It's finally done, and it's longer than the other one. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Also, Juan Corrida appears in this fic later, and I need you all to know that he's voiced by George Takei. I didn't write his lines with those intentions, but my mind read his lines in George's voice and I let it happen.
By the way, we all see the first Farewell, My Turnabout episode of the anime? I love seeing my kids animated. Who's irrelevant now, mom?
Adrian Andrews (after being shown Matt Engarde's profile): I asked to become Mr. Engarde's manager. He's a pleasure to manage with a nice disposition.
It's not love at first sight, because what the fuck is love at first sight?
Hell, it's not even love. All he knows about her is that she's the girl that Celeste won't shut up about, some chick she met in college. He can name a million things that he knows she'll like with absolutely no context as to why. Spy movies, blue sweaters, closet organizers, fucking coupon books... That last one had annoyed him a ton, actually, when they'd just been out walking and Celeste stopped in front of a grocery store window to talk about how much her best friend would like it.
Not like every second with Celeste is a bundle of laughs (howboring she is, all the damn time) but she could try to keep it at least vaguely interesting. Shit, though, that's his life now, though, isn't it?
He needs her, anyway, and if he's gotta do boring stuff with her like spend time with her best friend, who is he to complain about it?
She's okay, actually. Nothing special; kinda bookish-looking with those glasses of hers and the way she pulls her hair up so tightly. He's definitely getting a hot librarian vibe from her, with that pencil skirt and those curves, but... not like he's gonna do anything about it. Celeste keeps him satisfied, and he needs her too much to risk having a fling with some girl. Plus, her best friend? Even he knows that's kind of fucked up.
And, alright, kind of hot, too, but it doesn't really matter. She's librarian hot, not a sex goddess. Plus, he never was really into the librarian thing, anyway.
But shit, if he was into her? He's pretty sure he could get into her pants pretty quickly, if she didn't have the whole "best friends with his girlfriend" thing going on. After all, all he does is show up and she looks at him like he's Greek fucking God. He thought she'd be a hardass, the way Celeste talked about how close they were, one of those "don't hurt my best friend!" types, but she's charmed in seconds.
Okay, but like that doesn't happen with pretty much everybody? Not his fault he's super likable. 'Course he has put on the act, but it's ninety percent his face, too. Well, ninety percent half his face. That's... should he do a conversion or something there? Nah.
He gets on with her like peanut butter and jelly for awhile and Celeste is fucking ecstatic. She won't shut up about how happy she is, and he's starting to get tired of it just when Celeste has to take a call and she leaves him.
When they're alone, that girl looks at him a second, the sun glinting off the frame of her glasses, and says, "Hey." She says it in such a hard-to-read tone, and there's a accusatory undertone in the word "hey" sometimes, and this is where he starts to get scared that it's time for the "don't hurt my best friend" talk. But then her face breaks into the softest fucking smile and she goes, "Thank you for being so good to Celeste. She's had boyfriends before who didn't treat her well, but with you, she's the happiest I've ever seen her."
And it's the exact opposite of what he thought. He's honestly about to start laughing, but he knows he shouldn't. Still, the way this girl's looking at him now, he feels a little bad about using her friend.
The feeling passes.
"No problem, dude. She's just the perfect girlfriend, you know? I gotta treat her like a princess."
She falls for it hook, line, and sinker.
Honestly, he kind of regrets breaking up with Celeste.
Well, no. "Regrets" is the wrong word, here. Celeste was getting a little too comfortable with him, and he's not really sad that's gone. But shit, she was such a good manager. After all, she landed him the Nickel Samurai role, and it's looking to be a cash cow.
The studio set him up with some dude who's not that interested in the job. He's... alright, and he definitely manages him, but he doesn't seem to be looking for opportunities. He kind of wants to fire him, but the dude's okay, and he doubts he's gonna get a manager like Celeste anytime soon. Sometimes you just gotta settle.
And he does. He's already used to his stagnating fame (well, he's not gettingless famous) by the time he gets a text from that friend of Celeste's who he met a million times. It's short and vague, asking if she can meet him during his off hours tomorrow. He considers it.
It's kind of risky, because he's got no idea what she wants to talk about and he knows that she was fucking in love with Celeste or some shit, and he's about to feed her a dumb excuse when he remembers two things.
The first thing is she's a manager, and she's being mentored by Celeste. And he really needs a better manager, right? Plus, he hasn't heard of her managing any celebrities, and he's kind of a big name (a bigger emphasis on the "kind of" than the "big," but still), so it could be a kind of quid pro quo thing.
The second thing he remembers is... a little stupid, honestly. It's the way she used to look at him when all three of them were hanging out, that smile on her face and that look in her eyes. See... he kind of finds her a little more hot that he admitted before, and she did like him a lot when they knew each other, right? He could read it off her face. 'Course he broke her best friend's heart, but that could lead to... interesting sex, you know?
Look, you can't blame him; if you saw her you'd totally understand.
So she definitely didn't come for sex or a job and she totally walked away unhappy, but man, did he love to watch her leave.
He tried to send out an opening to contact him again if she wanted to, but that chick was a mess and, well... maybe he should've really seen this coming. She and Celeste were pretty close. But man, he's glad he saw her, anyway, so he won't wonder if he turned down what could've been an amazing fucking booty call.
He's fine that it wasn't, though. Not really any skin off his back. Have you seen his face? He's not wanting for pussy. Even though that one had a lot of a potential...
She and Celeste disappear after that. He's alright; it's not like he really expected to see them again, and Celeste left him with a pretty regular gig. He can settle for a while.
Or so he thinks, until he finds out Celeste's become Juan fucking Corrida's manager and he is mad. This is when he really feels that regret about dumping Celeste, because shit, she was talented as hell and she's wasting it on that asshole now.
He feels so powerless, then, because it's not like he can do anything about it. Honestly, what's he about to do, make some elaborate plot to destroy his career? That's stupid; he's not about to put effort into making sure that Corrida's doing worse than him. The whole point is that he doesn't have to. Corrida's a fucking hack.
He's still running on that faith when the Aluminum Samurai starts chatting with him in-between takes. It's not that rare of an occurrence, but he really doesn't enjoy it when it happens. That guy... he's not that interesting. There's a reason he's not the title character and he doesn't know his name.
"Hey, Engarde, you hear about Corrida?" he asks, and he groans inwardly.
"Yeah, dude, he's the Jammin' Ninja now, right?" He scowls. The way everyone's going around acting like he landed such a great role when he's a fucking guitar-playing ninja... Ninjas are supposed to be sneaky and shit! Why would one have a bright red guitar?
Still, he knows he shouldn't be that bitter. He was offered that role and turned them down. He's still got one up on him.
"No, man, that's not it. He's fucking your ex-girlfriend now! Isn't that hilarious? Guess he really does always get your sloppy seconds." He nudges him in the arm and laughs, but he's not really paying attention to him anymore.
Celeste's dating Corrida now? He's not really upset, because, well, the Aluminum Samurai's kind of right with the sloppy seconds thing, and he didn'treally like her. She was a good manager, but that's about all she really mattered to him.
But she's datingCorrida, who definitely wouldn't date her if he knew he was dating Matt Engarde's ex... Man, what a card to have up his sleeve.
He smiles.
He is gonna mess with that fucker so bad.
So... Celeste dies.
He feels kinda bad, and it's a little weird, knowing that someone he knew before died, but... They dated a pretty long time ago, you know? Not like he really thought he was gonna see her again. His life's not that different.
Kind of fucked up she killed herself because Corrida broke up with her, though. It was... a pretty extreme reaction, honestly. She didn't do that when he broke up with her. Maybe he should feel a little guilty because Corrida broke up with her because he told him they dated, but he doesn't, really. Was he supposed to know she would kill herself? And, okay, he may have had a little too much fun with Corrida about having fucked his fiance before, but breaking off an engagement is pretty extreme, too. Maybe he thought a little that Corrida would break the whole thing off, but he didn't know for sure. Not like that was really his intention, anyway; he just wanted to mess with him.
He goes to the wake, though, since he's supposed to be a good guy and he dated her and everything. It's a horrible experience; it feels like the air in the room is a weight on their shoulders, pressing down on all of them. He hears all the eulogies, sees Celeste's mom (who he met shortly before breaking up with her) break down at the microphone, even sees Corrida give a speech. It's... stilted and weird, Corrida's speech - he'd say it's just like him, but shit, he doesn't really wanna be that kind of asshole right now - and he can't tell if it's genuine or not. It feels wrong that he speaks at all, though; it's like ifhe spoke. He and Corrida... they're pretty big parts of why Celeste killed herself. It's kind of disrespectful.
But speaking of that... it really doesn't seem like anyone knows why Celeste killed herself. People have literally said that in their eulogies, "I have no idea why she would do this," and no one's mentioning Corrida breaking off the engagement. 'Course, no one told him about that, but he put two and two together after Celeste killed herself the same night he called Corrida to taunt him about being engaged to his ex. To not tell anyone, and then give a eulogy... Of course he probably was expected to, but Corrida's a colder man than he thought. Maybe his eulogy was so weird because he's feeling guilty.
And the thing about the eulogies -she doesn't speak. He forgot about her, kind of, before, but when he entered the funeral house, he found himself looking for her. Not because he used to be into her or anything - that's really messed up and that kind of sex, it's a little too much for him - but he's... kind of wondering how she is. He remembers how much she cared about Celeste, and how much Celeste cared about her, and he knows they met in college but he feels like she should be speaking and she's not.
He goes to the reception not really planning to stay long, but Celeste's family receives him well, which is... odd. They tell him things like they're happy he found time to come, with the busy schedule he has, and he realizes that they have no idea how he broke up with Celeste. They don't really know anything about her life, do they?
He's polite to them even though he wants to leave, because he's him, and it's only when he's talking to Celeste's sister that it occurs to him to ask about why she hadn't spoken, Celeste's friend. She only tells him that she couldn't make it, which is... vague. It's not super important, but... Celeste never shut up about her, and she'd never shut up about Celeste. What happened so she couldn't make it?
He ponders it for a moment and considers asking Celeste's sister, but... Well, it's not really any of his business, and Corrida's been glaring at him the entire reception. It's time to leave this place behind, Celeste and all.
A part of him, though... It hopes that girl's okay.
His manager quits about a year and a half after being assigned to him, saying he's sick of him not respecting him or listening to his advice, and he's honestly kind of offended. Well, he's happy that guy's finally gone, but he's still offended. He's always been mostly polite to him, and he consulted him on thebig decisions, and okay, maybe he never really did what he told him to if he wasn't feeling like it at that given time, but it's not like that guy actually knew what he was doing.
Maybe the studio thought they were giving the rookie an easy first client because he's so charming and popular and all, but he's bored as hell. The Nickel Samurai's popularity has really plateaued and the novelty of being part of a franchise is wearing off. Especially since he's in a costume all the damn time; no one knows who he is.
He finds out later that they're assigning him another rookie, and he's annoyed, but he's knows he's gotta be nothing if not happy and agreeable. Sometimes, he really hates this persona he chose. He's waiting in his dressing room for his new manager and tapping his fingers on his vanity, contemplating whether or not it'd be possible to manage himself, when the door opens.
It's... her.
"Adrian Andrews!" he exclaims when he sees her, because somehow he still fucking remembers her full name even though she hasn't crossed his mind in six months. "What a coincidence, huh? Never thought I'd see you again, dude. 'Specially since you and Celeste pulled that disappearing act after we broke up. Guess I don't blame you, though."
He puts a hand on her shoulder, because she had this thing about touch that Celeste told him about. Physical affection made her happy, back then. He still remembers how she used to beam at Celeste when she'd put an arm around her shoulder, the way her mouth would gently curve upwards when he did something as simple as tug her wrist.
But he sees her stiffen under his palm and it's... weird. No...everything's weird. The person in front of him is a ghost of who she used to be. Her expression is so cold; she doesn't look like she's even capable of those soft smiles he used to see on her face all the time. And the way she stares at him... her eyes are so hard. Something's off.
Well... Celeste is dead, right?
"How've you been doing? Didn't see you at Celeste's wake," he says, taking his hand off her, since it's making her so uncomfortable. She doesn't change. She's totally zoned out, and it's almost funny. The first time she meets her new client and she's already tuning him out.
