bellaknoti (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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peopleofthedas2011-01-17 02:44 pm
bellaknoti) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-01-17 02:44 pm
fanfic: Wings of the Storm Crow
Series: Wings of the Storm Crow
Title: Reconnecting (Chapter Twelve)
Rating: AO
Pairing: Lily/Zevran
Summary: Sofia! My best friend! Meeting Zev. Oh... oh man. Well. It could have gone worse... Seems like they're gonna be okay around each other... it'll be double trouble for me, though...
“Mmh... I’m going to pass out now,” I mumble, feeling the darkness closing in from all sides. He laughs, he says something... I don't know what. The next thing I’m aware of is early morning light, and the smell of coffee. Another day. I must have slept for twelve hours. I think about moving, but... that just seems masochistic. Eventually, I must give in to the demands of the physical and, with great effort, I drag myself upright and haul myself out of bed. Everything aches. I feel like I spent the night tumbling in the dryer. Half-way to the bathroom, my knees give out, and I catch myself on the dresser. I kneel, pressing my forehead to the wall, and eventually crawl into the bathroom.
I manage to navigate my way through having a wee, but then my legs refuse to work for me anymore. I crawl across the floor, climb up and over the side of the tub, and tumble in. The porcelain is cold against my back, and it actually feels good. I cover my face with my hands and think really hard about hot water, but the Force just isn't with me. After a time, my stomach muscles stop jumping and complaining, and I let go of my face so I can try to haul myself upward. When I open my eyes, he is standing across from me, leaning against the counter and watching me, ohhh, so smug.
“Good morning, cara,” he says, not even bothering to hide the grin. He is well pleased with the sorry state of me. Stubborn, stubborn as I’ve ever been, I climb to my feet and lean against the wall.
“Zev... The morning came too quickly. Mmmh...” I complain, and then catch sight of myself in the mirror. “My hair is frightening. I’ll never get all the tangles out.” I reach down and turn on the taps, waiting for the water to heat up. My body gets the better of my resolve, and I slowly slide down the wall to sit on the floor of the tub again. I pull the knob for the shower, and it falls to spray me right in the face. I screw up my eyes and bow my head.
“I shall pull all the tangles from it, if you cannot,” he says, waving a hand. Such things are immaterial, apparently. “You did not wait for me. You are crawling around on the floor in here. Tch. Did I not say that I would take care of you? Hm? So impatient!” He sighs again.
“I don't... I’m not very good at being weak. Perverse, I know, considering what kind of state you found me in to begin with, but... I always stand on my own two feet, you know? I’m not used to not being able to...” I stop, frustrated. “I don't like to lean on people.”
He is quiet for a moment, watching me intently. I can tell he's ordering his thoughts, and it makes me a little uneasy; he usually only does that when he is uncertain as to what my reaction to something will be. Finally he sighs, once more. “Cara, no one can go through life without leaning on others. It has been dangerous in the past, I understand that, but this is now. I say I can carry you, that we can share burdens. You say you agree. So – rather than simply agree, why not try following through?”
I groan and cover my face with my hands, so it doesn't get sprayed really hard when I tip my head back. He's got me dead to rights. Again. I have got to stop struggling with myself, I really do. “I know... I’m trying, I really am.”
He comes and kneels by the tub, and adjusts the water, putting the stopper in the tub. “There are people in this world who care for you, cara, who would never do a thing to hurt you. I am one of them, and I say I was to be here to take care of you, and what do you do during my five minutes of distraction, rather than wait? You crawl.”
He tugs my hands away from my face and cups my cheeks, leaning his forehead against mine. “I am not the only one who cares for you. Jack does, and there, out on the porch, is a bizarre little woman with something called 'brownies', who insists she is your friend. In fact, she threatened to 'break her foot off in my ass' if I had hurt you. You think you are alone, you have been separated from your fold, yes.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips as he reaches out and turns off the tap. “But... you were never alone; you only had to open your eyes and see.”
I rest my forehead against the edge of the tub, defeated again. Trust, trust, trust. There are so many ways in which I do not show it, even though I feel it. My wrists ache from how much I pulled on them last night, and the skin is a little pinked from rubbing against the silk. Next time – oh, gods, next time – I must remember not to struggle so hard, because my hands aren't going to be the same for days.
There is a shout from the vicinity of our living room. “Hey girly! You okay in there? Are your tits out?”
I look up, at the doorway, even though she's obviously not going to be standing there. “Sofia!” I haven't seen her since last summer! “Yes! Wanna see?”
“You bet!” I laugh as Zev smiles, and there is the sound of that little skipping, hop-bounce-run that is pure Sofia on the floorboards of my house. Same scamper since we were eleven. Her head pops around the door. “Whooo, hey, nice view. Girl in tub, man on knees. I'm down.” She holds up a pan. “Hey, I brought brownies!”
