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| Happiness I've Known; 5/23 - Night - (Frank/Rachel) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 10 2014, 10:17 PM (369 Views) | |
| Constrictor | Jan 10 2014, 10:17 PM Post #1 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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[Continued from Drink With Me. The title, as everyone ought to know, is from I Walk The Line] He’d known it was too fucking good to be true. He’d fucking known it. And wouldn’t you know that Murphy’s fucking law would get him right to the fucking door only to have fucking Avengers materialize to crush the damn life out of him? These thoughts and more of the same were still occupying Frank’s mind as he trudged down the hallway from the elevator, walking carefully in spite of an absence of anything he could actually positively identify as actual breakages in the ribs. Just because he couldn’t feel anything like a break (and yeah, he’d had enough of those in his life that he knew the feeling like he knew the feeling of a broken hand, if not better) didn’t mean it couldn’t be lurking there somewhere. If you happened to have got picked up and scrunched by a damn Hulk, you didn’t walk away with only bruises, and he ought to fucking know that too. No, they had to be there, somewhere. Otherwise they were still in ‘too good to be true’ territory, if you could walk away from being jerked around by a crazed She-Hulk on a mission and not pay the price for it. Still, he had to reflect, as he paused long enough to trip the mechanism to unlock the Helicarrier room someone had assigned to them for the night, shifting the arm he still had wrapped around Rach while he did and stealing another glance at her in case it might be the last chance he got to do that, that She-Hulk or not, this was all still in too fucking good to ever have a chance of being true territory. Not a new thought. Same damn thought he had every fucking time the end of an evening rolled around and he found himself in the position of heading back to his room with Rach beside him, or maybe that should have been getting the tacit invitation to come back to her room with her, or fuck, just the fact that there could even be a mental debate of which of those was the right one proved the whole damn point that it was too fucking good to be true, because either way, he was pushing open the door, stepping inside, and she might just actually come through with him too. Didn’t matter how many times that happened, it felt like a fucking miracle. That that was something she might actually want. Hell, maybe She-Hulk had shaken something loose in his brain, jerking him around like a fish on a hook like that. He was hallucinating, and he’d been hallucinating all of this last fucking year. Right now, it seemed like a more believable explanation than any other for this... ...but Rach’d go spare if he said as much out loud, and in any case, he wasn’t nearly stupid enough, or even close to ‘not a shithead’ enough to try to break this soap bubble he seemed to be living in. So instead, Frank turned to look at Rachel with a slight wry grin, as though he didn’t have any of that feeling that the floor was about to pull out from under him at the next available second, and shrugged, on general terms. “I told you,” he said, because he had, at least on general terms. “I was never getting out of that place without being crushed to a pulp by a rabid Avenger.” And maybe he was exaggerating, but hell... tell that to his ribs. |
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| Diamondback | Jan 14 2014, 02:18 PM Post #2 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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No more Camps. It was a pretty good note to make an exit on and Rachel was still smiling a little as they got off the elevator and headed down the hall, arm slung comfortably around Frank's waist and - maybe not exactly 'not a care in the world' but about as close as they'd come in a long time. Not a bad night in general and she wasn't even too worried for once that the rest of the team would blow things sky high the second they turned their backs. Well, not much worried and Komodo was taken care of, and they had a room on the helicarrier for the night. All in all, yeah, she wasn't complaining. Best night in a while. But why the hell was Frank walking like that? Out of the corners of her eyes, Rachel looked him over again as they walked the short distance down the hall to the room. Had he sprained something getting on the transport platform? Had Stacy made a grab for him while she wasn't looking? He was moving a little like he had after the last time he'd really pissed Blanche off, but they hadn't seen any sign of her since she took off with Judd down at the party. That couldn't be it. She was a little afraid to ask because he might tell her it was something like an Avengers allergy or he was practicing for the inevitable helicarrier crash he was sure was coming or being forced into a room full of people he was sure were waiting to pounce on him as soon as he let his guard down or god knew what. The things he got in his head sometimes. And he thought she was nuts. But still, he was the best damned thing that had ever happened to her, even if he'd just tell her she was crazy again if she said that out loud. So Rachel kept it to herself for now as she waited for him to open the door and then went inside with him, less than a step behind. Not bad. Not bad at all. Almost exactly like she remembered from the times she'd come on board with Steve. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Actually, this was better. They might all die tomorrow, who the hell knew? They might've died any day in the last several years. Probably should've, but if it was going to be tomorrow there wasn't anything they could do about that. Right now, though, she was here and Frank was here and they still had tonight. That was all she wanted anyway. “I told you,” Frank began as he turned to her, wry grin on his face as she reached back to close the door behind them, “I was never getting out of that place without being crushed to a pulp by a rabid Avenger.” Well, alright, maybe she could want Frank to be a little less delusional. Just this once. It was a pipe dream, sure, but everyone had to have a dream. "Jen did not crush you to a pulp," she pointed out, one brow lifting a little as her hand went to her hip and her eyes swept over him, noting that he was suspiciously un-pulped, "She hugged you. There's a difference. And I don't think that a symptom of being rabid, either, Frank." She felt the need to get that out there before he latched on to it as his next defense. Since it was Frank, and he would. "Maybe she bruised you a little, though," she conceded with a grin of her own and a speculative look as her other hand ran up his side lightly, "I could check if you want." Well, it wouldn't be very nice to burst his bubble of near death by She-Hulk all at once, now would it? |
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| Constrictor | Jan 15 2014, 11:36 PM Post #3 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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Funny, really. Years ago, they’d tried to use quarters on the Helicarrier like some kind of carrot on a stick. You’ve got potential, Payne. Play your cards right, there’s a big future for you in this organization. You could end up up top. Hadn’t worked out that way, but that was the funny damn thing about potential, wasn’t it? Good lot of bullshit to put on someone to get your way, didn’t count for shit in the actual reckoning. But here he was, all the same stepping through the door to his own quarters in the damn flying battleship. Stepping through it with the kind of girl that only belonged in your dreams, and even then probably needed to be paid double to appear there with a guy like you, even. But she was here. She was choosing to be here, hard as that still was to believe. Hell, if he hadn’t been halfway crushed to a pulp by a rabid Avenger on the way out of that damn club, Frank might have started seriously looking for the strings of whatever messed up telepath was playing with his mind to create this. Too good to be true. Still, he couldn’t let that stop him from a wry gripe about the Avenger pulping as he stepped inside, and turned to the pink-haired woman who was closing the door behind them. Probably only worry her if he didn’t point out how inevitable that had been. He’d told her. "Jen did not crush you to a pulp," Rach retorted, looking him over suspiciously. Not even that suspiciously, actually. More like she already knew nearly as well as he did there wasn’t anything seriously damaged there, but hell if he could manage to be bothered by that when he got to watch the way she looked as she did it. Not a woman in the world that he’d ever seen who could compare, even when she was giving