Challenge #103/Back to That? PG-13
Posted: Mon Mar 30, 2009 4:40 pm
Champagne Challenge #103:
You may use any title for your story.
The fic can be any rating.
You may add any other characters (Mick and Beth have to be in it, obviously, although whether Beth stays or leaves is up to you).
Your fic may be canon or AU--your choice.
Suggested length is between 1000 and 3000 words (this is just a guide).
The challenge officially runs until March 29th.
The challenge is to write a fic on the theme of what happened after Mick said "I'm a vampire" to Beth at the end of episode 2, "Out of the Past." What did Beth do? How did Mick get the silver out of his back? Did he call someone? Tantalizing, isn't it...?
-----------
Back to That?
This one is pg13
Mick & Beth, from Beth’s POV.
Canon till you think it’s AU
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
+++++++++++++++++++++
I hear the nervous gulps of air and what ever he’s drinking,
Did he just say, “I’m a vampire”?
Sunrise pervades the grid opening in the loft windows. If he was a vampire wouldn’t he be in flames by now?
His hand flies out as an admonishment to stay back. I see his hands coated in fluid, viscous and opaque, brilliant crimson. His duster has holes blown in it and deep alizarin stains, his hair wet - is it wet with blood?
Then my shoes make the only sound until he spins on his heels, crouching to elude me, face hidden, shoulders hunched to bury his face.
Lee Jay must have shot him with rock salt, no one could move like Mick if they had been shot. Surely the rock salt cut thru the duster like glass at such a short range. The rock salt must sting like hell, that’s why he’s nervous and attempting to burrow into the floor of his own loft, poor man is delirious.
Think, Beth, focus, I just shot a man to death and drove like a maniac to see if Mick is OK, then when I’ve made it into his loft I can’t digest this sudden serving of reality.
Was it last week Mick has saved my life and tonight I saved his life?
One for the other.
We are even, he asks me to leave and I should walk away. Otherwise will this be another reoccurring phantasm to add my library of night horrors?
Walk away, Beth.
Do what Mick asks, “Please Leave” he’s barked at me while he crawls to allude me.
I try to assume a less threatening pose and put both hands up and turn my head away, “I’m leaving Mick, I don’t want to leave, but it’s what you want. I’m sorry you won’t let me help you.” And I turn and run not even closing the door behind me.
The elevator doors close and the tang of blood, flames and gunpowder invade me in the confined space. As I clutch at myself, physically and emotionally overcome I sit crumbled for the ride down. I close my eyes and I’m not “here”, I’m “there”.
+++++++++
White
White cloth floating, blowing
Red
Red lips
Red nails
Red scratches on the two of them
The lady
The man
My hands fly to my ears and I cast off the scene before me, only a child closes her eyes to make the bad lady go away.
The woman speaks his name, “Mick”
They fight.
She screams.
He yells like Daddy did before he left Mommy.
The man picks me up and I cannot stop looking at the scary lady, she’s on fire.
The man has nice eyes; he holds me and says soft words to me.
We ride in a car with leather seats to get to my house.
A green car with no top…….
++++++++++
Like Mick’s green Mercedes we rode in earlier tonight.
Was it the odors of smoke and blood or Mick’s voice that opened the trap door to 1985?
I gather myself and stand, pressing the button for Mick’s floor. The ride up is faster than the ride down. When the doors open I purposefully walk that he can hear me.
The door is still open, the first floor is silent. I see the dark spills on the floor, the knocked over magnifying glasses. I naturally replace the heavy brass magnifying glasses and sit on the sofa so he could see me from upstairs. As the time passes I feel the fool, the sentry, the witness to something confusing.
I realize the time and anxiety twists my gut. Did Mick go upstairs and die? Did I save his life for him to lose it with my abandoning him?
I pick at my cuticles and chew at the inside of my lip. I’m wired, worn out. I’ll just lay my head back for a minute…….
My phone’s trilling spooks me from my nap. It’s Carl wanting my statement. It’s 11 am. I make excuses to come in before 4 and he lets me slide. I have three missed calls from Josh.
Where’s Mick? The only sound is the cycling on and off of his kitchen appliances, the air conditioning.
I walk to the sink and run cool water, splashing small drops on my neck. I catch my breath and see my worn reflection in the chrome and glass. My eyes drop to grab a paper towel and when I lift my head I see his reflection.
