[milliways] Lost for you, I'm so lost for you

[dejah_thoris]

[ cont'd from here ]

'More private' to her right now simply means away from people.  She takes his hand and leads him into the shadows, moving down the beach away from the music and the flickering light of the bonfire.  The white sand beach is flat here, gently sloping down to the waterline.  The quiet envelopes them, the susurration of the waves the only sound save for the occasional distant laughter.

Her blood still sings with the heat of his kiss, her breath ragged and shallow even as she attempts to calm herself.  She can feel him, deeper now than ever before.  If she is like fire to him, then he is red hot metal, radiating strength and something more.  Something raw.  Powerful.  She's almost afraid to look too closely, terrified she'll see what she wants to see and not the truth.

But this doesn't feel like simple lust to her.  They've skirted around that for months now.  But this is different.  This feels real.

"Curtis..."  So many words crowd up behind her teeth, catching in the back of her throat.  She glances at him, watching the distant firelight catch in his eyelashes.  When she speaks, all that comes out is,

"I love you."

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

"I suppose so," she says. "And thank the Goddess for you, especially." (My beloved.) She huddles close to him as they hit the path and the Scottish winter reasserts itself.

"I forgot my cloak. We'd best hurry."

[2goodarms]

"Agh, fuck -- "

Just because you lived somewhere cold for eighteen years doesn't mean you liked it. Curtis hunches further into his jacket, drawing Dejah close.

As he does, a rapid train of thought flashes by -- she's got less on than she does, she's from a warm planet -- and coalesces into an equally quick decision. Pulling back, Curtis shrugs off his coat so he can wrap it around Dejah's shoulders.

[dejah_thoris]

She laughs, tugging it closer around her, and he can feel the way she sinks into his scent.

"Thank you." A thought bubbles up, curiosity and caution wrapped around. "How does -- I mean, I suppose this doesn't begin to compare."

[2goodarms]

He exhales, his breath steaming in the air; they lengthen their stride to hurry toward the back door. "Worse compared to how cold the Tail got," he says. "Nothing compared to the outside."

The Tail was drafty, yeah, and the walls constantly radiated cold, but it made a decent shelter. It kept out enough of the wind. All of the snow and ice. They had so many people crammed back there that body heat alone kept things pretty manageable, as long as you didn't start ditching your layers.

Nobody froze to death under Wilford's watch. That alone, the Front insisted, should've been enough to make the Tail grateful.

[dejah_thoris]

"I've often wondered if, when we bring water back to Barsoom, if there will be snow on the mountain peaks. Along with the strangeness of Helium in a rainstorm." Her words shimmer with a different shade of silver, but still, one that's easily recognizable.

It's not that far to the back door and they make good time. Still, she's shivering by the time they reach it. She tries to laugh it off, but it's obvious, cold does not suit her in the least.

[2goodarms]

God, he loves hearing that shimmer in her voice. The fierce hope, the reverence, the joy just at the thought of water returning to Barsoom.

(He wonders, briefly, what Nam would think if he ever met her.)

Curtis is shivering a little as they enter the bar, too -- the dress shirt's kind of thin -- but ignores it in favor of giving Dejah's bare arms a brisk rub. "Maybe hot chocolate for room service instead?" he suggests

[dejah_thoris]

She looks up at him with a radiant smile.

"You read my mind." (I will miss this when it's gone. I still dream of you.)

"And strawberries. Don't forget the strawberries!"

[2goodarms]

He's still smiling, but a tiny crease forms between his eyebrows as he catches her thought.

Lightly, "I would never. -- What about more champagne?"

On the one hand, it might be dangerous. On the other: champagne.

[dejah_thoris]

Her eyes go wide for a moment before she bites her lip. She leans a little closer to whisper, "Do you think we should?" This is growing into a grand conspiracy of delight, something she never expected from him.

[2goodarms]

Oh my god, how can she be so fierce one minute and so completely adorable the next.

As solemnly as he can (read: not very), he whispers back: "I think we definitely should."

[dejah_thoris]

"Mr. Everett," she says, matching his mock solemn tone, "is this a plot to get me drunk and take advantage? Because if it is, I have to say, I approve of your devious approach."

Fierce and adorable are not mutually exclusive, Curtis.

[2goodarms]

He snorts out a laugh. Amused, and self-deprecating, he says, "I'll probably get drunk way before you do."

He still feels a little floaty from that single glass of champagne he chugged at the party. Of course, that's on top of other reasons he's feeling a little floaty, but still.

[dejah_thoris]

This is as relaxed and as happy as he's ever seen her. She's already tipsy, and the champagne is only partially to blame. She knows she's already deep into the ridiculous, and she does not care, not even a little.