I snort, but I’m smiling. “So I hear! Are they safe?”
Zev's eyes widen, and he turns to look at Sofia. “I ate one of those. What does she mean, 'are they safe'?”
Sofia laughs, going to the toilet and plunking down, completely unselfconscious. “Oh, don't worry, sugar plum, they're totally safe. Except for your waistline that is, but you sure don't look like you need to worry about that.”
I narrow my eyes a little. “Yes. Sofia makes the best brownies ever... No lie. However, sometimes there's a little more than just chocolate. What's in them this time?”
She shrugs, but I can see the mischievous twinkle in her eye. She keeps her voice light. “Oh, you know... the usual. Milk, eggs, sugar, chocolate, some Milka bars chopped into the mix... and y'know. My good oil.”
“Not mushrooms this time, I hope.”
“Good... oil?” Zevran is frowning now, sitting on the floor in confusion. “Mushrooms?”
“Oh! Nonono. Those are no good for cheering you up. Only my special blend of awesome-sauce and chocolate relax-ey goodness go into each brownie.” I watch as she digs one out, holding it out to me. “See? Lots of little choco-chunks of yummy!” she says in a wheedling, sing-song voice.
I sigh in relief. “Oh. Thank gods, it's just green.” I take and bite it, then point at her. “I'm not having a repeat of last summer. No more mushroom brownies. They were great, right up until the sky started to strobe black, white, and hot pink.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh don't worry. I only made those by accident. Elric switched the bottles on me. God, those things were awful – imagine: the whole Viking horde with gas.”
I gag. “Do I have to?”
Zev laughs. “I am sure that it only mixed with their innate scent.”
Sofia begins to giggle. “So, it came from both ends, all this gas. Belching and farting.” She snorts, unable to continue.
“Marvellous that they learned how to multi-task,” Zev says, and Sofia laughs so hard I think she might fall over.
I groan. “That's nasty.”
Zev snorts. “She started it!”
Sofia shakes her head and points at me. “No, actually – she started it!”
I hold my hands up, laughing with them. “Hey, hey, I was just saying I didn't want to get dosed today, I didn't need to know all the nasty stuff about Elric's crew.” I watch the two of them and realize I'm in deep trouble. It's like having mirror image perverts crammed into the bathroom with me.
“So, I heard through the grapevine, that, you know... you needed someone 'round here, and I also heard that I should put on my stompy boots.” She stretches her legs out, showing off her blue-and-purple-plaid custom-painted Docs. “I couldn't get away from Seattle fast enough. Really, I tried, but the boss-man – former boss-man... God, why don't I know any assassins–” I choke at this statement while she blithely continues, “–docked my wages, and I really needed to get my car fixed, and then I had to get the dough together so I could break my lease.”
Zev turns to me and grabs the soap. His look says it all. That is a straight on, 'I told you so', if I've ever seen one.
Sofia leans forward earnestly, elbows on her knees, fists under her chin. “I should have come sooner. And, you know, I told you to call me if you needed help! I knew, one of these days, though– I knew that somehow you'd get away from that whole mess, and I wanted to be there to help out! So, sorry I'm late, but hey, at least I brought chocolate!”
I look between the two of them. “Mmh... You know how great I am at keeping in touch. I’m glad you're here now, anyway. You're not the first one to take me to task today, for not letting people help me.” I sigh.
Zev only gives me a tiny smile, and sets about washing my torso, having finished with my legs during Sofia's rush of words. I close my eyes, trying to pretend that this is normal, that there's nothing wrong with letting... my... My train of thought completely derails over the word 'husband', and I end up looking at Sofia again as she speaks. “What are friends for?”
“Not used to 'friends',” I choke, but I realize, part of it is because I’ve been doing it to myself. I’ve had a few, Sofia being one of them, but I never lean on them. I never ask for help.
“Oh, so you say,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. She picks a chunk of brownie off the side of the pan. “You just don't look around much. That whole 'nose to the floor' thing, it tends to push people away, eventually.” I bow my head, duly chastened, yet again. I have got to force myself to start having more faith in them. “Except for the really stubborn ones. Good thing I like a challenge.” It's eerie how she echoed Zev's earlier words, and I can see his lips tilt even further, his amusement deepening. Smug, sexy man.
“Ah, she's effervescent,” he murmurs. He tips my head back so he can pour water over it.
“Mmmyep...” I mutter, half-incoherent, since he purposely ran his finger over that spot again, just once, making me shiver. Ohhh... so mean, so mean.
“Like an Alka Seltzer! My fizzy makes you feel better!” she chirps happily, and I groan with the badness of it. “Hey, at least I didn't start the 'plop-plop, fizz-fizz'.”
