D e l i g h t f u l
Written for 10 years Challenge.
It was days like these where you wondered why you ever married.
A man screaming some foreign language causing her to wince at the high pitched comments, some of which she was sure were colourful and directed at her.
Closing her eyes briefly she sighed before opening them and silently surveying the ruined restaurant. It wasn't' too bad, really. She didn't know why everyone was so noisy. Young people these days, she shook her head in disdain. Even though the majority were twice her age if not more.
Then, a hand, clasping her elbow and spinning her body around in one quick jerk, loosing balance she braced herself against his chest. It was obviously male, the hand was larger than hers and the glint of the silver watch at their wrist indicated that they were male.
A royal blue tie, contrasting pleasantly with his paler shirt, leading up to a firm column she liked to call his neck. He was smiling, hardly as if he could not believe his eyes. Nostrils were white and pinched with two pink blotches already fading on his high cheeks.
She smiled and tilted her head back further so she met his eyes. Tense and bulging slightly, they were cold as stone as Quatre recovered himself.
By the way he held himself, she knew he wasn't pleased.
Meh, she thought flippantly, flicking her hand slightly and the began to grin charmingly at Quatre, as she cocked her eyebrow flirtingly, smarminess beginning to take over.
"Hi Quatre," she mock whispered girlishly, tracing a pattern on his plain jacket, her fingers were light and she wasn't sure if he felt them, so pressing harder she beamed upwards.
Wearily sighing Quatre slumped forward, peering above his lopsided fringe with a pout and a look of despair. "Heero?"
Nodding primly, she snuck a glance behind her and the ensuring chaos. Amusing, really. "Yet another terrorist. Really where do these people find the time? It truly amazes me."
"I imagine when in prison, you have plenty of time to think up some sort of dastardly plot against human kind," Quatre murmured dryly.
Hooping an arm around his waist, she teased him, "Hmmm... Want to get incarcerated then? We could have fun together! Playing old games..."
Smirking as he spoke, "Well, maybe a day hire? Just for kinks."
"Oh Quatre...!"
Shaking his head in amusement, he took a more serious air. "What happened? This time, please be truthful?"
Seeing his warning glance, she starting speaking, turning her body away from him, "Well as I said, as soon as you left to go to the little boy's room - "
"I'm not little."
"I sort we were trying to be serious Quatre."
He shot her stubborn glance, she rolled her eyes in disdain, "So as you relieve yourself," she watches his lips twitch in some suppressed emotion, "A screaming lunatic comes out and tries to attack me, I kicked him in the gut and he went spinning into the roses," she pointed to a broken vase and the stained carpet where the ruined flowers lay, "Then Heero went all macho over him." Her eyes grew calculating, "He really is quite skilled in martial arts, not as much as Wufei but he is clearly a pig and so insufferable, Wufei that it," she amended.
"Another assassin?"
"Yeah, think we should up the security to orange?" With a wicked grin on her face as she said this.
Speaking slowly Quatre regarded her quizzically, "Orange?"
"Oooh! Orange! Is a very scary colour and don't you dare mock it!" She waved a finger in his face.
Still staring at her in confusion, Quatre held out an arm out for her, "Shall we leave?"
Dorothy regarded it then dismissed it with a tilt of her eyebrow and walked passed his out stretched arm. Rolling his eyes behind her back, Quatre started grumbling under his breath.
The man yelling, stopped, looking with a rage so placable you could almost smell it. Sending his eyes sending heaven high, his noticed that a dessert of some kind, custard perhaps had found it's way to the ceiling. Striding forward, he hears it splat where his head was just moments ago.
Reaching into his lapel pocket with a short groan, he pulled out a check and wrote in a quick amount, hating himself for having to do so. It was this money that targeted him and made him such a desirable quantity. He was paying for other's mistake and he despised it.
Stuffing the check in the man's chubby fingers, he followed after Dorothy. She was leaning against a terrified boy, his bright vest and his name tag proclaiming him to be Stan. She was stroking it, teasingly.
Sighing again, he yanked her away and saw the immense relief in the Stan's eye's. She as usual, tried to act haughtily bit was ruined by the devious look in her eyes.
Curling her body around his, Quatre nearly tripped as she twisted a leg around his. He stopped walking, it was either that or do a half hobble hop.
"I've called the car," she whispered in his ear. "Heero called, Wufei's on the case, again, and wants us to give out statements tonight. I persuaded him to do it tomorrow. He's also getting pretty tired of researching your attempted killers."
Smiling with gratitude, Quatre ran a tired hand through her hair, threading his finger around it, "Thanks. I'm not the only one who is exhausted by them."
They stand there, entwined and silent. His chin resting against her cheek, the soft feel of her eyelashes against his skin. He's loves the silence yet craves her voice.
"The car's coming," She says softly.
He can hear the roar of the engine, one thing he does enjoy with the money is the luxury cars, it drives up sleek and red with a happy driver regretfully handing back the keys.
"Shall I drive, or will you?"
Dorothy smiles, her lips sending a jolt to his heart. "I'll drive," she takes the keys from his hand and opens a door for him, he slips in and beams at her.
The door slams in his face as she slides across the hood, her black skirt flaring up to show her pale thighs. He takes a good look at them before leaning back into the leather interior.
Sitting in the driver's seat, grinning as she inserts the key, twisting it. The engine starts with a gentle purr, the car vibrating softly under their feet, then with a salacious wink in his direction it roars and she starts driving. The wheels screech as she increasing the speed, the car jerking before adjusting to her lust in speed.
Watching the streaks of lights and colours of the other cars, a darkly mirrored reflection of his frowning back in the glass window, Quatre exhaled loudly.