“Mick” I squeal as I spin to see him, clean, healthy, incredibly mesmerized that I’m in his kitchen. He turns his head to the front door and is wordless as he pads barefoot to check the security system.
Once he’s back across the island from me, he asks, “Are you OK?”
I’m dumbstruck
He’s shirtless, jeans hastily pulled, barefoot. As much as I try to look him in his eyes I’m distracted by his chest, the subtly developed six pack and the deliciously inviting line of chest hair that disappears behind the top two open buttons on his jeans.
“Beth?” he snaps me from wondering if he’s commando or wearing hipster briefs. Snap out of it Turner, I think. I’ve seen men, I’m not deprived, and Josh was over just the other night and . . . .
“Beth, are you OK? Did the paramedics check you out?” Mick’s voice is a bit more strident.
“Yes, yes they did. I just worried about you, I had to make . . . .”
“I’m OK, you need to get some rest, get cleaned up, go home or did you want me to ride you home?” His stridency turns to concern and his body language softens.
“My car is downstairs” then I realize I can’t buy time with him if I drive myself home, “May I leave it here for awhile?”
Mick nods and excuses himself, something about shirt and shoes….. Which he wouldn’t have to do for me…. I snap back to reality when I hear the key ring jingle. He’s walking around snapping off lights and I wait at the door for him.
We walked to the elevator in silence, his flat hand at the small of my back creating such a surge of energy and tension that I couldn’t muster the words to express myself.
He opened the car door of the green convertible that I’ve ridden in so long ago before last night. He pulls on dark sunglasses and pops his collar before he pulls the car out of the underground car park. I want to watch him with out appearing obvious, that’s not going to happen when the two of us ride silently. He navigates to my apartment without as much as a curse word at the drivers weaving in and out of traffic.
Mick, steady Mick.
He seeks a shady parking space in my lot and by the time he’s at my door I’ve opened the door and spun to exit. “I was coming to get that door for you” he said softly.
“I’m sorry; I’m not used to" I fumbled for words to explain my lack of pampering. On the walk up to my apartment, he’s there with that hand at my back….. Did I ever remember any man being like this?
I put the key in the door and pushed it open, leaving my purse on the hook with my keys. Mick stood outside, neither leaving or entering.
“Won’t you come in for awhile?” I asked with a motion of my hand. He stepped in and I closed the door behind him. “I could brew a pot of coffee, or would you like a coke?” I offered just for good manners, I was famished. I pulled some French bread pizza out of the freezer and tucked it into the toaster oven, popped a top on a diet coke.
He put a hand out with a polite “Oh, no, I’m fine” then he strode across the room to the white wooden blinds, turned to me and asked, “DO you mind?” as he twirled them to cast darkness where stripes of light had fallen. I shook my head no and he closed them across the room, for Noon it was a soft cocoon of half light.
Mick waited until I chose my seat and then he sat opposite me with a pleasant yet blank expression.
“I hope you didn’t think I invaded your place last night” I said between sips of soda.
“You had just been through a lot, Beth. It was smart to stay on the sofa.” He offered no more explanation to his “I’m a vampire” confession that is why I wanted him to stay, until he spilled more.
“Yeah, that was a first. What, I met you two weeks ago, you save my life then I shoot the man trying to kill you.” Come on, Mick…give me a bit more of what you were joking about last night.
He watched me retrieve the pizza from the toaster oven and had an odd tilt to his head as I bit into it with gusto. He ran a hand thru his hair as if he were getting antsy without conversation. I bounced back to the sofa and between bites we smiled at each other.
“Are all your stories this dangerous?” Mick asked with a wry smile as he settled back into the chair. Good. . . .Maybe he’s ready to spill a bit.
“Just since I met you and speaking of you . . . . . what happened to you last night?” I leaned forward to put the plate on the coffee table and stayed leaning forward.
“Lee Jay shot me, you saw it” Matter of fact Mick……no more, no less.
“Yes, and it should have killed you, was it rock salt, how could you get up and take off like you did?” I was quieter, hoping to draw him in.
“Maybe some other time, we’ve both been through a lot.” Mick leaned forward, matching my body language, then rocked further forward to launch himself from the chair.
“So, some other time, I mean I’m a little confused by what I thought I heard you say” I stood to try and catch him physically if I had to.