“I try not to be this way, I really do.” My voice is quiet, but strained. It bothers me that the way I’ve come to think of myself actually hurts other people. “It's hard for me to let go of control over myself, to let someone else have it, even a little bit, over me.”
Zevran leans in to whisper in my ear. “You should relax, cara; let us take care of you a little, hmmm?” He glances at Sofia over his shoulder, his voice returning to a more normal volume. “I was about to pour some cups of coffee, do you know where the mugs are?”
She cocks her head and looks between us, snickers, and nods. “Sure, sure I do. Just one question Lils – do I need my earbuds?”
I groan. I wish I could say no, but I really don't know. “I... don't think so?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, and I’m pretty certain he knows why I phrased it as a question. “I believe she is far too... worn out for any such activities.” I can't hide my sigh of relief.
She pauses by the door and looks back at us over her shoulder, suddenly appraising him more seriously. “Oooh, where can I get me one like him? Minus the blond hair; it makes him look like Legolas and Ricardo Montalban had a baby.” I feel a little jab of possessiveness until I remember her last bad relationship. Some stupid accountant with long blond hair ditched her for a socialite. As fast as that little pain came, it disappears, and I am able to laugh at it, as that statement is far funnier than she could ever know. “Meh. Too blond! Gods of chaos, save me from blonds! Augh!” She throws her hands up and flees.
Zev wrings out my hair and ties it up on my head. I have no idea how he does it, but something about the way he twists it, when it's wet, it just... stays that way. Even after it dries, if I don't mess with it, it stays. He tried to show me how he does it, but my fingers just don't move like that, and even when I do manage to get it in the right configuration, it's not tight enough, and it just kind of flops over and unravels.
He sits back and looks at me, very seriously, and I suddenly feel two inches high. The water begins to drain as he flips the plug-latch, and I pull my knees up to my chest. He holds his arms out, and I wrap mine around his shoulders, letting him pull me to my feet so he can get a towel around me. My legs begin to shake, no matter how much willpower I try to feed into them, no matter how he's got half my weight on his shoulders already, and he swiftly reaches down and catches me just as my knees give way completely. I squeak, my arms tightening around him, and hide my face against his neck. “Tch... Cara...” he murmurs reproachfully, and I realize he's not straining, even a little bit. He carries me like I’m nothing. I make a conscious effort to relax, and he kisses my shoulder. “Better,” he says, and I smile.
It is a strange thing, to be carried like a child. I’ve never been carried, not since I was tiny, not without being in some kind of medical state of emergency. He sets me down on the bed and looks at me speculatively. After a moment, I can't stand it anymore, and I fidget. “What?” He just shakes his head and goes to my closet, and, after a lot of rummaging around, finally finds a dress he approves of. “A dress?”
“Yes, a dress.” He arches an eyebrow, daring me to argue, and I shut my mouth. After a moment, he smirks, and gathers the sleeves up over his wrists. He takes my hands in his and raises my arms over my head. The dress just slides down and over my hips, and I suddenly understand. Trust. While he continues to dig around in my closet, I lean over and take advantage of the deodorant in my night-stand drawer. My hands barely work; I almost can't get the lid off. I finally fumble it back into the drawer just as he is returning to me with an old leather bodice I’d forgotten I even own. He pulls it around me, adjusts me to it, and does the laces with surprisingly expert efficiency, before straightening out my skirt.
Without preamble, he leans down and slides his arm under my knees again, and I lean into him. No panties. He must have a reason, so I just let it ride. Maybe he's thinking things will be easier for me if I don't have to struggle with them if I want to pee... and I can't really argue with that logic. He lifts my back first, letting my dress fall further over my thighs before he pulls me into his chest. Sofia watches, surprised, as my assassin carries me into the living room and puts me down in the centre of the couch. She arches an eyebrow at me, and I blush. The smug look on her face speaks volumes.
She holds out two mugs for us. “Okay, I really need to get me one of those, but please make him brunette, and tall. Then again... anything over 5'2” is tall to me!” she laughs, and winks at me.
“Hmm... That is a very good height,” he says, gesturing toward my chest. He accepts both the mugs from her and hands one to me. “Everything is pillows.”
“Oh, don't I know it!” she exclaims, laughing brightly. “This one time, I was so drunk, I just flopped on her, and used her as a big, giant, comfy body pillow. I thought I was in heaven.”
Oh, gods, I remember that time. She had been giggling that everyone dancing at the bonfire were people inside her tummy, and that their happy dancing made her feel good, but any bad vibes would make her sick, so they had better make her happy or else. I smirk. “Hmm... that was the ecstasy mead, wasn't it.”
She colours a little, looking into her coffee. “Oh, I was hoping you wouldn't remember that part...”
“I remember what came after it, too. Hmm... Something about being plaid... The yellow, blue, green, and white?”
