The Flower of the Crossroads

@carminecrossroads

Max chased a German Shepherd puppy into the Spy’s room. The dog was carrying Max’s best ducky boxers in its teeth and the poor Soldier was desperately clinging to his towel as he ran. “Zhat is my last clean pair!” he lamented, begging the puppy to drop them. The pup, however, was all tail wags at this new game. “Help me!” he begged, looking to his former teammate for assistance.

[ X ]

"Well, let's see what some freeze-dried duck pieces will do." It was possibly the safest option for the pup; as desperate as Maxwell was, she still didn't want the dog to be sick because of what she gave him. Not to mention she finally remembered where she put them.

"Apf... Ap-koo-ken," she tried to pronounce the mischievous pup's name, failing spectacularly. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she gave up. "Yo, Apple Cookie, com'ere. I want you to try this." Gently pinching a treat between her fingers she crouched down and offered it to the canine. "Yes, it's for you. Sniff it, com'on, you know you want it. It's duck. My kitten loves these, and I bet you will, too."

“…Apple Cake. Or Apple Pie, but I prefer Apple Cake.” He sighed and watched Cerise trying to coax the dog over.

The puppy crept over cautiously, curiosity winning over. He dropped the shorts to take the treat. When Max grabbed them, the poor pup looked so betrayed. “Ha! Mine! You fell for new treats, huh? Oldest trick in zhe book!” He sighed as he surveyed the damp spots and tears in his shorts. “You are so grounded…”

"Aw, Max, don't gloat," she cooed, going to scritch behind the pup's ear. The dog already looked so betrayed that she didn't think it needed the gloating on top of it all. Even if she had tricked Apple Cake, she wanted to make friends. As a peace offering she held out a few more treats in the palm of her hand.

"I can't do anything about them needing a wash, but do you want me to fix the holes?" She was the daughter of a tailor, after all. She tried to look over the shorts to see the extent of the damage. "It shouldn't take me too long to repair." There weren't any big holes or tears from her angle on them.

He frowned thoughtfully at the question, trying to figure out how to explain it. “My parents were refugees, ja? So, my Mutti did not want me to learn English because it would mean to assimilate. She probable had some zhought we would go back to Germany, but… Well, you see zhat did not happen.” There was something like a smile on his lips now. “She insisted I go to Hebrew school, so I learned only Hebrew zhere. At home, we spoke only German. 

“Finally, my Vater insisted I should learn English so I could manage on my own outside of our home and help when he was not at home and someone else might come to zhe door. Mutti was not… super excited for zhis, so he tried to teach me some bits in private, but it did not really stick until I was ten and was helping read stories to my baby sister.” He had a sad smile on his face at the memory. 

When Cerise revealed that she had injured her arm, Max looked shocked. “I cannot believe I have not noticed. Zhen again, I do avoid looking at women’s bodies…” He shrugged the thought off, then hesitantly reached for the glass. “May… may I have a bit more?”

“German, Hebrew, and English. I dunno if my brain could hold more than what it’s got now. I try, of course, but it doesn’t seem to be a strong suit. Learning languages.” It was rather impressive, the fact he knew all of those languages. She was willing to bet he could still speak each of those languages without much trouble.

“You were a good big brother, reading her stories. Kinda wish I had someone like that as a tyke. It would’ve been a little less lonely.” Her mother spent a lot of time in the hospital when she was young. Always so weak, so sick. It left her alone in a waiting room more than she would have liked.

“Yeah, my right arm. It’s something like eighty-five percent numb. My motor control is iffy in that arm. Normally when I feel, it tends to be pain. Papa tried to put me into therapy, but the struggle I gave him wasn’t worth it in the end for him. So he gave up. I don’t blame him for it, either.” He was mourning his wife’s death, his daughter’s rebellion, her own grief, all as a man in his mid-twenties. “The only downside to my arm being this way is it damaged my dominant hand. I’ve had to relearn everything.”

More? More what? “Oh, bourbon? Knock yourself out.”

