her. No answer. She was sound asleep. She wanted Lorccan, or her mom, or her dad. Her mom would give her a cup of hot cocoa and tell her to calm down and sing her a song.



Right. She was a lighthouse keeper, and she was afraid of the wind and wanted her mommy. She would just be a big girl and get her own cocoa. She put on her thin robe that had been handed down by how many sisters she had forgotten--not needing a heavy robe in the dorms--and quietly went to the common room.



She was relieved to see she wasn't alone. "Gilligan!" She gave him a relieved grin, her fears abating. She pulled the robe more tightly around herself, then went to the microwave and made herself a cup of cocoa. "I couldn't sleep in all this noise. How about you?"



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Hey, Ginger," he grinned wryly. His lightly bagged eyes traveled from her toes up to her face, where they struggled to remain. "Nice robe."



In nothing but some flannel pajama pants in black and red plaid, he seemed quite comfortable despite the chill in the house. "I'm always up this late," Pratt answered then stifled another pocky's shrieks of terror. "Want some?"



He held the box out to Siobhan. "Or something else?" he asked, licking a little chocolate from the corner of his lips.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The wind howled extra loud again and she shivered, partly from fear and partly from thin robe. She looked down at her socks and wished she was wearing slippers. She took her mug of hot cocoa and sat next to him. "Is it okay if I sit here?" She looked at the Pocky sticks. They were afraid too. No, she couldn't eat them tonight. "No, thanks. My cocoa is enough. I'm not hungry, just cold." And afraid, and stupid for being afraid. she added silently. As if to prove her point and to make a fool of her, her lip started chattering. She hurriedly took a sip of her cocoa to try to hide it. Lighthouse keepers aren't supposed to be afraid of the wind, she thought, burying her face behind her cup.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Yeah, you can sit there," he wondered if he should have offered the chair to her or perhaps even risen to pull it out for her. "Oh. Okay. If you want, I can go get my robe for you. It's fleece. Mucho warm. I'll get it."



In a flash, he was darting to the lavatory, his bare, pale skin almost glowing in the dark from the lack of color. Pratt didn't know her answer to his question. He'd been too afraid to look. After all, he had barely gotten a few words written down, and they were stupid. What fifteen year old still used the term 'go with' when asking someone to go steady?



Grabbing the robe from the hook, he dashed back. "Here," he held it open for her.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



She stood up and snuggled into the robe. "Ahhh. It's so warm." She tied it tightly around herself, then sat next to him again at the table and returned to her cocoa. She tucked her feet up under herself in the chair so as to keep her cold toes warm.



"I can't sleep when it's so noisy, and it's noisier here than it is in the dorms. It's colder here too. I don't know why I'm a keeper. I'm too big of a baby to be out here, Pratt. I can't do this," she whispered, feeling discouraged.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Sorry if it smells like deodorant," he apologized, getting back into his chair. When he scooted it up he also scooted it closer to hers. "Don't say that. You belong here much more than I do."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"How can I help anyone if I'm afraid of storms? I only turned 14 last month. I always wanted to be a keeper, but I thought maybe it might happen when I was a junior or more likely a senior, if it happened at all. It never happens to most people, and not to freshmen. Why does it want me now? I think it made a mistake."



An especially loud crash of ocean was followed by breaking branches. She scooted closer to Pratt, squinching up her face at the noise. She moved closer, so that she was as much on his chair as on her own.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"It's alright to be afraid. Everyone has fears. I'm afraid of things, too," Pratt awkwardly put his arm around her shoulders and patted and rubbed the one under his hand. "If the lighthouse made a mistake, it was choosing me, not you. But it doesn't make mistakes. You're here for a reason and you're going to be fine. I'm glad you're here, if that counts for anything."



Maybe the reason was him. What a silly thought, he silently chided himself. Very cheesy. Thankfully, he hadn't said that horsecrap outloud. Pratt hoped against hope that she would laugh in his face if he ever said anything so corny. His inner dialogue was a desperate attempt to ignore the subtle floral scent dancing around his nostrils and the soft body against his side. The hairs on his neck and arms stood at attention as her lightly tousled locks moved against his arm.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"I'm not even that far from home. You would think it would be no big deal, that I would know what a New England storm sounded like. But it still scares me." She leaned into him. "I'm so glad you're here, Pratt." Another crash of waves sounded almost like it hit the house, and she jumped a little.