him that look, like she saw right through hm. Especially then. "She hugged you. There's a difference. And I don't think that a symptom of being rabid, either, Frank." “Says the only woman insane enough to do it on a regular basis,” Frank pointed out, risking a grin that might buy him a swat if the words hadn’t been enough themselves, “Biased testimony.” But he reached out to her all the same, to draw her toward him, face to face and close enough to slide one arm around her. "Maybe she bruised you a little, though," she conceded with a grin of her own and a speculative look as her other hand ran up his side lightly, managing to fire a whole shitload of nerve endings that had nothing to do with bruising, "I could check if you want." “Jesus,” was the only word Frank could manage to find in his head when he tried to look for a response, so he said it, as the rest of his brain got back on with wondering just who the lucky bastard was that he’d somehow managed to swap lives with, to get to a place where a woman who looked like Rachel was looking at him like that. Then he thought better of that (no need to be dumb enough to tempt fate reversing it by wondering), and just bent his head down and kissed her, bringing his other hand up to gently cup her shoulder like the precious piece of perfection that she was. Never. He’d never understand why this was something she wanted to do, but while it was? He’d take every moment, and try to do every thing he could to make her happy. Right now, that probably meant taking a strategic break though, and not standing around in his damn stealthsuit longer than he had to. “Hold that thought,” Constrictor suggested, breaking off the kiss, but planting an extra one at her hairline just for luck, and stepped away, jerking his arms and the bulk of the coil housing still attached to them by way of explanation for the pause. “Tonight I want to get this stuff all off.” Didn’t do it every night - took too damn long to get it off and on again to risk half the time, especially with the habits born out of the general fucking mess he’d made of his life. But tonight - well, maybe it was a stupid damn idea, but tonight he liked the idea of stripping that off, like it would make him into something else. Or less like it. Fuck. Either way, they were coming off, and he made his way over to the little dresser thing over by one side of the room, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror out of habit, and got on with opening up the top of the suit and peeling it off his torso, uncovering the network of braces and straps that kept the coils from dislocating his arms every time he used them. “No More Camps,” Frank mused out loud as he worked through that. “Huh.” Didn’t seem like any time at all since it had been all the camps, and one crazy damn pink-haired girl making her rounds around the Resistance insisting that she was going to take one of them down. But here they were. |
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| Diamondback | Jan 19 2014, 06:48 PM Post #4 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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He was walking, he was talking, he wasn't actually pulped. All good clues that She-Hulk hadn't crushed Frank anywhere but in his own mind. All the rest of them? They called that a hug. Even when it was coming from a seven foot tall green woman. If she said it to him enough, one day it might actually take. Or not. “Says the only woman insane enough to do it on a regular basis,” he insisted with a grin that had her taking a light swat at his arm because he had it coming and shooting him an 'I am not even close to letting you get away with that' look to go with it as she tried not to grin back at him. It'd just encourage him. “Biased testimony.” One strong arm snaked around her and Rachel stepped closer; with Frank that was always easy to do. Hmm...well, if you couldn't beat them, join them. Hell, that'd been a theme of most of her life, hadn't it? So, fine. He wasn't crushed, but maybe he was a little bruised. And maybe she was a little biased, but she figured she had good reasons to be. Not much she could do about the bias, or that she wanted to do about it, but she could check on that possible bruising if he wanted her to. “Jesus,” was his only answer. Rachel took that as a yes and that grin that kept playing hide and seek on her face broke through completely. Distraction had always been one've her better talents, though the former mercenary had to wonder who was distracting who, exactly, when his head dipped and he kissed her, her arm hooking around his neck as his other hand going to her shoulder. Resting there, holding her. Like she was something fragile that he wanted to hold onto. Like she mattered. To Frank, she did and that still snuck up and surprised her sometimes when she least expected it. “Hold that thought,” Constrictor suggested, breaking off the kiss, but planting an extra one at her hairline just for luck, and stepped away, jerking his arms and the bulk of the coil housing still attached to them by way of explanation for the pause. “Tonight I want to get this stuff all off.” Fingers stroking lightly over the base of his neck and along his shoulder as she stepped back, before letting it fall to her side again, she nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah, good idea. I need to get all this stuff off, too." Walking arsenals, that's what they both were, the pink-haired woman mused as she let him have the dresser while she went over to the nightstand, pulling 'diamonds' out of the dozen little places they were normally concealed. In her hair, on her earrings, the decorations on her costume, inside her boots and gloves. Even out of her bra (a girl never knew when that'd come in handy and it had more than once), before moving to more conventional places like the bands around her upper arms and the belt around her waist. Did it all out of years and years of habit and she could do it in reverse just as easy, as thoughtlessly, as her green eyes drifted back over to Frank. Sometimes she wondered how the hell he stood all those straps and supports all day long. Maybe they were as nuts as he kept insisting they were. Not that she'd admit it, but she wondered herself now and then. In no time, there was a pile of sharp, shiny, destructive little metal gems lying there and all that was left was the uniform to mark the difference between Diamondback and a pretty ordinary girl named Rachel. “No More Camps,” Frank mused out loud as he worked through that and she pulled zipper on her suit down from neck to waist, turning her head back his way again in the process. “Huh.” "Yeah," she agreed with the hint of a smile again, leaving her uniform for right now and turning to cross the short distance to where he was. See if she could help him with all the buckles and equipment he had to shed. "Not bad, huh?" Rachel asked, coming up behind him and lifting her hands to rest lightly on his shoulders. "And we're still here." Leaning against his back for a second, she bent her head to plant a kiss on his shoulder, then turned her head, laying her cheek against the warm skin there. Still here. Her. Frank. Even Danny, running around out there somewhere like the idiot he was but still alive. More than she'd expected, probably more than she deserved, but she'd take it all the same. And she'd hang onto it just as long as Frank, and fate, or chance, or the universe would let her. |
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| Constrictor | Jan 27 2014, 12:26 AM Post #5 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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Could have stood there and kissed her all night long, if she’d let him. Held her in his arms, precious, perfect, and still somehow wanting to turn her face up to him, slipping one slender hand around his neck. Kissing him in a way like no woman ever had before her, sweet and delicate, but strong too. Stronger than Frank thought she knew about herself, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the hundred, or thousand times he’d had to be the one to tell her when she wasn’t as fucking indestructible as she seemed to think she was sometimes either. Strong though. Underneath all of that. That was Rach, and if it didn’t make sense... well, what the fuck would anyone be asking for sense from him for anyhow? Didn’t matter right now, not when she was still here, still wanting to kiss him like that. Yeah, he could have done it all night, but Constrictor broke the kiss before that, because he wasn’t a total goddamned idiot, even around Rachel. Asked her to hold that thought, and kissed her again, on the forehead, before pulling back enough to show the half ton of weight (wasn’t that, but it felt like it some days) he was still lugging on his arms between the coils and the stealthsuit. Tonight, he wanted it off. Every damn bit of it. The way her fingers ran