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| To Live is to Die | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: March 5, 2008, 12:49 am (59,951 Views) | |
| Scorpion Flower | December 21, 2008, 5:43 pm Post #406 |
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Outlaw Torn
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Well, it wasn't this time yet. I guess James is now trying to find the best way to get closer to her again. I think it's easier to tell someone "hey look i need space" Then when we think we've had enoug already and come and tell "look, we can come back now." |
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| Virtual Bettie | December 22, 2008, 2:32 am Post #407 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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I know I'm probably the party pooper on this one, but I'm glad they're taking their time and not jumping in with both feet yet. Love the spinning stool scene, that was classic. |
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| Metalicious | December 23, 2008, 4:02 pm Post #408 |
Blackened
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A few chapters... this was hard to break up, so I'm just posting all three. ************************** Lani and I arrived at the venue the next day at four. Kirk was winding up an interview in one corner, Lars was chatting with a couple of guys from the British press, and Rob was chatting with the cameraman from MTV Europe. I looked around for James but he was absent, and I wondered if he'd finished up and gone back to the hotel to rest. Big Jim wandered by at one point, taking the opportunity to say hi and ask if I was going to watch from backstage later. "I'll find you a place to sit if you want," he said gruffly. I reached out to squeeze his arm. "Thank you. I would love that." He stared down at my hand like I might have leprosy, until I stopped touching him. "Okay." Mick came up behind me as Jim was walking away. "Did he just offer you a seat for tonight?" "Yeah. Isn't that sweet?" "Yeah. Um...yeah. Sure. Well, I'll see you later then," he winked, and I wondered why he was being all weird. I turned at the sound of James' voice, and saw him coming through the door with Jeff, one of the guys on his security team. He looked sleepy and rumpled, in black jeans and a black shirt, his Metallica jacket overtop. I watched as he chatted briefly with the interviewer from MTV, and then came towards me. "Hey," he smiled. "Did you get any sleep?" "Yeah. Lani woke me up just before noon. You?" He grinned, looking down. "I just got up like half an hour ago," he laughed softly. "I woke up at nine and got everything rescheduled, so I'm doing press for the next two hours or so." I nodded, pleased that he'd taken the time to get a decent sleep. "Cool." I waited, but he didn't say anything further. "So, um, those guys probably wanna get started. I should take off." He moved closer, so we were almost touching. "I wondered if you... if you might like to go to dinner later. With me. I don't know if you have any plans, so if you're busy, we could do it another night, but, I just figured I'd ask." I couldn't seem to form any words, and I must have been silent for a really long time because James eventually leaned in and said, "It's okay to say no-" "No!" I said quickly. "I mean, not 'no, I don't want to', no that I'm saying no." I burst out laughing. "Sorry. That didn't make any sense. Yes," I finally managed. "I'd like to have dinner with you later." He smiled. "Great. Does seven o'clock work for you?" "Perfect. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?" He glanced away, nodding to somebody across the room, indicating he'd just be a minute. "Sure. Hotel lounge? Or I could come to your room instead if you want," he added. I briefly considered that, and then realized I'd rather meet on neutral territory, and not risk the temptation of hauling him into my room to maul him. He did have a show to do later that night. "Hotel lounge is fine," I said. "I'll see you at seven." He nodded, stepping back from me, and then leaned forward again and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head before striding over to the cameras. Lani appeared out of nowhere, sliding an arm through mine. "Dinner plans?" "Mmhmm," I hummed, trying to look totally calm, since James kept glancing over at us. "Would you like to bail on going to that museum with Kirk and I so you can go get ready?" she asked in the same quiet tone. I giggled, turning to face her. "I wore jeans and a ratty old shirt to the bar last night. Do I really strike you as a girl who takes three hours to get ready?" She said nothing, merely looked over at James, and then back at me, and smiled. I sighed. "Okay, fine, I wanna take three hours to get ready. I'll see you back here for the show." Kissing her on the cheek, I waved goodbye to Kirk and got one of the SUVs to drive me back to the hotel. I pulled out the dress I'd bought earlier with Lani and laid it on the bed, and ran a bath in the huge jacuzzi tub in my room, pouring in a liberal amount of peach scented bubble bath. When the water threatened to overflow, I turned off the tap and switched on the jets, letting my head drop back against the edge of the tub. I woke up two hours later, the jets still on, circulating what was now very cold water. Cursing my total inability to function, I opened the tub drain and dripped my way across the bathroom floor, shivering as I got into the shower. Turning it on full blast, I set it to the hottest temperature I could stand, letting the water beat down over my neck, which was aching from sleeping in the tub. Feeling much more alert, and a hell of a lot warmer, I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel, pulling my robe on over it. I slapped on moisturizer and did my make-up in ten minutes. Dropping my robe and the towel on the floor, I slipped my dress over my head, doing a quick spin in the mirror to make sure it looked okay. Lani had picked it out, and the two of us had spent a long time in the dressing room oohing and aahing over the colour and the fit. A deep violet Herve Leger, it was strapless, and because of the tight, stretchy and smooth material, held everything in place perfectly. I paired it with black strappy stilettos, a thin, delicate silver necklace with a horseshoe charm hanging from it, and my silver watch. Shoving my Blackberry and my credit cards into a small handbag, I took one last look in the mirror. Not bad. Pulling a wrap from my closet, I glanced at the clock, swearing when I saw it was five after seven. Taking my key card off the desk, I ran out the door, and pushed the elevator button, relieved when it arrived immediately. The elevator opened at the lobby, and I stepped out, turning the corner to the lounge. James was seated at the long cherry wood bar, chatting to the bartender, his hands folded in front of him on the bar. He'd changed, and was wearing dark jeans and a navy Henley shirt that I loved, and his leather jacket. The bartender looked over as I entered the lounge, prompting James to do the same. "Wow. Hi," he smiled, getting off his stool to greet me. He bent down, kissing my cheek, and I felt my heart speed