Zantafio & Seccotine - We're Good When We're Bad Together
-Part 1: Four times Seccotine woke up in Zantafio's bed-
The first time it had happened, Seccotine thought it was just a one-time thing. The whole affair had happened very quickly, as she was looking for a hot interview when she approached him and then... wound up having a hot night instead. Wined and dined and brought back to his apartment, to make a long story short.
He was handsome, well-mannered, and charming- a little too charming, in fact- and they'd hit it off right away. He really was the tall, dark, and handsome type, with that edge of danger that Seccotine had always had an unfortunate weakness for. Really, he was the whole package.
There was just one problem. He was none other than Zantafio, internationally wanted crook.
She had known that, of course, yet here she was, in his bed, contemplating his sleeping face, deceptively peaceful, and wondering how she had managed to get herself into this. Well, actually that much she knew. He was charming, she was interested. Simple.
But why him? He was a criminal- not just that, but an ex-dictator for crying out loud! She had personally helped to overthrow him, as a matter of fact- but perhaps he hadn't recognized her. They had only gotten a fleeting glimpse of each other back then, in Palombia, where it all began. And, she thought with a touch of inward embarrassment, although it was of course hard to be attracted to a man pointing a machine gun at you, it seemed that without the gun...
Zantafio stirred, the intense, dark brown eyes slowly opening before he smiled sleepily at her. He shifted closer, lifted a hand to run roughened knuckles so lightly along her smooth, freckled cheek.
"Good morning," Zantafio said. "I trust you slept well?"
"Just fine," Seccotine replied, and she knew she didn't sound quite as sure of herself as she'd like to be. As she had been last night, she chided herself. "And yourself?"
Zantafio chuckled, the way one does when he has just the perfect answer. "Ah, but of course. In your company, how could I not?" No wonder he could move men and countries to follow him. He spoke with such ease, his words as smooth as silk, though his voice had a kind of roughness to it. He had almost lost his Bruxellois accent, but Seccotine could still detect the notes of it somewhere in that voice, and it reminded her of home despite herself, despite its owner.
"Smooth, aren't you?" Seccotine laughed softly, trying to put up a barrier against his seductive charm. She took on a testing tone. "Do you think that's what I want to hear?"
Zantafio paused, but his expression didn't change. "No, I guess it isn't." He said after a moment. "You're not the type for flowers and sweet-talk. What you want is... action, am I right?" As he said this, his hand slid up her bare arm, caressing, but afterward he took on a strange, focused look and added, "I seem to recall that was the way it was the last time we met... in Palombia? That was you then, wasn't it, my dear?"
Seccotine froze. Oh, so he did know who she was. "Erm, you mean you recognized me, then?"
Zantafio gave a low laugh. "Of course, you don't take me for a fool, do you? You were hanging around with those damned pests Spirou and Fantasio then." He spat their names, as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. "And you knew me, too, of course- that's why you wanted to interview me yesterday, isn't it?" Here he grinned proudly. "But it seems I've changed your mind about me, hmm?"
And Seccotine couldn't help but show a coy smile at that arrogance, that sheer confidence. "Maybe. Well, I admit I never would have imagined so enjoying your company, and... I certainly never guessed I'd end up here."
"I should think you didn't," Zantafio replied, sounding almost amused, "but here we are all the same, you and I." He paused for a moment, thinking it over. Clearly he didn't care to go deeper into the topic, now that he'd shown her that he knew. But it seemed to have struck him that he too had had his mind changed. He had charmed her, but he too had been charmed, to wind up here with her. So, his eyes were searching as at last he asked, "So then, what do you want from me now?"
Seccotine leaned closer to that handsome criminal, looking into those dark eyes. She found she couldn't be quite as confident as she wanted; she no longer wanted an interview, and it was hard to say what she now felt she wanted, needed from Zantafio, having been so charmed and having charmed him in return. So in the end, all she could say was, "I'm not sure yet."
"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out." He chuckled, and drew her into a kiss.
At first she had thought it was, without a doubt, something that would only happen once. But something about the way he kissed her made her feel a lot less sure. And the way that his strong arms pulled her naked body against his own for the second time made her forget the question entirely.
The second time it happened, Seccotine found she wasn't surprised like she might have been before. They met again on a cruise ship, all just a coincidence; he hadn't even had anything to do with the story she'd been working on at the time, and she'd found without a doubt that that irrestistible spark was still there. When she saw him, she felt that particular tug that she'd never felt toward anyone else. She'd had to go and talk to him.
She'd been wearing a tasteful white dress with black cuffs. He'd told her it reminded him of a dove, and she'd laughed. Nothing could be further from the truth. Zantafio was apparently a fan of irony, though, because he'd turned it into a nickname.
He'd even called her that when she woke up the next morning- in his cabin. With that "dove-like" dress of hers on the floor.
"Something wrong, Seccotine?" Zantafio asked, and Seccotine smiled at him, a knowing sort of smile shown across the deck of a cruise ship at an ex-dictator whom she had twice woken up next to, and who came bearing champagne; one delicate glass in each hand.
"Not at all," she answered.
Zantafio stepped up next to her, handed her one of the glasses. "I propose a toast."
"To what?" Seccotine asked, glancing between him and the glass. In the moment, she felt like a movie star.
"To us." Zantafio said, and raised his glass to her. "To you, my dove."
Honestly, this little joke of his was already getting old. A dove was a symbol of peace and purity, and there was really nothing peaceful or pure about her. In truth, she was always on the move, and almost as sneaky as he was.
But, instead of pointing this out again, she just laughed, freely, and agreed, "To us. To you- I think you're becoming a bad habit, monsieur Zantafio."
Zantafio grinned. "I hope so," he said, and sipped deeply from his champagne.
The third time it happened, it was because Seccotine had chosen to leave with Zantafio after the cruise was over. She'd gotten her big story, and he'd stolen some very valuable jewels from one of the other passengers- she pretended not to notice.
She was thinking at the time that it was probably a bad idea, going with him, but she did it anyway. What did she have to lose? She was having fun, and she found she really did enjoy being with him. He had his... misgivings, but he was good to her, and when she woke up beside him for the third time in her life, she found it felt pretty good.
So she went with him to his hotel, and stayed there until they moved on, together, both of them in pursuit of grand stories and fortune, though in two very different ways. It was all so exciting. She'd never known there could be a man compatible with her life style, but here he was, the scoundrel. The whole package. She loved it.
It happened steadily after that. When it all started Seccotine had not thought it would last, but Zantafio was still there, waking her up every morning with strong coffee and still calling her his dove. So it was this morning.
It wasn't a perfect relationship, but then, was any? He was no more used to caring about another person than she was- even less so, in fact. He was moody, selfish, and tended to dwell on things. She was emotional, and had a real tendency not to know just when to quit- a trait that often grated on Zantafio's nerves.
But they understood each other, and they were a good match. Zantafio may be moody and selfish, but he tried hard to consider her feelings, and Seccotine may be emotional and stubborn, but she recognized his need for space. There was something between them that was real, something that neither of them was ready yet to give a name to.
When the day ended, they said goodnight and they kissed, but they didn't say that great big word yet, the name they weren't quite willing to give what it was between them, but they both had an understanding of it, and that was what worked in their peculiar but blossoming relationship. Sometimes the things that weren't said meant as much as the things that were.