across the back of his shoulder was just about enough to forget whatever brain he had left and say hell to even that amount of foresight, but Rach smiled, and nodded a little, letting him go as she stepped back to deal with it all. "Yeah, good idea. I need to get all this stuff off, too." Lips quirking up in a half-smile of his own, since there was no damned question he didn’t want to run into one of those diamonds of hers if he didn’t know it was coming, Frank nodded himself. Shut down a brief urge to offer his services there, help her track down every single one of them, no matter where she’d thought to hide them this time, but he let her move away instead. Didn’t feel like that, tonight, and he didn’t think Rach did either. Better to just be out of it all. Couple of ordinary idiots. Gorgeous girl with dyed hair, and some old fuckup that didn’t deserve her, but seemed to be someone she wanted around anyway. Best damn thing he could ever have asked for. So to the dresser it was, opening up the black stealthsuit so he could get at the straps and buckles and general whatever it was that held the harness with his coils in place and getting to work on undoing them all. Methodical, wasting no spare effort on any movement but the ones he needed to take each link down, one after the other. “No More Camps,” he mused aloud as he worked, not turning his head to sneak a glance at Rach when he did since it wouldn’t help him get there any faster, though it was her he was thinking of. Always, but in this... yeah. No more camps, and where had that really started, after all? Maybe the others down there, the Avengers and their lot, they’d have different answers, but his? It was a stupid girl making the rounds of the cells with her purple hair and that damn fool idea that she could charm or fuck or beg her way into a team that’d help her take down one of the worst of them. Crazy fucking idiot, she’d been. But they’d made her right after all. "Yeah," she agreed, and he could hear that smile in her voice, even without looking around. Heard her steps as she crossed the room back over to him too, and that was enough that Frank broke his own rule about mirrors, lifting his eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of the smile on his own face as he watched her reflection approach his in the glass, still in her uniform, though the open zipper left a line of bare skin all the way down to her stomach. Gorgeous like you wouldn’t believe, and sliding in behind him. "Not bad, huh?" Rachel asked, lifting her hands to rest lightly on his shoulders. "And we're still here." “Not for any want of trying on your part,” Frank grumbled half-heartedly, but he stopped what he was doing long enough to reach back and run one hand up and down her side as she leaned in. A kiss he felt on his shoulders, carefully placed between the gaps in the loosening network of strapping, and then another warm soft touch. Her cheek, resting there as she held him, pressed against his back so he could feel the way her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took. Steady enough, and calm. That was good. He finished with the last of the the crap of buckles on his arms, then leaned forward, giving himself just enough room to slide the coils and their housing braces over his head, first one and then the other, setting the hole business down on the top of the dresser. Absently tweaked a couple of things here and there about how it was sitting, to make it easier to get it on again in a hurry if he needed it, then paused only long enough to rub at a couple of the lines in the network of callused ridges the cage had worn down out of his skin over the years. Then he turned, let the same arms slip around her, slowly and carefully in case he did something stupid when he did. It always felt too light when the coils came off, at least for the first couple of minutes. Like none of the movements took the effort they ought to. But that was okay too, she was worth every bit of extra care, and more. “Still here, babe,” he told her, and she felt too light to believe in his arms as he drew her closer, but that was something that never really went away. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Not while she still wanted him, anyway. Tonight she did, and he’d take that, and be the happiest damn man alive. More than enough, even if it was only tonight that was left for it. |
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| Diamondback | Jan 29 2014, 04:47 PM Post #6 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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These days, even the uniform was just like anybody elses. Basic black instead of the bright pink and black it used to be. Nothing to make her stand out all that much there, either. Other than the hair, she looked just like everybody else. Just Rachel, a transplant from he Lower East Side by way of a Texas trailer park. A gymnast who threw fake diamonds and thought she could keep up with super-heroes. Yeah, maybe she was just as nuts sometimes as Frank said, but she hadn't done so bad, had she? Green eyes sliding to the side, to where Frank stood in front of the mirror, methodically extracting himself from all that gear that she wondered sometimes how he stood all day, Rachel Leighton didn't think so. Lots of worse places a girl could find herself. She knew because she'd had her experience with those, too. No more camps. The zipper on her suit came down and her head turned toward Frank. A little part of her liked to think that maybe a tiny piece of that belonged to them. To Tanya and Cleo, for getting her the hell out of that nightmare place she'd woke up in. To Frank, for helping her when she'd come to Tom's team and asked and not because of what she'd be willing to do for him if he did. Even though she hadn't expected it and wouldn't have batted an eye if that'd been his terms. To her whole team, because they might not be the spotless heroes most of the rest were, but they'd taken that place to the ground and ended a living nightmare for a lot of people, like Melati. Like herself. Yeah. No more camps. It made her smile as she crossed the room, leaving shedding the rest of her uniform for a minute to see if she could help him with all those damned straps and braces and housings. Or maybe just to rest her hands on Franks broad shoulders for a second as he smiled back at her in the mirror he wasn't ignoring for once with storm grey eyes. No more camps. Not bad at all, and they were still here to see it. “Not for any want of trying on your part,” Frank grumbled halfheartedly in a familiar, apparently obligatory reminder that had her breathing out at soft, short laugh as one strong hand came back to slide up and down her side. "You keep saying that like I'm gonna listen," she pointed out with more amusement than annoyance for once. Some days, he absolutely infuriated her with his determination to save her from everything, including herself, but tonight Rachel just followed that up with a kiss to his shoulder, between those straps he was still wearing, then turned her head to rest her cheek against that warm expanse of skin. Lean on him, because he'd let her do that and, with Frank, she'd let herself do that. Still here. The two of them, the brother she'd been more than half sure was dead these five years, Cleo and Tanya, who should've had their asses in Madripoor instead, but she'd been damned glad to see them all the same. An unexpected gift, all of it. And this. Maybe this, most of all, as she stepped back a little again to give him room to finish getting all the buckles undone. Grabbed the straps at the back and lifted up to help him get the whole contraption over his head one side at a time. Let him arrange it there on the dresser like he wanted, just like she'd laid out her own stuff so she knew she'd be able to grab it and get it on fast if she had to. Little rituals. They all had them, and Rachel watched him, stepped in closer again as he rubbed at a couple of the ridges that cage left behind on his skin and placed another light kiss on the side of his neck. Frank turned around then, arms sliding around her so carefully. That still surprised her, too. That he bothered, that he even thought about it. To be careful with her (right now, because he'd just lost those heavy ass coils that needed a lot of extra effort to move around). To care whether he was or not. A life like she'd lived didn't earn careful. Palms coming to rest against his chest, the steady beat of his heart under her hands, Rachel's arms slipped up, twining around his neck as Frank pulled her in closer. Just as carefully. He could crush windpipes with those hands, without the coils, but he handled her like she was made of eggshells. Drove her fucking insane sometimes in the field, made her furious, but not here. Not now. “Still here, babe,” he told her, and she leaned into him, feeling safe there in his arms in a way that had been so damned foreign to her at first she hadn't been sure what to do with it. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Head bending again and spill of pink hair falling forward toward her face, she placed another light kiss at the hollow of his throat. "Me, either, Frank," she murmured, raising her head to catch his eyes with her own, fingertips of one hand stroking lightly up and down the back of his neck. "However things go tomorrow, there's nowhere else I'd rather be tonight." And nobody else she wanted to be with. Not tonight, or any nights she happened to get after this one. For a while, she'd known that, even if it'd taken her a little while longer to accept it. To straighten out her own head that he'd been more than just her usual soft place to fall. Or convenient place. That he was more and he always would be. |