Once she relaxed again, she leaned on his shoulder. "Did you read your notebook?" she asked shyly.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Yeah, you'd think so," he chuckled softly, his hand moving a little more fluidly up and down her upper arm. Pratt thought his heart might pound its way through his rib cage. The tha-thump tha-thump was loud in his own ears. He feared she could hear it, too. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on his breathing. Then she brought up the notebook.



"No," he admitted quietly. "I can't... I don't... It wasn't finished. I couldn't think of the right words..."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Siobhan felt her ears grow warm. "I guess I shouldn't have looked at it then. That was rude of me." She hoped he liked the answer. She didn't think the question was dumb at all. She thought it was a sweet way to ask her to the dance. "But I didn't mind the way you asked me."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------





"It's not like you knew. It's okay," he watched his free fingers fidgeting with the jabberpocky box. "Who asks a girl out like that? It's so... kindergarten. And I should have asked you in person, not in a note."



Pratt sighed and shook his head. "I wouldn't blame you if you said no," his lips scrunched to one side. "Your boyfriend should be more mature, and less cowardly."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Boyfriend?!!! Siobhan's mouth opened and she sat up straight and turned to look at him like he had suddenly sprouted horns. "I thought you were asking me to the dance. I said yes, of course . . ." Her face turned bright red. "I didn't think . . . I didn't know that you . . . I like you, Pratt. A lot. I just want to get to know you better and finish the talk we started this afternoon. I will probably say yes, but can I have a little time to think about it?" Her brother, for example, and his probable telling her parents, might be an issue. She looked into his face, hoping he didn't feel as embarrassed as she did.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"The dance? But it's a mixer," he watched Siobhan panic, feeling that wasn't a very good sign. "Just forget about it. Let's pretend it never happened. I don't want things to get weird."



The cool air that replaced her against his side stung nearly as badly as her answer. Pratt tried to keep smiling as he removed his arm from her shoulders and stood. Grabbing the pocky, he crossed to the pantry to put it away. "I mean... What if you get to know me and don't like me?" the pantry door hid him from view as he stood there, staring at the canned goods. "And then we can't even be friends? Can't be in a room together without making each other and everyone else uncomfortable? I'd rather have you as a friend than nothing. So... Can we please forget that I wrote the note and that you saw it?"

[Snick]

She'd hurt him. Now she wished she could crawl underneath the lighthouse. Her face fell. "No . . . please. I'm glad I saw it. I, I think I want to be your girlfriend. It's just that I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the wind, and afraid of my brother telling our parents, and I was afraid of the funny look that was in your eyes this afternoon with Cam. I want to talk about those things before I say yes. I'm glad I saw the note. I don't want to forget it." She timidly took his hand. "Please, don't run away from me now."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"It wasn't ready and I wasn't ready," he looked down at their hands, her hand looking even smaller poking out of his robe's sleeve. "Maybe we would have been ready at the same time, if you hadn't seen the note. I don't want you to think I'm only doing or saying something to win you over, and I don't want to feel like everything I say or do is being picked apart and examined under a microscope."



Pratt squeezed her hand and closed the pantry. A genuine, though small, smile was on his lips. Siobhan's skin was so soft, her fingers so dainty. "Like I said, we're all afraid of something. I'm afraid of you, Siobhan," his eyes met hers very briefly. "Do we have to tell your brother?"



He could stay up all night talking, telling his life story, his likes and dislikes, and whatever else, if that's what she wanted. Of course, there were a couple of things he didn't want to tell her. She would probably hate him. "I'll tell you now," Pratt frowned. "You're not going to like the reason I was acting funny."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Siobhan returned his smile. "i'm not scary," she said, surprised. "We don't have to tell anyone, if you don't want my brother to know. I'm listening about this afternoon. Tell me. What is this terrible thing that you think will make me not like you?" Her hand felt so protected and safe in his. She liked it there.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Okay," he agreed. Unfortunately, keeping it a secret meant he wouldn't be able to rub it in Lorccan's face. But he didn't care. He felt like he might go into hiding, like witness protection, if she asked him to. Hormones and pheromones made him think of the stupidest scenarios. Pratt's eyebrows curved up at the bridge of his nose apologetically. He pulled Siobhan along with him to an oversized recliner and sat, hoping she'd join him.