up a little. "You look amazing." "So do you. I'm so sorry I'm late." I slid my hand through his arm when he held it out, and we left the lounge. "Lose track of time?" he asked, letting me go first through the revolving door of the hotel. "Fell asleep in the tub," I told him when he came through behind me, and he laughed. We got into the back of one of the hotel's cars, and James rattled off the name of a restaurant. I watched the buildings fly by out the window, wondering where we were headed. Feeling his hand cover mine, I looked over at him, turning my hand up and lacing my fingers through his. "How were the interviews?" "Good. The last guy had some unique questions, which is always nice. After the third or fourth round, I can't always remember who I've said what to and whether or not I'm repeating myself," he chuckled. He told me a little more about his afternoon, until we arrived at the restaurant he'd chosen. Asking me to wait in the car, he came around to my door and held it open, holding out his hand for me to take. Keeping hold of it as we walked in, he didn't let go until we were shown to our table. The restaurant was elegant and understated, done in lush hues of blue and amber. They were already very busy, but our waiter didn't appear rushed as he went through the house specials, and then announced he would come back for our drink orders. I didn't open the wine list, and James nudged it towards me, looking surprised when I shook my head. "I don't want anything." "You sure? I don't mind. Honestly." "And I don't want anything. Honestly." I wanted to take a night off from drinking, and knew if I had wine at dinner, it would only make me sleepy. His eyes flickered over the menu, and he reached out a free hand to lay it over mine. "You really do look beautiful," he murmured, still looking down. "I should have made more of an effort," he grinned. I shook my head. I thought he looked incredibly handsome. He wasn't dressed as formally as a lot of the patrons around us, but he didn't look at all out place, and I told him as much. "Besides," I added. "That's one of my favourite shirts." "I know," he smiled at me, looking down again. |
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| Metalicious | December 23, 2008, 4:06 pm Post #409 |
Blackened
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The waiter reappeared, asking if we wanted a few more minutes. I shook my head, having already decided. Ordering the lobster bisque to start, I asked for the seared tuna and steamed vegetables with new potatoes. James ordered prosciutto-wrapped scallops and the biggest steak available. "Show off," I teased. He leaned back in his chair. "Should I expect to see you up in the rigging again tonight?" "No," I laughed. "I didn't bring anything to change into, and I'm not keen on climbing up there in this dress. I'm actually not sure I'd be able to. Those bars are far apart!" Smiling, he shook his head, and I saw his eyes drop to the front of my dress and then up to meet my gaze again. “Sorry. I don’t mean to stare. I just… I haven’t seen you wear anything like that in a while.” “I haven’t fit into anything like this in a while.” It came out sounding like I was being short with him, and I laid a hand over his. “I’m sorry. This just feels different. Weird,” I added. He raised an eyebrow. “Awkward?” “Yeah,” I said, sighing a little, but smiling all the same. “Am I crazy?” “No,” he shook his head. “I just feel like I’m gonna say the wrong thing, or make you uncomfortable,” I fiddled with my water glass. “Or maybe I’m making you uncomfortable by saying anything at all…” I let out a nervous laugh. “We never really did the whole-” “First date thing?” he finished. “I know. But you’re not making me uncomfortable,” he added, quick to reassure me. “I was definitely feeling anxious about tonight, so it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s…” “Awkward,” I nodded. “Yeah.” The waiter appeared with our food a few minutes later, and James ate two bites before putting down his cutlery and leaning forward in his chair, palms on the table on either side of his plate. “You’re not gonna say the wrong thing.” I stopped, my fork midway to my mouth. “I’m not?” “No. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to censor yourself cause you’re worried about speaking out of turn or whatever.” I sighed, putting my fork down. “I just don’t wanna overstep, y’know? This is your world, James. Being on tour, the shows, the hotels, all the details, everything revolves around the band. I’m-” “Doing a great job of fitting in,” he interrupted, looking very serious. “Dude. Stop interrupting me,” I held up my hands, slightly exasperated, and he laughed. “Sorry.” I took a sip of water and looked at him. “I’m trying to give you space. And not to crowd you. Which is why it’s great that you asked me to hang out last night, and tonight, cause I’m scared to do that.” He nodded, picking up his knife and fork again. “Are you scared I’ll say no?” he asked, before taking another bite of steak. I pondered that. “I guess maybe. I’m mostly scared of intruding on band stuff. I don’t want to assume you’ll have time to spend with me. That’s not why I’m here.” “I know. You’re here to dismantle the set after each show. And don’t you forget it,” he winked, pointing his fork at me. Blowing out a breath, he grinned, and put his fists on the table, clutching his cutlery. “I have trouble being serious when I’m uncomfortable.” I burst out laughing. “I’ve noticed.” I cut a slice of my tuna and shrugged. “James?” The grin was gone, replaced by a sweet, curious smile. “Yeah?” I paused for a moment, trying to think how best to word what I want to say. “I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want you to think I have any regrets, because I don’t, about how things with us started off. But if taking this slowly is what works best for you, I’m all for it.” He looked surprised, and then grateful. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He nodded, and a little smile came over his face. “Awkward and polite.” I laughed, and we resumed eating, some of the weirdness subsiding. "Would you like coffee? Dessert?" The waiter had cleared our plates, and returned to see if we needed anything further. I declined, thinking we should probably head to the venue soon, and James looked skeptical. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You love coffee. And dessert." "James, it's almost nine. If I keep you out any later, Lars will start going into spasms." He chuckled at that, and gave the waiter his credit card. The evening air had cooled considerably, and James draped his leather jacket over my shoulders while we waited for the car. "Thank you for dinner," I said, looking up at him. He tucked my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin just long enough to send a tingle up my neck. "Thanks for coming with me." He looked like he wanted to say more, but the car pulled up, so he just smiled, and held open the door. We were greeted by his security guys, his assistant, and two of his techs. I didn't want to add to the crowd, so I held out his jacket, intending to go find Big Jim. "Have a good show." He waved off the jacket. "You can hold on to it for now. I'll get it from you later." Frowning - I didn't want to hold on to it all night, it was heavy and backstage always got really hot - I found his wardrobe lady and handed it off to her, letting her know James would be looking for it after the concert. Seeing Big Jim off to one side of the stage, I started towards him, only to be hauled aside by some guy in a crew jacket. "Hey. Where's your pass?" Fuck. I knew I'd forgotten something. "I left it at the hotel." He rolled his eyes. "Again?" I wanted to smack him. I was becoming as recognizable as the guys, at least to the crew. "Yes, again." Jim saw me, and came over, putting an arm in front of the crew member and making him back up. "Everything alright?" "I forgot my pass. Again. Is there an extra one floating around?" I crossed my arms over my chest, starting to wish that I'd kept James' jacket with me. "Nope. C'mon over here, though. Long as you don't wander off, you shouldn't have any trouble." He lead me over to the side, where he normally stood, and pointed to a small square of floor that wasn't covered in cords, leads, parts of equipment or just random items of people's stuff. "Stand there." I looked up at him. "All night? For the whole show?" "I'm sorry, is that not big enough? Do you need more room? I could always ask Kirk's sound guys to move over a little," he said sarcastically. "You forgot your pass. Either go get it and come back, or stay right here." Feeling like I was four years old and had just been sent to my room, I stared down at the floor. "I'll go get it," I said quietly. He stepped closer, and waited til I'd lifted my head. "Sorry," he grumbled. "But you can't be in the way. It gets crazy in between songs, and this is a very tightly run ship. Any changes to the way things are done - even having you stand over there instead of here - and somebody'll fuck something up. And then we'll have to answer to the little dictator," he said, smiling when I giggled. "You're a good kid, Tink," he said, rumpling my hair and going off to grumble at somebody else. I leaned against the pillar beside me, watching the crew do the last minute set up. It never took them very long to switch from the opening band's stuff to Metallica's. They had it down to a science, and everyone worked efficiently, knowing all their cues and where everything went. I could see what Jim meant about things being tightly run, and how something small could throw off everyone's routines. I waved to Jim on my way out, signaling that I’d be back with my pass, and he nodded, giving me a little salute. Climbing into one of the taxis outside the venue, I gave the name of our hotel, and settled back against the headrest. “Ms. Tyler, you have messages,” the receptionist announced when I walked past the check-in desk. Handing me a small stack of papers, she smiled when I thanked her. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and turned to wait on another guest. I sifted through the messages as I went up the staircase, and stopped dead on the landing when I read the one from work. “Motherfucker!” I hissed, and looked up when I heard a gasp. “Sorry,” I said quickly to the older couple heading down the steps. “I have tourette’s.” In seconds, I arrived at my room, fumbling with the key card, and pushed open the door, tossing my purse on the bed. I picked up the phone, punching in the numbers to make an overseas call, and dialed Richard’s direct extension at work. “It’s me,” I said when he picked up. “Tell me everything.” By the time I hung up, my eyes were red from crying, and I’d practically worn a path around the nightstand from pacing. Not bothering to change, though I’d intended to, I slid my security pass into my purse and headed out to the venue again. The traffic was heavier on the way back, and the cab sat in packed lanes of cars for a good twenty minutes. I finally opted to walk the last few blocks, wrapping my arms around me to fend off the cold. Flashing my pass at the two guards who were at the back exit, I sought out Mary, the guys’ wardrobe assistant, and borrowed a flannel shirt from James’ vast collection. “You okay, baby?” she asked quietly, taking my hand when I’d put on the shirt. “Yeah,” I tried to smile. “I’m gonna go watch the rest of the show. I’ll see you later.” Jim was standing off to one side, and looked up when I arrived, concern washing over his face when he saw me. He guided me back down the hallway, until it was quiet enough to speak. “The fuck happened?” I let out a long sigh, folding my arm across my chest. “You know what? I’m going back to the hotel. I clearly look like shit, and I don’t want to spend the next hour explaining why I’m upset. If James asks, just tell him I was too tired to stay.” He shot me a look. “You want me to lie to your boyfriend for you?” I glared right back at him. “He’s actually not-” He held up a hand. “Whatever you say. I’ll tell him you went back to the hotel, but if he asks, sweetheart, I’m telling him you looked like shit and had obviously been crying. You don’t wanna tell me why, fine, but I imagine he’s gonna wanna know.” We’ll see about that, I thought, but didn’t say it aloud. “Thanks Jim.” |
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| Metalicious | December 23, 2008, 4:07 pm Post #410 |
Blackened
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I didn’t bother speaking to anyone else, not even when I heard someone calling my name. Shoving the door open, I stepped into the cool night air and hailed yet another cab. Arriving at the hotel, I waited until the receptionist I’d spoken with earlier was free, and requested a pad of paper, a bunch of pens, and then asked that an entire pot of coffee be sent up to my room. I was still scribbling away, laptop open to eighteen different websites when James knocked on my door three hours later. “Hey,” I rubbed a hand over my face, holding the door open. He towered over me in the doorway, looking at once confused and annoyed. “Jim said you didn’t stay for the show. He also mentioned you were crying. Is that my shirt?” I looked down, surprised that I was still wearing it, and started to unbutton it. James’ hands stilled my own, and he tilted my face up so I’d look at him. “What happened?” he asked softly. Closing my eyes, I shook off the urge to unravel in front of him, and merely shook my head. “Work stuff. Nothing I can’t handle. I was just too distracted to stay for the show. Did you get your jacket back okay? I left it with-” “Yeah, I got my jacket. Charlie, c’mon.” He stepped back, holding his arms wide. “I don’t have anywhere else I need to be, and I definitely don’t have anywhere else I want to be.” I thought back to when I’d first arrived, and he’d told me he wasn’t strong enough for me yet. I wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to lean on him, and that’s exactly what I wanted to do. “Let me in,” he murmured. I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the hotel room, or intending a double meaning, but I stood back, gesturing for him to come inside. He ignored the crumpled balls of paper everywhere and sat on the couch, giving me plenty of room at the other end of it. “How was the rest of the gig?” I asked, perching on the arm of the couch. “Good. We played a bunch of the new ones and