The Morning After
by Cosmic
Disclaimer: People belong to Marvel, though technically one of them’s dead, so I can have him, right? <g> Any and all feedback would be loved at cosmic1982@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13. For a few bad words, like the one in the first line. And an Englishman, we have to warn about those first hand, don’t we? ;)
Notes: I did one of these already, kinda. Only then, Pete was dead. (No, I don’t mean like *that*. Geesh, people, you’re such perverts, the whole lot of you... ;) That one was called ‘Smoky Mirrors’ and this would be a sorta, kinda prequel for it. Thanks to all who said they liked the fic and encouraged me to write another one. Well, here it is. Don’t kill me or anything for the pairing. They’re cute, darnit! Thanks to Lyssie for beta’ing.
Dedicated: To Kael. ‘cause she’s so great and lovely and wonderful. And her birthday’s just around the corner, too.
“Aww, fuck!” Wasn’t that just the loveliest thing to wake up to? Bleary eyes opening, I looked at the woman cursing beside me. We were in a bed, that much I knew. My bed, the logical part of my mind informed me, as the long overdue hangover decided to attack my poor head with a vengeance.
The lady clad in basically nothing decided now it was time for prudence and stole all of the covers to...well, cover up herself.
“’ey!” I couldn’t help but protest, since it was cold and with me dressed in the same attire as she was, I was freezing my bollocks off. Hopefully not literally off, even though it was pretty cold.
Apparently she didn’t agree with me, and instead of giving me the blankets that were bloody well mine, she gave me a thunderous stare that made me feel even more colder, if that was humanly possible.
“What did we...? How did we...? Why did we...?”
“I believe you know what the what-part consists of already. The how-part is also very self-explanatory. And I think,” I paused, looking around my mess of a room, “that the why would be thanks to the booze,” I pointed at the two empty bottles of red wine that I could see. “The strain from our previous mission must have had some part in it, because I distinctly remember telling you all to unwind last night. Even if after that, it’s all a blur, except I believe we truly did unwind, several times, even, gathering from the evidence,” I finished, pointing at us.
She sighed. “Shit.”
“Ain’t nothing like regret, kiddo.” That’s what I said, but it wasn’t quite what I felt. In fact, I hadn’t felt better in months. Emotionally, that is, considering my body was one big bruise, courtesy of our latest mission, and the pounding in my head that just wouldn’t go away.
She was...good to me, in her odd way. She wasn’t _her_, but that was one of the reasons I liked best about her. She was beautiful, smart, funny, intelligent, vibrant, young... Shit, why did I always have to do this to myself. She was young, barely 20. She had a whole life to live, I was somewhere between getting killed in the line of duty if lung cancer didn’t kill me first. Because I was dying, the many long years of smoking finally catching up to my lungs.
At least I’d never die as an old bitter man alone in my bed. That was some comfort. Not much, but it was better than nothing. I’d had too much of nothing, lately. After Excalibur, after Kitty... These kids were the best thing that had happened to me in years. I could help people with this. This was real.
Unfortunately, *this* wasn’t real to her.
Or so it seemed, even after the second time this happened. Even after the third and the fourth and the fifth time. They were all flukes, all with tired, aching muscles and dull pain inside our hearts. With bitter alcohol and a drunken haze. When cheerfulness seemed a tad too much for our world weary eyes.
In the stillness of the night, before the dawn, before darkness succumbed to daylight, I couldn’t even tell the difference. She could have been _her_ so easily, in my eyes, if I had wanted it to be so. I could have ignored the short blonde hair and seen wavy brown locks instead. With her eyes closed, they could have been hazel instead of the dazzling blue. But they weren’t. And I didn’t want to even think like that for a moment. She wasn’t _her_ and I didn’t want her to be. I didn’t need to let my subconscious fool me. I didn’t, because I didn’t want that. I wanted her.
We sneaked around like a couple of high school kids, at times, just for a quick little thing in the closet. And we weren’t even intoxicated, then. But at that point there was adrenaline, too much adrenaline, in our system. That explained why she...Yeah, that explained it.
But we never talked about it, about sex and need and comfort and desire. We never mentioned it. We kept up with the usual chitchat among other people, with the casual banter, but she got more bold. She got more brash when she thought I was pushing James or Jesse or Sam too hard. She was a real lioness when those three were concerned. Not that she ever admitted that to me.
When we were alone, whether it was in bed or when I was teaching her all I knew about American intelligence networks and things or whenever we happened to be together, she talked to me. I got a glimpse at a mind she didn’t let many people see. She was smart. Smart enough to keep many people in their faith that she was a dumb blonde. That she certainly was not.
And she never asked. She never probed me with questions of a past I’d have rather left unmentioned. And I didn’t ask her, I didn’t even hold her in the night when she woke up from a bad dream. I was friend, but I never did anything that she didn’t ask me to do.
That night, after a mission that left us both starved for something we needed from each other (after the boys left for a bar downtown), she woke up again in the middle of the night, shivers going through her body, breathing ragged. Then she gave me a look and that was all I needed. I wrapped my arms around her and held her, waiting till she quieted down. But I didn’t let go. She found safe haven in my arms, and I found mine by listening to the beating of her heart.
So when I woke up to find her still sleeping in my bed, I wasn’t that shocked. Or actually I was, since she usually didn’t stay to hang around afterwards. This was just a rut to her. A nice pastime.
“Good morning, fair maiden.” The need for poetics didn’t pass. I wanted to write a sonnet. I wanted to write a dozen sonnets. _Bloody hell. Somebody shoot me._
She mumbled something inaudible and stretched, eyes remaining unopened. “Five more minutes.”
“Come on, kiddo. Time to get up. Rise and shine and all that bull.”
“Don’t call me kiddo, old man.”
“I’m not that old,” I sniffed, pride somewhat hurt. I reached out for the cigarettes on the nightstand. She whapped my hand away. “’ey! I want those.” A bad habit, I knew. They’d be the death of me one of these days. Not that anybody actually cared.
“Cigarettes, bad. I don’t want no boyfriend of mine smelling like that.”
“There is absolutely *nothing* wrong with the way I sm—boyfriend?”
She gave me a cute little grin. “Yeah. It’s time you got through the denial already. We’ve been going steady for the past month, you see.”
“Now, really?”
“Really.”
“You’re not doing this just to get out of training, are you?” She didn’t reply, so I gently nudged her in the ribs. “Kiddo?”
She gave me a whack in the shoulder. “Told you not to call me kiddo.”
“Sorry, luv.”
“And I’m not. Even though skipping training *does* sound like a tempting idea...” She pulled the sheets over us, snuggling closer to me, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Well, I guess this might be considered special training.
It was just one of those things. How everything could change in a moment. Or in a little bit over a month, to be more exact. I wasn’t saying that I was in love with the girl. I hardly knew her, but there could be something. Someday. Maybe. If we wouldn’t get killed before that. If I wouldn’t screw it up.
But I wouldn’t. Not this time. Not just because she was smart, young and beautiful like _she_ was, but because this time, I wouldn’t let go.
~fin