Because he's here. And he's smiling. His happiness is far more intoxicating to her than mere alcohol. She sidles up to an empty spot at the bar and turns to face him, his jacket still draped around her shoulders like a strange cloak.

"I give you my solemn promise, sir. Your dignity is safe with me. Your virtue on the other hand..." She arches an eyebrow at him.

He may have created a monster.

[2goodarms]

Curtis lifts both eyebrows in reply.

Straight-faced, "You already took at least half of it ten minutes ago."

...Aaaaand that's as long as he can keep the straight face. Curtis dissolves back into snickering. Her happiness, his own, the giddiness of the whole night -- it's so great. Everything feels right. It's like a warm bed in your own room, unbothered by any guards. Like never having to fear what might be around the bend in the tracks.

[dejah_thoris]

"Oh please," she sputters, her eyes bright. "That was but a thimble full."

She beams at him, laughing under her breath, high as a kite just to see that glorious smile. He is the most beautiful thing she has ever laid eyes on in this moment. How did she get here? Dancing? Champagne? Whatever it takes, she'll remember for the next time.

"Lady Bar, can you please send us up a picnic basket? Bottle of champagne, strawberries, an assortment of chocolates please? Anything else I'm forgetting?"

[2goodarms]

"And hot chocolate," puts in Curtis. "Please."

Pop. A woven basket appears, lined with red tissue paper and filled with all their requested treats: a bowl of strawberries, a bottle of champagne with two long-stemmed glasses tucked next to it, two whole boxes of chocolate, and a thermos of cocoa at the very center. (Plus a small bag of marshmallows, because really, how can you have cocoa without marshmallows.)

Practically beaming by now, Curtis scoops it up with his left arm. "Thanks, Bar. This looks great."

[dejah_thoris]

"Yes, thank you! Perfect. Come on." She takes his free hand and practically drags him towards the lift.

Once inside, she punches the number for their floor and barely waits for the doors to close before rising on her tip toes and stealing a soft, slow kiss.

What? It's been five whole minutes. He needed kissing!

[2goodarms]

Truly, those five minutes without kissing were the absolute worst. It's a miracle both of them endured.

Curtis hums, returning the kiss with interest as his free arm goes around her waist. When the kiss fades away, he says, a little dreamily, "This is the best night I've ever had."

She can feel him marveling over it: pleased, delighted even, but also a little unsure of what, exactly, to do with this gift.

[dejah_thoris]

"Really?"

She pulls back, her gaze dropping to his lips for a few moments. She meets his gaze again, and he can feel her quiet joy at finally being able to give this to him. With him. This evening started as something for her, but it's shifted. Become something for the both of them. Something new and rare and oh so precious.

"We'll have to do this again then. What do you think, hmm?"

[2goodarms]

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely."

He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, his smile growing as her joy mingles with his own.

"Any time you want."

[dejah_thoris]

She leans into his kiss, humming contentedly.

"The very next opportunity that presents itself. And when we finish the cabin." There's a small detonation of anticipation, a raw, almost desperate urge to begin the build now.

She smothers it with a laugh, her hands straightening his collar, smoothing his tie. A bell dings as they hit their floor, and the doors open.

[2goodarms]

He has to laugh, just a little, as they step out of the elevator together. "We could start the cabin a little early," he suggests. "Maybe if we get a couple warm days over the winter."

That used to happen, right? It used to get cold, but not always a relentless, unending cold.

His voice dips lower. "And we still got the rest of the night. With chocolate. And strawberries and champagne."

[dejah_thoris]

"And hot cocoa, don't forget the hot cocoa. My love, the night is far from over." She leans her shoulder against him as they walk.

"But before we build, we need to plan. I want to know what this cabin looks like, in your mind. What's the view when you step out the front door? Which window does the sun hit, first thing in the morning? How many rooms?"

The shimmer in her voice becomes a fizz, like bubbles in the champagne.

[2goodarms]

"Oh, god, I don't know," he says, fond amusement rippling over the words. (How can he not feel fondness, with all that enthusiasm buoying her up?) "I was just thinking, like...a one-room shack. I mean nicer than a shack, but..."

Curtis trails off, thinking.

Softer, "With a good view of the lake. But near some trees, too, you know?"

[dejah_thoris]

"Oh yes. Oh I like this plan. Surely more than one room. I mean, unless you want books on every surface."

She pulls away long enough to push the door open and lead him into her room. The lights come up the moment they cross the threshold.

"What kinds of material? Mud? Stone?" His enthusiasm is the bright morning sun on her wings. She rises with it, lets it carry her on. The future has been an elusive subject with him, until this. It fuels the hope in her heart.

For this. 'Whatever the hell this is.' Her heart swells and a wave of love washes over him.