all the kids down front new the words. Why were you crying?” It took me a moment, but I realized what he was doing. He’d talk about the concert, and answer my questions, as long as I answered his. “I had a message from work. It wasn’t good news. How many encores did you do?” “Three. Set list was well over two hours. Lars and I are gonna have to have a little chat about that tomorrow. What kind of bad news?” “Somebody got hurt. Badly. Was the crowd good? They sounded loud when I left.” “Deafening,” he replied. “Who got hurt?” “That kid you met – the one in San Quentin – got attacked in the showers. He’s in intensive care. They don’t know if he’ll last the night.” I struggled to think of another question, some way to stall him from discussing things more. “How, um, when did… how was the… um… I’m gonna need a hug, I think,” I let out a shaky breath, but he was already off the couch, pulling me into his arms. “Thank you,” I mumbled against his chest, relief pouring through me. “Took fucking long enough,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over the small of my back and holding me tighter. He picked me up easily, carrying me to the bed, and depositing me on one side of it. Crouching down in front of me, he rested his forearms on my thighs. “Did you already O.D. on coffee?” I nodded, silently. He rose again, going to the bathroom sink to fill a glass with water, and came back out, handing the water to me. “What’s with all the paper and stuff?” I put the empty glass on the nightstand, wiping my mouth. “Research. Case law. Negligence shit. He should have been protected. He wasn’t.” I blew out a breath, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Did you play Whiskey?” He sat beside me, the bed depressing under his weight. “No. Do you need to go home?” “No. Do you want me to?” He traced his fingers over my cheek, smiling when I turned to brush my lips over his palm, a flash of that familiar blue heat in his eyes. “No.” Sliding his hand into my hair, he cupped the back of my head and gently pulled me towards him. “I don’t.” I closed my eyes, thinking he was going to kiss me. Instead, his calloused fingertips explored my face, softly stroking over my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, trailing down my jaw, before I felt his lips on my skin, pressing feather-light kisses to my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my temple, with so much tenderness that I forgot my earlier resolve not to fall apart, and tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. “It’s okay,” he murmured, gathering me in his arms. “I’ve got you.” Too tired to do much but close my eyes and let the tears fall, I buried my face in his neck, both my arms pinned to his chest. He felt so good, so solid and warm, that all I wanted to do was stay like that for the rest of the night. “I’m sorry,” I finally mumbled, pushing away so I could make eye contact. “This isn’t your standard first date activity.” He chuckled, swiping his thumbs under my eyes, gathering the last of the tears. “I don’t mind.” He cupped my cheek a final time before letting his hand fall to the bed. “I’m sorry about your friend. I know he’s also a client, but you seem really fond of him. Is there anything I can do?” I shook my head. “You just did it. Thank you. I think I'm gonna work a little longer and then call it a night.” He nodded, glancing around the room. “Got any coffee left?” I went to pour him a mug, and came back to where he’d moved on the couch, flicking through the channels. He settled on soccer highlights, and took the mug from me. “James, I’m fine. You don’t need to baby-sit me. I'm sure you're tired.” He looked up, all feigned wide-eyed innocence. “I’m not. I’m gonna have some coffee and catch up on sports, and then I’ll go to my room when you go to sleep.” I went back to the table, swiping a hand over the touch pad on my laptop so the screen was live again. Padding into the bathroom, I peeled my dress off and put on a pair of silk boxers under the shirt I wore. Sitting cross legged on my chair at the table, I reviewed the notes I'd already made, not getting up until Richard called again. James looked up when the phone rang, concern flashing over his face. "He's stable," I told him when I hung up. "They're keeping him in the ICU, but they expect he'll be conscious within the next 24 hours." I rubbed my hands over my face. James stood, switching off the television, and slid his hands in his pockets. "You should get some sleep. Two late nights in a row, Mike's gonna find you asleep on the rigging at the next gig." I smiled, stretching my arms overhead, and dropping them when his gaze lowered to my bare legs. "I've got lots of time to rest up." I walked him to the door. "Thanks for staying with me." He shrugged. "No problem." Placing a hand on my shoulder, he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "Thanks again for tonight. I had a really good time at dinner." I laughed, squeezing his hand when he took mine. "Even with all the awkwardness?" "Doesn't feel so awkward now," he said quietly, studying me with tired eyes. "No," I looked down at my feet and then back at him. "I guess it doesn't." He moved closer, cupping my cheek with his free hand, brushing his thumb over my lips. "I really wanna stay..." Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before opening my eyes again. "So you're gonna go, right?" He nodded. "Motherfucker," I muttered, smiling when he laughed. I slid my arms around his waist in a loose hug. "Have a good sleep, James." He kissed the top of my head, and gave me one last look before opening the door. "You look really good in my shirt." "Get out!" "Going," he said quickly, closing the door behind him. "Tease," I yelled after him. "Night, baby!" he called from the other side of the door. "Good night, Hetfield." |
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| Scorpion Flower | December 23, 2008, 6:43 pm Post #411 |
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Outlaw Torn
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Great Updates. I was glad she and James got to have dinner together. And that with her friend was just awful, Thank God nothing worse hapenned. I feel like James is going to break the space rule soon, my question in is charlie gonna be ready then? Anyway. Merry Christmas.
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| Virtual Bettie | December 23, 2008, 9:26 pm Post #412 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Nice, nicccccceeeeee. Loved it. I totally expect James to look, he ain't dead after all and he is a man. Love that they could talk to each other a little more openly (in an awkward polite way). I think James can keep it in his pants for a little while longer. Glad the kid pulled through, and that James proved that Charlie can lean on him (just maybe not too hard yet). And I loved the end, it totally made me smile. "Tease". |
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| elena | December 24, 2008, 10:22 am Post #413 |
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Outlaw Torn
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WOW!3 chapters!Thank you! And what a lovly chapters. James and Charlie started to remake their old relationship.