Feeling her eyes on his, he spoke without looking at her, "Please keep your eyes on the road, darling." Just as a screech and the blaring on the horns sounded to their right and blasted out his last words from hearing.
With a delicate sniff she gracefully returned her eyes to the road and he returned once more to his mournful expression. For a time they are both silent.
Until, Quatre feels compelled to say something, "Dorothy?"
"Mmm?" This time she keeps her eyes ahead.
"Are you all right? He, the assassin didn't hurt you did he?" Perhaps this was too late, he mused, but better late than never.
Her hands clench on the steering wheel, scarlet nails digging and so silvery crescents appear. She flicks her eyes at him, some emotion he almost, but not quite catches, "I'm fine, but I don't think I'll be wearing these heels again. It almost came off, when I kicked him."
Contemplating this he regards her thoughtfully, "I don't suppose, you get them fixed?"
A pause, and she shakes her head, "No, I never liked them anyway."
"Then, why," he paused licking his lips, "Did you ever wear them?"
"Hmm... I'll do what I want, if I please." Her hand reached out and lightly touched the indicator, to their left a light started flashing. She slowed down the car to a more moderate speed and turned down a small side street.
"I see, you always seem to do what you want," Quatre noted, his fingers threading 'round one another.
The indicator was on again, to the right this time. Easing the car up the drive way and to the garage, Dorothy muttered, "Will you do the honours?" Gesturing with a flick of her finger to the garage.
"Um, sure." Fumbling with glove box, Quatre felt his way through old, out dated maps, scrap pieces of paper and some fast food cartons to the small, rectangular panel. Aiming the remote control at the garage door, he pressed the button. Smoothly ascending, their basically spotless interior except for an oil spot was revealed.
"Thanks Quatre," she said as he was about to close the glove box. Her hand slid around his, there in the car in the drive way in front of their garage, they held hands.
Patting his hand lightly, she accelerated gently and the garage door closed behind them, with another press of the panel.
Placing his gaze of her, Quatre was slightly puzzled why she was painting her lips with a rich shade of red lipstick. Sliding it over her lips, she pressed them together and pouted. They had just reached their home, yet why put on another layer?
Opening his door, he jumped out carefully, walking behind the car he opening her door with a robust gesture, which she received with a lowering of her eyes, which made him distrustful and a small, "Thank you," freshened lips, and a peek of white teeth.
A clinkle of the keys, placed in his hands as she stands up by herself. Quatre trots up the two steps to the door, places the keys in their and opens the door. It's dark inside as he cautiously make his way around the laundry.
Then he trips, his body twisting itself to land on a basket full of small lacy things. Face first it's unexpected when someone, her, whacks him on his head. A high heel presses against his back and he winces at the dig of the spike beared down into his flesh.
"Ow! What did you do that for?" He groans, glaring at her in half light. She had turned on a light in another room, standing in the door way with a look of bemusement on her face.
"Stop pawing and sniffing my bras Quatre." Smirking she leaves him there, "I'm having a shower, maybe, and freshening up," he hears her voice fade as she goes up the stairs.
He slowly looks down and then jumps back in fright. It was very different from removing them with your teeth and having a basket full of them shoved up your nose.
Grumbling at her as he makes him way to their bedroom, he's halfway up when he hears the shower go on. She's probably using up all the hot water. More reason to groan and moan.
Inside, he strips down to his trousers. He waits. Just staring at his marked red lips.
Wearing nothing but a simple dress, Dorothy regards him, watching him watch him. Briefly she wonders if he had finally gone insane.
Without turning he meets her gaze, in the mirror she sees the fine tension lines gather up around the frail, thin skin of his eyes."Dorothy? Do ever wonder, what's the meaning of life?"
"Not really." She says, shrugging and looking at him cautiously.
"I wonder... Wonder is all this," his arms snaps out, "Is worth it... Is this the peace I was hoping for?" He mutters bitterly.
"No. But more often than not your dreams crash. It's normal Quatre," she sits on the bed as he grunts at her comment. "Why so, so solemn, so gloomy?"
He runs a hand through his hair and sits beside her, the bed tilts and she lays sprawled in his lap, her neck is killing her as she look up at his moody eyes.
"Just, well. It's been ten years and I'm still surrounded by death. People are still trying to kill me," he placed a soft kiss on her head, "And the ones I love," he adds darkly. "Nothing gained... everything lost."
"I'm here aren't I?"
Sheepishly he nods, "Well yeah..." He pauses, "I do love you, even if you do use up all the hot water. That's why I'm so stressed. So worried. About you. I don't like to see people dying. Haven't I see enough? Done enough?"
"Your peace shall be forever tarnished, live with it Quatre. Life sucks and then you die." Dorothy proclaims with a grand flourish.
Quatre stares at her wide eyes, "That wasn't uplifting exactly..."
She shrugs, "It's not supposed to be. Life is what it is."
"Well that's crap."
"Pretty much."
A hopeful glint enters his eyes, "So there is a reason for life?"
"I suppose there might be, why bother? Not much will change anyway."
"Great. Just great!"
"Well, yeah. But, for God's sake, stop being so whiny. If you want to stop war mongering assholes them do it! Don't sit around here moaning," she sniffed, "It's rather annoying." Sitting upright she gave him a glare.
"Oh..."
"Live and let live I always say..."
"When?" He looks at her startled.
She grins, "When I feel like it."
Leaning in Dorothy kissed him. It was slow, deep and sweet. The pounding of their hearts and wet feel of her mouth against his. Beautiful as ever.
"You just have live for moments like these," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the lips.