He took the glass gratefully and drank a bit more liberally this time, but still left her most of the glass. “Danke. I, uh, I have an acquaintance wizh bourbon I probably should not renew, but it is cold and I am… so tired…” It wasn’t a physical kind of tired, but the spiritual kind. “You seem to use your arm well enough for zhe job anyway,” he said weakly as he handed the glass back. 

“Zhe trick to learning languages is to learn young and immerse yourself completely. You learn or you suffer.” He shrugged lightly, then glanced over at Cerise. “You know, you are… pretty for a, well, not a Smurf. You are not BLU. Um, a lawn gnome?” he teased, ready to duck out of the way if she swatted at him. 

"I've done the drunk thing for years, Maxwell. I don't recommend it. However, the occasional night of overindulgence is good for the the soul. And if there's anything thats good for keeping out the cold, I find that a night of indulgence does the trick." She was giving him permission to honor the devil on his shoulder, if he wanted to; she wasn't going to deny anyone helping her with the bottle.

"Thanks," in reference to her arm. "I've gotten use to using my left hand for everything, but subconsciously I still try to use my right. I guess some things you can't untrain, huh?" As is on cue, knowing it was being spoken about, her hand trembled slightly; just enough to disturb the alcohol inside for a moment. Cerise, it seemed, didn't even notice.

You know, you are pretty for a...

Well, that was never a good start to a sentence. Or a compliment. At his first comparison, a smurf, she blew a raspberry at him and then smiled; she had heard that one before, from many people. "I would think that for a smurf I'm damned sexy." At being compared to a lawn gnome she gave him a dirty look before knocking her head into his shoulder; it was as close as she was going to get to swatting at him for now, refusing to unbundled too much since she was finally warming up. "I am not a lawn gnome. I'm five-foot-nothin' of whupass."

[x]

“How cute.  You have sisters that love you enough to give you a nick-name.”  She couldn’t help but look up at him with a small smile.  “I have to come up with my own names.  I have no siblings to give me such things.  It’s sweet how you’ve kept it around and use it to this day.”  It was something she meant.  It was adorable that he liked his sisters enough to keep their name around, even when they weren’t nearby.

Rather, she hoped they weren’t.  It was already unnerving to have someone get the drop on her, she wasn’t sure if she could handle more people getting the drop on her for the time being.

“Yeah, I’m her friend.  However, I know that I didn’t learn it from her.  She’s not the only French person around, after all.”  Cerise may have been born in a small town in America, but her parents came from French lineage: with her father being born in the countryside, and her mother taking a pilgrimage to her roots; it was how her parents had met.

“How do you know Madilin?”  He was quite cuddly, wasn’t he?  To be fair, it was kind of nice.  She didn’t normally get to have a snuggle after killing someone; it was a refreshing change of pace considering how jarring a murder could be.  “I’ve spent a lot of time with her; as friends, as bed-mates, as coworkers... We’re close.”

[x]

“No.  We’re going  to hash this out.  I don’t care what you do to me.”  She made no movement to get off of him; if anything she only tried to hold on tighter.

“Is your ego and sense of self so fragile that you can’t accept what happened and keep moving forwa-?”  Her question was cut off when his fist met her face, making her squeal and physically wince in pain.  She sniffled back some tears, swallowing tightly as her arms lessened their hold on him.

“Max,” her voice was soft as she tried to push her brain through the stinging pain to her cheek.  “I haven’t told anyone about it.  I wasn’t going to.  I was never going to.  I know that word getting out would kill you more than what happened.  I never thought about sharing what happened with anyone.  I did what I thought was right.  Can’t you accept that I tried?  You’re my frien-” hang on, what did he say?

“Harlot!”  She screeched, seeming to be filled with anger.  “I may be a horrible friend, but I have had nothing but the best intentions to you.  You haven’t even tried!  Nothing but the best!  Maxwell, I get my chance at your back, now, and I swear to all you find holy that I will rip your spine out as my trophy.  I was a friend to you.  Was.  But I’m not fighting for it anymore.  Not for someone that calls me a fucking whore!”  Now her goal was to choke him, not hold onto him.

Max was a man of his word. Pulling a trench knife from his boot, he aimed to stab her in the side. Now, it was self-defense. “You should have walked away when you had zhe chance,” he coughed as he tried to free her grip on his neck.

