A/N: So. I just spent the past several hours writing this. I'm slow, but I'm persistent. If there are any mistakes blame it on the hour, it's almost 2 am, I'm tired and I'm sleepy and I just want to post this.
Also, I really hate how ff . net messes up the formatting grrrr
It's like the first raindrop in a draught.
It's cliché but he doesn't know how else to explain how her touch feels if not with cheesy lines.
There's something to be said when he can't even feel the wind blowing, but the moment her fingers brush against his wrist the world stops; it almost feels like being slapped on the face and it's the kind he doesn't mind.
He tries not to stare so much, pretends to do paperwork and stuff and anything that keeps his eyes focused on something else other than her.
His hands itch sometimes because he wants nothing else but to touch her and feel.
(Then he doesn't because it's inappropriate and then there are times he gets too close so he can feel her warmth.)
Because the only thing he can feel is her and the voice inside his head tells him he's cheap, he shouldn't like her just because she is the only thing he can feel. He tells the voice to shut up because he's has liked her before he knew.
(He's probably liked her since that first day she almost fell from the cliff with that stupid rental and with those stupid jokes.)
He also likes the way her blond hair rests about her face. The way her blue eyes gleam and her voice quips when she makes a joke and he laugh because she's cute. Or the way she smiles when he's bickering with Duke and he pretends not to notice she enjoys those moments a little too much.
And how he can feel her fingerprints long after her hands have left his skin and how he can still feel his blood pulsating there even if the rest of his body is dead.
Her breath fans over his face and it smells of stale coffee and cupcake and he does all he can not to lean forward and press his lips against hers (then she wriggles on top of him and he grabs her hips to hold her still).
"What are you doing?"
"My knee is itching."
"I can feel you, you know."
"I know."
"All of you."
She giggles and he fights back a smile because she's doing it on purpose and as she moves his blood rushes faster in his veins.
(And he can feel it and it's nice.)
"Are you complaining?" She grins, her eyes sparkling, blue and bright and wide and she looks happy.
"Not really." He grins back, his hands on her hips and his lips on her shoulder and she moves again, straddles his lap and he sighs deeply when she's right into place.
Her forehead meets his in a soft touch and their eyes are closed, their breaths mixing and she starts to move slowly at first then his hands grips her hips more strongly and she moves faster.
"Audrey." His voice cracks, a whisper broken by fear because there are things he wants to say and can't.
"Shhh." She kisses his lips, her fingers dig into his shoulders and she doesn't let him speak, they just move.
(A rhythm as familiar as breathing.)
She checks his coffee before he can drink and he marvels in the intimacy; when she hands it back with her ok he grins behind the cup and pretends he didn't notice when their fingers brushed.
Her hair is tied in a bun high on her head and she hums around his kitchen barefoot and dressed only in his shirt and he stares.
"What?"
"Nothing." He looks away and focuses on his coffee. (Then he remembers he's allowed to stare so he does)
"What?" She has never been the shy type but right now he enjoys seeing her cheeks turn a soft pink and his eyes fall to the hem of his shirt where it ends just above her tights.
"You look good."
She grins and makes a point of shaking her hips a little too much as she turns. "Take a picture."
"Hmm, I don't have to." He puts his coffee mug down and moves towards her, his fingers leave the hard ceramic he can't feel to sink against the warm softness of her skin.
(Fingertips sneaking under the shirt until he finds the straps of her panties.)
She leans against him and sighs when he kisses the hollow between her neck and shoulder and grabs the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white when his fingers brush lower and lower and lower.
"Nathan."
"Hmmm?"
His hands stop and his lips leave her skin and his front I barely touching her back and she groans a little exasperated. "You're going to make me beg, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
But he doesn't make her beg, not in the way she expects. Instead his fingers slip all the way under her panties and quickly finds the right spot and she flinches. "Oh God."
"What did you say?"
"Shut-up."
He grins only because her back is to him and she can't see but he can't stifle the laugh quickly enough and she groans (of pleasure or annoyance he can't tell because she's rocking against his fingers and her breath is coming too fast and her knuckles are hard and white against the counter edge).
He presses his lips to her shoulder and his hands stay where they are until she stops shivering and he enjoys the feel of her clammy skin against his palms and against his lips and he closes his eyes.
Sometimes he feels as if it's them against the world because she's the only thing he can feel and he's the only one she wants.
"Good morning." She murmurs.
Good morning indeed.
"Sometimes I hate this so much." She throws the file folder onto the desk and it almost skids over and she turns to wipe a tear away (and he pretends he didn't see because she hates crying in front of anyone.)
He gives her a moment as she pretends to stare out of the window until her shoulders quiver and she hugs herself; it's when he can't stand her closing herself off anymore that he walks to where she's standing and puts a gentle hand on her back. He feels her almost falling against his palm as if just his touch took all her resolve away.
(And even if it pains him to see her like this there's still that small flicker of satisfaction that she's taking into his strength).
She turns around and her arms wrap around his waist and her hands rest on his chest and his heart beats a little faster and his whole body comes alive with her touch. He doesn't think he will ever get used to the feel of her.
"It can be hard, I know." He does and she knows because he lost his father over this and she lost her identity over this and it's still far from over.
"I don't want to be Lucy."
It's the first time she ever says something like this and he knows it's a big confessions; she's opening up herself to him in a way she has never done (he may have come to learn every inch of her skin and she may babble about everything when they're bed or chatter every waking hour they're together but she has never quite said the words before).
"You will still be you. You will still be Audrey."
"No I won't." This time she pulls away and he immediately feels her absence. Not the cold her warm body left or the comfortable temperature of the office.
Just nothing.
Because he feels nothing.
He only feels her.
