Faye Valentine (
anythingbutblue) wrote2007-07-01 04:18 pm
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There's no hesitation between remembering everything and stopping in front of Gren's door.
The hesitation comes once she gets there, and for about a solid thirty seconds, she stands there, her eyes determined but her hand not certain it wants to knock.
But then she does it -- loudly -- and that's that.
The hesitation comes once she gets there, and for about a solid thirty seconds, she stands there, her eyes determined but her hand not certain it wants to knock.
But then she does it -- loudly -- and that's that.
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She wants to ask him why he thinks he knows her that well and why he seems to see right through her.
And why she can never quite figure him out.
When her surprise wears off, she reaches back and flings her cigarette out through the window, then cautiously wraps one arm after the other around his neck.
After a moment or two she steps back, as uncertain about what to do with him as ever. Not that she intends to let him know that.
"I should go."
It almost doesn't sound like herself talking.
"But I could come back tomorrow." She smiles slightly. "If that's the kind of thing you might be interested in."
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He's torn: they could take this so slowly, or they could move ahead quickly. That, of course, makes the assumption that they both want the same thing and it's probably too early for him to have any expectations at all.
Still, a big part of him really wants Faye to stay right where she is. If she's not ready for that, though...
Yes, no. Push, hold back. Embrace, let go. Both, neither. Gay, straight.
Bi.
Too many labels.
Do you mind if I kiss you goodbye?
He doesn't ask: he just does it. For once, he simply does exactly what he wants without questioning it.
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But then he kisses her, no less indulgently than the first time, and she has to remind herself that the plan was to leave and come back later.
And then force herself to step back, a demure little smile on her lips, and open the door to let herself out.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Mister Saxophone." She's still smiling, barely peeking back inside the door. "Try to stay out of trouble in the meantime."
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That's a bald-faced lie and they both know it, but it makes him smile; he hangs by the door as she makes her way through.
"Take care, Faye." It's his standard goodbye to her and he watches her with the utmost fondness as she makes her way down the hall. This is... by far his best night at this place, and his best night in general in a long, long time. Unexpected, but really nice.
He knows full well as he moves back into the room and closes the door that he's going to have a hard time falling asleep tonight, but that's all right. He actually feels alive: perfectly, unquestioningly alive.
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I think you should stay.
It's been a long time since she was careful and a long time since she was delicate.
Sometimes you just have to take what you want and take care of the fallout -- if there is any -- after.
(Or even better, let someone else take care of it.)
The click of her heels is faster on the way back to Gren's room, and not bothering to knock, she just goes ahead and lets herself back in.
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This time when the door closes they're both on the same side: he likes it much better that way. Moving toward Faye, heart pounding with anticipation, he takes her hand in his. There's a time for words, but... this isn't it.
No. This is a time to pull out all the clichés: dim the lights, let the breeze flutter the curtains, trace her lips with his fingertip, kiss her eyelids one at a time, let the whole thing feel like a glamorous, languorous slow dance. It's been a long time and he wants to get things right.
And if he runs into something along the way where he's out of practice -- a little rusty -- maybe she'll help him out. After all, this is for both of them. Eyes soft and huge and liquid, he both can and can't believe this is happening.
But he's really glad it is.