Zev waves Sofia back to a sitting position and heads toward the kitchen. “I really must come across some of these chemicals you speak of. They sound... interesting.”
I look into my own cup just in time to not drink my coffee black, and wait. “Well... There are ways we could go about that, if you really want to. Though... I’m not sure I want to drop acid again, after the fog incident.”
“Fog?” he asks.
“Yeah... It was a hallucinogenic; I got lost in a really thick ground fog that wasn't actually there.”
Zev returns with the creamer, handing it to me. “Tch, what would Jack say... um... a moment, a... cara.” He reaches toward me as he sways for a second, the muscles of his face going lax, and shakes his head once, as though to clear it.
“Whoa, I want his metabolism!” Sofia exclaims.
I take his hand staring up at him, alarmed, suddenly worried – far too late – about what kind of effect the drugs of this world might have on his physiology. “Zev?!”
His voice takes on a slightly dream-like quality. “My, ah... My head. It is... very... relaxed.” He nods to himself absent-mindedly, then shakes himself, dropping my hand and is suddenly much more normal. “I am hungry. You must be hungry; aren't you hungry, cara mia? Sofia, you as well?”
I laugh with sudden relief. “That didn't take long.”
Sofia laughs too, throwing her head back with glee. “Like I said: I want his metabolism!”
I look up at Zev. “I haven't eaten since... lunch yesterday. We skipped dinner,” I remind him, and he nods, heading back into the kitchen.
“Omelettes?” he asks, a moment later.
“As long as it isn't grey, I'll eat it,” I reply, and he laughs.
His voice is muted, emanating from the vicinity of our fridge. “There is... spinach – oh that looks good – and onions... ham... basil... Where is the– Tch– Ah! There it is....”
Sofia eyes me, nose scrunched up, curling her legs under her. “Wow, forty-five minutes...”
I gasp. “You were timing it?”
“Yup!” She is well pleased with herself.
“Why?”
Zevran's head pops around the corner, and he's got thing of string cheese in his hand, munching on it. “Eh? Timing what?”
“You, doofus,” she says, nodding at him. “I like to know how long it takes to affect each person, so I can make calculations and give advice. Much better than Andy gave her about those pills that one time... two pills. Hah. It's a wonder we didn't have to take her to the hospital!”
I sigh. “Yes, well. I didn't know the x was mixed with mescaline, either.”
Zev levels a look at me; even though I can see that he is high as a kite, his eyes are completely lucid. “Hospital? You took things that can hurt you? Cara, tch, you do realize that is no good. I do not approve.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Sofia beats me to the punch. She covers her mouth, her eyes sparkling with humour. “Oh no, Zevran disapproves – minus ten!”
I look at her, horrified, choking on my coffee. “What?” I sputter.
She frowns, and they're both looking at me like I’m nuts. “You know, scoreboards...? Start off at a hundred, and goes up to two hundred...? Minus points for disapproval, plus for approval...?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Sports. I forget about that. People run around and do stuff. With balls. And sometimes sticks.”
Zevran grunts from his position in the kitchen. “Sounds... rather... unstimulating.” He begins to mumble to himself, and I can hear the unmistakable sound of cracking eggs. “Four eggs, four eggs... basil? Tomatoes. Where did I... ah... yes...”
Sofia darts a sly glance toward the kitchen, and leans in to speak quietly, and I shake my head, hands coming up in alarm. She frowns, leaning back, and I shrug. I point to my ear, and she nods in sudden understanding. If he can hear me in the shower from all the way in here, nothing we could whisper right now will go unnoticed... or... maybe... unpunished. Oh, gods, I can't take any more of that right now.
She folds her hands over her stomach. “So, I have an ulterior motive for coming back, as well. I was going to come down here anyway, because I need your help. Roxy – one of my friends in the dance community; we met at FolkLife a couple years ago – anyway, she wants me to help her plan her wedding, and I’m just crap at it. You, however, my fine, artistic friend, have exactly the eye I need. You're helping me.”
Oh, no. A wedding. “Do I have to be in it?”
“Nope! But I’m the maid of honour, so you have to help me find a dress that is more awesome than the other bridesmaids' dresses, and... well... we're pretty much building this from the ground up. All she's given me is a colour scheme and a theme. The rest is up to us.”
“Okaaaay... What are they?”
Sofia laughs. “She wants a black and blue pirate wedding, but she's going to be wearing a traditional dress.”
I laugh, too. “Awesome. We should set it up as a kidnap scenario.”
And just like that, I find myself planning a wedding.
I try really hard not to think about the fact that I won't be having one, myself. I don't need it, right? It's just papers, just rules... just a dress. Nothing so important as what it means, right? Right.
Besides, we're already married, in the only way that truly matters. Right.
