Hey everyone, here I am back again with a sequel to the Vauseman noir AU I wrote what seems like about a million years ago, Irresistible (if you haven't read that I'm not entirely sure you'll get this, so you might want to go take a look). It was supposed to be one shot (seriously!) but it got a just a wee bit out of hand. Many thanks to the awesome reverse-swing, who a) encouraged me to expand the tiny idea I had in my head into a story and b) read it with enthusiasm as it was being written. She also came up with the title because she is good at titles and I am not.
(I haven't forgotten the Batman AU. Long story short, I kind of hit a wall with writing and this was my way of breaking through it... suffice it to say, it worked so hopefully that bodes well for my other stuff).
Chapter 1 - Under the Skies of Paris
There was something nagging at me. It wasn't anything big, wasn't like I was tormented all the damn time. It was just something under the surface, that tugged at my consciousness, trying to get my attention in idle moments. It had started off as a rare thing, just every once in awhile, but lately it had begun popping up more.
It'd been eight weeks since Piper Chapman and I had been reunited in Mexico, and to my constant astonishment, she hadn't yet dropped me like a hot rock. Evidently she found the whole "cynical misanthrope" thing intensely appealing, although she claimed I wasn't nearly as unrefined as I pretended to be.
I tried to tell her that I was just as unrefined as I acted, that it was just that she was so tired of stuck up assholes that she didn't mind. She would laugh (that genuine, from the gut laugh that wasn't exactly lilting and beautiful, but did make my heart do all those flips the stupid poets are always going on about)... but it wasn't like she was denying it.
She wasn't the only one who was satisfied with our life together. Hell, I was probably happier than I'd been since I was a damn kid. I was in love with someone who loved me back, and I had learned that I could actually be in a relationship without fucking everything up.
The most surprising thing for me was that I hadn't even begun to feel restless or bored with her. It wasn't like I'd really stuck around a whole lot of girls for longer than a night or two, but usually when I did it started to make me itch and feel like I was suffocating. With Piper, I felt like there was nothing else I needed in the world. Some might say eight weeks wasn't long enough to make that determination, but when your previous relationship record was three weeks and a nasty breakup that left you scarred for years... well, they should've been giving me a damn gold medal.
So yeah, Piper wasn't a problem. The problem (and I never fucking thought this would be a goddamn problem), was that we'd been living in Paris for a month and we had too much money. The dough we'd taken off Kubra and Piper's piece of shit excuse for a father wasn't exactly enough to start renting space in Versailles, but it was enough that, as long as we weren't buying any solid gold tiaras, we'd didn't have to work.
We'd made our way lazily from Mexico to New York, then across the Atlantic to Southampton. We'd spent a week in London (where I'd enjoyed the English cynicism, and their fondness for meat pies) and then we'd settled in Paris. We'd found a modest little flat in Saint-Germain-des-Pres and settled in. Piper assured me the neighborhood was a hotbed of intellectualism and ideas... intellectualism and ideas didn't bother me, but I was more interested in the fact that it was a place where, as long as we weren't making out on a street corner, no one would give a shit about us being "lady friends".
Piper was used to being one of the idle rich. She was fine with spending her days wandering around markets, sitting in cafes eating what the French passed off as breakfast, sipping coffee out of tiny cups, and listening to the intellectuals argue about philosophy all around her. I didn't fault her for it, it was just how she was raised, and she never held it over anyone.
I wasn't much accustomed to being idle period. My Ma had worked all her life, as had just about everyone else I'd grown up with. Where I grew up, if you didn't work, you didn't eat, and I'd been doing something since I was thirteen. It may have been bent as fuck at first, but after that nearly killed me, I found a legit job that was about as close to a racket as you could get without ending up in a cell. And then, even as a PI, if I didn't have an actual client, I'd always end up stumbling across some (legal enough) hustle I could stick my nose into.
In short, by now, I'd gotten past the newness of everything in Paris. I'd wandered around and gawked at all the same tourist shit all the Americans gawked at, I was itching for something to do.
Piper knew it was bothering me, so she did her part to try to distract as much as possible. Part of that was just enough sex to make our neighbors sorry they'd chosen to live in a flat that had been built at a time when no one knew what soundproofing was. The other was making sure my days were as full as she could make them, trying to find new things for me to do, although she couldn't be around all the time. She had her own interests, and both of us needed time apart occasionally.
One thing she had a particular talent for was finding really fucking good food. Once a week, we'd eat at a five star restaurant, one of those places with six courses and a wine list that came in a leatherbound book, places that I'd never even tried to go into before.