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| Constrictor | Jan 31 2014, 08:44 PM Post #7 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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Still here. Yeah, and not for any want of Rach trying to get herself killed, and maybe the rest of them too for good measure. Had to be said, out of habit and maybe even a little humor if nothing else, but this time Frank couldn’t manage much more than a half-heartedness to the oft-repeated grumble. Didn’t have the will for more than that tonight, seemed like, not when she was alive, and warm, and pressed against him. "You keep saying that like I'm gonna listen," Rach retorted, but maybe it wasn’t just him that wasn’t feeling like wasting the effort on that argument tonight, because she sounded amused this time, and not like she was trying to decide whether she had to roll her eyes before biting his head off, or just do both of them at once. You’d think that would have used up all the luck or karma or whatever it was that he’d ever earned, just with that, but there was a kiss that followed it, and her cheek and her breasts pressing closer, leaning into him. Hot as hell, was what that was, only it wasn’t like that, at the same damn time, because it was was more than that. Like she trusted him not to screw up if she let herself do it, lean on him. Scared him a little, or it would have, if Constrictor had let himself think about it, so he didn’t. Just set himself the task of finishing those buckles, and leaning forward to lift the harness off. Went easier than it should have, that was Rach stepping in to help him with it, seeming to know just what needed to be done that’d make it go smoother as he pulled the cage over his head. Arrange it to be just so, that was a habit too, and it needed doing, if he was going to have it ready to go as quick as it could. Rub at a couple calluses left where it bit into his arms, and... ...goddamn, but there she was again, pressing her lips against his neck, sweeter and hotter than anything in his life had ever been, or ever had had a right to be. He had to dislodge her a little, just so he could turn to face her. Try to slip his arms (same ones that always felt clumsy, and too damn big, when they were free of the coils) around her without hurting her, or making her uncomfortable. Two slight hands, coming to rest on his chest, but apparently they weren’t to push him away, like a part of his brain still expected to come every time he did this. Instead they just rested there softly, then snuck up around his neck and let him pull her closer. Jesus... it was too good to believe, only somehow she had him doing that anyway. Breathing in the scent and warmth that was her, and only her, till it left no room for thinking about whether it would last or not, or really about anything damn thing. Well, maybe one. Still here. No joking there, just the words, while she leaned in against him like she really thought he had something to offer. A tiny little bird, stepping into his arms like there was something to shelter her there, like he wanted there to be. Even had him believing for once that she wouldn’t flutter off and fly away the next moment if he closed his eyes. Probably stupid, but right now, tonight, Frank didn’t feel like taking the effort to remind himself of that. Still here, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. She leaned in, put another kiss on his throat, sending his heart just about to bursting, since it couldn’t seem to decide whether to stop dead or double its pace. "Me, either, Frank," she murmured, raising her head to catch his eyes with her own, fingertips of one hand stroking lightly up and down the back of his neck. "However things go tomorrow, there's nowhere else I'd rather be tonight." And if that was all it turned out to be, he could still take it and go the rest of his life as a happy man. Happier than he’d ever been before Rach, anyway. Frank didn’t say that though, when he looked down to meet the green eyes that had no business looking at someone like him like that, but somehow were anyway. “You keep saying that, maybe sometime I’ll end up listening,” he said instead, with twitching lips that might have had half a grin, then bent down to kiss her before she’d had any time to really try arguing that, even if she wanted to. Didn’t want to make her go through that argument again, about what she wanted, and what she’d end up wanting, maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually. Not tonight. So he just kissed her. Gently to start - or maybe it was that other one - tenderly, that was it. Still didn’t feel like it sat right, thinking about a word like that, but it was Rachel, and that... was what it was. Like Rach herself, not weak, and not fragile, but... yeah, tender, even if he didn’t have the kind of life that let you use that word, and never had. “I love you,” Frank said, when it ended, and he was looking down at her again, lifting one hand from her waist so he could run his fingers through the softness of her hair. Didn’t even feel difficult to say just then. Didn’t even feel out of place, what was more, even if maybe it still should have. Just felt like it was true, and it was something she needed to hear, every single day. One more thing though. One more question, as the silky strands of pink slipped through his fingers and she was still in his arms. “How’re you feeling about tomorrow?” |
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| Diamondback | Feb 3 2014, 05:59 PM Post #8 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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Tomorrow. She'd spent half the night trying not to think about tomorrow. What they were going into, whether they had one chance out of a million of pulling it off. If they luck they'd had so far would hold. Not thinking about tomorrow had had her stomach tied in knots and her mouth going dry. Her luck had never been great and there were never any guarantees, especially where her life was concerned. It was a lesson she'd learned early and never forgot. All the same, she'd done all right. Made things work more times than not. Gotten by, once in a while actually gotten ahead. Landed on her feet more or less and even managed to mostly land on the right side of things. What they were doing tomorrow, or trying to do, she believed in that. Believed that, no matter what happened in the end, they couldn't stand back and let what was left that was good in this world dim and dim until it finally winked out. If that meant she didn't get any tomorrows after that, then those were the breaks. All the same, she hoped there'd be a day after tomorrow, and a day after that, and a lot of days lined up in a row after that. For all of them. They'd already practically performed miracles this week. Maybe, just maybe, they had one more they could pull out of their collective sleeves. Tonight, though...tonight there was still her and there was still Frank. There was still time. Time to stand there with his arms around her, holding her with a care she'd never expected. Not from anyone. Time to bend her head just enough to press her lips to warm skin, feel the beat of his heart, pounding so close to hers she didn't know for sure which was which. Time. Time she wouldn't want to spend anywhere else, with anyone else, no matter how tomorrow turned out. “You keep saying that, maybe sometime I’ll end up listening,” Frank told her, replaying her a version of her own words that had her rolling her eyes. Got as far as thinking about opening her mouth to argue that, again, despite the suggestion of a grin starting on his face before he kissed her and she stopped thinking about arguing. Stopped thinking about that stale damned argument over what he was convinced she wanted, or would want, or should want or have in some future she might never even see, versus what she already knew she wanted, whether she done one single thing to earn the right to expect it or not. Of how he drove her nuts when he did that. Tried to make her mind up for her like that. Just threaded her arms around him