"I have... issues. Archives, even. And I get angry. For no reason," he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and watched it move to and fro as he talked. "And when there is a reason, I get really angry. Like in the meeting. And I have anxiety, I'm scared of stupid things that I shouldn't worry about. Things that don't make sense. Like, in my room, I'm three stories up, but I fear that a burglar is going to break into my house through my window. When I'm really scared or nervous or under a lot of stress or embarrassed or....the extreme of any emotion... I panic. Really panic. I feel like I'm going to die or the world is going to end and I can't breathe and my heart feels like it's going to explode through my chest and my stomach feels like it's in braids, not just knots. And... to help... I take potions."



Pratt was actually having a little difficulty breathing that moment. Telling her all of that frightened him. It wasn't easy, at all, so once he started, he just blurted it all out as fast as possible before he could change his mind. Afterwards, he felt that familiar sense of impending doom, but also the tiniest bit of relief.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



She sat in the recliner with him and snuggled by his side. "You have an anxiety disorder. You had just taken your medicine when I came in? How come you looked so guilty and funny then? Had you been sharing it with Cam?" she asked. "How often does it bother you? You don't seem anxious right now. Are you anxious when you are with me?"



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"No," he looked to his knees. "She was sharing hers with me. My parents won't send me to a therapist. God forbid they admit they created a monster."



Rubbing his neck, he half-smiled and watched her sidelong. "I'm most anxious around you, Siobhan," his smile went lopsided. "But it's different. A happy kind of anxious that I like. I'm so nervous, but making you smile... I dunno. I can't explain it."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"You're not a monster!" she replied sharply. Then she was embarrassed. "Sorry." She smiled. "I like you. If you need meds, go to the school nurse. If you don't need them, don't take someone else's."



She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, while noticing that his eyes looked okay right now, he seemed pretty normal to her. "Are you on anything right now, Pratt? Because I think you're just fine."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Deal," he nodded firmly, finally meeting her gaze again.



That brown mop tossed a little when Pratt shook his head. "I'm straight right now," he answered. "You think I'm okay, but... Well, feel."



Pratt took her hand and placed her palm over his heart.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"It's fast." Siobhan kept her hand there a moment. "Keep breathing. Slowly. I'm here. I'd do something if you wouldn't think it was stupid. It's what my mom would be doing tonight if she was here, since I'm so afraid of storms." She moved her hand. "I'm going to do it anyway, for me. And if it helps you too, it can be therapy for both of us." She scooted down into the crook of his arm and started softly singing a Irish lullaby in a clear clean tone, feeling her own anxiety abate, and hoping his was too.



When she was done she turned and looked at him. "You helped me get through my fear tonight. If I helped you get through yours, then you don't need any medicine. We can just help each other."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



His eyelids slid shut while his jaw displayed a subtle smile. When she no longer sang, he whispered, "Your voice is as beautiful as you are."



However cheesy the compliment was, it was how he felt. No telling what the song was about, but he enjoyed it. Though he had many close relatives that spoke that tongue, he had never learned it. Pratt didn't see the point, he didn't plan on ever living there. In any case, he did feel a little more relaxed. A little sleepy, even.



"I liked that," he looked up at the ceiling in thought.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Thank you." All part of her mother's plan for her to catch a good Irish Catholic wizard husband. Siobhan sighed.



"Pratt, can you try going without the potion, or if you can't go without it, going to the school nurse and getting a prescription? I'll help you. You're okay right now, right? Would you try it, for me?" she asked.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"I'll try. For you," he vowed, turning his head to look at her. She was so close. His hand tightened slightly around hers. The smell of his deodorant on his robe mingled with her flowery scent.



"Siobhan?" he barely uttered.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Pratt? Thank you. We can do this together. I know we can."



Now if she could convince him to stay away from Cam without sounding like a jealous harpy. But she didn't think she could do that.