“What did you think you heard me say?” his chin was resolute and his face expressionless. Hell I could never play poker this man.
“I’m a vampire – and I don’t know if you were meaning it in Christian Ellis perspective or a Bram Stoker perspective” I stood between Mick and the door.
“Right, there are all kinds of perspective on a comment like that” he folded his arms over his chest and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He titled his head down to meet my eyes. “There’s no such thing as Vampires, didn’t you know that?” he grinned and I wanted to melt.
I shrugged and put my hands on my hips. “Mick, something happened to you last night that was supernatural, and this morning you look as if nothing happened” I tried walking forward to move him back toward the chair. I kept moving until we bumped feet and I bounced into him almost falling over. He righted my by catching my arms in his bare hands, his cold bare hands.
“Mick, please, wondering is worse than knowing, Please let go, you’re so cold” There I was beginning to tremble in my own living room.
His hands flew off me and he stepped back, head tucked in his chest. He slowly raised his head as he shook it, perhaps in disbelief of my badgering or frustration with me. His hands wiped his face and they rested in fists at his waist.
There we stood, at an impasse, all the while he’d doing this tilt with his head and I’m biting my lip.
“How do you know that wondering is worse than knowing? When you were 4 did you want to know about the monsters under your bed?”
I threw my hands up and walked back to the sofa, hoping he’d follow me. “I had other monsters, I didn’t worry about under my bed” I sat with my arms crossed over my chest, shaking my head.
“Other monsters?” he kneeled on the other side of the coffee table, leaning on his hands at me.
“Yes” and there was a bit more silence and I was thinking he’s going to bolt again.
“What kind of monsters?” he asked very softly.
“A very scary lady” I said as he nodded.
“What else?” he prodded.
“Well, a scary lady in a white dress, a strange room, being told I was getting a new Mom and Dad” I could tick them off as if I was reading a grocery list.
“And then…?” Mick was like a boy prodding road kill until it popped.
“A man who fought off the lady and took me home, he had a car like yours, he looked like you and his name is very coincidentally was Mick.”
“So, knowing in your heart is more important that wondering after all these years.”
“You’re making this about me, and my questions are about YOU, about what happened last night” I leaned into his space.
“Not exactly, this is kind of about us”. He went back on his heels and pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked at me solemnly.
“Us, there’s an “us”?” What did I sleep through…..????
“Why did you come back this morning, after I went upstairs?”
“Because I was afraid you were going to die” He stood and began walking around the coffee toward me, sitting down and pulling a knee up to sit facing me, his arm along the back of the sofa, his left hand drew my chin to look him in the face.
“You knew I was alive when you left. Did something spook you? Did you remember something you needed to ask me?” I watched the play of the dim light in his hazel eyes.
It began to pour out of me. . . .
“White, White cloth floating, blowing, Red, Red lips, Red nails, Red scratches on the lady and the man” I quietly recite the words that came to me this morning in the elevator.
Once more my hands fly to my ears and I relive the scene inside my heart. “The woman speaks his name, “Mick”, and they fight. She screams.”
Mick nods as he strokes back a stray hair and traces the edge of my ear and I’m drawn to go on, “He yells like Daddy did before he left Mommy. The man picks me up and I cannot stop looking at the scary lady, she’s on fire. The man has nice eyes; he holds me and says soft words to me. We ride in a car with leather seats to get to my house. A green car with no top…….a car like yours, Mick”
I can’t make eye contact, he’s made this about me and not answered my questions…..part of me is embarrassed and part is feeling tricked into spilling my neurosis to him.
“Do you know why?” Mick asks as he slides closer and I fold into his fatherly embrace.
“Why it reminds me of you, why I was kidnapped?” I was confused to say the least.
“Because the man that carried the little girl out of the building was me.” He spoke so softly and matter of factly that I didn’t hear it as the nonsense logic told me it was.
I was lying back on Mick’s crisp black duster and still I felt a chill and where our flesh touched I felt an eerie energy passing between us.
“How can that be? It was 22 years ago, you should be old, I mean older” I twisted to look at Mick, face to face. Again those hazel eyes twinkled at me, the straight nose, and lips dampened by an occasional whisk of his tongue.
“I’m a vampire” he spoke plainly, matter of factly.
That’s when I thought…we're back to that……..
You may use any title for your story.