Title: Reconnecting (Chapter Twelve)
Rating: AO
Pairing: Lily/Zevran
Summary: Sofia! My best friend! Meeting Zev. Oh... oh man. Well. It could have gone worse... Seems like they're gonna be okay around each other... it'll be double trouble for me, though...
“Mmh... I’m going to pass out now,” I mumble, feeling the darkness closing in from all sides. He laughs, he says something... I don't know what. The next thing I’m aware of is early morning light, and the smell of coffee. Another day. I must have slept for twelve hours. I think about moving, but... that just seems masochistic. Eventually, I must give in to the demands of the physical and, with great effort, I drag myself upright and haul myself out of bed. Everything aches. I feel like I spent the night tumbling in the dryer. Half-way to the bathroom, my knees give out, and I catch myself on the dresser. I kneel, pressing my forehead to the wall, and eventually crawl into the bathroom.
I manage to navigate my way through having a wee, but then my legs refuse to work for me anymore. I crawl across the floor, climb up and over the side of the tub, and tumble in. The porcelain is cold against my back, and it actually feels good. I cover my face with my hands and think really hard about hot water, but the Force just isn't with me. After a time, my stomach muscles stop jumping and complaining, and I let go of my face so I can try to haul myself upward. When I open my eyes, he is standing across from me, leaning against the counter and watching me, ohhh, so smug.
“Good morning, cara,” he says, not even bothering to hide the grin. He is well pleased with the sorry state of me. Stubborn, stubborn as I’ve ever been, I climb to my feet and lean against the wall.
“Zev... The morning came too quickly. Mmmh...” I complain, and then catch sight of myself in the mirror. “My hair is frightening. I’ll never get all the tangles out.” I reach down and turn on the taps, waiting for the water to heat up. My body gets the better of my resolve, and I slowly slide down the wall to sit on the floor of the tub again. I pull the knob for the shower, and it falls to spray me right in the face. I screw up my eyes and bow my head.
“I shall pull all the tangles from it, if you cannot,” he says, waving a hand. Such things are immaterial, apparently. “You did not wait for me. You are crawling around on the floor in here. Tch. Did I not say that I would take care of you? Hm? So impatient!” He sighs again.
“I don't... I’m not very good at being weak. Perverse, I know, considering what kind of state you found me in to begin with, but... I always stand on my own two feet, you know? I’m not used to not being able to...” I stop, frustrated. “I don't like to lean on people.”
He is quiet for a moment, watching me intently. I can tell he's ordering his thoughts, and it makes me a little uneasy; he usually only does that when he is uncertain as to what my reaction to something will be. Finally he sighs, once more. “Cara, no one can go through life without leaning on others. It has been dangerous in the past, I understand that, but this is now. I say I can carry you, that we can share burdens. You say you agree. So – rather than simply agree, why not try following through?”
I groan and cover my face with my hands, so it doesn't get sprayed really hard when I tip my head back. He's got me dead to rights. Again. I have got to stop struggling with myself, I really do. “I know... I’m trying, I really am.”
He comes and kneels by the tub, and adjusts the water, putting the stopper in the tub. “There are people in this world who care for you, cara, who would never do a thing to hurt you. I am one of them, and I say I was to be here to take care of you, and what do you do during my five minutes of distraction, rather than wait? You crawl.”
He tugs my hands away from my face and cups my cheeks, leaning his forehead against mine. “I am not the only one who cares for you. Jack does, and there, out on the porch, is a bizarre little woman with something called 'brownies', who insists she is your friend. In fact, she threatened to 'break her foot off in my ass' if I had hurt you. You think you are alone, you have been separated from your fold, yes.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips as he reaches out and turns off the tap. “But... you were never alone; you only had to open your eyes and see.”
I rest my forehead against the edge of the tub, defeated again. Trust, trust, trust. There are so many ways in which I do not show it, even though I feel it. My wrists ache from how much I pulled on them last night, and the skin is a little pinked from rubbing against the silk. Next time – oh, gods, next time – I must remember not to struggle so hard, because my hands aren't going to be the same for days.
There is a shout from the vicinity of our living room. “Hey girly! You okay in there? Are your tits out?”
I look up, at the doorway, even though she's obviously not going to be standing there. “Sofia!” I haven't seen her since last summer! “Yes! Wanna see?”
“You bet!” I laugh as Zev smiles, and there is the sound of that little skipping, hop-bounce-run that is pure Sofia on the floorboards of my house. Same scamper since we were eleven. Her head pops around the door. “Whooo, hey, nice view. Girl in tub, man on knees. I'm down.” She holds up a pan. “Hey, I brought brownies!”
I snort, but I’m smiling. “So I hear! Are they safe?”
Zev's eyes widen, and he turns to look at Sofia. “I ate one of those. What does she mean, 'are they safe'?”