At this point, he didn’t want her friendship or her forgiveness. He wanted to be as far away from her as humanly possible. If that meant burning bridges, so be it.

Son of a bitch!  More searing pain!

Had this been another time, any other time, when she was not tired...  For the time being, though, she was exhausted.  Post-battle was not her prime fighting time.  At this point she was focused on getting that knife out of her side.

“I don’t care any more, Maxwell.  Take your fucking life.  I hope you die the bitter, lonely man with a stick up his ass - you’ve lived your life that way, so you might as well die that way.  Who knows.  Maybe I’ll show up at your funeral, if only to piss on your grave.”  She grew limp, not even trying any more.

How much time did she waste?  How much did she try to help him?  How much did she look after him, care for him, and want the best for him?  She was done.  Now she meant it.  He could drop dead and she wouldn’t bat an eye now.  Not until he tried to be a friend back.  Not until he took back what he said about her.  “I can’t believe I wasted all that time with you, only for you to call me a harlot.  I hope your life with Em is ruined.  I hope you die alone.  I hope you spend you life in a miserable pit.”

[x]

“Hey there.  I’ll take a lift to wherever you’re going, handsome.”  She finished up her shoe, promptly standing up to kiss him, her arms going round his neck for a moment; an appropriate greeting, given their brief past encounter.

“Thank you.  You clean up nice, too.”  Her smile faltered some when he noticed the strands of white fluff on her floral, tan-colored dress.  “My baby boy is a grumpy teenager.  He’s not so loving anymore.  I get what affection I can get when I can get it.”  She tried to explain.  “You aren’t allergic, are you?  I mean, I tried to lint roller as much as I could, it’s just when you’ve got a long haired cat fur gets everywhere,” she started to ramble with worry.

[x]

Well, she did say she wanted to make bad decisions.  Fuck it.  “Spies and their suits.”  With that comment and a brief smirk of a smile she slid into the front seat of his car, already going to buckle herself in before the car door had a chance to close.

“Thanks for being honest with me,” was the first comment she made as he got in the car.  “Got reasons for asking questions about a name like that, and I’d rather not go into details over it.  Mind if I change the radio station?  Or are you a no music while driving kinda person?”  Cerise was already fiddling with the radio, even before hearing his answer.

“So, Bernard, tell me about yourself.  I hate awkward silences.  Anything is better than nothing.”

Bernard chuckled. “Yes, you’d be surprised what the job requires of your clothes.”

He got in the driver’s seat, and started the engine. “Of course! You’re making a bad decision, not an awful one,” he replied. Gesturing to the radio, he said, “Please, help yourself,” the words dying on his lips as she did just that.

“Well, I’m a Spy for Reliable Excavation and Demolition. I enjoy painting and music in my spare time. In the bedroom, I tend to be a Dom. Costume play is a favorite of mine. I tell you this to explore your limits,” he replied, glancing in her direction. “Anything I should know about you?”

"Oh, I understand that. That's why I had to ditch the suit and go with my own outfit for the field," tough, breathable fabrics such as denim and thick cotton; generally topped with a brocade trench coat or a red leather jacket, and of course her usual cloche. "I haven't seen you around before, but that could simply be because we work for the same person and have the same job." Sometimes bases had multiples of a class, sometimes they didn't; it was always interesting to move bases and see what the line up was like for that area.

"Costume play? You'll have to tell me more about that and what interests you there. Favorites and whatnot." It was a rather broad topic, wasn't it?

"I'm from a small agricultural town. Grew up at the edge of the town, boarder lining the sticks and the farmlands. When I was a kid I was in a car accident that royally screwed up my right arm. Motor control ain't so good, and I don't feel much with it. Except for pain, I feel that far too clearly. There are treatments for it, but I denied them as a child, and now that I'm an adult I've gotten use to compensating. I dunno if there's really a point to trying to fix it now." She paused to think over what he should know about her. "I use to paint as a child. I haven't done it in years," not that she was ever any good. "What do you paint?"