Lorccan, she recited in her head. Take care of Cam, she needs a friend. Well, she wasn't likely to give Lorccan her spare medications.



And if she just talked to Cam herself and asked her please not to give any more medications to Pratt? She'd still sound like a jealous harpy. She sighed.



Maybe she'd just have to raid Cam's stash when she was in class . . . what, she was a burglar now? What, this what she was turning into? She glanced at Pratt and smiled awkwardly, glad he was no legilimans.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Yeah, we can," he agreed. "Do you still need time?"



He figured he would make sure before asking. Maybe that was a little too direct. "I mean... is there anything else you want to know?"



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"No, I know what I need to know. I'll be your girl friend." She grinned broadly. "But secretly. I don't want my parents to find out so my brother can't know." She was too young by their standards to do much more than dance with a boy for at least two years. A little dating was all right, but a boyfriend? Not with her parents.

[Snick]

"Okay," Pratt's grin reached from one ear to the other. "Gilligan and Ginger."



His fingers squeezed hers again. Giddy didn't even scrape the surface of his delight. He was going to have a hard time keeping it on the down low. "I think the wind is dying down," he said, not looking away from her face.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Arwen shifted suddenly in her blankets from where she had gotten comfortable. She was not sure what woke her up from her slumber but was blaming it on her brain being too active on thoughts. Arwen stood up and quietly wrapping the blanket around her hoping that she had not woken up Siobhan. Once realizing it would never happen since the girl was already gone Arwen stopped trying to be really quiet and grabbed some socks to put on her feet.



After finally getting the socks on and blanket situated again, Arwen left the room to go and explore the lighthouse. Her plan was to grab some tea and see if there was anybody in the kitchen for her to talk to. It not she will head up to the top of the lighthouse and watch the storm tossed sea. Her plan changed as she walked into the common room and spotted Siobhan and Pratt.



"Hello there you two. I hope I am not interrupting anything. Some nights I wake up early and not able to get back to sleep." She stood at the door not sure what to do now. They both were sitting really close together and it could end up becoming really uncomfortable here.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"I was afraid of the wind, and cold, so Pratt was keeping me warm and trying to get me to stop being such a baby," Siobhan said, thinking quickly, from her spot wedged in the recliner next to Pratt. She realized she may not be able to keep their secret from their fellow keepers, at least not for long. "It's quite a storm tonight, although it's died down some now. I made some cocoa. Do you want some?"



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Yeah, she was cold and scared of the wind," He echoed, quickly releasing Siobhan's hand. "But you're alright now, right? And Arwen's here, so you probably don't need me around now."



Pratt scrambled out of the recliner, nearly falling on his face. "I'm sure you'll be talking about girl stuff," he babbled. "Stuff that I, a boy, wouldn't like talking about."



Awkwardly, he just stood there, scratching his shoulder and wiggling his toes, instead of heading back to his bedroom. It was like a bellhop waiting for a tip or a confused old man waiting to catch a bus that hadn't run in twenty years.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arwen stood there listening to their story about what was going on. She knew that it was plausible that her roommate would be scared of the wind but they still were really close. She held her blanket tight moving to sit on the couch across from the recliner.



"Thank you Siobhan for the offer of cocoa. I am going to decline though because if was to have a cup of it I would never get to sleep again. I will plan on just getting some tea later." She learn before that the sugar kept her wide awake and it was not a good thing the day before classes started tomorrow.



She turned to look at Pratt as he stood there. "You know Pratt if you want to stay you can. We can come up with a subject that fits the three of us. I don't want you to leave because of me."





------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Please stay, Pratt. Besides, this is a big recliner, and there was plenty of room in it for both of us." Siobhan didn't want him to leave. "If you leave, I'll feel obligated to return your robe."



She patted the place next to her. "We've been recounting storms from the past. I had storms, no matter how many I've seen," she lied skillfully.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"If you insist," Pratt rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet and back before shimmying back down into the recliner beside Siobhan. Refusal would be rude.



"Yeah," he took Siobhan's fib and ran with it. "Like the time a storm blew a limb onto my dad's Beamer. Man, was he pi- peeved."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Arwen smiled at Pratt had set down. She would not tell anyone about how relieved she had been when she found out everyone that was picked to be in the lighthouse. She understood that had she not been it was unlikely they would talk.