It's... weird, because it's totally unprofessional to zone out while he, the person she's working for, is talking to her, but he doesn't mind at all. No, it's weird because he was so intent to leave Celeste and everything related to her in the past, but when he saw her, he was happy. Like, her just being here, even if she's cold and indifferent and doesn't seem to like him as much as she used to (she used to be sohappy to see him, even when he wasn't with Celeste), he's glad about it.
This is new. He liked her before, when he was dating Celeste, because, well, she liked him so much and she was so agreeable, never complaining about a thing. And she wasn't like most people, who spent so much time talking about themselves and their boring lives; if you asked her a question, she'd answer it, but not waste your time on any extra information. She'd just listen. The only exception to this was Celeste, but... one annoying thing didn't really ruin hanging out with her.
But when he liked her before it was the way that he'd rather hang out with her than someone else. He'd still choose nobody over her. But for some reason... he feels brighter now that she's here and he's not just sitting here alone anymore.
She's still acting weird, though He waves a hand in front of her eyes. "Hey, you okay?"
She jumps and he's... really got no idea what's going on with her. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"Just asking how you've been. I heard about Celeste," he replies, frowning at her.
Her face goes dark, her facial expression going stiff exceptsomething that he sees flash through her eyes. He can't put her finger on what it is, and in a second her demeanor falls back to cold and neutral. "I'm fine."
He can't really bring himself to believe her, but it's not because it feels like she's sad or broken; instead, it's something like this isn't really her, like nothing she says the way she is right now can be the whole truth. But if she's back at her job and it's been months... maybe he can trust that she's well enough. Honestly, it's not really any of his business.
He's snapped out of his contemplation when she quickly changes the topic, though he knows it's not because she saw something on his face; he's too practiced to let expression like that show. "But how I'm doing isn't important. We need to leave; you're due at the set by 3."
That quick change of topic and her closed expression; he can tell she doesn't want to talk about Celeste. He doesn't really mind, since it's her dead friend and they were never really that close, especially since he broke up with Celeste. As long as she's being his manager, he's alright. And maybe if she's not even doing that well at being his manager, he'll still be alright. Someone as pleasant as her is kind of rare, really.
And from what she said, it doesn't even sound like she's gonna be a bad manager. Actually, it's kind of funny; she really was Celeste's friend, wasn't she? She's just like her right now, that strict, laconic manner of speaking. For Celeste, it was such an act; she acted professional for a while, but a couple of the right lines and hands in the right places and she was eating out of his palm in seconds. But for her... he can't really see that happening. Not with their history. But he still doubts the way she's acting right now is genuine.
It really is funny, this charade she's putting up. She always seemed a little directionless before, but she does always need to find out what to do from other people, huh? That kind of weakness... He likes her, but he tucks it away in his mind anyway.
Just in case, you know?
"Hey," he says, spinning his chair around at the sound of the opening of the door. "Didn't think I'd run into you yet. You're pretty early."
"I come in at this time every day," she says flatly, putting her bag down on the small round table in the corner of his dressing room. "You're the one who's early."
She gazes at him with empty eyes and he wonders if she'll even ask about why he's there. She doesn't; instead she's pulling a magenta planner out of her bag and fiddling with her phone. They sit in silence for a while as he turns back to the scripts on his vanity desk, poring over lines he memorized the day before. This... isn't what he planned. He needs a segue.
"So, dude, you never told me what you've been doing since me and Celeste broke up." He sees her stiffen when he mentions Celeste, and he thinks about just how transparent she can be through that mask she refuses to take off. How clear it is that she's new at this, all this lying.
At the same time, though, she's so committed to it, the way she doesn't even look up from her cell phone when he speaks. This professional air... He wonders what's behind it. Is it that girl he knew before, who smiled so much and couldn't stop talking about Celeste once she got started? Somehow, he doubts it.
"I finished my studies and was mentored in management for a short time. Then I joined a studio and was assigned a client, and I've been working since then."
It's curt, even more curt than most of her responses to his questions. She's hiding something, and he would press it, but he doesn't really need to. It's not like he really cares about what she was doing, anyway.
"I guess I should've just figured that out myself, huh? Who was your first client, anyway?"
He knows the answer to this question.
"You," she says bluntly, still not bothering to look up from her phone.
He grins. "Wow, dude. What a crazy coincidence, huh? That it'd end up with you and me meeting again..:"
She peers at him through her glasses, eyes looking up at him in an indecipherable gaze. "I suppose so."
That's all he needed to hear.
He's doubtless now; she's got something up her sleeve that she wants to use against him. He... didn't really want to believe it before because he liked her a lot more than most of the people he had to deal with on a daily basis. He kind of wishes she'd just told the truth about that one thing, just this once. He'd be fine, slightly suspicious at most, if she'd said something along the lines of she wanted to work for him because she knew him already, but she flat-out lied to him.
It was just yesterday he'd found out, when the hiring manager ran into him in the hallway.
"Hi, Mr. Engarde," she'd said to him, and he'd meant to leave the interaction as a passing hello, but she looked like she had something to say, and well... She called him "Mr. Engarde." It was a small gesture of respect, but he appreciated it anyway, especially since pretty much everyone at work referred to him as Matt or Engarde, and most his fans were children who called him Nickel Samurai. "How are you liking your new manager?" Her voice was high, apprehensive. He couldn't really tell why.
He grinned at her, saying something about how she was "great, dude" because it was really how he felt. They'd been working together for a week at that point, but he felt the difference immediately. She laid down rules about how she expected to be consulted over big decisions and listened to when she gave advice and that kind of assertiveness was impressive. She actually cared about his career, actually cared about advancing it. The last manager he had like that was Celeste, and this new one... he definitely wasn't gonna ruin it by fucking her. He probably couldn't if he wanted to, anyway.
The hiring manager's face broke into a smile, "Thank God. I wasn't going to assign you another rookie, but she wouldn't stop asking to be your manager."
He nearly stopped in his tracks. "She... wanted to be assigned to me?"
"Yes! I offered her literally anyone else, but she wouldn't give up on being assigned to you. I must've spent an hour trying to talk her down... That's when I realized she'd make an amazing manager, rookie or not. I took a chance on her, but I'm not that surprised she didn't fail."
He took a second to read the hiring manager's face, but it was pointless. She wouldn't lie to him. Why would she lie to him about something like that, how she completely ignored his request because someone was a little too insistent?
Which made the person who was lying... his manager. The woman whose company he thought was pleasant, the woman who'd found him more opportunities in a span of a week than his old manager did in more than a year, was... lying to him.
He gave her the benefit of the doubt for a while, for those exact reasons, but now, staring at her emotionless face in his dressing room mirror, he knows it was an oversight. Or... he knew it was an oversight all along, ever since the hiring manager said those words to him.
How did he make that kind of mistake, to trust her immediately? Of course he's always known about how she wears a face, but he figured it was because she was mourning or being professional or something. She's been doing her job so well; was he supposed to somehow figure that she's been plotting against him anyway?
Why would she even do something like that? He knows she doesn't hold him in the fondest regard, considering the icy looks and empty interactions, but he's known that ever since he broke up with Celeste, and she can't still be holding a grudge about that. It's been more than a year. If she was really mad, she would've acted sooner, not waited until Celeste was in the ground to enact her revenge.
Or... Celeste in the ground... Is it because of that? But he went to the wake, and no one knew about the circumstances of Celeste's death, let alone how he'd goaded her fiance into breaking off the engagement.
But... she wasn't at the wake, was she? Shit... He can see it, Celeste making sure to say goodbye to person she liked so much. They were that close, he knows. The way both of them spoke the world of each other... It'd be a mistake to doubt her leaving without saying goodbye to her, especially since she hadn't even left a note.
At the same time, though, shouldn't she be Corrida's manager if she really wants revenge? That guy dumped her because of a little crude locker room talk. Maybe it was him who did the talking, but still...
Or... there is no "but still." She hates him. She's hated him since she walked out of his dressing room more than a year ago, when he saw her expression close completely. How broken she'd been...
Man, what an overreaction that was. Maybe that's a thing with her and her friends, overreacting to stuff like break-ups. They're just relationships, after all. It's their own fault for trusting someone. See, he even spent a while trusting her, and now he's found out she's plotting against him somehow.
Just because he made a fucking phone call... Straws on a camel's back, huh?
"Why are you staring at me?"
Shit, he didn't even notice the way he's been eyeing her in his mirror. She's peering up at him again, and it registers just how cold her voice is, how much hate she must mask behind her even tone.
It hits him then: he should fire her. He really needs to fire her. She's fucking plotting against him, lying to his face about things that matter. He can't keep someone like that around.
And yet... he likes her, you know? She does her job really well and she's not unpleasant and he likes her. After those past two years, he knows she's kind of a lot to give up. And, well, aren't all her cards showing? Well, all is an exaggeration, but he knows she's plotting something. All he has to do now is stay one step ahead of her.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks again, and he didn't even realize he didn't answer. Not that it matters, anyway.
He flashes her a goofy smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I just zoned out. Sorry."
He watches her tsk and return to her work, scribbling something in her planner. She doesn't suspect a thing.
Well, of course she doesn't. He's Matt fucking Engarde.
Staying one step ahead of her... That won't be a problem at all.
He can't keep his hands off her.
He knows how much she doesn't like it. He's seen her stiffen under his touch a million times, seen her move to brush him off and then stop herself. He doesn't want to be guy making her do stuff like that, doesn't want to be making her uncomfortable. He needs her to fucking trust him. But it keeps happening.
It's such bullshit. He's a polite dude, and it's not like he's groping her, but he shouldn't need be touching her so often. He doesn't touch people who like him this much! Luckily she hasn't noticed yet, but it's only a matter of time; she's not an idiot. That's why he likes her.
A hand on her shoulder, grabbing her bony wrist, ruffling that long, soft blonde hair... These things make him so happy somehow. He always retracts his hand after he sees her reaction, but he can't make himself stop doing it at all.
It's just habit, he knows, since physical contact used to make her like him so he touched her all the time, but habits aren't that ingrained in him, and he knows he's the world's best actor. So why can't he stop?
He... doesn't know.
He contemplates this as he watches her in the airplane seat to his right, completely knocked out. It's the first time he's seen her with her guard completely down and she's just... so serene, you know? Eyes fluttered shut, her face relaxed... He almost believes this woman could be the same person he used to know.
He should probably wake her up. She said something about how she had to work to do during the flight and couldn't entertain him, and then something else about how he had work to do after the flight and should get some rest, and now they're here... doing the opposite of what she said they should do. Actually, he called her serene before, and that was true for her expression, but honestly, the way she fell asleep was kind of funny.
Her forearm is sitting on the tray attached to the seat in front of her, next to an open planner and a pen that rolled out of her hand after she relaxed her grip. He'd leaned over and looked at it before; she fell asleep in the middle of the word "meeting."
Man... he's not gonna wake her up. She's fucking exhausted. The fact that she's here, asleep during work hours in front of him, proves it. He wonders why she even came with him on this trip; he just has to spend a couple of days shooting onsite in New York for some dumb special they're doing. He even told her before that she didn't need to come, but she insisted. His last manager never did anything like that, and he doesn't even think Celeste would've came if he told her she didn't have to and they weren't dating yet.
He thought it was a nice gesture, but with her... is it even nice? Why would she be nice to him? Maybe she's trying to find some opportunity for him in New York, but he doubts it. It's a big, busy city; scheduling something last minute for a name like his seems impossible.
If he's being real with himself, it's probably just a part of whatever plan she's got to bring him down. He still doesn't know much about it, but right now, she doesn't seem like she's doing anything suspicious. He's got an ear out about the things his manager's doing, but nothing weird is coming up. Maybe he should be suspicious but looking at her now... he doesn't really feel like she's got some plan she's ready to put in action. Plus, isn't she directionless anyway?
Well, if not that, it's probably just a ploy to get him to trust her, her being here and everything. And... maybe it's working, even if the only thing he really trusts is her incompetence. Still, she wouldn't do something like fall asleep in front of him to get him to trust her. He knows her and her facade all too well; she's all about strength and dependability. Right now, she's just a genuine mess.