[x]

“Do you really believe that?  Christ, I knew you were a jerk but I didn’t think you were this much of an ass.”  How could anyone say that about someone so harmless?  It was just a little change in the end, and it didn’t even bother the big brother at all, outside of different pronouns.

“Sam’s not an abomination.  Male or female, Sam’s not.  Let him live his life.  He’s an adult, and from what I understand he’s felt like this for long enough.”  Where did all of this rage come from?  “I don’t know where Sam is, so you may as well sit your ass down and fume.  I’m not going away just because you’re  pissy.”  It was true: she had never stumbled across the man at his primary resting spot, or wherever he called his solitude and sanctuary.  The man in question had always found her, or she had found him in battle.  Then again, she probably wouldn’t tell big brother even if she did know where Sam resided.

Eugene didn’t look convinced and he defiantly didn’t look like he cared about her opinion when it came to how he saw his sister. As far as he was concerned Sam was Samantha and no one was going to convince he other wise. “Samantha is a kid without a brain. She’s been pullin’ this shit for ages n’ it’s ‘bout time she grows tha hell up.” He growled back at her as his eyes narrowed in vicious slits, getting fed up real fast with this annoying blond bimbo’s attitude and her nose being in his families business. Instead of doing as she said Gene shoved his chair hard into the table with an angry grunt before he snatched up his hat and headed for the front door. He might have to deal with one spooks opinion but he sure as fuck wasn’t dealing with anothers. “Tha’s fine. I’ll find her myself.”

“Hey, dumbass!  I’m not done with you yet!”  Time to follow him and maybe cut him off in his path, if she could at all.  “Why are you so sensitive about this?  Do you really care about Sam in such a fucked up way?  ‘Cause I gotta tell you, that’s not really caring at all if you think that it is.”  Realizing that she wasn’t going to keep up with his strides she took a moment to think fast, anything to slow him down or to keep him in one place long enough that didn’t involve tackling him.

“I never said where I saw Sam.  I’m the best chance you’ve got to finding ‘im, if that’s what you really want.”

[x]

“No receipts.  None of it was anything formal.  Gas for my car was covered in the payment, if I had to travel for it.”  Hearing herself talk she realized she wasn’t as prepared for this as she thought she was.  So much for getting everything together so she was ready for anything; they were only just beginning and she was in over her head.

“I guess it’s a learning experience for everyone.  I’m not all that fond of dating, myself.  Do it sometimes, but nothing or nobody has really stood out to me.”  Then again, her dates usually ended in the bedroom instead of getting to know someone better.  “Dates and families.  Wouldn’t have thought of them as ‘learn on the job’ experiences, but they are.”

“I will take your word for it,” he said dryly, closing the discussion on dating. He had no real interest in women, despite all the pressure his parents put on him to settle down. Women were puzzles, only they occasionally screamed for no reason and demanded expensive gifts. He’d rather avoid that entire emotional rollercoaster if he could. 

Looking over the few sheets of paperwork she had given him, he sighed. “Your finances are a mess, Fraulein. Do you have any charitable donations or medical expenses zhat were not covered by insurance or not reimbursed?” So far, he had no good news for her. She was unprepared and missing several crucial pieces of information. Worse, she didn’t have anything he could use to help her. 

“Fr...?”  Shaking it off the strange words, she tried to focus on what he was asking her.

“I’m always falling and getting hurt.  I thought that those forms and receipts were a bad thing to turn up with.”  Next time she was bringing a backpack of any paperwork she could find, even risking appliance manuals.  “I know that they are bad.  I’ve got a poor hand on money,” she was not ignorant to that fact.  “I know it’s not going to be good news in the end.  I was just hoping it would be better than I was expecting.”  She needed some sort of light at the end of the tunnel, and her face said as much for her.

[x]

“Ha!  I knew it.  Reminds me, I probably need to go and change my locks one of these days.  Been long enough, I suppose.”  With how on edge the woman was with people being in her room, or accessing it without her being there, it was a wonder Cerise hadn’t done it already.

“I didn’t have too much in mind.  Just the usual ravaging of your beautiful body,” her hand gently went through Val’s hair.  “Although, I am curious as to what you are up to doing tonight.”  Cerise was interested in what the woman had in mind.