Arwen really felt the were up to something. She was not going to ask though and make it even more awkward. "Oh well I understand what it like to be afraid of storms. When younger I was scared but over time it died down knowing I can't stop it. Plus I know we need rain."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



And then there were four. Creeping into the room cat-quiet in stocking feet, Makepeace was sneaking out of the room he shared with Pratt, dressed in his pajamas and bathrobe. Like everything Makepeace wore, his pajamas were ultra-neat, expensive, and done in charcoal-colored silk. His bottom row of teeth jutted out in an exaggerated movie-monster scowl as he crept into Pratt and Siobhan's view, and his arms were held out straight in front of him to further the effect, sneaking up behind Arwen with every intention of grabbing her and spooking her, but one of the floorboards creaked in the process of creeping, and his eyes widened dramatically, his palm flying back to cover his face, and he groaned. "Crap."



"On that note..." He said, moving around to sit next to Arwen, but not too close. "What are the three of you doing awake?"



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"I couldn't sleep because of the storm. So I got up. Pratt had insomnia and was telling me storm stories, and Arwen just joined us." Siobhan let her hand touch Pratt's since it was hidden between them and went a little pink in the cheeks. She glanced at Pratt. This would never work as a secret in the lighthouse.



"No, that's not all. Pratt and I like each other. If we promise not to do anything bad, will you two promise not to tell? I don't want my brother to find out. At least not until I know if he'll tell my parents. So, can it be a secret, just here, between us keepers?" She looked from Arwen to Makepeace, smiling nervously.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



He wiggled his fingers against hers a little bit, keeping a straight face and nodding along in agreement with her story. Then she suddenly let the cat out of the bag.

So much for it being a secret. Pratt slapped a hand over his face. Would she be able to keep it from her brother? Shrugging, he averted his gaze to the arm of the chair as if it was suddenly very interesting, a pinkness rising in his cheeks.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Arwen turned and looked at Makepeace when he had set down on the same couch as her but to where she could have still be completely comfortable. She was now starting to wonder if this was going to be a normal thing them all spending time together in the middle of the night. “Well sorry you were not able to scare me. If it actually worked out you would have scared me for sure. Reason I am up is because my mind is so active at moment that I was not able to sleep any longer. My plan was to get some Tea and then head up to the tower and looking out over the water. I found Pratt and Siobhan here though and it changed.”



Arwen moved to stand up again before sitting down with her legs up underneath her and the blanket tighter. She was not really sure what to say when Siobhan started to talk saying that her and Pratt were now dating but keeping it quiet and a secret from the others. The awkwardness that had been there when she first showed up made sense now they did not want her to find out about. She was glad they would not do anything bad since it would he harder to want to stay here if they were with thought of walking in on them. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone about this. It would not do well for it to get out to others before wanted.”



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Makepeace looked at Siobhan deadpan and shrugged. "I kind of already guessed you liked each other." He said, trying to moderate his tone so that it didn't come off as snide or condescending. "If the two of you want to start dating, who am I going to tell? I'm hardly the school gossip, and last I checked, Lorccan and I just tolerate each other's presence." Candid as he was being, he wasn't going to tell Siobhan that her brother got on his nerves whenever he managed to be in close proximity. The O'Brien twins really were like the yin to each other's yang. Siobhan was bright, cheery, pleasant to be around, and optimistic. Her brother? Not so much.



He glanced at Arwen sidewise and said, "You know what works well for that? Foot rub. I'm not sure why women seem to relax from having their feet rubbed, but it's kinda like catnip for women. Which is weirdly coincidental, because catnip smells like feet. Would you like me to try it? I promise not to tickle you. Much."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Thanks Makepeace, Arwen. I knew we could trust the other keepers." She let the hand that was holding Pratt's come up just a little.



"I suppose with the storm dying down, we'll be able to go to sleep soon. But I like being able to just talk here with everyone." She smiled a little sleepily and leaned into Pratt's side.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Yeah, thanks, guys," he peeled his eyes away from the chair arm to look at them with a weak, but relieved, smile. "It'll be nice not having to hide it from everyone. I promise we won't be gross or overly saccharine, and we'll keep the make-out sessions to a minimum."