Tonight it was a place called Maxim's across the river and a little to the west of Saint Germain. The place was amazing, maybe the best food I'd had in my life. Afterwards, we decided to walk back home. It was about a mile and a half, but the night was unseasonably warm for early September, 65 degrees (I refused to use Celsius... it was just fucking weird... I just learned the conversion in my head and confused the fuck out of the natives when I talked about it), and frankly I just liked walking with Piper. The people around here didn't look twice when we held hands, and there was something about being able to walk down the street with her like that that made my cynical heart beat a little faster.
As we strolled towards the Pont de la Concorde, I lit a cigarette and said, "Jesus, after that I'm not sure I'm going to need to eat for a week. When these people actually cook their fucking meat it tastes pretty damn good."
She smiled, "Darling, just because steak tartare isn't cooked doesn't mean it's not a delicacy... or that they're trying to kill you."
"Look, Pipes, it's raw hamburger with a fucking raw egg on top of it. If that's not food poisoning on a plate, I don't know what is. I wouldn't touch it, and I've eaten Red's herring, pickle, and pig fat sandwiches..." I shuddered slightly at the memory.
"Such a gourmand," she said, knocking her shoulder into mine gently and kissing me on the cheek, "I've always appreciated your refinement when it comes to food."
"I can appreciate good food just fine, Pipes," I replied as we reached the bridge and started to cross, "And it's not like I haven't had a lot of it since we got here. Their language may be weird, and their streets were designed by someone with a grudge against logic, but these people know their way around a good dinner... and their desserts. Fuck. That creme brulee was better than sex..."
She turned to me, eyebrow raised, "Really? Perhaps I haven't been trying hard enough.."
"Okay, well not better than sex..." I corrected hastily, squeezing her hand, "But y'know... really fuckin' good..."
"Hmm, such a way with words..." We made it to the other side of the bridge and stood waiting to cross the Quai Voltaire, "So," she said, "I've managed to keep you satisfied for another night, then, have I darling?"
I chuckled, "You keep me satisfied most nights, babe."
"You know what I mean, Alex," she said, her voice serious. "I know that I've rather selfishly taken you from your life in Los Angeles, the job, your friends. I feel it only appropriate that I do my best to keep you from sinking into idleness and boredom."
We had made it to the other side of the street. I sighed and tugged her hand gently, pulling us out of the flow of foot traffic until we were in standing in the entry way to a closed bank. I faced her and looked her straight in the eye. "Piper, you didn't hold a gun to my head and force me to leave LA. I left because I wanted to, because I love you and I'm not dumb enough to let someone as perfect for me as you slip away. Yeah, I liked my job... when I actually got any work, but besides Nicky and Joe, it wasn't like I'm missing anyone. If I'm bored, it's just because I'm not trying hard enough to figure out how to keep myself busy."
"But..."
"No buts, babe," I said, kissing her softly (a bold move even here), "I'm as satisfied as I've ever been in my entire life. I'll get a little more settled in and then even the little nagging bits of restlessness that I've been having will go away."
She examined me closely for a long moment, searching my eyes for anything that would put the lie to my words. Finally she leaned forward and kissed my cheek, slipping her arms around my neck, "I love you too, darling."
I returned the embrace, putting my arms around her waist. For a few minutes we just stood there holding one another, appreciating the fact that we were together, that we were in Paris, that we were far away from everything that had threatened us not all that long ago.
Finally, we parted and started walking again in a contented silence. And if there was a small, traitorous voice in the back of my head saying that yes, satisfaction was fine but it'd be nice if something interesting would happen, I ignored it because I really was happy.
And no matter how much downtime I had, I couldn't forget that interesting didn't always mean good.
Which was exactly the thought that was running circles around my head about five minutes later when I was up backed into a blind alley with a heater pointed at my gut by someone who looked like they meant serious business.
Any possibility of trying to fight had fled the minute the gun had come out. I wasn't too bad in a scrap when put to the test, but I preferred to keep things civil. I liked talking things out, letting my "big fat smart mouth" (as Joe liked to call it) do most of the work. I could use my fists, and to pretty good effect when I had the right motivation, but I wasn't suicidal. At this distance, any attempt at throwing a punch would've ended with me getting a lead enema.