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| Taimi | December 24, 2008, 11:43 am Post #414 |
Junior OSA Council member
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YAY! i love this story, totally hooked i think you rock as an author
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| Metalicious | December 28, 2008, 12:29 am Post #415 |
Blackened
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Thanks all! I hope everyone had a great Christmas, and got everything on your wish lists. ****************************** We didn’t get a chance to hang out much again until Germany. The boys had a few shows to do all in the same vicinity over the span of a week, and we’d set up camp in one of the city’s boutique hotels. I’d been spending most of my time either sightseeing with Lani or working in my room, so interaction with James was limited. An invitation to dinner with family friends arose on our second last day, though, and it seemed only natural to invite the guys to come along. I knocked on Lars' hotel door, smiling when I heard him holler an invitation to enter. Swiping the key card he'd given me when we’d arrived, I pushed open the door to find him lounging on the couch, hair wet from the shower, dressed only in his robe. He was on the phone, and waved me over. I dropped onto the couch beside him, promptly changing the channel on the tv. When he hung up a short time later, he took the remote from me and pressed the power button, watching as the set turned off with a blink. "What can I do for you this fine afternoon?" he smiled. "Do you have plans tonight? I just hung up with some friends of mine who live near here, and they invited me to their place for dinner, and said to bring as many of you guys as I could round up. Interested?" I tucked my legs under me, curling up against the back of the soft, plush couch. "Are you kidding me?" He looked thrilled. "Home cooked food? I'm there. What time?" "If we leave here around 6:30, that'll give us plenty of time to get there and relax a little before dinner." We wouldn't be sitting down to eat until at least 8, but I knew there would be appetizers and drinks, and lots of talking and such beforehand. "Perfect." He reached out to tug gently at my hair. "I'll see you downstairs at 6:30." I knocked on James' door next, and he opened it right away. "Hey," he said, looking surprised to see me. The man never used the peephole. He held the door wide, ushering me in. He also looked freshly showered, and I caught a whiff of his cologne as I breezed past him. He was wearing faded jeans and a soft blue t-shirt, with his sunglasses tucked in the neck of it. "So, um, some friends of mine - people who knew my folks, actually - they invited everybody for dinner tonight. Leaving at 6:30, back, uh, much later. I dunno if you have plans," I gazed around the room, hooking my fingers in the back belt loops of my jeans, "but if you're free and you wanna come, I'm sure they'd love to meet you. All of you," I added quickly. "Like, everybody." "Dinner sounds great," he smiled. "Okay," I said, relieved that he'd said yes. "I'll see you at 6:30." I stopped by Kirk and Rob's rooms, and then made my way down to the Concierge desk, requesting a bouquet of fresh flowers be ready for my departure, and arranging for a car to take us out of the city. Figuring a rest would be a good idea - I didn't want to be tired later in the evening - I made myself a cup of tea and curled up on my bed with the latest Lee Child novel I'd bought. Piling all the pillows against the cushioned headboard, I slipped under the covers, and read a couple of chapters before eventually putting the book on the nightstand. Pulling the heavy duvet over my shoulder, I snuggled down into the soft pillows, and drifted off to sleep. Waking at quarter to six, I washed my face in an attempt to shrug off the sleepiness, and changed into a long flowing maxi dress the colour of clementines and a pair of soft leather gladiator sandals. Braiding little sections of my hair, I pinned them back, and swiped on some lip gloss and bronzer. The guys were all waiting in the lobby when I got to top of the staircase. James was standing up, hands in his pockets, smiling at something Kirk was saying, while Rob and Lars were seated, sprawled in the soft leather armchairs that were stationed in clusters around the lobby. James was in jeans and a navy short sleeve work shirt, his name embroidered over the breast pocket, Lars was in loose-fitting chinos and a black sweater, Rob was in his ubiquitous surf shorts and a hoody, and Kirk work black jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. Kirk saw me first, smiling and lifting his hand in a little wave. I held my dress up, trying not to trip on the stairs, and managed to make it down in one piece. "Gentlemen," I smiled, taking Kirk's hand when he offered it. "Our ride should be waiting." I collected the flowers from the Concierge desk, delighted at what they'd selected: a beautiful bouquet of freesias and tulips in a rainbow of yellow and white, purple and deep hues of pink, with green leaves tucked amidst the flowers. I gestured for James to take the front passenger seat since his legs were longest. I sat in the middle bench seat with Rob, and Kirk and Lars climbed in the back. "So, how do you know the people we're visiting?" Rob stretched his arm across our seat, taking off his sunglasses to look at me. "Friends of my folks. My dad went to school with Dieter, and they'd visit us every winter. We visited them, too, but they moved when he retired. Took over some big old farmhouse with a vineyard, and turned it into a B&B." We drove for about half an hour, eventually turning up a long and winding dirt road that was bordered by acres of vines. A picturesque three story home was at the top of the hill, shaded by huge oak trees. I stepped out of the SUV, looking around at the sprawling estate, inhaling deeply the pungent tang of earth. The sun had dropped lower in the sky but the air was still warm. Dieter and Mishka came out to greet us, both looking casually fabulous in what I thought of as their standard outfits - Dieter in dark linen trousers and a billowy cotton shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Mishka with tailored trousers and a snug black t-shirt. Lars raised an eyebrow at me. "They're the couple?" I nodded, looking back at the handsome men coming towards me. "Yeah. Oh...yeah. They're both men. Hello!" I held my arms out wide for Mishka's hug, giggling when he lifted me clear off the ground and twirled me around. "God, you haven't aged a day since I last saw you. It's disgusting," I grinned, holding his face in my hands once he'd put me down. The man really was aging beautifully. He and Dieter had met when Mishka was twenty, and he was now double that but didn't look any older than me. "Sun screen and moisturizer, my darling," he smiled, touching his forehead to mine. He stepped around me to greet the guys, and I got a hug from Dieter. He was definitely looking every one of his sixty three years, but it suited him. His skin was a deep bronze, and his hair had turned a very distinguished white. "You're starting to resemble Armani," I told him, kissing both his cheeks and then holding him at arm's length. "But much better looking. Here," I handed him the bouquet. "Coals to Newcastle, apparently," I added, looking around at the flower beds that were in full bloom. He laughed, a deep, throaty sound I loved, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, walking me over to where Mishka was still shaking hands. "And these are your boys?" he smiled, letting go of me to properly greet everyone. Ignoring their outstretched hands, he hugged each of them, and then ordered us all into the garden for drinks. |
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| Metalicious | December 28, 2008, 12:31 am Post #416 |
Blackened