Pratt smirked and nudged Ginger with his elbow, to at least let her know he was kidding. Well, half-way kidding.

[Snick]

Arwen listen to Makepeace explain that a foot rub would help her. She figured that she ever figure out how he had found out that girls loved that. Most of the woman she known were self-conscious about their feet. She knew if it helped her get to bed at decent time then it worth try. "I might as well try it. I don't want to be up all night, however I reserve the right to kick you it tickle me to much. Just apologizing ahead if time since that one few places where ticklish."



"It was easy to see that you two would have ended up together. Thanks for telling us just if going to do that type of thing just send us a note or something. Unless lighthouse believes I am needed there are plenty of places I could hide while I wait." She finally moved her feet out from underneath her so that Makepeace could reach them.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Makepeace reached out and drew Arwen's feet into his lap, and began kneading them gently. As with his art, he had a natural gift for this sort of thing -- a gift that was encouraged and guided by his late mother, who had abandoned any sort of magical career to avoid being located by her zealot parents, and taken up a career of massage therapy and reflexology. He wouldn't be doing any serious reflexology on Arwen, though. His father had, somewhat insensitively and yet humorously called Reflexology 'The dentistry of the healing arts.' What Makepeace was doing now was straight up, relaxing massage -- Something to relieve the sort of abuse that feet suffered through the course of the day, and would generally feel good.



"Just make sure Castilla doesn't catch you. He seems nice enough, but I don't figure he's the sort who's gonna let you carry on in here like we're a bunch of godless heathens..." He said, referring back to the comment he'd made at breakfast. He was trying to be pragmatic about it, even if the two of them were cute together. The mean shelf life of a high school romance was pretty short; usually less than a couple of months before they ran out of interesting topics to talk about.



Plus, Siobhan was a Catholic. If she was as pious as he believed, she was probably saving herself. Which didn't rule out a handy or a BJ on the side, of course. If what he read in Penthouse Forum was true, some Catholic girls considered a hand job to be a nice way of saying hello to strangers. Siobhan didn't seem like that sort of girl, though.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Well, he told us we can't go in each other's rooms. Is that a rule, or is it a magical barrier?" Siobhan had a crazy noting in her head that they could have some amazing pillow fights in the lighthouse. She wanted to know if it was a barrier, and if the barrier was there, was it just for humans, or did it include pillows.



"I think we'll be safe enough. Pratt and I aren't going to do anything he'd need to owl our parents about anyway."



She watched what Makepeace was doing to Arwen's feet. "But if you want to teach Pratt how you do that to her feet, I doubt my toes would object," Siobhan added with a laugh.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



If Pratt could read Makepeace's mind, he'd be all kinds of flustered. Luckily, he was clueless to his roommate's thoughts. He looked to Siobhan.



"And what makes you think I can't do that already?" he feigned a bruised ego. He didn't know the first thing about massage, of course.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Arwen closed her eyes a moment when she felt Makepeace start to massage her feet. She someone actually do it this way before. Most of the time she just stuck them in the water foot baths and soaked them. "This is great thank you. Not sure it would help me fall asleep but it does make them feel a lot better. It be great if everyone knew how to do it."



She knew that anytime he wanted to do it for now on she would allow it. It was going to be interesting around here on the while trying to make sure try would all get alone. Arwen prayed the new couple would work out since it be awkward around here if they fought breaking up. "We will figure it out just takes one it one day at a time."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"It might be great for some... Not so great for people who make their living doing massage therapy." He said with a thoughtful look on his face. "I also know how to do some Swedish massage, a little deep-tissue massage and trigger point work. I could show you a few things if you want, Pratt. Well, the Swedish, anyways, not trigger point or deep tissue. Those aren't pleasant." He said, kneading Arwen's feet in a manner that suggested it was almost like the paw motions of a contented cat kneading the lap of someone petting them.



In many ways, it was -- Massage reminded him of things he had forgotten in the eight years since his parents died. The feeling of expressing affection in a way that was physical without being sexual. He never did this with any of the girls in the system, no matter how nice they seemed. Maybe some of the things Corky had to say to him on the ride over actually sunk in, and he was trying to make connections again.