What an awkward position to fall asleep in, though. Upright like that, arms on a flimsy tray... it can't be comfortable. He gently removes her arms from the tray and stuffs the planner and pen in the seat pocket. After putting the tray back up, he feels around for the blanket wrapped in plastic that she'd discarded previously because she didn't need it and rips it open with a pointer finger, then spreads it over her. Looking over his handiwork, he... wonders why exactly he did that.
Definitely not because her skin was so soft in his hands... It was because it's a nice gesture, and she'll realize what he did when she wakes up and maybe trust him a little more. Or... maybe it was the skin thing. But it's just such a contrast; most of the time you'd think she was made of stone, but when you touch her, you feel like you have to handle her gently because you might bruise her. She's so much smaller than you realize.
That's... it, he thinks. That's why he can't stop touching her. He likes the smooth touch of her skin and the silkiness of her hair because it reminds him of how fragile she actually is. How even despite her mask, she's still the person he used to know.
God, he didn't even care about her back then! It doesn't make sense, any of it. Sure, there was something about her smile and how open she used to be about her happiness, but... he didn't miss her when she left, never even really thought about her.
It's just the power trip, he decides. He likes knowing she's small and fragile and the same person she used to be because he could make that person do whatever he wanted. That's why he likes touching her.
But whatever. He doesn't need to touch her to know she's weaker than him; it's pretty clear from the way she acts and that ridiculous charade she puts up. See, he's got his own plan: He'll let her use her managing skills to further his career and right before she pulls the rug out from under him, he'll fire her. He'll get the best of everything from her no matter what her intentions are, just like what he did with Celeste.
Speaking of how he's gotta stay a step ahead of her, the magenta planner she carries around everywhere with her is unattended right now. It never really seemed that important until he saw just how protective she'd be of it, hunching over or sliding it away from him whenever he came near, even though he wasn't really interested in it in the first place. He pulls it out of the seat pocket and starts thumbing through it.
The stuff for the future isn't that important. He always thought it was a planner for the stuff he had to do, on account of she was managing him and everything, and while most of his schedule is penciled in, he thinks it's because she's going to be there, too. There's other stuff written down, dinner dates with friends or relatives, even a "call Mom" scribbled in every week on the same day at the same time. Cute, he thinks to himself.
He starts working his way back, trying to see where she ever conceived a plan to bring him down if she ever did. Not much sticks out, other than the fact that she only took job interviews at Global Studios, but he already knew that she'd been determined to become his manager. He's starting to get bored when he comes across a line that catches his eye: "last appointment with Dr. Anyaji!" It's underlined twice and starred and... he's heard that name before, hasn't he? Or... no, he's seen it, plastered on the sides of buses and subway station walls. She's that therapist!
He flips through the pages and sees appointments scribbled in weekly for what must've been at least half a year. Did she really need to go to therapy that long just because Celeste died? Wait... speaking of that... He flips to the week of Celeste's wake and finds "home from the hospital" scribbled on that Friday. What was she doing in a hospital the week of Celeste's death?
He glances at her relaxed face and remembers the way she used to smile and heknows. Shit... she's weaker than he thought. She's a lot weaker than he thought. For a second, he wants to ruffle her hair or stroke her face, but he's got her planner in his other hand and he knows he shouldn't do either. He looks back at the tiny book in his hand and closes it, stuffing it back in the seat pocket.
He's learned enough, and he's wasting too much of his time thinking about her. She's not doing anything soon; he doesn't need to worry about it. He looks out the window.
He's tapping his fingers on his vanity, and the door bursts open.
It's her, striding towards him. "Matt! I haven't seen you in a long time." She smiles, and a wave of warmth washes over him.
He looks at her, in a soft pink sleeveless blouse and a black pencil skirt. Wasn't she wearing that when they met? It feels like ages ago, now."Yeah, dude, more than a year, right? How've you been?"
She turns away from him, expression gone dark. "She's gone... I miss her a lot sometimes. But I still have you, don't I?"
"I... guess you do." She's looking up at him so earnestly now, eyes behind those glasses so expressive. Before he realizes, he's pulling her into him, and the faint smell of vanilla floats its way into his nose. Holding her like this, his hand splayed on the back of her head and the other on the small of her back... It feels so natural, just as natural as ruffling her hair or grabbing her wrist.
But he feels her arms wrap around his waist, and he knows it's a foreign feeling. Her, holding him... He feels something blooming in his chest.
"Thank you," she says, and then she's tilting her head up so he can see those huge brown eyes and-
"Matt," he hears a voice say, not softly but hard, either, and he feels smooth skin brushing against his cheek and... Shit! He fell asleep in t/he crook of her neck... and he thoughtshe looked vulnerable before.
Well, vulnerable's his whole thing, isn't it? Still... "Whoa, dude, did I fall asleep on you?" he asks, jumping off of her. "I'm totally sorry."
She's... embarrassed, somehow. It's not the same uncomfortable he's seen on her when he places a palm on her shoulder or ruffles her hair; it's more like a kid's face after you find them with a hand in the cookie jar. "It's fine," she says, an almost invisible tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. "As long as you've rested. But we've landed."
Did she... just let him sleep on her? He looks down at his lap... did she fasten his seatbelt? She could've just as easily moved him over or woken him up without him thinking her lesser, but instead she... took care of him. And she's not unhappy now, even though he touched her for so long.
No, he... shouldn't read into this.
"Thanks," he says. "You really conked out, too, huh?"
Her mouth thins into a line, and it's almost funny. "Yes," she says, looking down, "but if I get enough work done in the cab and tonight-"
He laughs. "Man, don't worry about it. We're in New York, and I'm just filming. You should relax here; it's kind of like a vacation, right?" He's ruffling her hair now, and right when he realizes what he's doing, he sees her face.
He swears her eyes have softened.
"Shit, I've been wanting this for ages," he says, practically ripping open her pink blouse, and shit, she's probably gonna be mad about that, but he's waited for way too long at this point.
He stares at her bare chest in awe; fuck, she's not wearing a bra? Was she- did she want this, the whole time? He can feel it going to his pants.
God, the whole thing's going to his pants. Her, on her back on his mattress, cheeks flushed and too embarrassed to look at him... He never thought he'd find himself here. He takes her chest in his hands, and her skin is just as soft as it's always felt, and he's been thinking about this ever since he saw her in that tight blue shirt. He squeezes her more roughly than he intends; he knows he has to be gentle with her because she's so small compared to him, but before he can even change the way he's touching her, she lets out a soft moan. She's... enjoying it.
Fuck, how is this so much better than all the other times he's done this before?
He moves his mouth to her chest, licking at a hardened nipple and biting it gently until he pulls a moan from her soft lips again. God, what is it about that fucking sound? He doesn't even care about himself right now; he just wants to make her fall apart because of him. His hand is still on her other breast, palming and squeezing, erect nipple brushing against the base of his fingers. He pulls at the nipple then, tugs at it and flicks at it, waiting for a sultry moan. It comes, eventually, but he knows it's not enough. He sinks to his knees.
He plays with the idea of removing her skirt for a while, but there's just something hot about eating a girl out under her skirt. He pulls off her panties, modest and white, a stark contrast from her complete lack of a bra, but he still kind of likes them anyway. He tosses them to his side and pulls up her skirt. With two fingers, he holds the lips of her pussy apart and buries his nose into her. The black fuzz rubs against his face and she doesn't smell amazing, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck because he's eating out Adrian fucking Andrews. He drags his tongue up her pussy in one clean, slow swipe, taking care not to touch her clit. She tastes like sweat, but shit. She's dripping.
He's licking light circles around her clit when he feels her hand thread through his hair, pushing him deeper in between her legs. He laughs against her pussy and she moans. "Matt... just a little more, please..."
He obliges her, licking her lightly and nipping at her clit with his teeth, and he hears a scream of pleasure flood the room-
He wakes up with a start, a cold bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He sees the outline of his manager sitting up in the bed next to him, typing away on a laptop. Shit... just looking at her after a dream like that is hard; why does she have to be awake?
Having a dream like that at all... plus the one from earlier. God, it's her fault, you know? He was into her before, but ever since they started working together, he's been able to keep it in check... until now. When they were in the lobby-
"Are you alright?" she asks, interrupting his thoughts and still typing away, and it almost doesn't register that she's talking to him.
"Oh, um, yeah..." he replies hurriedly, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. The first traces of morning light are just barely peeking through the window shade. It's a little early to be up, but she's here working. He'd laugh if he wasn't so fucking uncomfortable.
"You were making sounds in your sleep. I thought you might've been having a nightmare. I nearly woke you up."
Looking at the light from the computer reflecting in her glasses, he doesn't really believe it. He can't really see her leaving that spot and stopping whatever she's doing anytime soon. Still, thank God she didn't; to have her wake him up after a dream like that? He doesn't know what he might've done. It's almost funny what she said, though, about him having a nightmare... She's so off-mark he doesn't know where to start. Not that he even should start. "I'm... gonna go take a shower," he says, starting to peel off his blanket when he gets interrupted.
"You should go back to sleep. You don't have to be up until twelve," she says, and he's a little confused because he thought it was his day off, but he doesn't really want to be here talking to her right now.
"No, I gotta, uh, take a shower," he says, and he's out of his bed and in the bathroom before she can reply, hastily taking off his white t-shirt and boxers.
By the time the cold water's beating down on him, he's mentally cursing his manager. It stings slowly on his skin, weak water pressure making the entire thing feel like torture. What bullshit that he'd end up hung up on her, when he could get practically any girl he wants.
It's her fault. She's the one that interrupted his conversation with the hotel clerk (after a long day of work, he'd like to add) and corrected his request for two rooms to one room, two twin beds. Saying something like she didn't want to waste company money... he's fuckingloaded. But it's not like he's about to make her think she's not the one calling the shots.
She's the reason he had to spend the entire day with her, after a weird dream (and now weirder dream), the reason he had to stare at her in a pale blue camisole and pajama shorts that weren't super revealing, but made him wanna jump her after visions of creamy thigh and pale collarbone. God, what is it about her? She's librarian hot!
He takes a second to pull himself together. He set the water temperature to freezing because he wants to get rid of these thoughts; he's not about to jack off with his fucking manager fifteen steps away from him. And yet...
He jacks off with his manager fifteen steps away from him.
Well-needed release comes sweet and quickly and as he washes it off of him, he tries to figure out what he's going to do.
He doesn't really want to go back to sleep right now. He doesn't really trust himself to have an appropriate dream and... she's still out there. God, does he need to get away from her.
He's pulling a pair of running shorts out of a dresser drawer when she talks to him again.
"You're getting up already? It's only five," she tells him. "You have hours before you even need to be up."
"I was gonna go for a jog," he explains, pulling on his shorts. "And, about that... I'm pretty sure I'm not shooting today, dude. It's my day off." Shooting wouldn't be so late, anyway. Well... she's been his manager for weeks already; maybe it's about time she made a mistake. Not like it's one that even does him any harm. He'd rather think he has work and not than have work and not show up. He's got a laid-back persona, but something like that is a little much.
She frowns ever-so-slightly, as if the thought of a day off is ridiculous. Maybe she'd never explicitly told him, but he knew he wasn't shooting, and... he's not as clueless as he seems, you know? She of all people should really know that. "You're going to be a guest on a talk show. We need to be there by two." She tells him the name of the talk show he's going to be on, and he's incredibly impressed. It's one of the bigger afternoon talk shows, one with a healthy following of housewives, a demographic that complements his usual target audience of children really well. And in somewhere like New York City, too...
"Whoa! That's a really great gig." He moves to her bedside and his arm finds its way to her shoulder the way it always seems to. At contact, she turns to him, eyes widened almost imperceptibly; their communication this whole day has been mostly impersonal, and he guesses she got used to it.
After a second of her looking at him - her looking at him, her hair in a loose ponytail curling around the right side of her neck, glasses lopsided, eyes that tiny bit bigger - she relaxes, her professional mode comes back, although she's actually facing him now. "I know."
He feels a little mesmerized after drinking her in with his eyes like that, and he becomes acutely aware of why he hadn't done anything like this in their conversation earlier. He needs to leave, but he... needs to know one more thing. "How'd you get me a spot like that?" He has to be realistic. He knows he's the best actor alive, but he also knows he's no huge name right now and that his old manager wouldn't be able to get him a place on a show like that; he doubts Celeste even being able to do it. And there's something in the back of his mind, nagging him, telling him that this woman hates him and is plotting against him and now he's suddenly on a show he's not quite famous enough for.