“I’ll help you stretch out those muscles, and massage them if you think that would help,” she sidetracked on subjects.

“I’d certainly do so, i can hear it quietly squeak from the mild rust build up.” Val informed. If she really put her mind to it, she’d probably be able to kick it down after a few tries. Though whether that would be the fault of the lock or the door frame would have to be determined.

“I wasn’t planning on much, actually. Just the usual lying around and listening to music, possibly even scheme out better plans from previous endeavors in my criminal background. Not that i regret them or anything, i just wonder how things would go down if done from another approach.” She explained, leaning her head into Cerie’s hand. “Although, everything you just mentioned sounds way better than that.” she smiled.

“I know it’s pot and kettle here, but isn’t the past something that should be left in the past?  The plans worked then, and the chances of getting put into that sort of situation again are unlikely.  Maybe instead of thinking of what you could have done, you should focus on how those past jobs will help you on a current one.  Do you have a current job that you should be thinking and planning over?”  If Val had a job outside of the industry, maybe Cerise should forego sex in favor of helping the woman; hell, the blonde had traveled through more than her fair share of vents in her lifetime, she could do it again.

[X]

“Oh, I’m fairly certain we would.”  Her brain may be foggy on the details, but if she invited the man home - something she made a habit of not doing - then she knew at the time she was looking to get him into her bed.  Her head gently nuzzled his hand, enjoying the gentle touch.  “I still can’t believe I brought you home to fuck.”  A tint of color washed over her face, her own brain working over the details as the coffee slowly integrated with the rest of her.

“Winchester?  Like the rifle?”  That was rather strange, wasn’t it?  Then again, perhaps that’s where the name for the gun came from: someone who was named Winchester.  “Cerise Bonnet.  Yes, French; however, American born.”  It seemed to be a common confusion.  “So, Dean, hopefully last night was as good for you as it was for me,” she smiled, “with that being said, what else do you do?”

[X]

“When the time comes, if you insist,” she trailed off.  She wasn’t going to argue with him on the subject, even if in her own mind it still didn’t seem right.  Perhaps it was a case of upbringing versus politeness.

“Are you familiar with a BLU Spy named Claude?  Drinks like a fish and has a surprisingly impressive libido?”  Cerise was still amazed that, with how much the man drank, he was able to keep himself impressive for his bedroom antics.  “Well, Victor is an identical twin to him.  They look exactly the same, if it weren’t for the suits.  When I first met Victor I honestly thought it was Claude in a red suit.”  She had gotten to the point of being so tired and so delirious that she sometimes confused the friendly blue suit for the sociopath in disguise.  “It’s… it’s almost like Victor is trying to woo his victims.  My most recent gift was a box of chocolates drizzled in blood and garnished with bits and pieces of human flesh,” severed fingers, eyeballs, and she was fairly certain that one of the organs was a tongue.  “I don’t know where he is on base.  I have no desire to be anywhere near him so I haven’t tried looking for him.  I’ve heard stories about Victor.  He and Claude both come from money.  Their father had to remove Victor to a private school when he tried to attack a female classmate.  Victor has even butchered his own cousin, leaving Claude to find her.”

“Nein. I am not familiar wizh eizhah. I do not know why you would mention zhe libido. I would not know such zhings by experience or reputation.” He frowned slightly and scratched his chin. “If I kill Claude, would Victor show himself?” 

“Well, Claude is quite proud of his libido and how he gets around.  I would have thought that if his reputation had gotten around like he would like it to you would have known.”  Then again, this was Maxwell: the man who frequently fondled cheese.  Perhaps discussions about libido weren’t really the best to go on, given the varied interests there.

At his question she shook her head.  “No.  Victor doesn’t give a damn about people, not even his brother.  He only likes to see people in pain.  Hurting his brother would only make him happy, I suspect.  He doesn’t really have any attachment to his victims from what I can tell,” and with respawn being in their favor she was worried about a life-saver turning into some sort of bittersweet hellhole.

carminecrossroads:

“Of course. I only vanted to offer my assistance, should you vant it.” He gave her a soft smile. “But to be perfectly honest, it is not a topic I am familiar vizh. Zhe only help I could provide at zhe moment vould be… vell, cutting off nerve feedback entirely. Not a solution you vould be thrilled vizh, I’m sure.” Fussing with their tea, he had to admit (if only to himself) that he was stalling for time. She’d shared her story with him, it was only fair he reciprocate… It wasn’t even one of his… less glamorous tales, he simply did not particularly want to revisit that regretful time in his life. Or answer the questions that inevitably arose. Sighing softly, he picked up the kettle. 

