Odio de Amor
It was, if she thought about it honestly, a love-hate relationship, and that could only mean trouble. Bomber thought back to the conversation she'd had a few minutes ago, and her eyes misted slightly – unfortunately, not because of the onions she was chopping.
He annoyed the crap out of her. Hearing him call her name made her want to throw something, preferably at him. He spent hours chatting about nothing, and then acted so put out when she yelled at him to shut up. He was unable to sit still for more than a moment at a time, and even if his body was still, some part of him still moved, be it his foot or his tongue. If he didn't have her attention, he would do something – usually something stupid and/or irritating – to get it.
She choked slightly, as her mind swung to that other side of him. The side that could recognise her bad moods, and would actually stop the screeching for a while when she was really upset. She could hear his voice, quietly greeting her a good morning. The breakfasts they shared, and the daintiness with which he would pluck a piece of fruit from her fingers. How sometimes he would placidly sit next to her, just them.
His unwavering loyalty. The discretion he always used when it came to keeping her secrets. The square-shouldered way in which he would accept her frequent rejections of his love.
Now… now he was injured and she didn't know if he'd live or die. So frequently she had wanted to kill him, but now she couldn't stand the thought of never seeing him again.
"Hey Bomb, what's for dinner?" called a voice and, without further ado, she dissolved into tears.
Cautiously, Spider came forward, eyes wide. Something had to be seriously wrong to make Bomber cry.
"Becca?" he asked tentatively, expecting her to explode at his use of her first name. "You okay?"
She turned, and he could see the fury that she was just aching to release, and he stepped backwards slightly. But then she shook her head, and the fight seemed to drain out of her.
When it came to Bomber, his instincts were rarely on track. Any encounters with her meant hoping he didn't end up on the wrong side of her wrath, and knowing where the boundaries lay was a simple matter of experience.
He had little to no experience when it came to Bomber randomly breaking into tears, and thus threw caution to the wind and trusted his instincts for once.
When Bomber felt a pair of long arms encircle her and draw her into a tentative hug, her first instinct was to pull away and smack him upside the gob. Then her cheek touched his chest, and teaching Spider to keep his hands off her no longer seemed like such a big deal.
"What's wrong?" he asked after a while, the relief in his voice telling her he had expected to lose and appendage for the uninvited contact.
"I just got a phone call, from my flatmate. My cockatiel got out, and the neighbour's cat grabbed him. She's taking him to the vet, but he... he may not..."
"Oh Becca, I'm sorry..." he whispered, and didn't know what else to say. How could he say it would be all right? It might not be. He didn't think she wanted a comforting lie, anyway.
"What was it like? Is he like, I mean?"
Bomber sniffed, and pushed herself away, wiping away a stray tear. "He's um..." she paused, looking for the right word. Then a soft smile broke over her face. "He's a lot like you."