It didn't help I was winded and half panting from having run half a mile and I wanted nothing more than to double over with my hands on my knees and let my two pack a day lungs get their shit together, but I wasn't dumb enough to take my eyes off the gun... I mean, I was dumb enough to let myself get led down a blind alley at night in an unfamiliar neighborhood by someone who had just tried to rob my girlfriend, but... well, maybe there wasn't a but on that one...
It made me feel a little better that the person I'd been chasing, a wiry woman with dark brown skin and big, expressive eyes that were anxious and angry in about equal measures, was doubled over trying to recover her breath. At least I'd given her a run for her money (even more impressive given she was in trousers and a pair of loafers and I was in a classy dress and silk stockings, having lost my goddamn flats after two steps)... of course the one with the gun, also a woman, was tall, broad as a barn and there wasn't any anxiety in her eyes, just anger and suspicion. Despite that, I couldn't really read her intentions. She was holding the gun with the ease of someone who knew what to do with it, so I had no doubt she'd pull the trigger if she needed to, but I couldn't tell if she wanted to.
She opened her mouth and let go a harsh, angry flood of French words at me, talking so fast that I couldn't really even distinguish any words (well, except "merde", because as a world traveler, it's always good to know how to swear in all languages) let alone understand what the hell she was saying.
"No par-lay Fran-say..." I managed to wheeze, trying to sound as polite and calming as possible. It had been a month and I'd been making progress learning the language. I had the basics down, but since Piper was always around and she spoke French like a native, it didn't seem real urgent to get to the complicated stuff all that quickly. Given my current situation, I kind of wished I had put a little more effort into it. Or at least learned how to say "Jesus Christ don't fucking shoot me until you really get to know me..."
The girl holding the gun looked at me quizzically, "You a fuckin' American?" she asked, incredulous. Her accent free English marked her as being from the States too, or at least doing a passable imitation of it.
"Last I checked," I said warily, not quite sure how to take the change in tone.
They both studied me a moment longer. I didn't see any way out of this that didn't involve talking... any way out that didn't end with me filled full of holes anyway, so I let them consider a bit. The more time went by without the gun going off, the calmer everyone got...
"Why'd you come chasin' after me?" asked the little one.
My temper flared for a moment as I said, "You tried to rob my gir... friend... my friend!"
"I didn't try to rob anyone!" she replied, indignant.
"You grabbed her fuckin' purse and knocked her shoulder out of joint trying to take it!" She'd come bursting out of an alley as Piper and I had been making our way down the Quai Voltaire, and as soon as I'd established Piper wasn't seriously hurt, I'd taken off after her like a shot.
The girl's brow furrowed, "I... I didn't mean to do that! It was an accident! Look, I was just tryin' to..."
"Shut it, P!" snapped the big one.
The skinny one trailed off, her formerly open face slamming shut like a garage door, smoothing out. She was still upset, but she was done giving shit away for free. She looked unhappy about having given away as much as she had.
She glanced at the girl with the gun, who met her eyes briefly. "You run into a girl, like she said?"
"Yeah... maybe I... my head wasn't on straight when I bolted from..." she stopped again abruptly, cutting her eyes to me and then gesturing.
The tall girl thought that over for a second, then turned to me and said, "That it? That really all it was, you thought she was doin' your girl harm?" Her voice was tense, as though she wasn't quite prepared to believe it was as simple as that.
Despite the situation, I was officially intrigued. They were a pair of black Americans in Paris, but neither of them seemed out of place. It was something about the way they moved, about the way the little one had ducked down alleys and up side streets to get to exactly where she needed to go, the self assurance with which the big one held the gun, as though this was her backyard and she didn't have to worry about anyone rousting her for it...
But there was definitely something at their backs. Both of them had looked ready and willing to put me in the ground before they found out it was a misunderstanding. Some serious shit had to be going on for most people to resort to that. I could feel my curiosity stirring, even though I was damn sure neither of them would appreciate me exercising it.
"Yeah," I said, wondering what it was she thought I had chased her friend for.
"P apologizes, we all good?"
I nodded slowly, incredulous that it was going to be this easy. I hadn't even had to turn on the charm, and they were willing to drop the whole thing... these people had much bigger fish to fry. "Uh yeah... yeah that'd be... I mean, you've got the gun..."
The smaller one, P, turned to me and said, "Sorry, man... real sorry. I got a lot of shit on my mind and I got kind of distracted..."
"Running out of alleys at full speed...?" I asked.
The bigger one glared at me, "I'm pretty sure 'we all good' didn't include no question and answer session, got me?" the point of the gun hadn't moved...
