fixeswatches | (no subject)

(no subject)

It was pretty late at night by the time they finally reached the Canadian border. As he drove closer to the border he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. They'd only ask a few questions, right? It wasn't likely that they would have pictures of them or anything, any way of knowing that they were trying to run from the law, right?

Right.

He was worrying over nothing, he was pretty sure of it. So far, everything had been going well. Sure, it had taken them a little longer than expected to get here, mostly because they kept stopping to fool around and the like, but they had managed to get here, new car and all. Once they got through they could find a place to stay for the night and figure out the rest in the morning, right?

Right.

Still, one of his hands left the wheel and searched for her hand, fingers intertwining with one another. Being able to hold her hand was a comfort, at the very least.

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She was still throbbing as he took her in his arms, breathless and sated and shivering from finally coming. Her arms embraced him, and she all but melded into him gratefully, taking comfort in his closeness and his warmth. "Thank you," she whispered, her lips dropped to his shoulder.

He didn't even care that she was getting his mess all over him as she melded into him. They would have to take another shower anyways. "You earned it," He whispered in a praising tone. And she had.

A small smile indented her lips, and she nuzzled into him with a sigh. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too," He whispered back.

She pulled back, brushing her lips along his cheek to kiss him, her tongue sweeping into his mouth with a moan. She couldn't help it; she liked pleasing him, and validation of it pleased her just as much.

He groaned softly, savoring the kiss for the moment. There wasn't much about her that didn't please him, honestly. Finally, he managed to pull away with a smile. "We should probably rinse off and decide what to do next."

Lingering here too long wasn't a smart idea, was it?

Elle wished they could just stay there forever, but she knew that was unrealistic, no matter how badly the idea tempted her. She rested her forehead to his, looking up at him with a grudging pout. "I guess so," she muttered.

He lied there for another moment or so before finally getting up, offering her his hand. They at least needed to rinse off in the shower before doing anything else.

He'd love to just spend all day fooling around with her in bed, but that was practically asking to be caught.

She frowned and took his hand, letting him lead her in the bathroom. A quick shower would be nice, she supposed, but the idea of discussing what to do next made her feel a little worried.

He kissed her forehead in what was hopefully a comforting manner. He couldn't help but feel nervous too. How long would they last until someone caught them?

It did help, a little bit, and she smiled gently, closing her eyes to savor it for just a moment. Wordlessly, she reached up to take his glasses off, folding them and setting them on the counter. She would just concentrate on the shower for now. Maybe after they could get clothes, and then get food, and then talk about... everything. Or not. But... still.

They had to talk, eventually. But he didn't want to talk about it either. It was so much easier to just ignore the reality (he killed his mother, she pushed him to do it) of the situation. Because the reality could tear them apart and if he didn't have her, what did he have?

Nothing.

He turned the water on, letting it heat up before stepping into the shower, tugging her inside as well.

She stepped past the curtain, shivering at the hot water on her cool skin. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest and holding onto him tight. She didn't want to talk about it. What if they fought? What if he decided to leave her again, and he couldn't forgive her? And then there was that dark corner in her mind she refused to approach. After she'd killed her Daddy. Everything was all muddled and scary in her mind and she couldn't make sense of it. All she knew was she loved him and she couldn't let go.

Edited 2009-12-10 02:49 (UTC)

He held her close to him, resting his head against hers with a heavy sigh. They were too young, this was too much and sometimes he didn't know what to do with it all. Everything had spun out of control. He had killed a man just to take his powers ( he would do it again in a heartbeat, and that scares him too) and he had killed his mother to keep Elle. What kind of person did that make him? What kind of life could they hope to live like this?

"We'll be okay, right?" she murmured, rubbing the planes of his back in soothing circles. She had to believe they would be, that they'd escape all of this. Everything that had been piling up for months. The lies, the killing, the hurt. Elle closed her eyes and clung to him, hard, clenching her eyes tight as if it would make all the bad stuff go away.

She knew though. She knew that never worked.

"Of course," He whispered in response, brushing back some of her hair. He wanted to believe his own words. That somehow, it was just going to be okay, despite everything. But there was this terrible gnawing feeling in his stomach that knew it could never just be that easy.

