Surrender.
Not quite a drabble- trying to get myself back into the MV game whilst using a different style.
It was three weeks after my return from MIT, with half my bags still unpacked and littering my room, when I realised.
He was downstairs with his precious fucking playstation again, unshaven and as much as a mess as he's always been- mentally, if not physically - and you were somewhere else that wasn't my room... unfortunately.
Morganville messes with people's brains, he'd told me once, it makes you feel what you were feeling anyway but a hundred times worse. Sat there with a few metres and hundreds of light years between us, I had never agreed with him more.
Yes, his life had sucked.
Yes, his family were all dead.
Yes, his fiancée was in love with another man.
But whilst the circumstances behind the circumstances were strange, the facts were not.
He couldn't take out what had happened to him in the past out on me, or on Eve, or on Michael, not anymore. The other two had grown sick of it a long time ago, and truth be told, so had I. There were and always would be people who cared about him (including myself) and he couldn't keep pushing us away just because of something that had happened years ago, because that wasn't fair on either him or us.
And I couldn't live for the next fifty or so years (if I made it that long) with his considerable weight on my shoulders.
So whilst he played yet another generic game about crashing cars and killing hookers, I declared myself single, and went to find you.
You, of course, were in your lab. You always are, unless you fancy knocking over a few more postmen whilst "driving", or it's time for your daily doughnuts. Actually- come to think of it- I've never seen you leave the lab to get them, so unless you cook them yourself (I really, really, hope not), I'll have to ask you how you persuade Oliver to deliver them.
Anyway.
It's not like you were doing anything important, just standing about trying to look busy in case Amelie walked in and decided to stop commissioning you, something which we'd both done plenty of times, so it's not like I felt bad doing what I did.
Which was (just to make myself clear) walk up to you and kiss you.
Three minutes later, breaking apart for the first time to breathe in some much needed air and to balance myself -Galaxies spinning and universes unravelling and actual, literal stars flashing before my eyes and I really should feel guilty but there's enough time for that later when your arms aren't around me and my lips aren't swollen and- I finally told you what I'd meant to say before.
"I'm single."
"No, you're not."
And before I could become confused, you kissed me again.