Sofia laughs, going to the toilet and plunking down, completely unselfconscious. “Oh, don't worry, sugar plum, they're totally safe. Except for your waistline that is, but you sure don't look like you need to worry about that.”
I narrow my eyes a little. “Yes. Sofia makes the best brownies ever... No lie. However, sometimes there's a little more than just chocolate. What's in them this time?”
She shrugs, but I can see the mischievous twinkle in her eye. She keeps her voice light. “Oh, you know... the usual. Milk, eggs, sugar, chocolate, some Milka bars chopped into the mix... and y'know. My good oil.”
“Not mushrooms this time, I hope.”
“Good... oil?” Zevran is frowning now, sitting on the floor in confusion. “Mushrooms?”
“Oh! Nonono. Those are no good for cheering you up. Only my special blend of awesome-sauce and chocolate relax-ey goodness go into each brownie.” I watch as she digs one out, holding it out to me. “See? Lots of little choco-chunks of yummy!” she says in a wheedling, sing-song voice.
I sigh in relief. “Oh. Thank gods, it's just green.” I take and bite it, then point at her. “I'm not having a repeat of last summer. No more mushroom brownies. They were great, right up until the sky started to strobe black, white, and hot pink.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh don't worry. I only made those by accident. Elric switched the bottles on me. God, those things were awful – imagine: the whole Viking horde with gas.”
I gag. “Do I have to?”
Zev laughs. “I am sure that it only mixed with their innate scent.”
Sofia begins to giggle. “So, it came from both ends, all this gas. Belching and farting.” She snorts, unable to continue.
“Marvellous that they learned how to multi-task,” Zev says, and Sofia laughs so hard I think she might fall over.
I groan. “That's nasty.”
Zev snorts. “She started it!”
Sofia shakes her head and points at me. “No, actually – she started it!”
I hold my hands up, laughing with them. “Hey, hey, I was just saying I didn't want to get dosed today, I didn't need to know all the nasty stuff about Elric's crew.” I watch the two of them and realize I'm in deep trouble. It's like having mirror image perverts crammed into the bathroom with me.
“So, I heard through the grapevine, that, you know... you needed someone 'round here, and I also heard that I should put on my stompy boots.” She stretches her legs out, showing off her blue-and-purple-plaid custom-painted Docs. “I couldn't get away from Seattle fast enough. Really, I tried, but the boss-man – former boss-man... God, why don't I know any assassins–” I choke at this statement while she blithely continues, “–docked my wages, and I really needed to get my car fixed, and then I had to get the dough together so I could break my lease.”
Zev turns to me and grabs the soap. His look says it all. That is a straight on, 'I told you so', if I've ever seen one.
Sofia leans forward earnestly, elbows on her knees, fists under her chin. “I should have come sooner. And, you know, I told you to call me if you needed help! I knew, one of these days, though– I knew that somehow you'd get away from that whole mess, and I wanted to be there to help out! So, sorry I'm late, but hey, at least I brought chocolate!”
I look between the two of them. “Mmh... You know how great I am at keeping in touch. I’m glad you're here now, anyway. You're not the first one to take me to task today, for not letting people help me.” I sigh.
Zev only gives me a tiny smile, and sets about washing my torso, having finished with my legs during Sofia's rush of words. I close my eyes, trying to pretend that this is normal, that there's nothing wrong with letting... my... My train of thought completely derails over the word 'husband', and I end up looking at Sofia again as she speaks. “What are friends for?”
“Not used to 'friends',” I choke, but I realize, part of it is because I’ve been doing it to myself. I’ve had a few, Sofia being one of them, but I never lean on them. I never ask for help.
“Oh, so you say,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. She picks a chunk of brownie off the side of the pan. “You just don't look around much. That whole 'nose to the floor' thing, it tends to push people away, eventually.” I bow my head, duly chastened, yet again. I have got to force myself to start having more faith in them. “Except for the really stubborn ones. Good thing I like a challenge.” It's eerie how she echoed Zev's earlier words, and I can see his lips tilt even further, his amusement deepening. Smug, sexy man.
“Ah, she's effervescent,” he murmurs. He tips my head back so he can pour water over it.
“Mmmyep...” I mutter, half-incoherent, since he purposely ran his finger over that spot again, just once, making me shiver. Ohhh... so mean, so mean.
“Like an Alka Seltzer! My fizzy makes you feel better!” she chirps happily, and I groan with the badness of it. “Hey, at least I didn't start the 'plop-plop, fizz-fizz'.”
“I try not to be this way, I really do.” My voice is quiet, but strained. It bothers me that the way I’ve come to think of myself actually hurts other people. “It's hard for me to let go of control over myself, to let someone else have it, even a little bit, over me.”
