kingdomsofrain | tfln open post

[ Her heart stutters, and her smile turns helpless, a little dazed. Well, certainly she can forgive him if he kisses her better, leaving her feeling so unfocused, so woolly. (This is -

This is falling in love, she thinks, and the thought is so uncomplicated and welcome. So easily considered and accepted.)

So, she admits softly: ]

My feelings aren't hurt. I like your games. But definitely kiss me better, just in case.

[ Never stop, she wants to add. Never go away.

Her fingertips trace paths along his cheek. ]

Hey, speaking of: don't I owe the fountain monster a kiss for surprising them? Or should I save it for later?

Okay, good.

Good, because games are important and you're important and I need you both to get along.

[ And just like that, she's getting another kiss. And another. Aaand one more, just for good measure. Got to make sure she's very all better, after all. ]

Mmm, tough question. Look at you, asking the tough questions. Shit. Shit, is this a test? Mmm. What about now and later?

[ She doesn't wait for a second invitation, leans down and half-interrupts him with a kiss.

Now, later, next week, next month - what a staggering, enthralling thought: he's (probably) not going to vanish on her. That maybe this is 'it'. ]

[ Oh, well—

This is the nicest interruption he's ever had. Treavor's been cut off by a lot of people. People tired of listening to him or people annoyed with him, people shouting or walking off or Tricia cutting off a would-be-serious conversation by shoving her hand down his pants. A lot of people want him to shut up a lot of the time. Which he gets; he's got a big mouth, and not much of use to say. Not to most people.

This, though. This is welcome. This isn't a 'shut up' so much as a still-intimate and shared engagement. And he's going to kiss her right back, reach for her face, and isn't it wonderful how she grounds everything, smooths down the world's edges? She's wonderful.

And he's very, very lucky. ]

[ When she breaks away, only inches, only the distance of a heartbeat (not her heartbeat, no, hers is hammering fast and echoing in her ears, suffusing her cheeks with color) she thinks she means to say something. She can't remember what it was, and maybe it doesn't matter, after all.

Her thumb brushes an arc across his cheek and she kisses the tip of his nose, a very serious gesture with a very serious expression that dissolves into a brilliant smile. Ah - now she remembers: ]

Fountain monsters get as many kisses as they want, if it keeps them from running off again.

[ There's no panic, no worry when she draws back. No sense of 'over' or ending. Because she lingers. Because she has lingered. She wouldn't leave him here. She followed when he ran, and oh, oh, he won't run from her again, not even in jest, not if it gives her grief. That much, he can manage.

Look at that smile. Look at that very sudden, very certain smile. Like everything's worth the trouble of surviving. Like it's no matter at all to keep trying, if only he can face that smile, face her, see and be seen by her.

He's smiling right back, a little daft, perhaps a bit too clearly struck. ]

No more running off.

[ One finger to her jaw, a quick tap. ]

But don't forget about the kisses. You have very good kisses. Shh, that's a secret, though. Won't tell. Won't tell, won't run away.

[ Is that what it's like, to have someone look at her that way? She can remember how Ichabod looked at her, hungry for something she clearly could never give him, and there were others with hopeful smiles and appraising eyes, and Brom once in a while with something that was only a shadow of this. But never this.

Maybe all those things she didn't believe in are real, after all. She had to find them in a side hallway in an aging hotel in Las Vegas, apparently. her fingers pick up the slow work through his hair again. ]

You can't run off, anyway. I'm pretty sure it's against the rules: I caught you, so now I get to keep you.

Fuck, you're right. Guess I'm just yours.

[ He doesn't mind that thought. He doesn't mind that thought at all. How many people ever play these games with him, let alone catch him? Wallace plays sometimes, but he tries not to make life too too hard for Wallace. Guy's got enough to deal with without chasing lagoon monsters, and this trip's a break for him too, right? ]

Mm, no, see, but. Maybe you should complain, though. File a complaint. Did all that work and this is what you get?

[ A soggy lanky monster, cuddled in your lap, dripping fountain lagoon water everywhere. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

He's watching her. He winks at her, a little exaggerated, grin persistent. ]

This is your life now, kid.

[ Just as she has done on the mornings she wakes him, she softly teases the tip of her finger along his nose. ]

What a good life it's going to be.

[ God help her, she means it. She's known him all of a week and already she can see the clear path of her life with him in it, drunken, soggy mess that he is.

