Title: Sometimes She Hates Watching
Rating: T?
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Wish I did but sadly I don't.
A.N: As always reviews are welcome. I hope you enjoyed Push and the chemistry between Chris and Dakota, you know you did!
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She slams her hands over her ears ignoring the searing pain of the noises, the soft moans, and hushed whispers. Tears hold her vision hostage not that there is much to see besides another, grimy motel room. The thin walls do little to protect their occupant's activity from others. And she hates her all the more for it, for knowing that she's awake and listening. Hates every cell in her body. That body that Nick loves to touch taste and fuck whenever the opportunity presents itself, Cassie or no Cassie.
A sharp moan, clearer than all the rest announces the end of it. She relaxes, her hands curling into her chest limp with relief. Her mind unfurls itself from the deep seeded disgust exhausted from the effort of holding on. Slowly she lets sleep take her, knowing without Watching that Kira would be gone by morning.
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The cold space by his side forces him out of deep sleep, curling its fingers through his fear until he awakes sitting in bed, gasping for breath. A knock on his bedroom door makes him smile and hope dares to bloom on his face, Moves the door open expecting her. Instead he sees only Cassie with her streaked hair the faded pink and blue eyes holding a cup of coffee in her hands, calm as she ignores the disappointment on his features and ignores the screams of her aching heart.
"She left around four, while you were sleeping and I was listening."
He can't meet her eyes, too full of shame. And as she sighs her disapproval, he is reminded that she's no longer twelve, but seventeen. A woman in her own right. A long time passes before she sets down the cup, steaming and black just how he likes it on his tiny cracked desk, "Get up Nick. Breakfast is ready"
Sometimes she hates Watching.
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Four months later, and she's back. This time Cassie doesn't bother simply takes her bag and sneaks out not that Nick would care. She hums as her long legs bare and luminescent in the moonlight carry her to the nearest liquor store, plentiful in Tokyo. Not a minute passes by and already a man walks up to her, his face sweating with uncertainty. He opens his palm to her.
Afterwards she receives a bottle of scotch in return for her services, her smile will haunt the man for months to come. She sighs a little. Too bad he'll be dead before the end of the week. Sometimes she hates Watching.
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Nick is at home furious. A red handprint decorates his cheek. Cassie holds back her laughter, just barely.
Where have you been?
She ignores his question kicking off her boots, pops open the half drunken bottle and swigs back the liquid fire. It burns nicely down her throat, nursing her sore heart. He snatches it from her, takes a swig himself before spilling out its contents down the tiny kitchen sink.
Hey! I worked hard for that.
The look he gives her, is pure disgust. She arranges her body in a way she knows makes her legs look miles long and her breasts strain against the too tight t-shirt better suited for a child's chest. Her skirt barely covers her thighs as she swings her legs over the arm of the chair, to dangle.
Your drunk, I'm going to bed. Don't do anything stupid, Cass.
When did the little bitch leave? Before you had a chance to fuck her I'm guessing. That's why you're so cranky. Laughter spills out of her throat, the alcohol making her bold.
Nick advances towards her, his face so twisted into anger it excites her. He raises his hand as if to hit her, she smiles at him daring him to touch her.
Is that how you treat her? No wonder she's always screaming.
He hauls her up from her elbows roughly, the skin turning pink beneath his grip and she can only hold her breath for more, her heart beats in her chest as his face comes closer to hers, all fury and sharp lines.
You don't know anything.
Tossing her hair back in defiance, she glares at him.
I know everything.
He Moves her across the room his fury getting the best of him she hits the wall, hard. A sickening thud as she falls to the ground. The pain melts into anger.
She'll be dead in two months Nicky, dead, dead, dead. Who will you fuck then?
The words explode into the air already charged with tension, and Nick Moves her again slamming her back into the wall. She squeezes her eyes shut, resisting the urge to moan her pleasure as pain more delicious than anything her tongue's tasted runs through her body. Suddenly he's in front of her his body pressing into her, chest to chest.
Are you offering?
She answers him crashing her lips onto his, wrapping her long legs around his hips, and moaning as his hands trail down to cup her bottom. She answers him by forgetting that in two months Kira won't be the only one dead. She answers him with one last night.
Ask and you will receive Nick.
And suddenly she loves Watching.