Zevran leans in to whisper in my ear. “You should relax, cara; let us take care of you a little, hmmm?” He glances at Sofia over his shoulder, his voice returning to a more normal volume. “I was about to pour some cups of coffee, do you know where the mugs are?”
She cocks her head and looks between us, snickers, and nods. “Sure, sure I do. Just one question Lils – do I need my earbuds?”
I groan. I wish I could say no, but I really don't know. “I... don't think so?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, and I’m pretty certain he knows why I phrased it as a question. “I believe she is far too... worn out for any such activities.” I can't hide my sigh of relief.
She pauses by the door and looks back at us over her shoulder, suddenly appraising him more seriously. “Oooh, where can I get me one like him? Minus the blond hair; it makes him look like Legolas and Ricardo Montalban had a baby.” I feel a little jab of possessiveness until I remember her last bad relationship. Some stupid accountant with long blond hair ditched her for a socialite. As fast as that little pain came, it disappears, and I am able to laugh at it, as that statement is far funnier than she could ever know. “Meh. Too blond! Gods of chaos, save me from blonds! Augh!” She throws her hands up and flees.
Zev wrings out my hair and ties it up on my head. I have no idea how he does it, but something about the way he twists it, when it's wet, it just... stays that way. Even after it dries, if I don't mess with it, it stays. He tried to show me how he does it, but my fingers just don't move like that, and even when I do manage to get it in the right configuration, it's not tight enough, and it just kind of flops over and unravels.
He sits back and looks at me, very seriously, and I suddenly feel two inches high. The water begins to drain as he flips the plug-latch, and I pull my knees up to my chest. He holds his arms out, and I wrap mine around his shoulders, letting him pull me to my feet so he can get a towel around me. My legs begin to shake, no matter how much willpower I try to feed into them, no matter how he's got half my weight on his shoulders already, and he swiftly reaches down and catches me just as my knees give way completely. I squeak, my arms tightening around him, and hide my face against his neck. “Tch... Cara...” he murmurs reproachfully, and I realize he's not straining, even a little bit. He carries me like I’m nothing. I make a conscious effort to relax, and he kisses my shoulder. “Better,” he says, and I smile.
It is a strange thing, to be carried like a child. I’ve never been carried, not since I was tiny, not without being in some kind of medical state of emergency. He sets me down on the bed and looks at me speculatively. After a moment, I can't stand it anymore, and I fidget. “What?” He just shakes his head and goes to my closet, and, after a lot of rummaging around, finally finds a dress he approves of. “A dress?”
“Yes, a dress.” He arches an eyebrow, daring me to argue, and I shut my mouth. After a moment, he smirks, and gathers the sleeves up over his wrists. He takes my hands in his and raises my arms over my head. The dress just slides down and over my hips, and I suddenly understand. Trust. While he continues to dig around in my closet, I lean over and take advantage of the deodorant in my night-stand drawer. My hands barely work; I almost can't get the lid off. I finally fumble it back into the drawer just as he is returning to me with an old leather bodice I’d forgotten I even own. He pulls it around me, adjusts me to it, and does the laces with surprisingly expert efficiency, before straightening out my skirt.
Without preamble, he leans down and slides his arm under my knees again, and I lean into him. No panties. He must have a reason, so I just let it ride. Maybe he's thinking things will be easier for me if I don't have to struggle with them if I want to pee... and I can't really argue with that logic. He lifts my back first, letting my dress fall further over my thighs before he pulls me into his chest. Sofia watches, surprised, as my assassin carries me into the living room and puts me down in the centre of the couch. She arches an eyebrow at me, and I blush. The smug look on her face speaks volumes.
She holds out two mugs for us. “Okay, I really need to get me one of those, but please make him brunette, and tall. Then again... anything over 5'2” is tall to me!” she laughs, and winks at me.
“Hmm... That is a very good height,” he says, gesturing toward my chest. He accepts both the mugs from her and hands one to me. “Everything is pillows.”
“Oh, don't I know it!” she exclaims, laughing brightly. “This one time, I was so drunk, I just flopped on her, and used her as a big, giant, comfy body pillow. I thought I was in heaven.”
Oh, gods, I remember that time. She had been giggling that everyone dancing at the bonfire were people inside her tummy, and that their happy dancing made her feel good, but any bad vibes would make her sick, so they had better make her happy or else. I smirk. “Hmm... that was the ecstasy mead, wasn't it.”
She colours a little, looking into her coffee. “Oh, I was hoping you wouldn't remember that part...”
“I remember what came after it, too. Hmm... Something about being plaid... The yellow, blue, green, and white?”
Zev waves Sofia back to a sitting position and heads toward the kitchen. “I really must come across some of these chemicals you speak of. They sound... interesting.”
