Unexpected Confrontation

Notes: So, first off, starts with GR POV, and then switches off. I hope you like it, GR's personality gave me a bit of trouble, but we worked it out in the end.

///flashback to film///
*~*~*~*~*~*POV Switch*~*~*~*~*~*

*emphasis*

Anyway! On with the fic!

Chapter 4: Crushingly Close


I'm amazed at how fast you can go from hysteria and anger to being calm and agreeable. I chalk it up to having one hell of a bad night. I watch you for a moment, trying to get a read on you.

You've asked me to stay. No one has really ever asked me that before. At least, no one sober. So I'm wondering if I should.

I want to. God I want to. I don't like seeing that forlorn look on your face. I'd rather have you yelling at me, or pushing my buttons. Anything but that. Its too real.

I can deal with anger and seduction. Sorrow and grief are foreign to me. But then I think I've mentioned that.

Your face falls, and I realize I've taken to long to consider. You think I'm rejecting you.

"I'll stay." The relief on your face is palpable.

"Uh, the only other room I have with a functional bed is my fa--Nathan's room. You can stay there, or in my room. It's up to you."

Hm. Obviously tonight has brought up some daddy issues you don't want to face. And really, I'd rather not sleep in the Repo Man's bed, thanks. I already know the man was crazy. I don't want to find out just how far past crazy he was.

On the other hand, sleeping in your room, in your bed is probably not a good idea.

But it's still better than the alternative.

"Hm, room alone, or room with a pretty girl? I'll take option number 2 please." I say, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. I'm not so sure it works though.

You nod, and stand up. I do the same, and stifle a groan. Sitting on cold wood floors will do that to anyone.

I follow you up the stairs to your room. I'm a bit startled at the difference between it and the rest of the house. The bed is in the center of the room, a four poster bed complete with heavy curtains. There's remnants of plastic sheeting they use in intensive care units in hospitals as well.

Pushed into the far corner of your room is a modest amount of medical equipment. Probably used by your late father to help you when you were 'sick'. I can't help but feel a wave of anger towards the man.

Strewn about the room are piles of books, with varying topics like medicine, insects, and random other genres. I even spot a bible, half hidden by a piece of paper.

The rest of the room seems normal for a 17 year old girl. You obviously had a lot of posters up at one point--probably of Mags. Tucked away in an alcove I see a microphone, and other musical odds and ends.

You wrap your arms around yourself, watching me take in your room. You're nervous. I smile at you.

"Nice. Not too girly for me. Well, maybe except for the curtains. Do I see some lace on there?"

You laugh at that.

"In case you hadn't noticed Grave, I am a girl. Woman. Whatever. I'm allowed to have at least one girly thing."

I'm amused that you're not quite sure what to call yourself.

"I'd go with woman, myself. And I believe me, I am very aware that you are a woman. But a lace? Somehow I just didn't see you as a lace girl. Why not put hearts and pretty pink rainbows up as well."

You roll your eyes at me, clearly annoyed. Good. I like you better this way. I've had my dose of emotional crazy for one night.

"Well, at least it's black! It could be pink. And and...way girly creepy."

I snicker at that. You have a point.

I shudder, and as if you read my mind you say:

"And just to be clear, I hate pink. With a firey burning passion of a thousand suns, even."

I roll my eyes. Something tells me that the lady doth protest too much. I bet if I can get a chance to snoop, I'd find something pink in here. I get an unbidden image of you in a pink bra with matching panties and I suddenly hope that I do find something like that. I chuckle.

"Ok, I believe you."

And then out of nowhere I suddenly feel self conscious. Which is rediculous, I know. I can't help but feel grimy in this over-clean room, and I am desperate for a shower.

"Would you mind if I grabbed a quick shower? I haven't really had a decent one in days. Hot water is a hard commodity to come by." I flash you a charming smile.

You smile and soon you've given me a towel and a pair of sweat pants. I raise an eyebrow at you.

"Ah, getting me underdressed for your viewing pleasure, m'lady? I'm shocked at your behavior. Quite forward of you, is it not?"

You blush a deep crimson, and I can't tell if its from my teasing, or because I called you m'lady. Probably a little bit of both. I like it when you blush. I'll have to make you do it more often.