"I found out early this morning that the person they'd originally planned to come on dropped out last minute, so I called to let them know that you were in the area."
It's... viable and explains why she was up so early, and her expression now is no more closed than it is usually. He remembers how just yesterday he fell asleep in the crook of her neck and she fastened his seatbelt for him and how she doesn't recoil when he touches her anymore, how her eyes widened when he touched her a second ago. And she's directionless, right? The way she was so frenzied and fell asleep in front of him and-
She didn't write it in her planner, he realizes. He feels warm relief spread through his body. She wrote everything in her planner, even shit she didn't want him to know, and she didn't write that. She's just an exceptional manager.
"Thanks," he says, rubbing her bare shoulder. A grin takes over his face, for once not calculated. Or... no. Shit. Honestly... it's not really like anything's ever been calculated when it comes to her.
"I'm just doing my job," she replies, pink barely visible on her cheeks. Her eyes drop from his.
There's a tiny blemish on her chin he never saw before, right under the corner of her mouth. He steps back. "I'm gonna go out now."
She turns away from him, eyes fixed back on her laptop screen. "Of course. Be back by twelve," she reminds him, and it's ridiculous to think he'd be out jogging for seven hours but he can't bring himself to make some light joke at her expense and ruffle her hair the way he'd usually do. He turns around, and he's pulling on sneakers when she talks again. "I'll be working."
He glances over his shoulder at his manager, knees bent and thighs pressing gently against her calves as she leans against her bed's headboard, staring at the computer in her lap. Her hair is so messy, and the remnants of yesterday's makeup sit at the corner of her eyes. He doesn't even know if she slept last night. "Dude, you should take a break. Chill out a little, you know? You already got me a great gig."
Her eyes dart up to look at him, half-interested. He says this kind of thing a lot, he knows, because he's got a persona and she's such a workaholic, but he means it this time a little more than he usually does. Maybe she sees it in his eyes or something, because she twists the end of her ponytail with a finger and replies, "I... might go for a walk later."
It's rare that she'd even try to placate him with a response, but it's not enough. "No," he almost whispers, and he hopes she didn't hear him as he closes most of the space between them. She's turning up to look at him now, eyes wide again. "I'm gonna jog for awhile, and... you should take a nap." He moves his hand to the corner of her laptop screen, grazing his fingers on the back of it. "I'll put this on the desk, alright? You gotta get some sleep."
She types out something on it for a minute and then nods. "Al... right," she repeats slowly, as if she's surprised she's agreeing with him. Honestly, he's surprised she's agreeing with him so easily, too, but there's a look in her eyes that he doesn't think he's seen before.
He closes the laptop and tucks it under his arm, watching her hair fall loose as she pulls out her hair tie. He turns away from her then, putting the computer down on the desk. "Hey, this is the first time you've been here, right? New York?" he asks her.
"Yes," she replies, a hint of a question in her voice.
"I'll be out for about an hour, but... when I get back and you wake up, I'll show you around. I mean... this is supposed to be like a vacation, remember?"
He's out the door before she has the time to answer.
She's a lump on the mattress when he gets back; the creak of the door opening and his short greeting did nothing to wake her. It's fine, because that wasn't his intention, anyway; she needs the sleep and he has to take a shower again. It feels a little excessive, but it's not like he could'venot taken a shower before. He wrinkles his nose at the thought of his last shower, but it's not a problem anymore. He's gotten rid of any pent-up energy, and they can go back to being normal again.
After he finishes showering, he opens the bathroom door to find her sitting up, blankets bunched around her waist. He notices her furrowed eyebrows and the hint of a frown tugging at her mouth; she's still in a daze. "Hey, you're up. The bathroom's free," he tells her, hanging his towel in the closet.
"Okay," she answers him, and in a second she's brushing past him, slinging a towel over her shoulder, and the bathroom door closes.
He's on his bed, cross-legged in white jeans and a black t-shirt, by the time his manager comes back out. He turns the volume up on the cooking show he'd been watching while she blow-dries her hair.
When she's done, they have breakfast at a diner on the corner of the block of their hotel. While they eat, she goes over a million rules about how he needs to act during his interview later, the things he can't talk about and the things he has to talk about. It's redundant, but he doesn't mind. He knows she likes it, feeling like she's in control, and he's better off with her thinking he's helpless anyway. It doesn't matter that she hasn't realized how likable he is, how easy it is for him to push exactly the right buttons and make a person fall in love with him, even if he's certain he did it with her, before.
She's still talking rules when he walks her out of the diner and leads her through the streets; she doesn't really care where he's taking her, he notices. Or she just cares a lot about his interview later. That means a lot to him, honestly.
"We're here," he says when they enter the lobby. Her eyes widen slightly, and he watches as the rules she'd been going on about leave her mind. "The tallest building in the city. Cool, huh?"
She makes a small sound of agreement, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she'slooking, dark eyes drinking in golden walls and high ceilings. This place... he knows it's nothing that special; it's thelobby of a tall building. It's clear then, how she puts up the facade of living drenched in culture and manners, but she's really not used to things that come with the job he has.
The lobby is almost barren and the lines are short; it's what he planned. They'd been up early anyway, and he took her here because it was worth when it was empty when the place had just opened. He's come here before, once with his father. Honestly, it... doesn't impress him much, something like a view; he can see the city fine from the ground.
They're here anyway because Celeste had talked his ear off about how she dreamed of being in a place like this, the tallest building in New York City. A view like that, she said, could make her believe in magic.
He thought that was kind of stupid, and his manager isn't Celeste, but something tells him she'll appreciate it anyway. And they're in New York, so she might as well see it.
He doesn't count on the look on her face when they walk out of the elevator, or the tiny, imperceptible gasp that escapes her lips as she gazes down. Small hands gripping the railings as she leans over it, eyes wide and her mouth open ever-so-slightly... This is the most happiness he's seen on her in all the time they've been working together, the closest thing he's seen on her to the smiles he used to see.
He moves next to her, looking out on the city bathed in sunlight, trying to see what she sees, but he can't. He... doesn't like this kind of view, people small as ants and cars like they're parts of children's play sets. He stays there, though, standing silent and waiting patiently until she's finished seeing everything. The look on her face... he wants her to feel that way uninterrupted by whatever small talk he could come up with.
Eventually, she closes her eyes and turns to look at him, straight in the face, and a part of him thinks how much this experience was worth it, even if the view was as unimpressive as it'd been the last time he saw it. "Done?" he asks before she can talk.
"Yes," she answers, and he grabs her wrist and tugs her to the elevator.
The elevator ride is enveloped in a comfortable silence, and normally he'd settle into it, but there's something he wants from her. "Enjoy the view?" he asks, even though it's redundant because he'd seen the answer so clearly in her expression. He... wants to hear her say it.
"I did," she replies after a second. "It's beautiful, the city from up there."
"I'm glad you liked it, dude," he says, and it's not a lie.
She offers to take him to dinner.
It really shouldn't mean so much; he takes her out to dinner all the time, whenever he's filming on-location and she's come along with him, sometimes even in Los Angeles when they finish a story arc he's tired of or a big project. Sure, he never did that kind of thing with his old manager, but, well, there was kind of mutual hatred there, and it's not like his old manager cared enough to sit in while he films or come with him and find publicity opportunities whenever he went out of state to film somewhere else.
It's not a big deal to him, taking her out. He's got a lot of money, and his job now keeps it pouring in; he doesn't worry about stuff like that. Sometimes he wants to go out to eat, and sometimes he needs someone to go with, and his manager is there. His manager, maybe the only person he knows whose presence doesn't piss him off. Plus, he kind of likes seating her in the lap of luxury; she's so unused to it that he finds it amusing.
And, well, when he takes her to really fancy places, sometimes she wears this little red number that clings to her curves and exposes the smooth flesh under her collarbone in the most delicious way.
Or... No, he's gotten used to it, though. Not the dress, of course; he can't imagine looking at her in a dress like that and not feel his breath hitch, but this whole... sex-dream, wanting to bend her over a desk and take her thing. He's spent weeks in hotel rooms with her now, and as sexy as she looks in a pajamas or a towel, he's used to it now. It's better for both of them.
Their relationship grows with his career. Or... no. Their relationship grows with the time they work together. He thinks that maybe it would've happened even if his career had stagnated the way it did before. The first time he'd taken her out, that night she'd gotten him his first big TV spot as himself, she'd been so shocked by the extravagance of the restaurant that she didn't even want to order and he had to order for her. She'd tried to pay for her part of the bill... It'd been absurd to her, that he'd even do something like that. He made a note that time to take her out more often.
And he did, and these days... she's used to it. Conversation then had been stilted the way he was used to, but it's changed in a way that maybe someone else wouldn't notice. She banters with him easier these days, and she's a touch more honest when she talks to him. 'Course, she still acts like she's got a stick up her ass, but he doesn't really mind. Who would his manager be if she acted any different?
He used to look at her and only see the person she used to be, the person who could envelop you in warmth by turning up the corners of her mouth, but he... likes her the way she is now, too. The imitation of Celeste she puts on every day isn't perfect, and he can see her behind it through the cracks. The hateful-turned-affectionate sarcasm at his expense, the frazzled stress he hears behind short sentences when someone she's dealing with isn't being agreeable... Sometimes, these days, he pushes her buttons just to get her worked up because he thinks it's so funny.
Celeste would never have done anything like that; she never cracked under pressure or made jokes at his expense. When he made her fall in love with him, she'd look at him like he hung the sun in the sky every morning, her heart right there on her sleeve. Teasing him didn't even seem like something she was able to do, the way she spoke about him and clung to his arms when he walked. He thought it was annoying, then, but he wonders what it must have been like to have a a manager who thought the world of him. He can barely remember.
Still, he knows they've gotten closer, him and his manager now. He guesses the fact that she wants to take him to dinner proves it. That doesn't mean it doesn't completely blindside him, though.
It's the end of the day now as they walk off the set, and she's asked him out like it's a part of their routine, like she's asking if he's okay to do an interview or endorsement. There's no trace of that fluster he sees sometimes, when he innocently compliments her appearance or thanks her for being such a great manager.
(That's another thing, he thinks. Celeste was the picture of confidence; she'd never have to hide a blush.)
A part of him is saying that he should just say no, because it would be ridiculous to make her spend money on him, not when he hasn't been wanting for it for years. But another part is saying that she's willingly spending time with him, and it's such a huge difference from when she first came.
"Why?" he ends up asking, and it's maybe more blunt and insensitive than he wanted his answer to be. To respond to a request out of the blue like that... he's a little worried about how his manager might feel about it.
It's a ridiculous worry, he realizes quickly. She's her, after all. Her face is miffed more than anything, eyes asking him how he could possibly this stupid, and he honestly... doesn't really know what she's trying to make him get. "Your birthday's today," she finally says. "I thought you might have plans for the weekend, so I wanted to take you to dinner tonight."
He doesn't have any plans more than to go out to a club and maybe find some girl to fuck senseless, but it's not like it's different plan than most of his days off. He honestly forgot about the birthday thing. Ever since his dad left the country, he hasn't really had a reason to remember it. Parties are kind of extravagant, and he doesn't want to waste his own time putting on a face for people he doesn't care about. Sometimes he received gifts from co-workers or acquaintances, but they never really meant much to him. The only thing he's really wanting for is fame, and it's not like he's about to get that gift-wrapped and bow-tied.
He's not surprised she remembered, though. She's probably had that in her planner since she started working for him. But speaking of her and birthdays, he kind of wants to laugh. Hasn't she kind of given him fame, even if it's not gift-wrapped and bow-tied? Or... well, she's given him a little more than that, hasn't she?
He's snapped out of his mind when he notices her eyes shift. "I... need to pay you back for all the times you've gotten me dinner."
There it is, he thinks. The flush on her cheeks he'd been missing. He ruffles her hair lightly and smiles down on her. "You don't have to, dude. I was payingyou back for being such a great manager."