again, pulled him closer, rose on her toes a little and pressed in. Let some of her weight rest there against him, knowing he'd never let her fall. Frank never did, even when she deserved it. Maybe especially when she deserved it. Tenderness. Warmth. In the way he kissed her, like that might accidentally break her, too, if he went about it wrong. It touched something inside her, something small and wilted from lack of care, brought it back to life. He'd never understand that. Never believe it if she told him. If she had any idea how to tell him. The words for that were something she'd never learned. Words like that hadn't existed in the world she lived in, so she told him the only way she knew how. With lips and body and all the heart that she could put into it. “I love you,” Frank said, when it ended as her eyes opened and his fingers sifted through the loose pink strands of her hair. A good man. Frank was a good man, no matter what he thought of himself. Whatever was in his past, whatever else he might be. No matter how much he wouldn't believe it, couldn't see it. She'd never been that smart and she might not've known very damned much good in her life, either, but she knew he was one. "I love you, too," Rachel answered, head canting toward that light touch, green eyes on grey. The words almost seemed too small right now, not even close to big enough for the enormity of a feeling that still scared her and left her feeling defenseless sometimes if she thought about it too hard, but she couldn't think of any better ones to use in their place. Not a passing attraction. Not an obligation. Not a port in a storm. She loved him. If he never knew anything else, she needed him to know that. “How’re you feeling about tomorrow?” That sure as hell wasn't anything she'd expected, but probably she should've. It would be on his mind maybe more than it was on hers. He'd be thinking and worrying and expecting the worse. She hated when he did that, too, but she'd be better off trying to stop the Juggernaut at a full run than expect that to go away. Still resting there against him, Rachel's teeth pulled at the inside of her lower lip. Scared as hell. That was her first thought, but if she said it out loud he'd probably try to lock her in the closet just to keep her out of it. That wasn't all, though. Not even most of it, when she got past the knots. Turned out, she was mostly something else. "Hopeful," that was the answer she finally gave him, looking back up to him with an earnest face, "I think we can do it. We have the people. We have the skills. If we go out there and do what we know how to do and don't panic, Frank, we can do it. We can make it happen." [Random bits of thought and dialogue borrowed from Avengers Initiative, because I cannot possibly say it better than Gage did.] |
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| Constrictor | Feb 10 2014, 06:11 PM Post #9 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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"I love you, too." Rachel said it, and her eyes even said it too, with her head all tilted to look up at him like that, leaning into his hand. Looking at him like she meant it. Like he wasn’t the half gimped old loser who’d catch his eyes in the mirror if he wasn’t careful. It felt good, felt warm, felt even kind of like happy, whatever the hell that really was. All of that. But mostly? It felt like it put a great big adamantium grip round Frank’s chest, hearing those words. Like being squeezed inside his own damn coils. Scared half the crap out of him to know just how badly he wanted to believe her when she said it. Scared the other half - hell, more than that, even - to think about how much of him did actually believe her when she looked at him like that. Even if it was true, how the hell was he ever supposed to live up to a look like that? Screwing it up wasn’t even an option, but that was what he’d done to every other good thing that had ever happened in his life, and none of them had been half as important as this felt right now. But there was a gorgeous girl in his arms, one who he loved more than he’d ever loved anything in his sorry life, even the things he should have, and she was telling him that she loved him too, and even Frank Payne didn’t hate himself quite enough to let himself say something to fuck it up. Not tonight, at any rate. So he just kept holding her, the woman in his arms, running his fingers through her hair, like he was looking for any more diamonds that she’d missed (she never did, but he liked the feel of her hair too much to let go of that habit all the same), something that was like a smile turning up his lips a little. Not actually so hard to just let go and believe it, huh? Not tonight. Tomorrow, they’d see again, but if he was going to think about tomorrow, there was a question that had to be asked, because he knew Rach too well not to have caught the edge of nerves she’d been walking round with since that last briefing before the party. One question then, and that was simple enough - how was she feeling about tomorrow? The answer wasn’t though, or at least it didn’t come right away, and the job she did of hiding the shot of nerves that ran through her, while good, wasn’t nearly good enough to keep him from spotting it in the shift in her lips, and the way she tensed in his arms. Scared like fuck, he thought, even while he shifted the arm still around her waist, pulling her a little closer without thinking about it at all. Took a while more till she spoke, but that wasn’t the answer she gave when she did. "Hopeful," that was the answer she finally gave him, that moment of fear gone, or at least sunk back down under an open expression that made her look as young as Veil and older than her own years and as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, all at once. Lying to him, given that look he’d seen before, only she wasn’t lying now either, was she? "I think we can do it. We have the people. We have the skills. If we go out there and do what we know how to do and don't panic, Frank, we can do it. We can make it happen." I hope you’re right. I really hope you’re right. One response to that, and one Constrictor had given to her more than once, when she’d come out with a wish and a hope and a conviction dragged out of some part of her own head where life wasn’t the bag of shit it generally turned into. But this time, he didn’t say it, since all the rest of his brain could manage to think was, You’re Amazing. Scared like fuck - that hadn’t gone away, had it? - but she was going to go on and do it anyway. Not like someone who acted brave because they were too fucking dumb to know when they ought to be scared. Rach had her moments like that, often enough, about other things and if he’d thought that was what she was going with tomorrow, he’d have found a way to keep her out of it, hell or high water and whether she’d hate him forever afterward, which she would have. Not like that though, this time. Scared, and yet she was determined to stick by and do it anyway. Who the hell was really like that? Not himself, Frank knew that much. Anytime in his life he’d been scared like that, he’d found always managed to find a way to fuck things up and walked away from it. Fuck knew that for all the reasons he’d give himself why this was a fight, half the time about the only thing that had kept him going in this losers crusade was the thought of what would happen to Rachel if she didn’t have someone to watch her back when she forgot to (which happened all too damned often). Take her out of the equation, and... ...yeah, well. Didn’t bear thinking about. “That’s my girl,” was what he said instead, and yeah, there might have been a smile in that wasn’t even a little bit kidding. Just admiration, pride maybe, and yeah, that other one. Love. How could you not? “Yeah, we’ll find a way to make it happen,” he said, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead, because if that was what she wanted, that’d be what he did his damnedest to try to do for her. And if that was what she believed? Yeah, maybe it wasn’t so hard believing it either. “So that’s a no on the last secret offer from those two that they didn’t want me to tell you about, then?” Frank had to add though, and this time the smile he had as he looked back down at her did hold a little bit of kidding to it. No extra guesses allowed on who ‘those two’ were - same damn two crazy ‘friends‘ who he was still almost surprised had chosen to head back over their with Masters, rather than stick around just to torture him some more. Whether or not Rach had guessed that there’d been another offer behind her back, after she turned down the ones they’d made to her face, well that might be more of a question. She knew them well enough that Constrictor wasn’t betting against it, but might as well put it out there in real words, all the same, “I’m not allowed to knock you out and bundle you up to give to them to look after in Madripoor?” Not exactly the words of the offer as Cleo and Tanya had phrased it, but hell if he felt like playing their games for them when they weren’t even here, so Frank shrugged, and shook his head slightly. “Figured I was better off asking.” Even if he’d already has his answer. But you never knew. Or yeah, maybe you did. |