"Well, I figured you'd like to be able to be in something clean for a while so...yeah. Um, they should fit. They were Nathan's. You're about his height."

And then you look down, and smile up at me. "Then again, it could just be the boots you're wearing.

I glare at you, and head into the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

As a parting shot I call out "I wouldn't be remarking about height so much if I were you, short stuff!" before I shut the door.

The almost too-hot spray of the shower is a godsend.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I glare in your general direction when I hear you call me 'short stuff'. It annoys me when someone else gets the last word in verbal play.

I wait to hear the telltale hiss of water, before heading over to my closet. Normally at this hour I'd be still out, winding my way through the maze like streets of the city to avoid patrols on my way home. I take a look at all the night shirts I'm used to wearing, and none of them are really suitable.

I'm pretty sure if I just changed into the normal short night shift I wear, you'd take it as an attempt to seduce you. So I grab a pair of sweatshorts as well. I debate for a moment weather or not to wait and take a shower myself, or to just change and take one tomorrow.

Exhaustion from the day starts to set in, so I decide to wait for the morning. Just as I'm about to pull the shift on I hear the bathroom door open. I hurridly pull it down. I don't know where this sudden modesty came from, considering that earlier I was groping at you, and you at me.

You're standing there, a towel wrapped absurdly around your long hair, water glistening on your pale chest. I watch, my mouth suddenly going dry as a stray droplet runs down your chest to the waistband of the sweats.

...The very much oversized sweats. You are the same height, but I guess Nathan was bigger around. The faint stirrings of desire I felt quickly dissolve into laughter. I try not to let it out, but a giggle escapes me.

I look up at you, my eyes wide, hoping you hadn't heard it. But you have. Of course you have. And suddenly you're right in front of me, glaring at me with a dark look on your face.

"You're not laughing at me, are you Shilo?"

I look down again, stifle another giggle, and shake my head 'no'.

You don't look like you believe me. "Really. Because I'm pretty sure I heard a giggle. Is something funny?"

I take a hesitant step back. I want to be able to run if I have to. I have a sneaky suspicion about where this is heading.

"Nope. Nothing at all." I grin at you, and the smart ass remark I've been wanting to make slips out. "You sure you don't need a belt for those? Because they look kind of big."

My eyes widen, and you growl playfully at me. That's all the warning I get, and suddenly you have me thrown over your shoulder in a firemans carry. One arm holding me surely, while the other snakes under my shirt to find my very sensitive sides.

I can't help the shower of giggles that come out of my mouth, and I struggle to get away. My struggles cause the towel to fall off, and warm wet hair is suddenly on my back and in my face.

You throw me on my bed, but keep tickling me mercilessly.

We wrestle for a bit--or rather, I keep trying to get away, and you somehow reel me back in to your web of tickling crazyness. And now I'm pinned underneath you, and then it changes from simple tickling to something more. Much more.

I kiss you desperately when I get the chance, and you don't hesitate to kiss back. I slide my hand down your body, expecting to be stopped by a loose waitband, only to discover that somehow during the ticklefight they had come off. I stop kissing you for a moment, and grin.

"You planned this, didn't you? Hmmm, naughty man."

And then I'm kissing you again, and I try in vain to roll your onto your back. Ah well.

You're already hard for me, and you let out a gasp when I touch you, and it only makes me want you more. You pull out of the kiss for a moment, eyes sort of dazed. I absently notice that while your make up is gone, you are still very, very pale. It suits you.

"Don't stop." I tell you. You eye me warily. Surely you don't think I'm still a virgin? One of the first things I did was go out and get drunk and laid, in that order. Well, ok not the first thing--there was some mourning and grieving and waiting for the press to die down, but y'know depression does funny things to a person.

Whatever you're looking for, I guess you found it because you're kissing down my neck, and your hand is sliding under my shirt to play with my nipples. My head falls back and I gasp. I can feel you smile against my skin, and then you're biting my neck and it just feels so good.

I'm stroking you now, and I just love the velvet hardness. I'm a little infatuated by it. How something can be so soft and yet so hard fascinates me.

And then you're pulling away from me completely. I glare at you.

"Why are you stopping?"

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Hehehe. As good a stopping point as any. But never fear, part 5 is coming!

~Mia