The fic can be any rating.
You may add any other characters (Mick and Beth have to be in it, obviously, although whether Beth stays or leaves is up to you).
Your fic may be canon or AU--your choice.
Suggested length is between 1000 and 3000 words (this is just a guide).
The challenge officially runs until March 29th.
The challenge is to write a fic on the theme of what happened after Mick said "I'm a vampire" to Beth at the end of episode 2, "Out of the Past." What did Beth do? How did Mick get the silver out of his back? Did he call someone? Tantalizing, isn't it...?
-----------
Back to That?
This one is pg13
Mick & Beth, from Beth’s POV.
Canon till you think it’s AU
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
+++++++++++++++++++++
I hear the nervous gulps of air and what ever he’s drinking,
Did he just say, “I’m a vampire”?
Sunrise pervades the grid opening in the loft windows. If he was a vampire wouldn’t he be in flames by now?
His hand flies out as an admonishment to stay back. I see his hands coated in fluid, viscous and opaque, brilliant crimson. His duster has holes blown in it and deep alizarin stains, his hair wet - is it wet with blood?
Then my shoes make the only sound until he spins on his heels, crouching to elude me, face hidden, shoulders hunched to bury his face.
Lee Jay must have shot him with rock salt, no one could move like Mick if they had been shot. Surely the rock salt cut thru the duster like glass at such a short range. The rock salt must sting like hell, that’s why he’s nervous and attempting to burrow into the floor of his own loft, poor man is delirious.
Think, Beth, focus, I just shot a man to death and drove like a maniac to see if Mick is OK, then when I’ve made it into his loft I can’t digest this sudden serving of reality.
Was it last week Mick has saved my life and tonight I saved his life?
One for the other.
We are even, he asks me to leave and I should walk away. Otherwise will this be another reoccurring phantasm to add my library of night horrors?
Walk away, Beth.
Do what Mick asks, “Please Leave” he’s barked at me while he crawls to allude me.
I try to assume a less threatening pose and put both hands up and turn my head away, “I’m leaving Mick, I don’t want to leave, but it’s what you want. I’m sorry you won’t let me help you.” And I turn and run not even closing the door behind me.
The elevator doors close and the tang of blood, flames and gunpowder invade me in the confined space. As I clutch at myself, physically and emotionally overcome I sit crumbled for the ride down. I close my eyes and I’m not “here”, I’m “there”.
+++++++++
White
White cloth floating, blowing
Red
Red lips
Red nails
Red scratches on the two of them
The lady
The man
My hands fly to my ears and I cast off the scene before me, only a child closes her eyes to make the bad lady go away.
The woman speaks his name, “Mick”
They fight.
She screams.
He yells like Daddy did before he left Mommy.
The man picks me up and I cannot stop looking at the scary lady, she’s on fire.
The man has nice eyes; he holds me and says soft words to me.
We ride in a car with leather seats to get to my house.
A green car with no top…….
++++++++++
Like Mick’s green Mercedes we rode in earlier tonight.
Was it the odors of smoke and blood or Mick’s voice that opened the trap door to 1985?
I gather myself and stand, pressing the button for Mick’s floor. The ride up is faster than the ride down. When the doors open I purposefully walk that he can hear me.
The door is still open, the first floor is silent. I see the dark spills on the floor, the knocked over magnifying glasses. I naturally replace the heavy brass magnifying glasses and sit on the sofa so he could see me from upstairs. As the time passes I feel the fool, the sentry, the witness to something confusing.
I realize the time and anxiety twists my gut. Did Mick go upstairs and die? Did I save his life for him to lose it with my abandoning him?
I pick at my cuticles and chew at the inside of my lip. I’m wired, worn out. I’ll just lay my head back for a minute…….
My phone’s trilling spooks me from my nap. It’s Carl wanting my statement. It’s 11 am. I make excuses to come in before 4 and he lets me slide. I have three missed calls from Josh.
Where’s Mick? The only sound is the cycling on and off of his kitchen appliances, the air conditioning.
I walk to the sink and run cool water, splashing small drops on my neck. I catch my breath and see my worn reflection in the chrome and glass. My eyes drop to grab a paper towel and when I lift my head I see his reflection.
“Mick” I squeal as I spin to see him, clean, healthy, incredibly mesmerized that I’m in his kitchen. He turns his head to the front door and is wordless as he pads barefoot to check the security system.
