A/N: Just so you know, this genre is NOT my area of expertise. (Yeah right, as if I had an area or expertise.) But I saw the Silver Surfer today and the relationship between Ben and Alicia is just so awesome ( I happen to be involved in a similar relationship--err an interracial one, not one where the guy is a rock.) In homage to them, this story was born. The title was taken from the Sade song "Lover's Rock." A song that will be played at my wedding. It's beautiful. Anyway enjoy!
Dedicated to my rock, Christopher
Standard Disclaimer rates apply.
Like a Lover's Rock
When I was growing up in the city, during the summer I would run outside to the walkway that lead to my house and I would press my face against the brick. There were no trees or taller buildings around, so the bricks would bake in the sun and be so warm. Mama kept the air condition on at all times freezing the house, it was an ice cube, I hated it. And I couldn't play with the other kids because of my eyes so the only realm I had to play in was the stoop in front of my house.
Oh I would love to lie on that brick for long stretches of time, unaware of dangers like UV rays and melanoma. It was warm and comforting, I felt like those lizards that I read about in my Braille animal books that would sun themselves on a rock before going out to search for bugs to eat.
I don't have that brick house anymore, and during the summer it'd seem kind of weird for a grown woman to stretch herself out on the concrete. But that's okay, I have Ben.
My little heat rock I call him. He doesn't know what I'm talking about though. Usually, I hear him chuckle and feel him grin a little bit before going on to other topics.
Topics that mainly focused on new and exciting ways to kill Johnny.
I'm serious. We'd sit and have whole conversations of his plans to murder the boy, and I'd tell him the problems with the plan or the insane mechanics that would involve executing it. Despite the morbid subject, we'd talk for hours and have such a good time. Yes, strange I know. Sitting and talking about killing Johnny constitutes our having good times.
Other times we'd read to each other. Mostly it's me reading to him from all the books I have. I know he sits there and watches me fascinated when I read aloud the words, my fingers moving deftly over the dotted pages. He tells me so. He says, "Wow Alicia that's something amazing." In his gruff and gritty voice, much like the rock that composes his body.
I don't mind much that he's basically a walking piece of stone. I can't see it. Out of sight, out of mind I guess. Sure I feel it though, I touch him a lot. But he's so warm it reminds me of the times I had as a kid on my brick stoop. It makes me smile.
He makes me smile just as much as his rock body does. So sweet and gentle. Contrary to popular belief the man can hold two crystal glasses and an egg without either of them breaking. I know, I had him hold them once while I was trying to cook an exotic breakfast for us complete with the mimosas in the expensive china.
The only thing that burned was the toast.
Ben asks me, often, why on earth do I put up with him. That he's a superhero and all, always off saving the world and never with me to hold me like I deserve to be held he says. Not to mention the fact the guy is a bright orange (from what Johnny tells me) brick. I don't care about any of that. Ben, the man I love, goes far beyond his exterior. With my fingertips, I can feel that. I can feel him. The true man underneath. The question that should be asked is how he can deal with me. I'm an opinionated, loud, and annoying, black woman 28 years old and needs a walking stick to get around anywhere.
He says there is a difference.
I say prove it.
He can't prove it.
So I kiss him and tell him to shut up.
And when I kiss him, its like kissing warm bricks on a hot summer day.
I smile.