“Let’s just say I have never been zhe most obedient of soldiers. Some of zhe men I vas stationed vizh took an issue to zhat, and our confrontation ended vizh a broken leg on my part. Looking back on it, I am sure zhey didn’t mean for it to happen. An unfortunate shove near a steep hill… Vell, I’m sure you can imagine. It never healed quite right.”

“As much trouble as it is, I’m happier keeping it than I would be amputating it.”  She gave strained smile.  These pills too longer to work than she would like.  “I do have some feeling.  The bits I can feel are limited, but when it’s good stimulation I don’t mind.  It’s only when my arm gets like this, or when it gets absolutely useless,” coordination was sometimes a struggle, the muscles seeming to not communicate with her brain on occasion, “that I have an issue with it.  If you had tried to offer me that when I was nine I might have taken you up on it.”

She listened to his story, the whole incident seeming innocent enough in the end.  “I’m sorry.  That’s gotta suck.  Does it cause you pain at all now?  I mean, if it didn’t heal quite right,” she trailed off.  “Josef?  You may have been a difficult soldier, but you make a wonderful doctor.”

[X]

At first Cerise jumped, a bit startled by the rush of words.  She felt her ears perk and her feet turn cold: a little excited, a little frightened.  “You mean -?”

Sorry… slip of the tongue.

“Oh.”  Well, so much for that joyful leap.  She’ll take her drowning in a dark abyss like any other reasonable adult: swallowing back the emotions and digesting the butterflies while attempting to not be too disheartened.  Maybe it was better that way.

“Pfft, Val, please.  We’ve shared a bed before and it’s not like I’m trying to take you camping,” she forced a smile on her face to hopefully brighten her voice.  “I mean, if you want to sleep on my floor you can.  Not gonna stop you if that’s what you really want.  Just know that I have a nice bed I’m willing to share with you.”

Val lifted her head, her cheeks still red from her misstep, and ‘looked’ at Cerise. Nah, i’ll sleep in your bed. I just remember what one was supposed to be like, i’ve never actually had one before.” After all, you needed a house and some friends before a sleepover can even be considered. 

The redhead scratched behind her head coyly. “Say, were…..were you going to r-…reciprocate that sentiment?” she stammered. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest at this point. “I-I mean, you don’t have to answer that, of course!”

“Don’t worry.  Sleepovers are movie-glorified events.  Wildest mine ever got was pedicures and face mask recipes,” that normally failed, if she were being honest.  Although that thing about rubbing egg into hair and washing it with beer worked out well for her.

At Val’s question she could almost feel her heart stop completely, one thought on her mind: a single, panicked fuck.

She grumbled some, turning her head away as if the woman were able to see her face.  “I’m not gonna ruin what we have.  I’m not… I don’t… I’m not normally the first to… listen, we don’t have to do this sleepover thing if,” Cerise stumbled over her words, getting ready to abandon ship and avoid seeing the redheaded witch again if at all possible.

“Woah, no need to sound too excited.” Val joked as she pressed her bead back into Cerise’s shoulder. If she was being honest, the redhead thought that would be even better than some high end spa or parlor.

“Just….Just forget i said anything.” Val murmured, barely keeping the tone of sadness out of her voice. It was probably better this way, anyway. Still, it didn’t stop it from stinging some. “…I’m still coming over for a sleep over. You can’t make me back down that easily.” she stated with a cocky grin.

"I can't just forget about it."  It would be a hell of a lot easier for her if she could.  Getting so close to something solid, something she could grasp; how could Val attempt to brush it off as nothing?  Taking some time to mull it over she finally spoke.