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I took Dieter's arm when he offered it, and we hung back, walking behind the others. "The tall one with the devastating blue eyes, that's your James, yes?" he asked, his hand resting over mine. "He's very handsome. Wounded soul, clearly, but those eyes, that smile..." he patted his heart. "Goodness." "Thank you for inviting us," I said, anxious to change the subject. "What a lovely house. You must love waking up every morning to all this." "I think I would love waking up every morning anywhere, as long as Mishka was with me," he said, watching as the younger man slung an arm around Lars' shoulders, laughing. "You know, he still brings me breakfast in bed every day. I'm so spoiled," he chuckled. "You deserve it, I'm sure," I squeezed his arm. We sat on one of the teak loungers, and Mishka brought around wine glasses and a bottle of their own pinot gris. James declined, accepting a glass of iced tea instead, as did Dieter. We toasted to long life and happiness, and the group soon broke into two groups of conversation. Lars and Dieter were busy discussing wine, with Rob listening intently, and Mishka was quizzing James and Kirk on what they'd been doing in their spare time on tour. "You must visit the Jewish Museum," he insisted when James he'd been to a couple of museums so far. "Don't take this one, though," he nodded at me, sipping his wine. "I was twelve," I said pointedly. "And it's very emotional!" "We stole her away from her parents for the day," Mishka explained. "Dieter suggested we take her there, and she begged us to let her explore on her own. Two hours later," he glanced at me, rolling his eyes skyward. "We finally found her in the Holocaust Tower, sobbing her little heart out. Poor baby," he frowned, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles. "So sensitive when it comes to other people's pain." Excusing myself before he could continue reminiscing, I went into the house under the pretense of opening another bottle of wine. The kitchen was warm and rustic, with south-facing windows, and a huge cherry wood table was the centrepiece of the room. Fresh herbs were bunched together on a marble chopping block on the table, and two loaves of bread lay beside that, ready to be cut. A gleaming copper pot was simmering on the gas stove, the scent of basil and tomatoes infusing the air. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of white, and found the corkscrew laying beside the sink. Flipping it open, I wrestled with the cork for a moment before James cleared his throat behind me. "Here," he had one hand in his back pocket, the other outstretched towards me, motioning for the bottle. I passed it to him, watching as he deftly popped the cork, and then handed the corkscrew and bottle back to me, tossing the cork into the sink. "Thank you." He shrugged, grinning. "Makes me feel all strong and superior. Like opening a pickle jar," he winked. Because he looked so cute, standing there all smug and cheerful, and simply because I wanted to, I stood on tiptoes, pressing my lips to his cheek. "You're very strong. You can open a pickle jar for me anytime," I told him, giving him a quick hug before going back outside to join the others. As it turned out, we weren't the only dinner guests. Five people were staying at the B&B, and they all joined us, making it an even dozen around the dinner table, although only 11 of us needed chairs. There were Joe and Andrew, a father and son who were biking across Europe, and an American couple, Mark and Jess, traveling with their three month old, a gorgeous little boy named Toby. James held the baby for a little while during the meal, bouncing the infant gently on his knee while he conversed with the couple, and Lars eventually leaned over to me, murmuring in my ear, "Sweetheart, you're staring." "I can't help it," I said quietly. The baby had fallen asleep in the crook of James' arm, looking impossibly tiny and sweet. James was still talking amiably, totally at ease, and every once in a while would absently stroke the baby's cheek. "Charlotte," Dieter said quietly across the table. "Help me with dessert?" I nodded, pushing back my chair, and followed him into the kitchen. "Are you alright?" he asked in his heavy German accent. He gently brushed my hair off my forehead, looking concerned. "You hardly ate anything." "I'm fine," I assured him, stepping over to the counter to slice the apple tart he'd made. "I filled up on bread, I think. I still have room for dessert, though," I smiled. "Good girl," he nodded approvingly. "We must feed you more. Can we perhaps persuade you to stay here for a little while? Drink some more wine," he said slowly, sliding an arm around my waist. "Eat more of my cooking... James, can't you spare her for a few days?" he asked as James entered the kitchen, still carrying Toby. Smiling, James shook his head. "Sorry. We like having her around too much to let her go," he said, shifting the baby in his arms. Apparently unhappy with the movement, Toby awakened and let out a very sad little wail, but settled when James offered his pinky finger to suck on. "Better?" he asked the baby, who stared up at him with wide eyes. "You're very good at that," Dieter smiled, leaning over James' shoulder to look at Toby. "Darling, will you bring out the tart for me? I must clear the dinner plates," he told me, excusing himself from the kitchen. Rocking the baby back and forth, James glanced at me. "Do you want to stay here for a few days?" he asked. "I didn't mean to speak for you..." "You didn't. And no, I don't want to stay." I watched Toby watching James, and looked up to see him watching me. "Sorry," I chuckled. "You just - the two of you make a pretty adorable picture." "Do you wanna hold him? I feel like I've been hogging him all night," he grinned. "He's just so tiny. You forget how little they are," he said softly, tracing his finger over the baby's profile. "Here," he eased Toby into my arms. "Hi," I whispered, gazing into his big blue eyes, and touched the little blue knit hat he had on. "I didn't know babies came with hats." He stared right back at me, not blinking once. "He's so serious," I said to James, still whispering. "Yeah, well, he's got a lot on his mind," James smiled, stroking Toby's cheek. "Like, 'where's my mom', and, 'who's this hot chick holding me and how come she smells so much better than that big dude who had me before', and, 'should I poop now or later'..." he trailed off, grinning. "Being a baby's tough work." He lifted the apple tart off the counter, and bent to kiss my forehead. "The two of you make a pretty sweet picture, too," he told me, and headed back outside. I looked down at Toby. "We should find your mama, little man. Not fair for all of us to have dessert and keep you from having yours." I kissed his little nose, and laughed when he scrunched his face. Taking the gelato from the freezer, I walked back to the table, depositing Toby with his mother, and took my seat beside Lars. "Admit it," he said in a low voice. "You were totally thinking about smuggling that baby into your purse." I giggled, shaking my head. "Not quite. I think he'd fit, though. Isn't he sweet? Doesn't he make you want one?" "I have two!" Lars laughed. "Are you okay, though? Like, really? I wondered if it'd be hard for you." I slid an arm around his shoulders, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "You're sweet. I'm actually fine. It doesn't hurt...as much. Not right now, anyway." Squeezing my hand, he let go to take a sip of wine. "Good," he said firmly. "And if you change your mind about the purse thing, I'll cause a distraction so you can do it. He is really cute," he grinned. We finished dessert, and took our coffee into the garden, where Mishka lit torches and lanterns. He draped a shawl over my legs, and sat beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders so I'd be warm enough. "Dieter tells me he asked you to stay," he murmured, low enough that the others wouldn't hear him. "He's worried about you. He thinks you're not happy." He tilted his head, smiling a little. "But you are, aren't you?" I looked across the garden at James, who was sitting with Dieter and Lars, his face softly lit by the glow of all the torches. He glanced over, seeing me watching him, and held eye contact until I looked away. "I think so," I told Mishka. "I'm where I want to be, and with the people I want to be with. I can't imagine being anywhere else. Not right now, at least." "You would follow him anywhere, wouldn't you." It wasn't a question at all. Just an observation, said with no judgment. "We belong together," I said simply. "Like...peanut butter and jelly?" he asked, so seriously that I giggled. "Or bacon and maple syrup," I grinned. "You are disgusting," he scowled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "But I understand completely." He leaned back against the cushions of our chaise. "Do you think you'd ever try again?" Confused, I looked up, and saw he was watching Jess rock Toby to sleep. "For a baby?" I rested my head on his shoulder. "I don't know. Losing Caitlin was one of the worst things I've ever experienced. I don't know if I could risk that again. But the thought of having a child with James - I can't imagine anything more amazing. I don't know if James still wants that. He's already got three incredible kids. Maybe it's not fair to ask for anything more." Mishka chuckled, stroking a hand over my hair. "Darling, you're entitled to ask for anything you want. You may not get it, but there's no harm in asking." I smiled, looking around at all these men I adored, and who were so good to me. Kirk and Rob were now conversing with Mark. Lars was holding a sleeping Toby, and talking quietly with Jessica. Dieter was smoking a pipe, wandering around the garden with Joe and Andrew, pointing out various constellations. "I'm happy," I told Mishka, giving a more certain answer to his earlier question. "Right here, in this moment, I'm perfectly content." "Then I have awesome timing," James said behind us. |
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| elena | December 28, 2008, 5:17 am Post #417 |
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Outlaw Torn
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Great chapters! :horns2 I'm wonder if Charlie will ask James if he wants another child with her,but I think is too early for this question.They first have to sort things out(I hope soon).I can see that James trys to be as close to her as he can without she realise this. I love your fiction!I hope you had a great Christmas.
