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Drama, Songfic.
Rating: PG.
Prelude to a wedding.
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Wicked Game
He
wasn't even sure what the fight had been about. It escalated somewhere between her snapping, "you need to
grow up" and him retorting with, "you ain't my leader, goddess" and
hit its peak with the inevitable Remy/Jean trump cards. He got steamed and
stormed off—haw, bad pun—and he stayed away longer than intended. After that, some scrap between him and a few
enemies reminded him of old flaws and doubts.
What he'd be dragging her into. Your enemies will become her enemies,
the broken record taunted. So he stayed away to think, to wonder. To finally
decide.
The
climb to the loft was torture and each step felt like a new ton of bricks on his
chest. A haunting melody—half-country,
half-pop, all-sad—ghosted about his ears, teasing him and taunting him.
Reminding him that he truly loved her deeply, now. Genuinely now. The closer he
got the more the sandalwood and ozone
aura quickened his heart. Reminded him of how much he missed her.
He hadn't slept well since he'd left because he
couldn't catch that aroma. He'd even found himself visiting a furniture import
store, hoping to catch the sweetness of her. But he hadn't come back until now.
Until he realized his bad dreams had become preferable to reality. Until he
realized, after rolling over and fondling a cold bed for the last time, that he
would rather go through his worst Weapon-X nightmare than wake up alone,
without her. He
already knew she loved him. But this
was different…a private, intimate step made public. A change of seasons. A
new dawn…a new apocalypse? Damn. He had to bring that up, didn't he?
His
lips hardened. No. He wasn't gonna take that turn. Never again.
I
never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.
No,
I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart),
With you...***
"'Ro--"
His voice sounded ugly in his own ears, tentative and weak. He hated the sound but he couldn't help it.
It came directly from his heart.
She
didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to. She was in her sanctuary, surrounded
by hot water, and meditating in a sea of flowery, feminine scents. Her world
was near pitch dark, illuminated only by the shadowy flickerings of Feng Shui
candles and he paused, watching slashes of light bathe her African tapestries
and tribal masks in a burnt orange haze. His frown deepened. He remembered the
candle.
***What
a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
What
a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.***
The
haunting melody was louder behind the bathroom door. The song was on an
infinite loop. He pushed the door slightly back with his knuckles and inhaled
the sight of his heart, enjoying how her ivory tresses fanned the back of the
clawfoot tub. Her body was bathed in over a dozen candles, painting her brown
skin in a dark, sugary nimbus. His eyes darted to one of the candles, a large
green square poised before a single frosted window pane. "It's a promise
candle," she had revealed. She was shy about it, until he pressed her.
"A promise," she whispered, "of my feelings for you."
Saying
nothing, he silently sat behind her, on the edge of the tub, watching her
caramel hands drift lazily in the water.
A slow careful drip into the tub punctuated the silence, but he didn't
want to be the first to speak. Not yet.
***What
a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.
"Are
we done?"
He knew what she meant.
He
stuck his hand over her shoulder, breaching the white wall of sateen hair, and
traced invisible eddies in the water with his fingers. Cool. Tepid. She liked her bathwater as hot as hades. She must've been soaking for over an hour.
"Don't
think so."
She
hadn't opened her eyes. She was taking slow, careful breaths but every so often
her heartbeat jumped, betraying her outward calm. "You still have three
weeks to decide."
He
swallowed the knot in his throat and answered her in the same, flat monotone.
"We have three weeks."
"We
would have to call off the caterers. Rescind invitations. Cancel flowers,
reservations—"
He removed his hand from the water and bravely placed a wet finger to
her lips. "It ain't about that," he said huskily.
"I
know," she said. Her throat twitched. Her eyes remained shut.
He
sighed heavily, slid off the tub, and sat next to her, staring at her at eye
level. He lay his chin on the tub's edge and admired her breasts cresting and
falling with her every breath. She was trying to ignore him. Trying to make it
his decision, not theirs. Enough. Enough of the chicken shit tango.
***And
I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No,
I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
With
you.***
"Stop
it, dammit," he whispered fiercely. Her eyes opened to low slits, but she
was still watching the water in the tub. "For once, don't make me feel
like I gotta play dentist. No more goddess games."
Her
throat twitched again. "You should have called me."
"You're
right. I could've. I should've called." He stuck his hand in the water and
skimmed near her arm. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper, and I should've stuck
it out."
"We
should have," she whispered.
"We, then." He lightly grazed her shoulder. "I don't
want to mess up what we have."
Her
eyes did snap up, now, and he realized how tired she looked and how red her
eyes seemed. She might have been crying, but he wasn't sure.
"Then stop running," she said. Unshed tears pooled around her
huge blue eyes, but they would never fall—not until she felt sure. Assured. Not
until they moved beyond this chasm. God, he loved her. More than ever, maybe.
***The
world was on fire and no one could save me but you.
It's
strange what desire will make foolish people do.
I
never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.
And
I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you no,***
His hazel eyes met hers with equal intensity. "Done."
She nodded and he tenderly took her hand from the water, rubbing her
fingers absently. Her hands were smooth and soft, like new spun silk. "You
gonna do the same for me?"
A small noise hitched in her throat. It was tougher for her. She hadn't
gone down his road yet. Maybe she wouldn't for a while, and he couldn't force
her to. But he wasn't turning tail. He was staying, even if she fled. Ironic.
"Logan, I…I—"
He closed his eyes. Ah. Now he remembered what the fight was about.
Control. It had been about control. Her dominatrix attitude versus his feral
stubbornness. And the fight for it had to be won here and now. It would either
be equality, or one of them would walk away—but he was digging in his heels for
the long haul. It wouldn't be him. He had learned.
***No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna
break your heart)
No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna
break your heart)
With you. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I...***
It began raining outside. "Do you love me?" He asked quietly.
The tears finally fell. "Must you ask?"
"The answer ain't for me, darlin'."
Her voice hitched again. "With my whole heart, I love you."
"Now. The tough question. Do you trust me."
"Why wouldn't I—"
The air changed and a small, sad smile pinked his lips. "Don't
answer," he whispered, silently getting to his feet. "Only answer
when yer willin' ta give me the truth, without the games. But listen to me, all
right? I'm stayin'. I ain't gonna leave
ya behind. I ain't like the others."
He planted a chaste kiss to her dark forehead. "I'm here. I'll
wait 'til yer ready."
The water sloshed around her as she hugged her knees to her chest and
he left her alone, left her to come to her own conclusions. He turned back once
to assure her but it wasn't out of fear. It was determination. Determination to
stay and see something through, for once. To get past his issues. He'd come out
of the valley. Now he'd wait for her to find her own way out.
"I love you, darlin'," he whispered, and closed her door.
Thunder followed him down the hall.
***Nobody loves no one.***
--Fin.--