"'I love you's don't come easy from me.  I don't normally say them because when I realize them I'm the last one to know and it's generally too late.  They've moved on."  Cerise could feel her hands and feet grow cold in fear as she spoke.  "It may have been misspoken, but is there even an inkling of truth to them?" 

[X]

“If you don’t know what’s going on then I’m afraid I can’t be much help.”  How was Val suppose to figure out what was going on from the blonde when she didn’t even know what was going on?

Working as quickly as possible she tried to get out the more stubborn pieces, mumbling apologies when the pointed tweezers would slip in her grasp.  “Okay, peroxide again to make sure, and then I’m bandaging you up.”  Thankfully it didn’t look like there was too much in the way of deep damage or gashes, but that didn’t mean all of those lovely little surface cuts were any less of a pain.

“Here, come with me,” she mumbled, trying to encourage the woman to get up and come with her to her room.  “I’ve got a few cotton gloves you can wear over your bandages while you heal.  Maybe make it a little more comfortable to use your hand.”

The look on his face was meant to speak more then he could ever put in words; a trait she was learning to understand more and more with each passing day.  Yes, he still loved her, more than she thought he should.  How she didn’t hurt him with this was a mystery to her.  Crawling towards him she sat in his lap, her legs on either side of his waist as she nuzzled down into another hug.  “I don’t know how you can look at me like that.  After it all, I really don’t know.”  With her nose against his neck she breathed deep, just wanting to savor the moment.

“I’m glad you’ll let me come back.”  She whispered, completely and fully sinking in to the overwhelming desire to cuddle with him.  All of her worries and fears were gone.  She didn’t know how he did it, but they were gone; vanishing at assuring her that everything was okay.  “Knox is nice, but I think I like you and your bed a bit more.”  She confessed, her face turning a gentle shade of pink.  “Besides, your baby girl isn’t dead-set on murdering me at the first chance.”  Gizmo might get a little too chewy, given being a puppy, but Savannah looked at her like she was more than just out for blood with the blonde

A different kind of warmth filled the engineer when the beautiful blonde crawled into his lap, happily holding her there as she nested into his neck. This was a moment he had wanted with her for a while now; one where she felt safe enough to talk to him without dodging topics, hiding behind masks, and being afraid of the truth. It was important to Levi that she felt secure around him and trusted him completely with not only her body but her mind as well. Even if their relationship remained physical or even reverted to nothing more than friends, the type of man he was required trust with someone as important to him as Cerise. Her words of disbelief breathed against his neck brought one of his hands to sweetly brush down her hair and back with a comforting caress. “Ya did nothin’ wrong.” He assured her again, and being more than willing to reassure her as many times as it was required of him. Levi wanted there to be no pressure on her when it came to this and whatever happens between them; he needed her to know that he understood her limits and would respect them until she was ready to make things change. If nothing else, she was his pet and she deserved that at least. 

His arms fully cradled her weight against him as he felt her sag into him with relief, pleased to feel those worries lifting from her as he became the thing she felt secure enought to lean on. “Ya neva left.” Kissing that promise into the top of her hair with that same soothing rumbling tone that held no resentment what so ever; making it plain that whatever happened, happened, and there was no reason to dwell on something neither of them could change. Though she didn’t see the small smile her next words brought to his stumbled face, Cerise could feel the faint chuckle that shook his lungs when she spoke of enjoying his bed a little more. “Don’t bust’er bubble ‘bout bein’ tough, though.” 

“I might be a monster, but I’d hope to have some standards.  Your Gizmo is quite the ‘German Sheppard,’ after all.”  Of course the small pug thought she was big and tough, making her the perfect guard dog.  “Anyone who says otherwise is just wrong or blind.”  It was a joke, purposefully mistaking the pudgy dog’s breed.

Just like that it was over.  It was back to cuddles and smiles and kisses.  If it was going to be this easy she would have popped by days earlier and saved herself the stomach ache.  Thinking back over her pacing and the way her nerves jumped made her smile, mumbling to herself about how stupid she was to get worked up like that; she really should have just came by to see Levi rather than avoiding him like a leper.

“You know, you never did ask me about the other night when I woke you up.  You ever have nightmares that feel ridiculously real?”