No one she dates - has dated - plays games with her. Every relationship has been so serious, as though adulthood requires the loss of fun. Even Ichabod, the one who was almost the One, never did anything just for the fun of it.

She keeps her voice low, even in this quiet hallway, tone soft and secretive: this is just for them. ]

This is your life now, think about that. If you're mine, you have to endure a lot of affection.

[ And you know what. What the hell. She winks back, a little mocking and exaggerated in turn. ]

Hey, that's pretty good!

[ The wink. The wink is pretty good, and she's pretty good at winking, and she played back. He doesn't - couldn't - hide the delight in his voice.

He likes the idea of this life. Strange hallways becoming nests for familiarity. Strange places becoming theirs, just for a moment, but with a life lie this, couldn't everywhere feel like home? What a strange, strange idea. That anywhere should feel like home at all. That he should feel welcome or in-place anywhere at all.

All because of her. Isn't all because of her, isn't it? ]

I'm a lucky lucky monster.

[ He's nuzzling back against her, voice low again, following her lead. ]

A lucky monster that could use a little affection. Shh, shh, don't tell. Just us. Just you.

You're the best monster. The best, the best.

[ He's getting her dress soaking wet, this is going to be so weird to explain if someone runs across them later.

But he wants affection, and how often does that really happen? How often does anyone let her be so physical, the way he does? So she presses soft, light kisses where she can: his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his lips, anywhere he allows. And in between, she murmurs: ]

We should head back soon, put some dry clothes on, hmm? We could hide out from the real monsters and watch the strip from the balcony again...?

[ It's fine, don't worry, Treavor'll have an a+ amazing explanation for whoever's butting into their business, shh, shh, don't worry, it's fine. He's good at explanations. A real ol' pro.

And he'll accept those kisses. He'll welcome those kisses, any she cares to give, with a smile and a soft hum, a low laugh of appreciation. He likes this. He doesn't want to leave this. Doesn't want to leave her, and anyway, if he remembers right, the ground's a little uncertain now and kept trying to work against him, only behaves when he's lying down like this.

True, he's a little damp and true, he might be getting that fountain water all over her and maybe she didn't ask for it? Fountain water is for lagoon monsters and bullshit jerks like DeForest and Madeleine. Hmmm. ]

'm not a fake monster.

[ She's getting a pout now. She's getting the signs of a faux-pout, but then he twists his neck a little, gives an exaggerated sigh. ]

Real monsters.

[ He gives her a pat on the hand, just so she knows his feelings aren't really actually hurt. ]

But I guess. I like balconies with you. Mm. If you can get me there, okay.

[ She knows he's feigning hurt, but something about this cuts her in a way she doesn't like: perhaps she has spoiled the game, and doesn't she hate having her games spoiled? Has she become the offender in this situation?

She thinks fast. ]

No, no, no, you're not fake. But in the movies, the real monsters are always people, right? The evil scientists, the government, the military? And DeForest and Madeleine are like - the ignorant villagers. The creature is always just trying to live his life in peace. Maybe trying to find a nice monster girlfriend.

[ Yes. Perfect. The game continues. Her smile blooms and brightens, and she steals another kiss. ]

So we have to avoid the humans.

[ This is a good... Hey, she's good! That was a nice turn, and she's smiling and he's smiling and he's gonna sit up just enough to give her a kiss, maybe a little hasty maybe just a little rough, but kissing is hard when you're a monster on the floor. That's just a fact. He thinks she'll understand, because she seems to understand an awful lot. ]

Are you a secret monster expert?

You can tell me if you are. Since I'm a monster, mmhm. Not a real monster but a monster-monster.

[ Wait, but. Something she's said? About finding the monster a—?

And yes, he's pushing himself up onto an elbow now, yes he's suddenly more alert, searching her eyes for an answer. ]

Oh, shit. Shit, kid. Are you a secret monster??

[ His intense excitement about not only the game rolling on, but her possible monster-ness, draws a peal of half-wild laughter from her. It's infectious. Stupid, ridiculous game that it is, it's so much more preferable to anything she could be doing with - well.

The real monsters.

Bubbling over with mirth, she clamps her hand over his mouth and shushes him gently, as though he's being too loud with her secret. The ones she decides to reveal anyway, in a stage whisper: ]

Maybe I am. Maybe I'm a man-eater. You know: really pretty, like a Venus flytrap, and when men get too close, I devour them.

[ Her hand slips to his cheek, a loving brush of her fingertips. ]

That's why only a monster-monster can be my boyfriend. No humans.

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