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| Scorpion Flower | December 28, 2008, 6:42 am Post #418 |
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Outlaw Torn
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Awwwwww...sweet chapter. of course James will want another baby. They're getting closer again little by little, sooner or later they'll realize they can't be apart. |
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| Metalicious | December 28, 2008, 2:51 pm Post #419 |
Blackened
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Thanks girls, your comments always make me smile! ************************************* I sat up, turning around, and returned the big smile he gave me. "Hi." "Hey. Wanna go for a walk?" I turned to Mishka, not wanting to abandon him mid-conversation. "Go," he smiled. "The vineyards are beautiful at night. Come say goodnight before you leave," he leaned forward, kissing my cheek. "And take this," he added, wrapping the shawl around my shoulders. I followed James down the lawn to the vines, toeing off my sandals to walk in the dirt. The hem of my dress dragged a little, but I didn't care. We walked for a ways in silence, the only sounds were the faint strains of laughter coming from the garden. "I'm glad you came to dinner," I said eventually, walking beside him between the rows of unripened grapes. "I like when I get to introduce my friends to each other." He looked back at me, shooting me a little smile. "I like when you call me your friend." Seeing the smirk on my face he started laughing. "I'm serious. I know how much you value friendship, and after everything we've been through, the fact that you still consider me a friend..." he trailed off, reaching for my hand. I squeezed his fingers tight. "Of course I still consider you a friend. I l-" I stopped myself, but not quite in time. "You what?" he asked, standing still. I looked away, letting go of his hand, feeling far too vulnerable for my liking. "I love you too much for that to change." Turning to head back to the garden, I shrugged off his hand when he touched my shoulder. "We should get back. The guys probably wanna head to the hotel soon." "Charlie, please stop," he begged, reaching for me again. "Please." I turned, smiling and crying at the same time. "I'm sorry. I know we had kind of an unspoken agreement not to say that. I don't think I can do this right now." It was taking all of my strength not to blurt out everything I'd been thinking all evening, and I knew if he pushed me, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I felt like we’d made some progress chatting the few days before, and I didn’t want to undo any of that. "Please, James. Just..." I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I felt his fingers brush over my face, wiping the tears that were falling. Opening my eyes, I put my hand over his. "Don't," I said, my voice almost a whisper. He looked at me for what seemed like an eternity, and finally nodded, brushing his lips over my cheek in the briefest of kisses. "Alright." We went back to the garden, and I was thankful for the dim lights of the torches so it wouldn't be obvious to everyone that I'd been crying. Hugging everyone goodbye, I made Dieter and Mishka promise to visit me in San Francisco, and discovered Lars had already invited them, much to my delight. I sat beside Kirk on the ride back, grateful that he did most of the talking, and after thanking the guys for coming to dinner once we'd arrived back at the hotel, I went straight up to my room. I slipped out of my dress and had just pulled on sweats and a tee shirt when there was a knock on the door, and I opened it to see Lars in the hallway. Crossing my arms, I leaned against the door frame. "Hey." "Wanna talk about it?" he asked. I shook my head. "Wanna get drunk?" he asked, shooting me his mischievous grin. "No," I laughed. "I think I'm gonna read for a bit and go to bed. You go have fun." He sighed. "If you're sure you don't want to talk..." "Y'know what? I do. I really do. Problem is, the only person I want to talk about it with is James." Lars opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, seeing James coming down the hall. "S'weird, how you guys do that," he muttered. "Bye, sweetie." He kissed my forehead and left, doing a backslap high-five thing with James as he passed him. James raised an eyebrow in greeting. "Can I come in?" he asked, looking past me at my open door. I bit my lip. "I don't know if that's a good idea." He seemed to contemplate this for a moment and then shrugged. "Okay." He slid down the wall, grunting as his knees cracked, and sat on the floor opposite me, knees bent, clasping his hands. "Here's fine, too." I thought about telling him he was being ridiculous, but I did want to talk. I closed the door behind me and took a seat on the carpet, pulling my knees up to my chest. A housekeeping attendant chose that moment to walk by, and asked if we were locked out. "No," James grinned. "But is there any chance that we could get some decaf coffee? Delivered right here?" "Nobody can resist the Hetfield charm," I smiled when she took off, promising to bring our coffee back right away. "Room service in the hallway?" He nodded. "Mountain comes to Mohammed, baby," he winked. I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't think the metaphor worked that way, but decided against it. "Sorry about earlier. I just..." I shook my head, looking down. "Too much thinking going on." He stretched out his legs a little, so they were on either side of mine. "You don't have to apologize for how you feel. I know you're worried about how I'll react, Charlie, and I don't blame you. But I heard you tell Lars you wanted to talk to me, and I'd love to listen, so..." He leaned back, slouching down against the wall, and smiled. I wasn't sure if he was getting more attractive, the longer we spent on tour, or if I just felt deprived from not touching him for so long, but all I wanted to do was kiss him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was on my hands and knees between his legs, scant millimetres away from his face. Searching his eyes for any signs that he was going to reject what I was about to do, I found none, and brushed my lips over his, closing my eyes. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to settle me on his lap, and he moaned softly into the kiss, raking his free hand through my hair. "James," I breathed against his mouth. "Mmm, I'm listening," he mumbled, barely taking his lips off mine. "You're making some very good points." I laughed, and felt him smiling against my skin as he left my mouth briefly to press kisses along my jaw. "I actually do have things to say." He slid both his hands up to cup my face. "I actually am listening," he promised, and leaned in to kiss me again, softer this time, teasing my lips apart with his tongue. I closed my eyes, relaxing into his touch. I linked my arms around his neck, dipping my fingers under the collar of his shirt to touch his skin, wishing I could get even closer, and jumped when the housekeeping attendant cleared her throat behind us. James looked up, arms still wrapped around me, and smiled brightly. "I'm in room 917," he told her. "If you don't mind charging the coffee to my room, that'd be great." She nodded, placing the coffee cups on the floor near us, and went back down the hall when we assured her we didn't need anything else. Pulling his knees up so I could lean back against them, James stroked a hand over my hair. "You were saying?" |