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| Diamondback | Feb 12 2014, 10:03 PM Post #10 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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His fingers, gentle and slow, combed through her hair. Once. Twice. Again. Like he was maybe looking for any stray, sharp little personal accessories she might've forgot. Never did. It was something she'd been doing so long - putting all that on and taking it off again - that it happened by rote. She knew exactly where they all were. But that's what Frank would say, if she asked him, though she never did that, either. Didn't want to spoil it. Chance making him self-conscious so that he'd stop doing it. Because she liked it, the way it felt and the way it made her feel. Because sometimes, like now, it got a smile out of him. Because sometimes, like right now, there was a moment. A moment when she let herself lean against him, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, Frank's fingers sliding through the pink strands of her hair and his arms around her, that it felt closer to perfect than anything else in her life ever had. A moment when time seemed to stop, and the words felt too small and the feelings felt too big and it was all as clear as crystal. Real and solid in a way nothing else in her world ever had been. But even then, there was still tomorrow to think about and, Frank being Frank, had that on his mind. So no, that question shouldn't have surprised her at all. Damned well knew she wasn't really fooling him trying to hide the nerves that had been riding her most of the evening, but she tried anyway. Tomorrow. That scared the hell out of her and Rachel knew he saw it when he pulled her in a little more, arm tightening around her waist. Probably trying to think up ways to keep her out of the fight, and that really did drive her fucking insane sometimes, but he did it because he loved her and she knew that, too. The fear wasn't all, though. Even if it had been, it wouldn't have stopped her, but there was something under it. Something stronger and that one she recognized, too, even if it wasn't exactly an old friend. Hope. She could look at him and say that and mean it. Believe it. They could do it. They had the people and the skills and if they used those, if they went out there and didn't panic, they could do it. They could go make this happen. If nothing else, they were survivors. Their whole damned team. It wasn't hard to guess what his answer would be. One she expected and one she'd probably heard a million times over the last year or so. He'd hope she was right, be more than half convinced she wasn't, and go anyway. For her, and Rachel knew he did that because he loved her, too. No, she hadn't lived a life that earned that, either, but here he was. Doing it all the same. “That’s my girl,” he said instead, and that sure as hell wasn't what she'd expected, either. Or the smile that warmed places inside her that she hadn't even known were there until he came along. “Yeah, we’ll find a way to make it happen,” he said, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead that put a matching smile on her face. His girl. She'd always be that, whether Frank ever believed her or not. "We've done it before," Rachel agreed, still leaning into him and watching those grey eyes, what she saw there and wanted to keep seeing there. Remembering that Camp and all the people who'd thought she was crazy, and told her so, for even thinking about going after it. “So that’s a no on the last secret offer from those two that they didn’t want me to tell you about, then?” Secret offer? Oh for god's sake, what the hell had Tanya and Cleo got up to while she wasn't looking? Probably easy enough to guess, she'd known them for years and knew how their brains worked, but Rachel lifted an eyebrow his way all the same. “I’m not allowed to knock you out and bundle you up to give to them to look after in Madripoor?” More like 'knock her ass out out, box her up, and ship her to Madripoor for her own damned good so she'd stop running around and playing hero' Diamondback suspected. Loved them to death, they were her best friends in the world, but sometimes they drove her crazy as hell, too. Frank, though, he gave his head a shake and shrugged. “Figured I was better off asking.” "You really think you need to ask that, Frank?" she threw back dryly, with a roll of her eyes, and a smile that she tried to hold back but popped up a little anyway. God, she really had missed those girls. But not quite that much. "I'm not a damned box of mail order chocolates and I don't need looking after." That would probably get her an argument, so better head that off. "If they've gotta have a third, pack Veil's Cuban friend up and send her," Rachel added, since they seemed to like her, judging by Wyoming. Or at least they probably wouldn't kill her or traumatize her to death too fast. Then, voice a little softer, she added, "I'm not going anywhere." |
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| Constrictor | Feb 17 2014, 06:04 PM Post #11 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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Jesus fuck. A smile wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. Not outside some stupid movie that couldn’t be bothered to go to the effort of saying anything real, anyway. In real life, Frank knew, there weren’t smiles that could light you up or cook your guts or whatever the cliche was supposed to be to describe the feeling of warmth seeping into his bones just from seeing Rach turn hers up to him. Or even if they existed, they weren’t for people like him. Rogers, maybe. But not Frank Schlicting, and not Frank Payne either. Had she smiled at Rogers like that? For once though, Frank didn’t care what the answer to that might have been. Rach was here, and it was his arms around her, and that smile had come to her face when she looked at him. After he’d kissed her. Yeah, they’d find a way to make it happen. Somehow, they’d do it. "We've done it before," Rachel agreed, and even though some of the memories of that fight still woke him up sweating in the middle of the night, she was leaning against him, and just now, at least, she was still safe, still whole, and still smiling at him, so all he had to do was stroke her back, and her hair, and smile too. Felt okay when he did that. Felt like something right, and something he could believe, just because she did. So hell - good a time as any to bring up that last offer Asp and Black Mamba had made, before hitching their ride out to Madripoor, right? They hadn’t wanted him to tell Rach about it, of course, but given the game the pair of them seemed to like to make of him whenever nothing else was looking interesting, he wasn’t exactly feeling the need to hold to their wishes. Plus, probably wasn’t a bad bet that Rach could have guessed it anyway. Yeah, there - that way she’d arched her eyebrow, right there. He knew that one, and it wasn’t so much asking for an explanation as it was waiting for a confession. Yeah, might as well get on with it then, huh. Not hard to guess that she wasn’t going to let him knock her out and bundle her off to Madripoor for those two to ‘look after’, then. Still, he’d thought he was better off for asking, and Frank told her that much, too. Didn’t get him punched, and didn’t have her twisting out of his grasp, either, so all in all, he was thinking it hadn’t really been a bad tactic. "You really think you need to ask that, Frank?" she threw back dryly, and she was trying to roll her eyes, but there was a smile there still, so hell... might as well go on and press his luck. “One day it might work,” he told her, mostly keeping the smile that kept wanting break in away from a mock serious expression. Well... keeping some of it off there, anyway, when she continued. "I'm not a damned box of mail order chocolates and I don't need looking after." Hell, now she was just trying to walk into these, wasn’t she? Asking for an argument, or maybe just trying to see how easily she could burst through his attempts at serious and force a smile. Stubborn and bull-headed as she was good-looking, and she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life, so that was saying something. But before Frank could do more than open his mouth to contradict, whether to point out the obvious - of course she needed looking after - or just to see how much she’d try to kill him if he corrected her. Not a box of chocolates, no. Finest bourbon, that was Rach. The sort they wouldn’t even sell you