I raised my open hands higher and shrugged, "Sorry... sorry. No we're square..."
The big one nodded, "Alright then..." she stepped aside, P moving along beside her, and gestured toward the mouth of the alley with her gun. "Don't let us see you round here no more, you dig?"
In spite of my curiosity (growing with every breath), I nodded, "Yeah, I dig," I shuffled past them. The adrenaline had worn off and I was now realizing just how stupid it had been to discard my shoes. Despite the potential minefield of junk in the alley, I kept my eyes on the girl with the gun. It was now pointed towards the ground at her side, but she hadn't let go of it.
I walked back north, in the general direction of where I'd left Piper, a million questions running through my head.
Who were they? What was it that had the one called P so spooked in the first place. She'd been running like a bat out of hell, and she evidently hadn't even noticed she'd nearly taken Piper's head off... once they figured out I wasn't who they thought I was they'd just given it up... there had to be something going on... something big...
I was halfway down the block when I ran into Piper, who was heading down the sidewalk with my shoes in one hand. The scrapes on her elbows had been cleaned up and she'd neatened her hair back up...
She saw me and smiled, although I could tell she was probably more than a little annoyed at me running off half cocked. It wasn't that she couldn't take care of herself. Being left alone wasn't something she worried about, it was that she worried about me. She knew about my penchant for letting my mouth rack up debts my body couldn't come close to paying when I was feeling particularly righteous. She looked relieved to see me with my nose in the same place as last time she'd laid eyes on it, and the relief seemed to be outweighing the anger.
"Well, darling, it appears you managed to keep yourself from getting punched, which is always encouraging," she said, her voice holding a tone of light admonishment to match the mild dismay I'd seen in her eyes.
I had the decency to look sheepish as I took my shoes from her and slipped them on, "Yeah... well... what's a night out on the town without the imminent a broken rib or two?"
She raised an eyebrow, "I think I'd call that a relaxing evening with my girlfriend," she was examining me more carefully now, making sure the only thing wrong with me was the disheveled hair and torn stockings. "I'm not a fair maiden, Alex. I don't have that much honor to begin with and what there is you've no need to defend. You don't have to go running after everyone who knocks into me in the street..."
"She barreled into you and tried to snag your purse and she knocked you over..." although even as I said it I realized that it might have been a teeny tiny overreaction. It wasn't like Piper had really been hurt, and she'd managed to keep hold of her purse (she could look innocent when she wanted to, but I knew first hand just how dangerous it was to be taken in by that)... "I mean she could've hurt you!"
"Well, I can't say my shoulder will feel that wonderful in the morning but I'm in one piece." Piper had a temper, I'd seen it up close and personal more than once, but she'd had to learn how to keep it in check when dealing with her father. Someone barreling into her on the street wasn't likely to get much of a rise out of her. She leaned up and gave me a kiss on the cheek to confirm she'd forgiven me for running off like an ass, "I mean, it was a nice gesture..."
I huffed a sigh, feeling like a big fucking heel now for reacting like I had, but not quite ready to concede the point. "Yeah, well... you know... you'd have done the same for me..."
"Darling, if that girl had done something that hurt you, I would've certainly done everything in my power to find her and make her regret it, but it wouldn't have involved losing a pair of shoes and risking ruining a perfectly good, and very expensive, evening dress... or participation in a fight."
"I didn't get in a fight!" I said, then stopped, reasonably sure that getting a gun pointed at me was worse. Something occurred to me, "Wait a minute, how did you find me?" The girl had led me on a merry chase through a bunch of back streets and alleyways and I'd been so focused that I never thought about where she was leading me... (again... not smart). I didn't think Piper would've been able to follow us at the speed we'd been going.
"I wasn't looking for you, I was simply heading back home, which I assumed you would do as well when you were finished..."
I frowned and finally took a moment to examine my surroundings. To my surprise we were about three blocks away from our flat. The street we were on was full of bars and jazz clubs. It was nearly 11pm, and the sidewalks were actually filling up. The night didn't really get started in these places until around now. I furrowed my brow... thinking back to how comfortable and assured the two women had looked in this area. This must have been their turf...
Piper hooked her arm through mine and tugged me gently down the street, "Come on, darling, I think we've had quite enough excitement for one night. Let's get home. You can regale me with the full story of your adventure, and then maybe I'll show you how much I appreciate that you at least tried to defend my honor..."
So there you go! Let me know what you think. Oh and the whole thing is finished, so I won't leave you hanging.