Six Months Later (#2 Challenge 107) PG-13
Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2009 3:48 am
A/N: This is set six months after a particular other story of mine...
Six Months Later
Lucky was just putting in her earrings when Josef knocked on her door. Josef had requested her presence this evening, but had not been forthcoming about what he had planned. He did smirk and tell her to at least wear shoes, so she had to surmise they were going out. And to be ready at eight.
When she opened her door, he was standing there, handsome as always in a dark gray sports jacket that set off his pale good looks. He was carrying a single, perfect, magnolia blossom in his hand, and he extended it to her with a smile. “Careful, babe,” he said. “They’re very fragile.”
Lucky nodded. “We had a magnolia tree at home, when I was little. The petals do bruise so easily.”
Josef narrowed his eyes, thinking. “You know, in all the time we’ve spent together, that’s about as much as you’ve ever volunteered about yourself.”
Taking the flower in her hands, she turned to look for a bowl to float it in, happy for an excuse to hide her expression. “I wouldn’t want to be boring, Josef.”
“And it’s appreciated.”
Leaving the white magnolia floating alone in the dark, Lucky allowed Josef to lead her out to his Ferrari, and hand her into the car. Josef preferred not to be chattered at as he drove, most times, so she kept silent, enjoying the ride. It was early fall, and the evening was warm, the heat baked into the city during the long afternoon leaching slowly into the air as darkness began to fall. The car snarled through gear changes as Josef, his hands delicate on the wheel and the shifters, climbed away from the city, the road doubling back on itself, but every turn taking it higher.
The drop-offs on the passenger side were spectacular, and unnerving, especially in the gathering gloom. Lucky knew that she could trust Josef’s driving, completely, even if she wasn’t sure where they were headed, but she couldn’t resist reaching out to rest one hand on his thigh, just to reassure herself. He glanced down, once, when he felt her touch, and smiled enigmatically. “Almost there, doll,” he said.
Finally, they wheeled into a broad parking lot, and Josef steered to a spot overlooking the city. Lucky knew he always found the lights of Los Angeles a source of endless fascination, and she had to agree that as it grew darker, and the glow from the lights became clearer, that it was a beautiful sight. Still, she wondered what they were doing here. She’d racked her brain trying to think of a particular occasion this might be, with no success. Not that Josef ever needed an excuse for what he did.
Several minutes went by, as they silently regarded the city. Lucky left her hand where it was, and Josef made no objection to the intimacy of the touch. He stared ahead, as though his mind were far away. At length, Josef tore his eyes away from the shining cityscape, and looked down at the fingers on his thigh. He picked up her hand carefully, tracing over the gracile bones with the fingertips of his left, the cool touch of his skin on hers sending a frisson across her nerves.
“Josef?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“It’s not like you to struggle for words. Or are we just here for the view?”
She got a soft snort in answer. And more silence. She was starting to get nervous, when he began to speak.
“I’ve never been big on anniversaries, Luck’,” he said. “At my age…well, they pile up, and it’s just not worth the baggage. You can understand that.”
She nodded, desperately trying to think of anything that had happened between them a year ago, that he might deem worth remembering. That was close to the time she’d returned from the Posada, but she didn’t recall anything especially memorable about that time. At least, no more memorable than any time she was in his presence. Or maybe it wasn’t about her at all. She waited. Josef was so mercurial, so veering in his thoughts, he might well decide to tell her it was the day he’d lost a treasured lover, or a favorite horse. In 1735. Or in 2004.
He kept his eyes on her hand, and spoke slowly. “Six months ago,” he said, and Lucky tensed in her seat, “Six months ago, I was drowning. And you—reached out and saved me. I’ve thought about it, Lucky. A lot. I wanted you to know that. And to say…thank you.”
What do you say to that? she thought. Silence fell again, with Josef carefully not looking at her. At last, Lucky reached up and pulled his head around with a soft hand, to look into his eyes. She laid a gentle kiss on his mouth, and murmured, “You’re welcome.”