She nodded, her shoulders tense as she turned her head, nuzzled into the apex of his chest. His words comforted her, however little, and she swallowed thickly. "Are you mad at me?" she whispered, the words coming out of her, from the sudden, blossoming pain in her chest. She'd messed up so much. Hurt him so much. She clenched her eyes shut tight at the memory of the look on his face, that twisted look of betrayal after she'd told him to kill his mother.

He froze a little at her question but shook his head in reply. "No, I'm not." And he wasn't. Or at least he was pretty sure he wasn't. He felt detached from his emotions. He didn't want to dip down and touch them, he was afraid of what might happen if he allowed them to consume him. He remembered being angry, how upset he had been when she had asked him to kill his mother. How it had been the only thing to truly threaten their relationship. Were those feelings were gone now?

That was wrong--that couldn't be right. How could he not be mad? Elle tilted her head up, her eyes shining and her expression contorted with pain and guilt. "I'm mad at me," she confessed, her voice choked. "I killed my daddy," she whispered, blinking against the small droplets of water dotting her cheeks. "I asked you to kill your mom. I'm a bad person." And that was the truth, wasn't it? She'd always been a bad person. A bad agent, a bad daughter, a bad everything. She loved him, and she couldn't even do that right either.

Edited 2009-12-10 03:46 (UTC)

"Well, I killed my mother. I killed her because a girl asked me to, so if you're a bad person, then so am I. I could have let you kill me, I didn't have to kill her. It was my choice," He murmured softly. And maybe it was better this way. Better his mother didn't see who he was becoming, what he was becoming. A monster, a murderer, giving into the dark desires that had always been there, but he had been too afraid to act on in the past.

Edited 2009-12-10 03:52 (UTC)

"No, Gabriel," she protested vehemently, her eyes pleading and frantic as she shook her head. Why didn't he understand? Why didn't he blame her? This was her fault! Everything was all her fault, and there were no repercussions anymore. "You wouldn't have done it if I didn't ask you!"

"But I still chose to do it. You may have asked me to do it, but it was still my choice," He shot back, his voice shaking a little. And there's a nagging voice in his head that couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't have done it eventually anyways. "You can't act guilty about it now Elle, you can't. I can't handle it." And he couldn't. It was hard enough trying to keep his own guilt and feelings about the situation buried. He couldn't deal with hers ontop of it.

Edited 2009-12-10 04:02 (UTC)

She flinched at his words, her chest heaving with little, catching breaths as she blinked back her stinging tears. Her eyes dropped to the side, and she didn't understand. She did feel guilty. She did. She was happy his mother was dead, she was happy he'd done it for her, and she even thought it was romantic, and she felt guilty about all of it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He didn't deserve it. She had no right to ask him to be mad at her, to punish her, right? But she felt like somebody should. "I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice thicker and more strained, her cyan eyes lifting to his. "And a big part of me's not sorry at all," she added, with a painfully careless shrug.

"I know you're not really sorry," He bit back, his words coming out in spite of himself, like he couldn't stop them. "You wanted me to kill her. You wanted her dead and you didn't care what that would do to me, so don't act like you suddenly care now."

His words were becoming more strained and his fists formed at his side. Maybe he had lied. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he was angry with her.

Normally, he'd try to comfort her, reassure her or something, but right now he just felt tired and defeated and he didn't know what to do. He finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off.

How did things get so fucked up so fast?

She felt jolted and hurt and lost as he slipped away from her, the words hardly sinking in until he was out of the shower and gone. Shaking, she reached to wipe off herself off too, her hands sliding down her stomach and thighs. That was--that was all wrong, wasn't it? She stumbled out after him, grabbing a towel to follow him into the bedroom.

"I did care!" she argued, her voice flaring with anger. "I do care!" The words sounded too high, too desperate even to her own ears. Did she? Who had she really been thinking of when she threatened to kill his mother if he didn't? But that wasn't--that wasn't real, that was ugly. She knew that now. She hadn't even meant it then. She didn't think. "I was angry!" she exclaimed. "And jealous! I just killed my dad, and I--I don't know what I was thinking, but I was wrong," she confessed, tears filling her eyes, the pressure on her chest sudden and crushing. "I know I was wrong. I thought that if she was gone it would make us even."

Even in what? In killing their parents? In being alone? She gasped in air, and swiped at her still-dry cheeks just in time for the tears to fall. What kind of monster was she?

Edited 2009-12-10 04:41 (UTC)