unless you were in the right place, with the right kind of look - she was speaking again, right over him. "If they've gotta have a third, pack Veil's Cuban friend up and send her," Rachel added. His thoughts still caught up in the finer things, Frank’s brows creased downward for a moment of confusion about cigars, till he caught on, and raised them again. That one? Yeah, someone else could have the job of packing her to go anywhere, she looked like a biter. Though that would fit in with Rach’s friends well enough, probably, so there was that. Then those thoughts were all gone straight out of his head, when Rach’s voice started again, softer this time. "I'm not going anywhere." Not going anywhere. Yeah, goddamn his brain for belonging to a stupid idiot, but right now he believed her, like he’d never believed anything. Especially nothing a girl had ever said to him. For a moment, maybe two, his throat felt too thick and tight to get any words out, and all he could do was pull her tighter to him, only just remembering not to do that too tightly. “Well, truth be told babe, I’d rather be the one doing the looking after you myself,” he said after that, when his throat unclosed, and his hands moved up to grip her shoulders. Lightly. Had to keep it lightly. Couldn’t hurt her. “Just try not to stand in front of any more damn jet planes, would you?” he asked, voice hoarse and without managing to get in even a sprinkle of humor to lighten it. Monday night. Jesus. That one was going to be waking him up for the rest of his sorry ass life, too. |
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| Diamondback | Feb 19 2014, 11:46 PM Post #12 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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Really? This was a question Frank thought he needed to ask? God. Not that it should surprise her, and she really had been glad as hell to see Cleo and Tanya, though she'd rather they'd stayed over in Madripoor, bored or not, and not got themselves into that place. Having the BAD Girls back together, it'd been nice for that little while, but they were back where they belonged. Off with Taskmaster to get themselves into a different kind of trouble. This kind of thing, it'd never been their thing, but they'd played along with her when she needed them to and they'd stood by her like nobody else ever had. Nobody until Frank. “One day it might work,” he told her, like he actually might believe that, despite the smile she could see trying to make its way to the surface. Then, she did manage to roll her eyes. She wasn't a damned box of mail order chocolates and she did not need looking after and maybe if she said that enough, it might work, too. Rachel hadn't even finished, though, before she could practically hear what came next. Same old answer, same old argument and there he went, opening his mouth. She didn't want to fight with him, especially tonight, so she bulldozed on through that. Tanya and Cleo seemed to like the Cuban girl well enough, Veil's friend. If they needed a third, he could wrap her up and send her off. And now what the hell was that look for? Or maybe that was just his way of saying he wasn't taking on that job. Yeah, she did seem a little prickly now that she thought about it. Didn't matter, though. Send a replacement or not, she still wasn't going anywhere. Not as long as there was a reason not to right in front of her, arms still around her and drawing her in closer, even if sometimes he drove her nuts and made her want to strangle him, or yell at him. Or pull her own hair out. He loved her, and she loved him back, and right now it all felt so damned fragile she was almost afraid to breathe as her hands slid along his shoulders, then down, palms resting against his chest. “Well, truth be told babe, I’d rather be the one doing the looking after you myself,” he said after that, hands shifting to her shoulders and still handling her like she might shatter if he didn't. It made it a lot harder to be annoyed that he couldn't seem to give up the idea she needed a keeper, even if the keeper was him. “Just try not to stand in front of any more damn jet planes, would you?” Rachel sighed and set her jaw a little. "It's not like I do that every day," she protested, though yeah. Okay. Maybe that wasn't exactly her finest moment, but what was she supposed to do? Let Chimera run over everybody on deck trying to land the damned thing? "I-" Rachel started again, then stopped when she realized there was zero she could say that probably wouldn't prove his point for him. And she probably had scared the hell out of him, too, because there wasn't any teasing there in his face or voice at all. "Okay," Diamondback relented instead, wry half smile curving her lips, "I still say I'd have thought of something, but no more trying to stop jet planes with my looks." Still, Chimera probably wouldn't have actually run her over. Maybe. Oh, hell, yes she would've, but that was one thing she wasn't admitting to Frank. As it was, she'd be hearing about this one for a long time to come. Maybe the rest of her life, if she was lucky. |
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| Constrictor | Feb 24 2014, 12:05 AM Post #13 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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Two slender hands, slipping along his shoulders, then dropping lower, stopping on his bare chest, right by his heartbeat. So slender you wouldn’t have thought they could be deadly, if they wanted to be, though that was as much a part of Rachel as the delicate grace and the tendency to rush in before she’d thought it through. He loved all of it. Every single piece of her. But yeah, if he was going to tell the truth here? If anyone was going to be looking out for her - and she’d be the only person who gave a shit who’d try to claim that she didn’t need that - he’d rather it was him. It took Frank a couple of moments before he could get that out; his throat felt too damn thick and tight, had to force the words across it. Had to remind himself again not to grip her too tightly too. Last thing she needed was some fucking idiot putting bruises on her because he couldn’t get a damn hold of himself. But jesus. Jesus. She could argue, be pissed at him for saying that, but he’d get down on his fucking knees and beg her to just not go and stand in front of any more damn jet planes, if he had to. No way to kid about that, even a little. He’d put out both shoulders trying to drag that ‘Mera and that fucking thing to a halt before they got the telekinetics on it, but it hadn’t hurt anything like the stabbing in his chest when he’d seen her standing out there in the path of the thing, hands at her side like she was trying to think up an idea on the fly. The healers had taken him apart and put him back together anyway, good as new - or bad as old, might be more accurate - but that memory? He was going to be seeing that for the rest of his life. And now she was going and giving him that stubborn-ass look she had, damn her. "It's not like I do that every day," she protested, like she really wanted to try having that argument all over again. Frank frowned harder, let out his breath in a short sharp huff of air. That was what she wanted to say about it? "I-" she began again, but nothing more than that. Thank god for that, because fuck knew what he’d have done if she had tried to argue. Maybe actually tried getting down on his knees after all, since reason and fucking common sense didn’t seem to have made any impression, and he couldn’t - couldn’t - see that again. "Okay," Diamondback relented instead, wry half smile curving her lips, "I still say I'd have thought of something, but no more trying to stop jet planes with my looks." With her looks. With nothing but her fucking looks, even if they were the best damn looks in the entire world. But she’d agreed at least, jokes or not. She’d agreed, and it felt like something pent up and over-inflated had gotten pierced, all the backed up shit rushing out of him again with another frustrated breath. “Jesus.” Couldn’t think of any other damn thing to say but that, but it turned out that didn’t matter. Didn’t want to say anything else. He just leaned down and kissed her angrily, lips seeking hers like they were demanding to convince themselves that she was still there, still alive. Pulling her body closer against his too, forgetting in that instant to be as gentle as he usually would have been. She could have gotten herself killed. She could have fucking gone and gotten herself killed, over something she’d had no business being anywhere near the middle of. Jesus, the hell would he do if that happened? This time, or the next time, whatever it was. Fucking hell. |
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| Diamondback | Feb 25 2014, 10:20 PM Post #14 |
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Why torture yourself when life will do it for you?