"These memories aren't mine." He recognizes the catch in her voice, the sniffle, the angry movements with her hands. She's about to crack but she's forcing herself not to and he can't imagine what is harder: the stay strong or to break down.
He can't bear it because her pain has become his pain and he needs to make it go away.
"You are the one who makes lame jokes about my car. Who ate a three day old cupcake this morning. Who laughed when I tripped last night. Who called five times last weekend while you were playing poker with Duke and Julia and their friends. Who tastes my coffee so I won't burn my tongue. Who texted me through your entire girls night with Julia last Friday. Who forced me to listen to horrible oldies because you were PMSing last month. You are the one in the shower with me this morning."
She stands there watching him with those big blue eyes of her and there are tears rimming her eyes and a smile on the corners of her lips. He can't tell who's more surprise, he or Audrey, because he has never been the comforting kind and much less one of many words.
"These memories are real. They are yours. You're are still you. You are my Audrey and there's nothing that can change that."
She takes two steps towards him and before he can say anything else her lips are on his, her tongue demanding access and her hands in fists against his plaid shirt.
"I don't deserve you," she says later when they pull apart, heavy breathing and swollen lips and he's sure he has a stupid grin plastered on his face.
"I know. "
She smacks him and he laughs.
It's dark and cold and the downpour hasn't stop from morning to evening and Nathan's sure it will continue during the night and quite possible tomorrow and for the days to come if it ever stops at all. He feels a little bitter but he's glad to finally step out of his drenched clothes and into something dry because spending half the day stuck in his office and the other half attending to calls made his mood darken.
(He's glad he convinced Audrey to spend the night, though there hadn't needed much convincing because she's being rather compliant lately and it's creeping him out).
She just stands there in her underwear, going through his drawer looking for something dry so he sits back on his bed and watches.
It's something he really likes to do.
Watching her.
Because there's something about Audrey that is not a little bit graceful but yet beautiful.
He enjoys her nakedness as well. So that's probably it.
It's the second thing he likes best, only beat by the feel of her touch.
She's gotten used to it by now because a few weeks prior she had stopped chastising him and just continued her business as if he wasn't even present.
Audrey pulls his shirt over her head and removes her wet bra and panties, throwing them carelessly somewhere on the floor and pulls on a new pair of underwear before hopping on bed next to him.
"Why bother," he says, tugging on the hem of her panties and pulls her closer to him, her lips quickly finding that soft spot on the hollow of her neck he likes so much.
"I guess I just wasted my time," she says as she lies back on the bed without bothering to undress and pulls the blanket over them.
He frowns but settles next to her, their faces inches apart, the tip of their noses almost touching.
"You're cold," it comes out with a hint of wonder because her skin is cold and he can feel it and it's a silly statement because they just got out of the freezing rain.
"I guess you just need to do something about that."
"Is that an invitation?"
"Maybe."
She smiles and leans forward, her lips gently touching his.
It's soft. Just a brush of lips. But it's still enough to send jolts through his body. Maybe it's because he spends the day stealing touches from her when he feels nothing. Maybe it's because it's Audrey and it has nothing to do with anything else.
His hand slides up her leg until he finds her panties and tugs at them (because he isn't satisfied with just a kiss, he never is) and she raises her hips so he can pull them down while she fiddles with his flannels pants, trying to undo the knot he did and getting frustrated so he laughs.
Instead of helping her he grips her hips and holds her still because he wants to kiss her lips and her jaw and neck and her shoulder and realizes the shirt she's wearing is very inconvenient so he pulls it up and over her head and chest is exposed to him in all its glory.
He kisses her and touches her until she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back. "Wait."
"What, you want me to stop now?" He's kissing his way down her bellybutton, fully concentrated on his task and she's kind of making him lose his focus.
"You're fully clothed," she says it as if it makes all the sense in the world and he kind of stares for a moment.
"I'm busy."
"Nathan Wournos, take all of your clothes right now."
He laughs.
And she laughs.
Then she grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head with a little more force than necessary and at least now he's half naked but there's still something to be done about his pants.
There's more laughing and wrestling as they try to take his pants off and soon the blanket is off the bed and the sheets are twisted and they haven't even done anything yet but they're both naked and he's finally on top of her, where he wants to be (and this time not to be interrupted) and her legs are locked around his hips and her arms around his neck and he finally thrusts.
She moans, a soft little sound from the back of her throat he learned quite a while ago.
"Did I find a sweet spot?"
Her eyes are closed and her legs are tightly around him and she has to let go of his neck and dig her fingers into his back instead and she nods because she can't speak right now.
He thrusts again, hitting the sweet spot, and again and again and he can feel her heart beating so fast and matching his, her breathing harder with every move and her nails will leave marks in the morning (he doesn't care because he feels everything).
"Nathan?" she whispers when her breathing is more or less in control and she's tucked against his side, her head resting just above his heart as it lulls her to sleep
"Hmm?"
He's holding one of her hands, fingers laced, legs woven together and he isn't quite sure where she starts and where he ends and he likes it just this way.
"I need you to promise me something."
That's such an unexpected request that he's immediately alert, immediately ready to acquiesce to anything she has to ask. "What is it?"
"Whatever happens, don't let me forget who I am."
Her voice is laced with pain and he knows she hasn't stopped thinking about Lucy and the troubled and her past and who she is. To be honest, he never really believes she stops thinking about it, but she's so good at hiding her feelings and being strong that most times he forgets.
He wants to tell her he loves her, he's been in love with her for so long he can't remember not loving her anymore but it's Audrey and she isn't ready, he knows she isn't ready for a commitment that means future when future it's something she doesn't feel she has a right to.
(He loves her and he knows she loves him, but he's waiting and he will wait for as long as necessary).
He promises because it's the best he can do and he hopes it's enough.
fin~