Her eyes turn up to look at him when his fingers touch her hair, and he sees her eyes soften even as a frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. "I was doing my job."
She's so...funny. In a good way. It's maybe why he compliments her all the time; she's not the kind of person to end up with a swelled head even if you tell her she's amazing over and over again. That, and it makes her face turn pink when he does it right. Just... she'd stopped acting weird when he'd pay the check whenever he took her out; he didn't have to wait until she was in the restroom to ask for and pay for the check really fast like he used to. He thought she realized it was normal for him, paying for something as small as dinner, but it turns out she was feeling guilty anyway.
It's so unnecessary, but he kind of appreciates it.
"Really well," he counters with chuckle. He... doesn't want her to waste money on something that he really doesn't need her to pay for. Yet, that part tugs at him, the part that wants to spend more time with her anyway, even though he spends nearly every damn day with her. He looks at the frustration on her face, and moves a hand to her shoulders. "Look, dude. I'll have dinner with you, but that's all you need to do to pay me back, alright? You don't have to spend money or anything."
"I can't allow you to treat me to dinner on yourbirthday," she says, and he wants to laugh because his father's never had a problem with that.
He's not about to lecture her on family traditions, though. "You can pay for yourself, okay?" he says, and he guesses he'll let her actually do that this time, since she's compromising, anyway. She starts to argue, and he thinks she's about to say something about how she's not giving him anything, so he cuts her off. "Look, having dinner with you is you giving me something, dude. I like spending time with my favorite manager."
"I need to do something for you," she replies again, not willing to just go along with what he's saying. Stubborn 'til the end, huh? Well, that's his manager, isn't it? He couldn't have her any other way.
Well... he could. It wouldn't kill her to learn to pick her battles. "Man, if you wanna do something for me, stop arguing. You've done a ton of stuff for me. It's 'cause of you that people see me on the streets and know about how amazing an actor I am, you know? You're always saying you're just doing your job, but no one's done it as good as you before. That's why I buy you dinner, not 'cause I want you buy me dinner back sometimes. Geez..." he says, running a hand through his bangs in stress.
Her eyes widen and he freezes. Shit! He hasn't made a mistake like that since... what? High school? What was it about her that made him make a million mistakes?
He lowers his hand, but he knows she saw them, the scars that he'd inflicted on himself so long ago, the ones that had made kids scared of him when he was younger. She's an adult, he knows, and she wouldn't be rude about it, but he doesn't want her to ask. There's no way to twist the story into something good, into something that a person like the one he pretends to be would reasonably do. And... he likes her, but he knows she shouldn't trust her, not even if he hasn't heard about her doing anything against him or she's doing something nice for him now. No matter what, she's still lied to him, and she still loves Celeste thousand times more than whatever she might think about him now.
She's been leading him, he thinks. She's been leading him the entire time they've been walking, and he's never really questioned what she's doing. He's just been... following her.
No, it's not an oversight. He's felt her warming up to him,knows she's warming up to him, sees the blushes and feels her lean into his hands sometimes, just slightly, and... he would've known if she was planning something, wouldn't he? Everything she said to him seemed genuine, everything she said was true and made sense with the person she was and the things they've been doing together.
Or... he's in denial. Shit... he did let his guard down. Does he... need to get out of this now? God, he believes in her right now, and he knows she couldn't have planned that,him making a mistake. Plus... she's not a good fucking actor, and he's got ears out. He'd know if she was up to something. Hewould, dammit.
But... does she even want to spend time with him? After seeing the scars on his face? He always thought she wasn't shallow, but... how well does he know her, anyway?
He swallows.
But she... doesn't say anything, for a while. He sees her mouth turn down gently at the corners, and he sees it then, the pity in her eyes, and he knows that it's better than disgust or anger or curiosity, but shit if it isn't a thousand times worse, to be fucking pitied by someone as weak as her. She doesn't even know how he fucking got his scars and she has the audacity to feel bad for him? He's almost mad then, almost feels his mask shatter, but then her smooth hand is closed around his forearm.
"Thank you," she says, her head tilting to the side and her eyes looking down at her hand on his arm, "for... complimenting me so much. It's... been a long time since someone's been so kind to me." She pauses, looks up at him, looks back down at his wrist, and tugs on it, gently. "Let's go to my car."
He knows what it is, what she's doing. He hears how genuine her voice is, how embarrassed she is, and he realizes. It's like a trade; she sees his scars, and he hears her tell him something that she would normally never say to him. She's never touched him before, too, and when he felt her skin on his, it all disappeared, the rage building in his chest, like she took it from him. He's grateful, because acting like himself in front of anyone but his father would be a huge mistake, especially someone who's probably out to get him, but also because... he'd hate it, a little, to make her hate him and lose whatever relationship they had that he'd been working months to achieve.
He hates pity, but if there's anyone he'd tolerate it from, he knows it'd be her.
"Okay, dude," he says, letting her pull him along.
A week later, when he's out on his morning jog and some random tabloid interviews him and asks him if there are any women in his life that he cares about, he remembers how his manager had dinner with him on his birthday and how conversation had come easier than it ever did and before he realizes it, he's saying her name.
He remembers it.
Of course he remembers it. He's not stupid. Or, he was stupid, when he let those girls give him bourbon and he drank so much of it without even realizing? That kind of oversight... It can't happen again. Getting drunk... from the way his manager's treating him, he at least doesn't give away his real self completely, but... He's worked too hard on being "refreshing like a spring breeze." His career is based around it. Without it, he's nothing. He's not giving it up for what, a night of inebriation?
And even if he doesn't act exactly the way he really is when he's drunk, he acts... too much like himself than he's okay with. It's hazy, but he remembers holding her face in his hands and that... kiss.
He'd never really intended for something like that to happen, but it had made so much sense at the time. At that moment, he liked her... a lot! She was so pretty! He complimented the damn necklace he gave to her. He acts like such an idiot when he's drunk, somehow like even more of an idiot than he usually has to, and... he regrets the whole thing, really.
Except when her lips were pressing against his, her face so hot in his hands while she melted against him, thatdesperation in her and-
And if he continues this train of thought, it's going straight to his pants.
What a fucking joke, that he thought he got used to it, got used toher. Like that kind of thing is even possible.
He examines her sitting across from him, absorbed in the diner menu, and he thinks just how weird it is that she's so normal after all that, even if he had pretended he had no idea what happened last night at all. Yesterday, she was shaking under gaze, and now he's less interesting than a menu.
God, he was so happy last night, and he knows it's not just the fucking alcohol. When she kissed him back, when her jet-black eyes drank him in like a man in the desert... Yesterday, he felt like if he touched her the right way, with the right amount of pressure and in the right place, he could make her fall apart under him. He could... finally have her.
He never made a move before because even if she likes him more now, he knows there's a loyalty to Celeste in her that won't die. He wanted her to be his manager as long as she possibly could be, and his best bet was to just be nice to her, innocently, and hope that maybe it would be enough to make her question what she's doing. Hope that maybe it would make her not do anything a little while longer. Their relationship is too fragile for him to risk it for a good fuck, even if he's been wanting it for ages, now. Don't shit where you eat, right?
Plus, to try to get someone like her in his bed... How would that even work? In theory, it'd be hot as hell, his ultra-professional manager moaning underneath him, but there needs to be a way to get from Point A to Point B, and he doesn't think it's possible. He might be devastatingly attractive, but his manager doesn't seem like she cares about carnal pleasures, the way she brushes off the men who come up to her in the coldest way. He'd tried to step in once, when she looked uncomfortable, but she hadn't needed his help at all. These men, though... They'd come up to her at lavish parties, all chiseled jaws and tuxedos, and she'd turn them away without a second thought. Even women who seemed like they had less-than-pure intentions with her learned about her disinterest in the least subtle way.
Sure, they've got some kind of relationship, but... he doesn't want to become another one of those people she turns away coldly. Last night, he thought maybe he wouldn't be, but... They're still here, aren't they? Point A.
He remembers what he called her in that interview with that no-name tabloid reporter: "the only person who won't swoon over me."
Maybe he was right.
They talk business over breakfast, about how he'll have to sign some autographs because they released a Nickel Samurai children's book and how he'll be dropping by a children's hospital for publicity. It sounds boring as hell, but he does also like being surrounded by people who worship him, so he guesses it's kind of a trade-off.
When they get the check, the waitress slips him his number, and it's such an audacious move, considering he's spent the whole meal staring at the woman across from him and not even noticing her, but when he does notice her...
She's blonde, straight hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her white button-down highlights her generous chest, and even though her eyes are blue and she's clearly white, not Asian like his manager is, he can make it work. Honestly, if he has to stare at her in that tight fucking sleeveless turtleneck she always insists on wearing and not get any one more more day, he's convinced he's gonna die. After a night like that...
He flashes her a smile and winks when he pockets the slip of paper, commenting to his manager that he'll need the hotel room that night. She lets him have it without much thought, and he guesses he shouldn't be surprised since she's never made a huge stink about that kind of thing, but it does kinda cut deep that she doesn't care and they were making out last night.
Man, unrealistic as it is, he wishes she volunteered to take that waitress's place. Because really, how is she not as affected as he is?
The waitress is splayed across his mattress, stark naked and blonde hair loose and out. She really does almost look like his manager, glasses off and hair down, but the key word is almost. Her eyes are too blue, murky pools of disappointment, and her smile's too wide. He... can't really get into it.
He closes his eyes and presses her lips to hers, gently, just like he'd do it if he was kissing his manager, and pretends for a second that it's her. That she couldn't keep it to herself either, that she needed him the way he-
"Matt?" a voice calls from behind the hotel door and he curses himself. Didn't he ask her to let him have the hotel room tonight? Shit, shit, shit...
She says something, but he can't stop staring at her curves underneath that shirt and those tan arms and he's suddenly incredibly aware that he's just wearing his boxers and... Shit, she's looking at him weirdly. What did she say, a wallet? He says something about going to get it and closes the door.
The blonde bitch is sitting up now, asking him what's going on, but he brushes her off, focusing on finding a wallet on the kitchen counter and heading to the door. The weird look hasn't left his manager's face, but shit if he's got time to worry about that, so he just hands her the wallet and says thanks and- Fuck, his voice is really high, and fuck, did he get hard from just looking at his manager, he's so fucked...
No, no, this isn't a problem. He's got a naked woman on his bed right now and she's here to fucking take care of that. He grabs her shoulders and pins her to the bed, hooking a knee on either side of her hips. She makes some playful comment about how he likes it rough and it's almost unbelievable how much he does not care and shit, she's not fucking angry, so he shuts her up with his lips against hers. The kiss is fierce and hungry and he needs this, for all those times today his mind's flashed back to his manager's soft mouth. His hands start roaming her body, and he plays with her tits pretending they're someone else's, kneading and squeezing. She keeps trying to moan or talk dirty but all that he cares about is that her voice is wrong, too high, too soft, too open, so he presses his lips harder against her.
He's tired of foreplay by then, as he pulls off of her and rolls on the condom. When he pounds her into the mattress with abandon, the way he wants to take his manager but knows he wouldn't, not someone he who matters to her, he still pretends it's not her, that it's his manager screaming with pleasure and coming around his cock, and it's almost good enough.
It's not, though.
God knows it's not.
He's leafing through tabloids when he finds a picture of his manager sitting across the table from his biggest rival and ice grips his chest.
He never really thought she was discreet, but... She's so clearly bad at what she's doing, it's almost pathetic. Or... no. Is she really the pathetic one in this situation?
It's him, isn't it? The guy who had a million reasons not to trust her, but did it anyway. For such dumb reasons, too; something like he liked her and it used to make him happy when she smiled. Because he, what, liked the look in her eyes when he touched her and the feel of her skin?
The feel of her skin... He examines the picture. Both of them, out to dinner, Corrida leaning in to whisper something to her while she listens intently. It's an incriminating shot. He sneers.
So she's fucking him now? He thought she had better taste, for one thing, but also... wasn't she easily influenced back then? She had a huge devotion to Celeste and they were just friends... Really close friends, but still just friends. If she does something like fall in love with Corrida, he knows that kind of power over her could make her do anything.