I look into my own cup just in time to not drink my coffee black, and wait. “Well... There are ways we could go about that, if you really want to. Though... I’m not sure I want to drop acid again, after the fog incident.”
“Fog?” he asks.
“Yeah... It was a hallucinogenic; I got lost in a really thick ground fog that wasn't actually there.”
Zev returns with the creamer, handing it to me. “Tch, what would Jack say... um... a moment, a... cara.” He reaches toward me as he sways for a second, the muscles of his face going lax, and shakes his head once, as though to clear it.
“Whoa, I want his metabolism!” Sofia exclaims.
I take his hand staring up at him, alarmed, suddenly worried – far too late – about what kind of effect the drugs of this world might have on his physiology. “Zev?!”
His voice takes on a slightly dream-like quality. “My, ah... My head. It is... very... relaxed.” He nods to himself absent-mindedly, then shakes himself, dropping my hand and is suddenly much more normal. “I am hungry. You must be hungry; aren't you hungry, cara mia? Sofia, you as well?”
I laugh with sudden relief. “That didn't take long.”
Sofia laughs too, throwing her head back with glee. “Like I said: I want his metabolism!”
I look up at Zev. “I haven't eaten since... lunch yesterday. We skipped dinner,” I remind him, and he nods, heading back into the kitchen.
“Omelettes?” he asks, a moment later.
“As long as it isn't grey, I'll eat it,” I reply, and he laughs.
His voice is muted, emanating from the vicinity of our fridge. “There is... spinach – oh that looks good – and onions... ham... basil... Where is the– Tch– Ah! There it is....”
Sofia eyes me, nose scrunched up, curling her legs under her. “Wow, forty-five minutes...”
I gasp. “You were timing it?”
“Yup!” She is well pleased with herself.
“Why?”
Zevran's head pops around the corner, and he's got thing of string cheese in his hand, munching on it. “Eh? Timing what?”
“You, doofus,” she says, nodding at him. “I like to know how long it takes to affect each person, so I can make calculations and give advice. Much better than Andy gave her about those pills that one time... two pills. Hah. It's a wonder we didn't have to take her to the hospital!”
I sigh. “Yes, well. I didn't know the x was mixed with mescaline, either.”
Zev levels a look at me; even though I can see that he is high as a kite, his eyes are completely lucid. “Hospital? You took things that can hurt you? Cara, tch, you do realize that is no good. I do not approve.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Sofia beats me to the punch. She covers her mouth, her eyes sparkling with humour. “Oh no, Zevran disapproves – minus ten!”
I look at her, horrified, choking on my coffee. “What?” I sputter.
She frowns, and they're both looking at me like I’m nuts. “You know, scoreboards...? Start off at a hundred, and goes up to two hundred...? Minus points for disapproval, plus for approval...?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Sports. I forget about that. People run around and do stuff. With balls. And sometimes sticks.”
Zevran grunts from his position in the kitchen. “Sounds... rather... unstimulating.” He begins to mumble to himself, and I can hear the unmistakable sound of cracking eggs. “Four eggs, four eggs... basil? Tomatoes. Where did I... ah... yes...”
Sofia darts a sly glance toward the kitchen, and leans in to speak quietly, and I shake my head, hands coming up in alarm. She frowns, leaning back, and I shrug. I point to my ear, and she nods in sudden understanding. If he can hear me in the shower from all the way in here, nothing we could whisper right now will go unnoticed... or... maybe... unpunished. Oh, gods, I can't take any more of that right now.
She folds her hands over her stomach. “So, I have an ulterior motive for coming back, as well. I was going to come down here anyway, because I need your help. Roxy – one of my friends in the dance community; we met at FolkLife a couple years ago – anyway, she wants me to help her plan her wedding, and I’m just crap at it. You, however, my fine, artistic friend, have exactly the eye I need. You're helping me.”
Oh, no. A wedding. “Do I have to be in it?”
“Nope! But I’m the maid of honour, so you have to help me find a dress that is more awesome than the other bridesmaids' dresses, and... well... we're pretty much building this from the ground up. All she's given me is a colour scheme and a theme. The rest is up to us.”
“Okaaaay... What are they?”
Sofia laughs. “She wants a black and blue pirate wedding, but she's going to be wearing a traditional dress.”
I laugh, too. “Awesome. We should set it up as a kidnap scenario.”
And just like that, I find myself planning a wedding.
I try really hard not to think about the fact that I won't be having one, myself. I don't need it, right? It's just papers, just rules... just a dress. Nothing so important as what it means, right? Right.
Besides, we're already married, in the only way that truly matters. Right.
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marriage? >.>
well. i'd never bring it up... that would make him feel like i can't take him at his word... like what he did isn't important enough. can't do that.
thank you! ^.^
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Hah, not with words maybe!
Oh well, marriage is overrated anyway. <-cynic
V.