Once he’s back across the island from me, he asks, “Are you OK?”
I’m dumbstruck
He’s shirtless, jeans hastily pulled, barefoot. As much as I try to look him in his eyes I’m distracted by his chest, the subtly developed six pack and the deliciously inviting line of chest hair that disappears behind the top two open buttons on his jeans.
“Beth?” he snaps me from wondering if he’s commando or wearing hipster briefs. Snap out of it Turner, I think. I’ve seen men, I’m not deprived, and Josh was over just the other night and . . . .
“Beth, are you OK? Did the paramedics check you out?” Mick’s voice is a bit more strident.
“Yes, yes they did. I just worried about you, I had to make . . . .”
“I’m OK, you need to get some rest, get cleaned up, go home or did you want me to ride you home?” His stridency turns to concern and his body language softens.
“My car is downstairs” then I realize I can’t buy time with him if I drive myself home, “May I leave it here for awhile?”
Mick nods and excuses himself, something about shirt and shoes….. Which he wouldn’t have to do for me…. I snap back to reality when I hear the key ring jingle. He’s walking around snapping off lights and I wait at the door for him.
We walked to the elevator in silence, his flat hand at the small of my back creating such a surge of energy and tension that I couldn’t muster the words to express myself.
He opened the car door of the green convertible that I’ve ridden in so long ago before last night. He pulls on dark sunglasses and pops his collar before he pulls the car out of the underground car park. I want to watch him with out appearing obvious, that’s not going to happen when the two of us ride silently. He navigates to my apartment without as much as a curse word at the drivers weaving in and out of traffic.
Mick, steady Mick.
He seeks a shady parking space in my lot and by the time he’s at my door I’ve opened the door and spun to exit. “I was coming to get that door for you” he said softly.
“I’m sorry; I’m not used to" I fumbled for words to explain my lack of pampering. On the walk up to my apartment, he’s there with that hand at my back….. Did I ever remember any man being like this?
I put the key in the door and pushed it open, leaving my purse on the hook with my keys. Mick stood outside, neither leaving or entering.
“Won’t you come in for awhile?” I asked with a motion of my hand. He stepped in and I closed the door behind him. “I could brew a pot of coffee, or would you like a coke?” I offered just for good manners, I was famished. I pulled some French bread pizza out of the freezer and tucked it into the toaster oven, popped a top on a diet coke.
He put a hand out with a polite “Oh, no, I’m fine” then he strode across the room to the white wooden blinds, turned to me and asked, “DO you mind?” as he twirled them to cast darkness where stripes of light had fallen. I shook my head no and he closed them across the room, for Noon it was a soft cocoon of half light.
Mick waited until I chose my seat and then he sat opposite me with a pleasant yet blank expression.
“I hope you didn’t think I invaded your place last night” I said between sips of soda.
“You had just been through a lot, Beth. It was smart to stay on the sofa.” He offered no more explanation to his “I’m a vampire” confession that is why I wanted him to stay, until he spilled more.
“Yeah, that was a first. What, I met you two weeks ago, you save my life then I shoot the man trying to kill you.” Come on, Mick…give me a bit more of what you were joking about last night.
He watched me retrieve the pizza from the toaster oven and had an odd tilt to his head as I bit into it with gusto. He ran a hand thru his hair as if he were getting antsy without conversation. I bounced back to the sofa and between bites we smiled at each other.
“Are all your stories this dangerous?” Mick asked with a wry smile as he settled back into the chair. Good. . . .Maybe he’s ready to spill a bit.
“Just since I met you and speaking of you . . . . . what happened to you last night?” I leaned forward to put the plate on the coffee table and stayed leaning forward.
“Lee Jay shot me, you saw it” Matter of fact Mick……no more, no less.
“Yes, and it should have killed you, was it rock salt, how could you get up and take off like you did?” I was quieter, hoping to draw him in.
“Maybe some other time, we’ve both been through a lot.” Mick leaned forward, matching my body language, then rocked further forward to launch himself from the chair.
“So, some other time, I mean I’m a little confused by what I thought I heard you say” I stood to try and catch him physically if I had to.
“What did you think you heard me say?” his chin was resolute and his face expressionless. Hell I could never play poker this man.