God, like Corrida needs power over her to make her do something against him. She hates him, doesn't she? Forget the dinners, the soft eyes, the what, one kiss they shared that she pretended never happened with no problem? She lied to him about why she's there and she's never told him the fucking truth. The "easier conversations" he thinks about... Honestly, he's being fucking delusional. He knows the bare minimum about her, and shit if she's ever said anything real to him. He thought it was cute that she's so professional all the time, that she's so shit at pretending to be unfazed at everything?
He should've been more suspicious. He saw her talking to Corrida at that one party, but he came up to her, so he figured it wasn't really important. Plus, she didn't look that interested anyway. But he sees now she fucking was. But he should've noticed more, too, that her phone had been going off off the hook lately and the calls were going on longer and longer.
He didn't even know she fucking liked him! Whenever he'd go off on diatribes about him, she'd tell him to shut up because it was unprofessional, but never disagreed with any shitty thing he said about Corrida, even conceding his point when he said he was the better actor. It didn't seem like there was loyalty there at all.
Well, he thought he'd seen loyalty here, didn't he? And now she's fucking his rival.
The next day he sees her, they're sharing a hotel room and he taps her phone while she takes a shower. He's already paid someone to break into her apartment and tap her landline, so he doesn't need to worry about that. He scrolls through her texts, sees Corrida's in her phone under the name "John" and he wants to roll his eyes. How is it possible that she'd be such a good manager but so bad at this? It's almost like she wants to get caught.
Her texts are clinical, though not any more clinical than she's been with him. Corrida plays off like an obsessive boyfriend, constantly texting her to give him a call or saying shit like "I need to see you." Her replies are short but agreeable, a flurry of "ok"s and plans and... "come to my apartment, wear a hoodie." It's fucking idiotic, to get mad over them meeting, but imagining her letting his oaf of a rival into the place where she lives, late at night... They must be fucking. They must've met when he was dating Celeste... God.
Jealousy is ridiculous, but she'd choose Corrida over him? The way she refers to him as Juan and agrees to meet him and takes his every fucking call, even in the middle of a conversation with him, it's like a sick way of rubbing it in his face.
He wants to snap her phone in half, the frustration in him. He's so mad now, the icy rage building in his chest and the betrayal he knows he's stupid to feel but feels anyway. He was going to tap her phone and scope out the relationship, see whether this was actually something to worry about, but itis. If she's dating Corrida or fucking him or whatever, he knows he'll turn her against him like that, if she's not against him already.
He knows now he has to fire her. He knew a long time ago he had to fire her, ever since he found out she lied him, months ago, but he has to now. Enough excuses, enough "she's so much more open now," enough "remember the time she kissed you back?" She's nothing! God, everyone's a dime a dozen, and he knows a million girls who will kiss him back and who he won't even have to seduce; they'll fuck him because he'shim.
And she's already elevated his career. He's invited to huge parties now, written about in famous magazines, being hailed as the dude with more potential than all the up-and-comers on silver screens. He's paid enough attention to the way she works that he could manage himself at this point. He doesn't fucking need her! He doesn't fucking need anyone!
The bathroom door opens then, and she walks out, a goddess in a towel, hair sopping wet and sticking to her bare neck.
He puts her phone back on the night-table. It's time to use it, the resolve he's built up while she was gone. He starts to say her name-
"I've been thinking about the time you said you wanted to be in a spy movie," she says as she smooths lotion down her calves.
It's so out of the blue, that comment, and it doesn't even occur to him that he shouldn't let her finish. "That was months ago, dude," he says, his voice too low, oddly wrong, as that anger tries to find its way out but doesn't.
"I know," she says, pulling modest white underwear on underneath her towel, "but I've been looking for roles for you ever since then." The towel comes off then, and she pulls on her camisole.
"Didn't you say it was impossible?" he asks as the fire in his chest dissipates. She's been spending months trying to find him a role that he'd only said he wanted once, months ago. She cared enough to remember, and she cared enough to try to find him a job just because he said he'd enjoy it. He would've been okay with anything. He... honestly just wanted her to watch the movie with him, the time he said that to her.
"I thought it was, but..." She pauses, walks over to her bed and sits to face him. "I can make it work. They're being stubborn about it, but I'm confident I can convince them to fit all your scenes to the time that Nickel Samurai's off-season. If you do it, it'll be intensive hours, a lot more shooting a day than you do now. You'll lose a lot of your vacation."
She's talking to him seriously, looking at him straight in the eyes, and he realizes how much work she commit herself to because he said something on a whim.
"And..." She looks down, traces of shame in her expression. "I know you said you wanted to be the lead, but that's not something I'm able to do, now." He watches her avoid his gaze and blame herself for being unable to get him a lead role in a movie, even though he's only just become popular. "But it's a famous franchise, and you'd be fairly important if you were in this movie; not the lead, but your name would be on the poster. Do you want the role?"
He's smiling now, somehow. Where did the anger go? He doesn't... really care. "Geez, of course I want it." He's leaning in closer to her now, fingers brushing her shoulder before he realizes what he's doing. "I... can't believe you'd do that for me."
There's pink in her cheeks now, and she won't look at his face. "I was just... doing my job." He wants to laugh. It's so played out, that line, but somehow... it's still cute when she says it.
"I know."
He... He can fire her tomorrow.
"I fucking love you," he breathes out, and the second he says it, he knows it's a mistake.
God, this whole thing is a mistake. He was supposed to fire her today. Or... no. He was supposed to fire her every day, every day since he heard that phone call where Corrida had asked her if the press conference she's told him nothing about was prepared, where Corrida had celebrated the fact that he'd finally bring down his demonic rival (he was really hung up on this "demon" thing) and she'd agreed, albeit in few words. It'd gotten worse, that it was more than just fucking, that they'd actively been working to bring him down.
But there was something about her that made his anger go away, something about her that made all his negative feelings disappear. Every day he'd find a reason to push firing her back.
Today, he was going to do it, though. He'd brought her to his house along with a bottle of wine because if he had to let her go, he wanted at least get to finally fuck her. Her hands wrapped around the neck of that wine bottle... how could henot get that image in his mind?
He's messed up already, though. He was supposed to have sex with her and then fire her; maybe do it a little more politely than it sounds, maybe make up a rule about employee fraternization and say they need to stop working together because of that, while still leaving room for her to contact again, but... never say "I love you." That's... the opposite of what he was supposed to do.'
Honestly, it must be the first time he's said that since... since he'd said it back to his mother, a million years ago, and... look where that got him. But it's not the same; he knows he just said it in the heat of the moment, after finally holding those round, perfect breasts he'd always see spilling out of camisoles in his hands, after taking those pert nipples in his mouth and licking and biting at them, after making her fall apart under his fingers and swallowing her moans like a man starving. He's... waited a long time for this. That's the reason he'd say something like that.
His thoughts are interrupted when she speaks, in the lowest whisper. "You don't." He almost thinks he's misheard her when he feels her untangling herself from him.
He looks at his manager, ravaged in a way he's dreamed of, but it's not what matters now. Her mouth is pressed into a line, and her eyes have gone cold. Before he realizes, they're sitting next to each other, clothes hastily put back in place. His arm's somehow found its way to her shoulder, her body so stiff it's like touching a wooden doll. He hears himself, in a voice more gentle that he's used to, saying, "Adrian..."
The air in the room has changed completely. She's turned to ice, so much colder than he's ever seen her. "You don't," she says, her mask gone now. There's a hate she's not bothering to hide searing slowly through her words, through the atmosphere, and he... doesn't know what she's mad about. He's never seen her this angry before. "Why would you say something like that, after everything? After everything you've done to Celeste?"
He's confused for a second by what she's saying because she's never brought up Celeste before. There'd been some unspoken agreement that they don't talk about what happened in the past, that it was a horrible kind of thing that they shouldn't touch. But if she's being honest now, and he's firing her today, anyway... he might as well be honest with her, too. If she wants to talk about Celeste... they'll talk about Celeste.
He takes the hand that was on her shoulder and uses it to push his bangs back, putting his scars in full view. She flinches, only slightly, but she doesn't say a word. Well, isn't that what he liked about her? He... wants to laugh, now.
"What did I do to Celeste?" he asks her, drawing his words out slowly, not bothering to hide the hints of a patronizing tone.
"You..." He can see her eyes sparkle despite the darkness of the lounge, but he knows it's not for a good reason. To see her crying... He's made her fall apart in a way he's never really wanted to see. The rage though, the hardness in her words... She's not as weak as he thought. "You're the reason she's dead! Don't lie to me... I know everything, Matt!"
He can't help the laughter that rings out, cutting through the atmosphere. He sees her rage disturbed for a second, something like fear or discomfort creeping in her expression for just a moment, and then disappearing. The fact that she'd be scared of him annoys him a little, but... he was right, when he thought she was cute; she's such acontradiction, the way she can be so accomplished and intelligent when it comes to her her job but so clueless when it comes to things like this. Pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, affectionately as he's ever been with her, he whispers, "My manager..."
On the tips of his fingers, he feels a shiver run through her, and he's aware just how much power he has over her in that moment. He doesn't want it, though. The shiver he feels then isn'tright, and he's mad now that she'd be afraid of him, after everything. She kissed him back so fiercely and trusted him enough to let him treat her roughly and just a moment ago she'd been begging for him, andnow she's scared? Because he told her "I love you"?
No, he realizes. That's not it. That got her mad, but that's not it. She's scared of the scars.
Ice grips his chest. She's just a bad as everyone else. God, he should've known. He always does this, always says shit like "I should've known," but he trusts her anyway. What the fuck is wrong with him?
He doesn't remove his hand from her ear. If she's going to be scared of him, he'll give her a reason to be. Maybe then he'll scare her off completely and she'll stop fucking with his head. "If you knew everything," he says, drawing the words out the way he did before, leaning over her and brushing circles with his thumb in the shell of her ear, "you'd know you'd know the only thing I did was call Juan and tell him that he'd be marrying a woman I've dated."
He wants her to know how wrong she was when he turns her away. He wants her to understand that when she loses her relationship with the man she kissed so hungrily, the man who could make her shake with arousal by looking at her the right way, it's for no reason. He wants her to know that she doesn't know anything.
But she's still mad. Her eyebrows furrow as her mouth turns to a pronounced frown when she takes in his words. He can feel the fear underneath it, but the rage in her is undeniable. "We both know she killed herself over that."
She's fucking delusional. There's a line between cute and annoying, and she's crossed it. How does she not realize she's a hypocrite? "Did she?" he asks, words coming out of his mouth like poison. "See, I know I've done bad things. I know calling him that day, three days after they got engaged, it was kinda petty. But, you know, I thought she killed herself because her fiancé couldn't get over the fact that she had an ex-boyfriend."
The anger is wiped clean from her face, eyes widened and pink lips parted ever-so-slightly. He watches as understanding sets in, maybe even regret, and he should feel triumphant, but he doesn't. There's a sour taste in his mouth. He hasn't won. He's losing her.
Or he's already lost her, to Juan Corrida.
"Adrian," he sighs out tiredly, "I'm not the reason Celeste killed herself. I think you have me confused with the person you're sneaking around with behind my back."
She still doesn't answer him, guilt or surprise or something brimming from her eyes, and he knows he can't bother with whatever it is anymore. He takes his hand out from under her ear, and stands up, walking away from her. He needs to finally leave her behind. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't forget to lock the door and turn off the TV when you leave. And..."
We shouldn't work together anymore. I'm firing you, because you've been lying to me since the day you started working with me. I need you to leave, because I don't want to work with someone who's afraid of me. I never want to see you again, because you're just like everyone else.
"I'll see you Monday."
His feet move faster then, maybe trying to work faster than his resolve, but she calls his name and he freezes, turning to look at her.
There's a second of silence, confusion on both their faces, until she tells him, "Happy birthday."
He remembers it then, where he was last year, when his manager saw his scars and didn't ask anything about them, when she tried to make it better, but never treated him any different afterwards. He thinks about her now, the way she's seeing him, acting completely different with the angry lines that run down his face in full view, and how she's still taken the time to say something kind like that. Even after the conversation they've just had.
A genuine smile finds its way on her face when he thanks her. He's an idiot, that he was able to think for even a moment that his manager could be just like everyone else. She's so much different. She's Adrian Andrews.
She's Adrian Andrews, and he can't imagine his life without her.