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All right, maybe it wasn't her brightest move and 'Mera would've probably run over her with the damned jet and cackled while she was doing it. Rachel decided she could admit that much, at least to herself. But it was one time out of dozens that Frank decided she was about to get herself killed like an idiot that he'd actually been right. No matter what he said, it wasn't something she did every day and the former mercenary was still almost sure she'd have come up with something before Chimera ran her down, but- He'd dislocated both shoulders stopping the damned thing, she remembered that, too. The relief when she wasn't splattered all over the nose cone and the sharp worry that'd followed after when she realized what he'd done. And, right now, she could feel his heart racing under her hands as he scoffed, frowned, and made noises at her. So maybe it wasn't such a big thing to promise, after all. No more jumping in front of jets and trying to stop them with nothing but her looks (even if she wasn't ready to admit that's all the plan she'd had or would've had). That was something she could do. A disgruntled-sounding, “Jesus.” was what that got her and the half-smile that'd been on her face flickered and faded out. "Frank," she started, because she didn't want to fight with him. Not now. Not tonight. Especially not tonight but he kissed her again before she could get any farther than that. Sharp and demanding and pissed, she could practically taste it, felt it when he tugged her in against him. Rougher than he had before. Exasperation, irritation pricked at the edges of her own mood, but it didn't stop her from kissing him back. Actually did the opposite and had her doing just that. Just as fiercely. Didn't stop her from molding herself against him as her arms snaked back around his neck, one hand pressing to the back of his head and holding him there. Heart suddenly racing, her breathing tried to keep up. He drove her crazy, made her mad - furious enough to want to punch him sometimes, made her love him in a way she'd never even knew existed before he came along. Sometimes, like now, he did all three at once. If he wanted to be mad at her, that was fine. He had been before, he would be again. But this was more than that, more than just pissed and she knew him well enough to know that. Knew she'd scared him, without meaning to. She never meant to, but she managed it all the same. On a pretty regular basis and it was hard to hold onto even a little bit of being annoyed with him when she admitted that. "I'm okay, Frank," Rachel assured him breathlessly, pulling back enough to try to catch his eyes. Get him to look at her. "I didn't-" breaking off, she let the rest go, because he had to know the rest already and just said again, "I'm okay." Maybe sometimes she hated how he worried about her, but he was also one've the few people who ever had and she loved him for that, too. |
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| Constrictor | Feb 26 2014, 11:32 PM Post #15 |
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There you go again, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn.
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"Frank," she started, but he didn’t want to hear any of that right now. Didn’t want to have that fight again, not tonight. Didn’t want to have to hear her throw the stuff she thought passed for sense around, even if she’d had a point about it. No more trying to stop jets with her fucking looks. Fucking hell. So he kissed her. Angrier, rougher than he should have been. He knew better than that, but jesus. Jesus, what if he hadn’t been there? What if the fucking telekinetics hadn’t been there, even if they’d been late to the party? She could have died, for no better reason than she’d wanted to be a damn idiot, and that, something about that, meant he had to kiss her, hard and demanding and pulling her against him, feeling every inch of her when she pressed in. Her body, her hands, her mouth - she was there, kissing back, and she was alive. She was alive. She was alive. She needed to stay that way. This way. Pissed right back at him - he knew that much, just from her mouth, though fuck knew how he knew that - but alive, twining herself around him, holding him so he wouldn’t have had a choice but to keep kissing her, even if that hadn’t been the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life. She was strong, she was fierce. She was the bravest damn person he’d ever met. But... fucking hell... if she really thought that was all that mattered, that the universe would just recognize it, then... then... ...then she broke away, and he let her, opening his eyes again and feeling his heart beating too hard, gulping breaths in between that. Looking for her eyes, and finding them turned up to his, and that, just that, could have nearly been enough. "I'm okay, Frank," [she] assured him breathlessly. "I didn't-" -die, his thoughts supplied for her, not doing a damn thing to help the way his heart was thumping. You didn’t die, Rach. You’re still here. "I'm okay." She was okay. Frank repeated it in his head, trying to get his body to believe it, stop freaking out like wasn’t doing either of them any good at all. “Yeah,” he said. Thump, thump, thumpity thump, went his heart. Hardly listening, but he repeated it, all the same, sliding his hands down her arms, shoulder to elbow and back again, softly again, like she deserved. “Yeah.” She was okay. She was okay. She didn’t need a fucking idiot, freaking out all over her, grabbing and holding her too tight, so just calm down, alright, yeah? She was okay. All that mattered. “Stay that way. Please,” he asked her, stopping his hands just below her shoulders, and looking for something in her eyes that might say there was a hope in hell it might actually have a chance of working. Didn’t matter a damn if it did, truth be told. He’d still be doing everything he could to keep her that way. But jesus, he wanted her to want that for herself, so damn much it just about started to hurt. |
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3:33 AM Jul 11