“I’m a vampire – and I don’t know if you were meaning it in Christian Ellis perspective or a Bram Stoker perspective” I stood between Mick and the door.
“Right, there are all kinds of perspective on a comment like that” he folded his arms over his chest and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He titled his head down to meet my eyes. “There’s no such thing as Vampires, didn’t you know that?” he grinned and I wanted to melt.
I shrugged and put my hands on my hips. “Mick, something happened to you last night that was supernatural, and this morning you look as if nothing happened” I tried walking forward to move him back toward the chair. I kept moving until we bumped feet and I bounced into him almost falling over. He righted my by catching my arms in his bare hands, his cold bare hands.
“Mick, please, wondering is worse than knowing, Please let go, you’re so cold” There I was beginning to tremble in my own living room.
His hands flew off me and he stepped back, head tucked in his chest. He slowly raised his head as he shook it, perhaps in disbelief of my badgering or frustration with me. His hands wiped his face and they rested in fists at his waist.
There we stood, at an impasse, all the while he’d doing this tilt with his head and I’m biting my lip.
“How do you know that wondering is worse than knowing? When you were 4 did you want to know about the monsters under your bed?”
I threw my hands up and walked back to the sofa, hoping he’d follow me. “I had other monsters, I didn’t worry about under my bed” I sat with my arms crossed over my chest, shaking my head.
“Other monsters?” he kneeled on the other side of the coffee table, leaning on his hands at me.
“Yes” and there was a bit more silence and I was thinking he’s going to bolt again.
“What kind of monsters?” he asked very softly.
“A very scary lady” I said as he nodded.
“What else?” he prodded.
“Well, a scary lady in a white dress, a strange room, being told I was getting a new Mom and Dad” I could tick them off as if I was reading a grocery list.
“And then…?” Mick was like a boy prodding road kill until it popped.
“A man who fought off the lady and took me home, he had a car like yours, he looked like you and his name is very coincidentally was Mick.”
“So, knowing in your heart is more important that wondering after all these years.”
“You’re making this about me, and my questions are about YOU, about what happened last night” I leaned into his space.
“Not exactly, this is kind of about us”. He went back on his heels and pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked at me solemnly.
“Us, there’s an “us”?” What did I sleep through…..????
“Why did you come back this morning, after I went upstairs?”
“Because I was afraid you were going to die” He stood and began walking around the coffee toward me, sitting down and pulling a knee up to sit facing me, his arm along the back of the sofa, his left hand drew my chin to look him in the face.
“You knew I was alive when you left. Did something spook you? Did you remember something you needed to ask me?” I watched the play of the dim light in his hazel eyes.
It began to pour out of me. . . .
“White, White cloth floating, blowing, Red, Red lips, Red nails, Red scratches on the lady and the man” I quietly recite the words that came to me this morning in the elevator.
Once more my hands fly to my ears and I relive the scene inside my heart. “The woman speaks his name, “Mick”, and they fight. She screams.”
Mick nods as he strokes back a stray hair and traces the edge of my ear and I’m drawn to go on, “He yells like Daddy did before he left Mommy. The man picks me up and I cannot stop looking at the scary lady, she’s on fire. The man has nice eyes; he holds me and says soft words to me. We ride in a car with leather seats to get to my house. A green car with no top…….a car like yours, Mick”
I can’t make eye contact, he’s made this about me and not answered my questions…..part of me is embarrassed and part is feeling tricked into spilling my neurosis to him.
“Do you know why?” Mick asks as he slides closer and I fold into his fatherly embrace.
“Why it reminds me of you, why I was kidnapped?” I was confused to say the least.
“Because the man that carried the little girl out of the building was me.” He spoke so softly and matter of factly that I didn’t hear it as the nonsense logic told me it was.
I was lying back on Mick’s crisp black duster and still I felt a chill and where our flesh touched I felt an eerie energy passing between us.
“How can that be? It was 22 years ago, you should be old, I mean older” I twisted to look at Mick, face to face. Again those hazel eyes twinkled at me, the straight nose, and lips dampened by an occasional whisk of his tongue.
“I’m a vampire” he spoke plainly, matter of factly.
That’s when I thought…we're back to that……..
"Escalator", if they (TPTB) had moved it along a bit more perhaps we'd have had more show. Don't we ALL want it all? That's why we have each other's fanfic.
Thank you.