He wins the Hero of Heroes Grand Prix, and he thinks to himself that everything he's spent weeks working for will be lost soon. He doesn't know if he minds.
He knows he'll miss her, though. He thinks maybe, after all of it, he'll tell her... tell her how he'd realized he fell in love with her, sometime when she never treated her differently after that night. Maybe she hates him, but maybe she'll understand, maybe she'll forgive him, even a little. Maybe, if he's lucky... he won't have to lose her.
Before, he'd been holding on to hope that maybe she'd cancel her plans and stop working with Corrida, but she never did. He didn't do anything, though; never confronted her about, never tried to find some way to cancel the press conference under their noses. He'd even found the number of a contract killer, and he knew it'd be easier, to just call it and get that asshole Corrida out of the picture, but... he never even saves that number to his phone.
He trusts her. Not to care about him, not to do things to protect him, but he trusts her judgment. If after that night, she still thinks he's a terrible person... he probably is. No, he... knows he is. The woman whose smiles used to be so soft and warm... He's the reason she doesn't smile like that anymore, isn't he? He's the reason she doesn't smile at all. He broke her without even realizing, and then he fell in love with her. That's fucked up on a thousand different levels.
So if she wants to end his career here, after he's worked years and come so far... she has every right to. He won't stop her.
"Matt!" a gravelly voice calls behind him, and he turns around. It's the guy from that exercise program, shit if he remembers his name. He's smiling wide and friendly and... he's not sure what he wants. With a pat on the back that's too hard, even for someone athletic like him, he asks him, "Or maybe I should be calling you Mr. Engarde now, right?"
"Both of them are fine, dude," he answers, even though he does kind of prefer the second one. He doesn't really know who this guy is, anyway.
The man squints, confusion in his eyes, but he shakes it off pretty well, coming back into himself pretty quickly. "Of course! Anyway, congratulations on the win! Nice to see the Nickel Samurai come out on top."
"Thanks," he says, still wondering what he's doing there. "You want an autograph?" He reaches into his pants pocket for the permanent marker he keeps there, just in case, and waits for him to give him something to sign. The whole thing's kind of pointless, though, since his signature won't be worth very much for long.
He's squinting at him again. "Uh-"
The man's interrupted by a deep voice bellowing through the hall. It's unmistakably Corrida's voice, rage pouring through his hotel room door. "Stop lying to me! You really think I believe that you made a mistake? What kind of idiot do you think I am? Now what are we going to about the press conference later? Don't tell me you're using this for him now, going to make it another publicity stunt for the Nickel Samurai? 'I'm here to announce I'm saving puppies, and orphans, and I played Juan Corrida for a fool-'"
Shit, is he... talking to his manager? He looks at the man next to him. "Dude, I think you'll have to meet me later. I have to handle this. My manager's in there."
Corrida's yelling again, and the man looks at him with concern. "Maybe you shouldn't-"
"Dude, my manager is in there," he says, and the man finally nods and leaves the hallway.
He listens for a second to Corrida's yelling. There's a shuffling sound accompanying it that scares him. Corrida has a temper to be reckoned with, and he's almost as strong as him. His manager... She's tiny.
"-I should've known you didn't give a damn about her! She was your best friend, and you'd spit on her memory by helping your demon client. You're-"
Fuck, he's talking about Celeste now! That dumbass... It'll get her mad, he knows. It's the one thing that would shatter that mask completely, and the things he's saying... Corrida is this mad now, and she's not even fighting back. If she starts yelling at him, the things he might do to her...
Before he realizes, he's opening the door and pulling her out.
"Are you proud of yourself?" a voice asks behind him as he washes his hands in the restroom, and he knows who it is immediately.
He turns around, eyes him lazily, the tux and frown on his face. Fitting, for a loser like him. "I mean, I guess it was a pretty good piss, but I wouldn't say proud," he replies, because he doesn't have time for him right now, in a public fucking restroom. Sure, right now it's only open to hotel guests, but... a public fucking restroom?
"You know what I mean," Corrida sneers at him, and he wants to laugh, for how easy it is to get to him. "I'm talking about Adrian Andrews." He draws out the syllables in her name, putting on a strong emphasis like it's a taunt.
He doesn't let his shit-eating grin falter, but he knows if he goes any farther with this he might crack. "Sorry you weren't a good enough fuck for her to stay with you, dude, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't taint her name with your mouth."
"Ha!" Corrida says, and it's barely a laugh. "As if I'm the one tainting her. And what did you say, you think I was...fucking her? There really are only two things in this world that you care about, aren't there, Engarde? Fame and sex." Corrida smiles, mouth closed, and he clenches a fist. He wants to punch the grin off his face.
He's got him uncomfortably pegged; she brought him fame and he'd wanted to fuck her for so long, hadn't he? But that's not why he likes her; he'd been prepared to lose all of it for her and he can get sex anywhere. He likes her because of the way she smiles, the way she leans into his touch, the way she'll toil endlessly just to do something that might make him happy. He likes her because of the kindness in her, burning so warm and pure.
He's not telling Corrida that, though.
"I'm not fucking her, either," he ends up saying, and he knows it's a weak defense, but... it was a taunt! She's not some kind of sex doll to him. "That's not why I don't want you to talk about her."
"Ha!" Corrida laughs again, and what he wouldn't give to never have to hear that sound for the rest of his life. "Feeling guilty? It doesn't matter if you're fucking her."
"Then what does matter?" he asks because he has no idea what Corrida wants from him. Then he hears how it sounds, and... "No, I... Just keep her name out of your mouth, dude. Stay away from her. I have a lot of people's numbers, and I don't have a problem with calling them if someone tries to do something to my manager." He keeps his voice even as he talks, cold nonchalance dripping from his words.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" His laugh rings through the room, grating against his ears. "I'm not mad at her, Engarde. She's done me evil, but I know anything she's done is just because of you. But you know what? You're incredibly funny. I'm surprised you didn't go into comedy." He grimaces; what a cheesy line. "Do you really think the person who's going to hurt her is me?"
"Dude, what are you talking about?" he asks, dropping the grin, but changing his face to more peeved than confused. He's... worried, though. He doesn't know where he's going with this, and he has half a mind to leave, but he's not about to give Corrida this win.
"'Dude,' 'dude,''" Corrida mocks him, "'dude, we don't have to keep up with the facade while we're here.' I'm trying to speak to you like an adult. Speak to me like one."
"Man, what are you even trying to tell me?" he asks, keeping his expression neutral even though he's brimming with frustration. Meandering fucking Corrida. "Listen, I've got a party to go to. Do you have a point, or can I leave?"
"The point, Engarde, is that you're a demon and you're going to destroy her. You're going to corrupt that strong, beautiful woman into a horrible... broken... mess." Corrida pauses in between each of those last three words, drawing them out slowly so the image can sink into his mind. And it does, even though he doesn't want it to. He sees his manager in the back of his mind, finding out her friend has died and trying to kill herself in a million ways, pills, ropes, knives, rooftops... He wants to squeeze his eyes shut but it won't do anything, and that kind of weakness in front of Corrida... "And you want to protect her? What a joke," Corrida says, waving a hand in the air.
He hates the implications he's making, that he'd ever do anything to hurt his manager, and those horrible images... He keeps his mask intact, but he knows he's about to break. "You know, you've used the 'demon' line a million times. Maybe you could tell me something that actually makes sense."
Corrida mocks him again, but he doesn't do him the pleasure of paying attention to it. "Keep making fun of me; we both know I'm telling the truth. She loved Celeste more than herself, and while I faked that note, you and I and Adrian all know that her hatred for you was very real. Do you think it'll be easy for her to love you and Celeste? A girl so weak emotionally... I can only imagine what that would do to her."
He wants to yell at him, that she's chosen him, that she's over it and she cares about him now, but he can't make any words come out. Everything he's saying, it's completely true. Juan Corrida... He knows too much. This is why he's always hated him.
"Oh, but does she even love you,dude? Or are you going to ruin her life because you've convinced her to fall in love with a persona?"
Corrida's still fucking smiling at him, and before he even realizes, his head is turned to the side and he's decked him in the jaw. "Shut up! You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"
It's still on his face, that grin, but he knows punching him was a mistake, even if he deserved it. "At least I got to see the real you," he says as he rubs his jaw, and everything is wrong in that second, that he's the one mad while Corrida is pleasantly detached. "Remember what I said. You might think I'm just saying this because I hate you and I just love messing with your mind, and I don't deny that for a second, but... she's a good woman, Engarde. The way Celeste would talk about her... She might be the best person either of us know."
As he watches Corrida's retreating back, he clenches his fist and thinks that for once, he's right.
There are three things about the first time they fuck that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget.
The first is that it's a million times better than anything he ever dreamed, that the feel of her around him, unabashed and wanting him so much, is ethereal. He feels like a different person in that moment, when her hands crawl around his chest and she fits her mouth around his cock so perfectly and she begs him to keep fucking her, because how could she ever need him so much? How could she take him with such ferocity and determination, without a hint of confliction?
The second is her smile, that soft smile that flashes on her face for a second when she laughs after he asks her if he can fuck her when she's already sucked on his dick. God, is that absolutely not how he'd imagined seeing it again - especially since he hadn't been able to imagine her giving him head even in his wildest dreams - but God, is it absolutely as soft and warm and happy as he remembers. He thinks that he wouldn't have a problem with losing everything, his fame, his money, his name, if he could have her by his side for the rest of his life, smiling like that.
The third is that, after all of that, after he has the best orgasm of his life and sees her smile again and has everything he's ever really wanted right beside him, she cries into his chest, and it's clear that she hates herself because she loves him. But her cheeks are so soft, stained with tears as they are, against the heat of his chest, and she fits so perfectly encased in his arms. He's happy she's here, even though she's crying, even though she's tearing herself apart.
He tells himself it's not his place to make her choices for her, that he'd tried to tell her that she'd be better off without him but she wanted him anyway, but he knows that that's not why he hasn't fired her and told her to leave. He knows it's got a lot more to do with the way she smiles and how she takes his breath away in that little red dress and the warmth he feels when he's in the same room as her.
He's never been able to let her go.
He tries apologizing to her, once, during a time when her smiles start disappearing again and all she is is professional. It happens, sometimes, and usually he never says anything because he doesn't know what to do. Sometimes he stays close to her and rubs her shoulder or embraces her, but he can never tell if it helps. This time, he thinks maybe taking this risk will help her, but he's wrong.
"It doesn't matter," she responds, expression gone cold. "I'm not the person who can forgive you for that." He rubs her shoulder then, sliding closer to her on his couch, and tries to pull her into a tight embrace when she stands up, his arms slipping from her body. She's silent a second, looking down on him and then looking at the door. "I need to go. I'll see you on Monday."
She starts to move when he gently curls his fingers around hers. "Stay with me. I won't talk. I won't do anything." It's ridiculous, what she's reduced him to, but he wouldn't be able to stand it, that he made her leave with his words. He just wants her here, next to him.
For a second, he sees her consider it, brushing his fingers with hers, but she pulls her hand away. "I need to be alone," she says, words hard as steel. He watches her retreating back helplessly as she picks up her bag and heads for the door, considers saying something but knows that it would only make things worse.
When the door closes, he know he deserves it.
He... doesn't really mean it, when he apologizes. He can't make himself want to undo anything that he did in the past years he's know her because it's everything he's done that brought him here. It's everything he's done that brought her to him.
God, is it messed up. Heis sorry, for a lot of things, especially that he'd done something that hurt her so much that she stopped smiling for such a long time, but where would they be if he'd never goaded Juan into breaking off the engagement? Where would they be if... if Celeste never committed suicide?
She would leave him if he ever said something like that to her, he thinks. But he also thinks that she realized it, a long time ago, that he doesn't work the way other people do. That the only thing he felt when she described how she felt about Celeste was that it was exactly how her felt about her. It was impossible for him to connect any of what she was saying to that woman who never let go of his arm and couldn't ever seem to stop talking.
He thinks about it sometimes, what his life would be like if he called Juan that night. Celeste would be married to Juan then, and he'd probably still be the Nickel Samurai. He... doesn't think he'd ever meet her again, if he met her, and he doesn't know if he would've started to feel the way he did. Maybe she'd still be his manager, but he remembers asking for no rookies and he knows she didn't like him anyway, back then. And she'd be too in love with Celeste to even see him, anyway.