Six Months Later
Lucky was just putting in her earrings when Josef knocked on her door. Josef had requested her presence this evening, but had not been forthcoming about what he had planned. He did smirk and tell her to at least wear shoes, so she had to surmise they were going out. And to be ready at eight.
When she opened her door, he was standing there, handsome as always in a dark gray sports jacket that set off his pale good looks. He was carrying a single, perfect, magnolia blossom in his hand, and he extended it to her with a smile. “Careful, babe,” he said. “They’re very fragile.”
Lucky nodded. “We had a magnolia tree at home, when I was little. The petals do bruise so easily.”
Josef narrowed his eyes, thinking. “You know, in all the time we’ve spent together, that’s about as much as you’ve ever volunteered about yourself.”
Taking the flower in her hands, she turned to look for a bowl to float it in, happy for an excuse to hide her expression. “I wouldn’t want to be boring, Josef.”
“And it’s appreciated.”
Leaving the white magnolia floating alone in the dark, Lucky allowed Josef to lead her out to his Ferrari, and hand her into the car. Josef preferred not to be chattered at as he drove, most times, so she kept silent, enjoying the ride. It was early fall, and the evening was warm, the heat baked into the city during the long afternoon leaching slowly into the air as darkness began to fall. The car snarled through gear changes as Josef, his hands delicate on the wheel and the shifters, climbed away from the city, the road doubling back on itself, but every turn taking it higher.
The drop-offs on the passenger side were spectacular, and unnerving, especially in the gathering gloom. Lucky knew that she could trust Josef’s driving, completely, even if she wasn’t sure where they were headed, but she couldn’t resist reaching out to rest one hand on his thigh, just to reassure herself. He glanced down, once, when he felt her touch, and smiled enigmatically. “Almost there, doll,” he said.
Finally, they wheeled into a broad parking lot, and Josef steered to a spot overlooking the city. Lucky knew he always found the lights of Los Angeles a source of endless fascination, and she had to agree that as it grew darker, and the glow from the lights became clearer, that it was a beautiful sight. Still, she wondered what they were doing here. She’d racked her brain trying to think of a particular occasion this might be, with no success. Not that Josef ever needed an excuse for what he did.
Several minutes went by, as they silently regarded the city. Lucky left her hand where it was, and Josef made no objection to the intimacy of the touch. He stared ahead, as though his mind were far away. At length, Josef tore his eyes away from the shining cityscape, and looked down at the fingers on his thigh. He picked up her hand carefully, tracing over the gracile bones with the fingertips of his left, the cool touch of his skin on hers sending a frisson across her nerves.
“Josef?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“It’s not like you to struggle for words. Or are we just here for the view?”
She got a soft snort in answer. And more silence. She was starting to get nervous, when he began to speak.
“I’ve never been big on anniversaries, Luck’,” he said. “At my age…well, they pile up, and it’s just not worth the baggage. You can understand that.”
She nodded, desperately trying to think of anything that had happened between them a year ago, that he might deem worth remembering. That was close to the time she’d returned from the Posada, but she didn’t recall anything especially memorable about that time. At least, no more memorable than any time she was in his presence. Or maybe it wasn’t about her at all. She waited. Josef was so mercurial, so veering in his thoughts, he might well decide to tell her it was the day he’d lost a treasured lover, or a favorite horse. In 1735. Or in 2004.
He kept his eyes on her hand, and spoke slowly. “Six months ago,” he said, and Lucky tensed in her seat, “Six months ago, I was drowning. And you—reached out and saved me. I’ve thought about it, Lucky. A lot. I wanted you to know that. And to say…thank you.”
What do you say to that? she thought. Silence fell again, with Josef carefully not looking at her. At last, Lucky reached up and pulled his head around with a soft hand, to look into his eyes. She laid a gentle kiss on his mouth, and murmured, “You’re welcome.”