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| Metalicious | December 28, 2008, 2:52 pm Post #420 |
Blackened
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Suddenly I didn't know where to begin. "I, um, I guess I wanted to tell you that I meant what I said before." "About being friends?" I lowered my gaze, tracing a finger over the embroidery on his shirt. "About loving you." He caught my hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my palm before bringing it to his lips. "I know you love me." "Do you?" I felt tears pricking my eyes again. Frowning, he put his arms around me. "Charlie, you followed me on tour. You're moving amplifiers and speakers around, and riding on buses. You're climbing forty feet of rigging to stay out of my way. You’re juggling your own work with work on the tour. You've gone out of your way for three weeks to give me everything I asked for, and you're being amazing about it. Of course I know you love me." "Oh," I said in a small voice. "I just wanted to make sure." Holding me close to his chest, he rubbed a hand over my back. “What I wanna know, is, do you know that I love you?” I closed my eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to collapse into tears of relief. Hugging him tighter, I wrapped my legs around his waist, figuring that was as close as I was going to get to him, fully clothed and in a hallway. Taking a shaky breath, I let it out slowly, and finally answered. “I think so. But if you wouldn’t mind-” “I love you,” he murmured, squeezing me so tightly it hurt. “I promise you that never changed.” “Then what did?” I whispered, almost scared of the answer. Holding my face in his hands, he studied me for a moment. “Baby, since we met, you’ve been shot, been in a car accident that could have killed you, lost a grandparent, had a tropical sickness that laid you out flat, and had a miscarriage. I know – at least, I think I do – how hard all that’s been for you, but I wasn’t really paying attention to how hard it was for me. I’m…okay,” he said slowly. “But all of my issues from before didn’t magically disappear. I didn’t just get better, y’know?” I nodded, and leaned in to kiss him. “I know.” “I let things slide. A lot. I didn’t go to any meetings, I didn’t talk to John regularly, which I should do if for no other reason than to call him up and be like, hey, everything’s great.” He leaned in this time, lips pressed to mine in a sweet kiss. “With my marriage falling apart, and all of the other craziness in the last, like, man, not even a year,” he said in an awed voice, “I just wasn’t focused enough on staying healthy.” I felt awful, like I’d somehow failed him. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, touching my forehead to his. “I should have noticed, I should have encouraged you to take better care of yourself. You just seemed totally fine with everything, right up until the baby.” He shrugged, looking thoughtful. “You didn’t know me before. There wouldn’t have been a perceptible change.” “Still…” “No, Charlie, honestly. This isn’t on you. This is me. And I took steps to deal with it. It wasn’t the best situation, being apart from you right after we lost Caitlin, but I didn’t know what else to do.” “If I hadn’t left, if I hadn’t bailed and gone to the airport-” “Something else would have triggered it,” he said firmly, punctuating his point with another kiss. We were silent for a few minutes, still sitting wrapped around each other in the hallway. I finally looked up from where I’d been resting my head on his shoulder, and nuzzled his jaw. “I’m pretty sleepy. I’m also pretty nervous about saying goodnight, in case all this closeness and ease goes away overnight, but if I don’t go to bed soon, there’s an excellent chance that I’ll fall out of the rigging tomorrow night.” I saw the look on his face, and smiled. “You wanna stay.” He grinned. “Am I that transparent?” “I don’t know what to tell you. I want you to stay, but I don’t want you to feel rushed. And if you come in, I’m liable to rush you. So maybe you should go to your room, and I’ll go inside, and watch some pay-per-view porn, and we’ll continue this another time.” Shaking with laughter, he gathered me close. “I don’t mean to laugh, I believe you’re actually serious about the porn.” I leaned back so I could see his face. “Dude… you gotta admit it’s been a while.” He laughed again, and then tilted his head, kissing me gently. “I wish I could stay. I’d love to watch some porn with you,” he chuckled. “Aww. So sweet,” I grinned. “But if you came in, we wouldn’t be watching, we’d be making our own.” Letting out a low rumble of frustration, he bent his head to my neck, sucking gently, but long enough to leave a mark. “Go to bed,” he growled, and shifted me off his lap. “I’ll see you at the show tomorrow?” He stood, stretching his arms overhead and bending backwards slightly. “Maybe we could go out after. Like, with the guys and some of the crew or something,” he suggested. “Looking for chaperones?” I smiled, pushing the door to my room open. “Something like that,” he nodded. He reached out a hand, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip. Unable to help myself, I opened my mouth, biting the tip of his thumb and sucking on it for a moment. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Go to bed.” I shrugged. “Stop touchin’ me, then.” “Jesus,” he moaned, dropping his arm. Linking his arm around my neck, he pulled me to him for one final kiss, nearly knocking the wind out of me with the ferocity of it. He released me, letting out a huge breath, and shook his head quickly. “I gotta go. Really.” Smiling, I leaned against the doorframe. “I’m kind of enjoying how hard it is for you to leave.” “Sadist,” he growled, kissing my forehead before he stalked down the hallway. “Don’t stay up too late with the porn,” he called over his shoulder. |
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And what a lovly chapters.
i think you rock as an author 
8:39 PM Jul 10