He hates himself for thinking like this. It's pointless, first of all, because life's not what-ifs and it's not like he could bring her back anyway, but that's not the real problem. He knows he should be- No, he wants to be the kind of person she deserves. He wants to understand how she feels and do everything for her, but he's so selfish, so disgustingly and horribly absorbed in what he wants, that he can't regret the things he's done.
(that he can't let her go)
The truth is this: If he'd never called Juan that night, Celeste would be happy and married, and maybe she'd be sad that she lost the person she was in love with, but she'd still be happy to have her next to her. She'd still be happy to have her in her life. He's doubtless that she'd still smile the way she always used to. And... he'd be fine. He'd rise in popularity, even without her; he'd find someone just as talented or he'd just get famous a little slower, and he would still have everything that mattered to him, fame and women, like Corrida'd said to him months ago.
The truth is this: He'd rather live in this world, the one where she was damaged so irreparably, than the one where he would have everything he wanted and worked for and she would never have been hurt so badly, just because this world is the only one where he gets to fall in love with her, where he gets to have her.
The truth is this: She'll always be too good for him.
"Are you happy?"
It's been a day of work and three days since she walked away from him, and she's back to normal now. She laughs at his jokes again, leans into his touches, and smiles at him when she thinks he can't see her. But they haven't left his mind, the things he's been thinking about in the time she's left him alone, and he remembers when she used to always wear a mask. He's worried she might just have gotten better at doing it.
They're standing in his dressing room as he wipes makeup from his face - some new story arc they've been trying to do where he takes off the mask - and she's discussing something about work with him that he's not really listening to. When she hears what he says, she stops talking and her eyes get bigger for a second, and then she's plucking the makeup wipe from his fingers and lacing her fingers through his, pulling down his arm and standing on her toes.
It's weird and it's awkward, but then her mouth is covering his, soft as ever, and he can't think about anything else. Her kiss is soshy and he almost melts into it when he remembers what he'd been talking to her about before and pulls away.
It's kind of funny, because he knows that kissing him spontaneously like that is a page out of his book and it's adorable that she'd copy him like that, but he knows that it's not really the time to get distracted.
"No, I... I want to talk to you," he says, putting his hands on her shoulders and holding her at arms-length. There's surprise on her face andgeez, that she's this shocked he didn't jump her after she kissed him, but he knows that it's his fault he's always starting things at any given moment.
"Matt," she says, eyebrows slowly starting to furrow, "I love you." Her eyes have narrowed now and she's so clearly confused, the way she's rubbing the makeup wipe she holding in between her forefinger and thumb, faster and faster and faster. There's a smudge of white greasepaint on the corner of her turned-down mouth.
He realizes absently that this is the first time she's ever really said that to him, and it must be big for her to say something like that, but it doesn't matter to him as much as it should. He feels like he's known it a long time, somehow.
"You didn't answer my question," he says as he lets go of her shoulders, his voice probably too cold. Absently, he realizes it's the first she's ever told him that she loves him, and while he knows another time he'd be so happy he'd probably end up jumping her or something, he... doesn't feel anything. Or... no. It's not nothing, when the words eat away at him and the hole in his chest. He just wishes that she'd just said yes then; he just wishes that for once, something in this relationship could be easy, could be guiltless.
Of course he's glad to know she loves him, but it's not about whether or not he's glad. He wants her to be okay. He needs to do what's good forher, for once in his life.
She finds something in his expression, he thinks, watching as she puts the wipe in her hand on his vanity without looking away from him. Her palm finds its way to his upper arm, and then she's rubbing his arm painfully awkwardly, moving it up and down, up and down, pushing the sleeve of his black t-shirt. It's rare that she ever does something like this and she's socute, how weird she is about trying to touch him. He... wants to do a lot of things, but he settles for doing nothing.
A smile finds its way on her face, small and tired but still exactly what he fell in love with, and then she starts talking. "I always knew you were bad at remembering things," she says, a quiet warmth in her voice, "but I told you a long time ago. You made me feel okay again, after everything."
"But it hurts you," he responds, unable to look in her eyes, unable to look anywhere but the floor when he's being this honest, "to be with me, doesn't it? You hate yourself when you're with me. I-" He puts his hands on her shoulders and pulls her into him, resting his head on hers, and he shouldn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't be pulling her closer when he says something like this, but... "I hate seeing you like that, Adrian. If I'm making you feel that way, I..."
She laughs then, the weirdest mixture of mirth and sadness. "You know how complicated it is. I was in love with her, and now she's gone, and there are times I miss her more than anything, and... you know why I can't go to you. You're right that it feels wrong sometimes, that I hate myself sometimes, but..." Her arms wrap around him then, tightly around his waist. "It doesn't mean I don't want you here or I don't need you here. My life is better because you're in it."
She buries her face in his chest.
"Matt... I don't want to lose you, too."
"Wow! That was your best performance yet! When you sacrificed yourself at the end to save Sayo's life... What a great send-off for the Nickel Samurai!"
The tiny girl bounces as she speaks to him, energy flying off her like sparks. She's still chattering on as he smiles at her wordlessly, and he absently wonders on her clothing. That robe she's wearing... It looks Japanese, and he thinks maybe for a second she's cosplaying since Neo Olde Tokyo's supposed to be Japan, anyway, but a movie premiere party isn't that kind of event, and it's not like the outfit's actually from the show. She doesn't really seem to care about social norms, though, the way she doesn't let him get a word in edgewise. He's seen her before, he thinks, even though he can't really remember where. He'll probably mention it to her anyway; fans usually love stuff like that.
She's trailed behind her by a real motley crew, a kid in the same clothes as her, maybe her little sister but not that it really matters, a blue-suited porcupine-headed lawyer, from the look of the badge pinned to his suit jacket, and that guy from the kid's exercise show, Will Powers. He hadn't recognized him before, but his manager whispered to him who he was a while ago, and he finally understands why he always acts like they know each other now. He was the Steel Samurai, and he remembers that guy giving him a lot of tips about how to follow up on his role when he'd just started. Kind of hard to recognize him without the suit, though.
"Maya," the lawyer mutters in a furious whisper that he probably thinks he can't here, "other people still have to talk to him."
"You're no fun, Nick," she complains, and even if she doesn't seem to agree with the weird haircut dude, she's stopped chattering, so he's grateful for that.
He smiles at her, taking her silence as his chance to cut in. "Thanks for the compliments, dude. You know, I think I've seen you guys before," he says, and the girl's eyes widen and he knows he has to cut that off, so he hurriedly asks, "You want me to make this out to... Maya?" holding out the picture she'd pressed into his hands earlier. She nods eagerly and he does the signature in a second, handing it off to her.
"Thanks! I can't wait to see what you do next!" she says as she walks away, and he notices the little girl clinging to her arm.
"Uh, do you want one?" he asks, because he's supposed to be nice to kids and she's been staring at him a long time without saying anything.
She smiles at him shyly and says, "You're a very good actor," as her friend tugs her away. The lawyer nods at him and flashes a polite smile behind her as he follows.
"So, that's the last we'll be seeing of the Nickel Samurai," Powers muses as he lays a friendly hand on his shoulder. "You had a good run. Thanks for keeping the Steel Samurai legacy alive, kid. It was a great ending."
He's about to answer when he hears his manager's voice behind him and turns his head. She's talking to that girl now - Maya? - and he knows that she's probably regretting agreeing to come with him here. She really hates interacting with his fans, and one as loud as her... She won't have fun with that. It'll be entertaining, though. "He's a pleasure to manage, with a nice disposition," she says, her voice slightly softer than it usually is when she's talking about work. "I'm lucky to be his manager."
He smirks a little. They're talking about him! Of course, there probably isn't much else for those two to talk about, but it's funny nonetheless. Hearing her pay him a compliment, in work mode... It's rare and he's definitely gonna tease her about it later.
"I heard you're a little more than his manager," Maya says, waggling her eyebrows, and he watches as his manager's cheeks light aflame. "Didn't you guys come together?"
The little girl gasps from below her. "You are Mr. Engarde's special someone? I see... So that is why the Nickel Samurai doesn't end up with Ms. Sayo..."
"Y-Yes," she says, way too flustered for a seasoned professional like her, and he laughs to himself. "I suppose I'm lucky to be that, too."
Powers says something quietly then, and he remembers where he is, that he's got autographs to sign and fans to meet and he can't spend all day staring at his manager, even if she's complimenting him and he kind of wants to hear every nice word she's saying. "I didn't catch that, dude."
"Just, since you brought her here as your date today, I was a little surprised." Powers talks with a weird somberness and satisfaction, like he's given the topic a lot of thought. Maybe it should be weird, because he doesn't really know the guy all that well, but he doesn't really care. Honestly, he's surprised, too.
His manager's always been strong and professional in the face of the public, but that doesn't really mean she likesbeing in the face of the public. Even standing near him while he talks to fans is more than she usually does, even though at those times she's just across the room watching him and texting him instructions.
Once, he'd spoken about her to a magazine once and she was really in a tiff that time, even though it worked out in the end. Ever since then, they've been a couple unofficially, which hadn't really been that hard, since they spent all their time together before, but... you can't really fault a guy for wanting to show her off. Especially someone like her. So he asked her to the movie premiere on a whim, fully expecting her to say no.
Instead, she just muttered something about how she needed to buy a new dress, which she didn't let him pay for or choose, saying his weird obsession with her red dress proved that his taste left something to be desired. That one was a little harsh, but she went with him and he's showing her off right now, so he doesn't really mind.
She looks like a goddess right now, hair down and loose the way he likes it and the new red dress falling around her ankles. He hadn't seen it until today, since she stayed true to her word and didn't even think about factoring him in her decision. It's still simple, but it's kind of an elegant simplicity, and even though he still thinks she looks best in that dress he'd fallen in love with her in, she still takes his breath away. She... really looks good in red.
"Ah, sorry if that's weird," Powers says, waving his arms in front of him and smiling sheepishly. "I have a weakness for celebrity gossip."
Matt shakes his head. "No, I know what you mean. I... didn't think she'd come either." He's being weirdly honest now with this guy, but maybe it's okay, since he just admitted to him that he reads about his life in magazines.
Powers is looking over him now, doubtlessly peering over at the woman in question. "You know, I didn't think you two had that kind of relationship, but after seeing you go after her like a real action hero that time at the hotel... I should've seen it coming!" He laughs. "That must've worked out, then, didn't it?"
He follows Powers' gaze to the woman in the red dress, flustered as the little girl looks up at her with stars in her eyes and the other one teases her relentlessly. She catches his eyes for a second and widens them, a silent plea for help, and he laughs.
"Yeah... it did."
"So," he says, hanging his white suit jacket on the coat rack by his door, "I heard I'm a 'pleasure to manage.'"
She reaches behind him and swipes the jacket away. "That doesn't go there," she chides him as she starts walking deeper into his house, "and I was just doing my job. I need to say things that flatter you in public. You're my client."
He hooks an arm around her from the back, resting his chin on her head and touching the sheer red fabric of her sleeve with his fingers. "You're never gonna stop saying that, huh?" He leans down, his lips near her ear. "Doesn't matter. I've got things to 'flatter,' too."
She wrenches out of his grip at his words, a sigh escaping her lips. "That doesn't make sense. And at least let me put your jacket away before you jump me."
Shit... he really should've focused more on the "pleasure" thing than the "flatter" thing. He can still make up for it, though! Following her as she weaves through his mansion effortlessly, he pleads, "Come on, we've been busy lately, and, you know!"
She sends him a look that says that she most certainly does not know and opens the door to his room. She starts fishing a hanger out of his closet when he takes his jacket from her hands.
"I'm not a kid," he says, taking the hanger from her, too, and putting his clothes away.
She peers at him through her glasses with narrowed eyes. "You would've left it there and let it get wrinkled," she responds flatly.
He has to concede that point, even if he could say something about how that's what irons are for and it's his house. He doesn't really want to mess with her after she went out with him and everything. "You're right. Thanks, Adrian," he says, pressing his lips to her forehead, his hand on the back of her head. "You take care of me."
She looks up at him when he moves away, eyes big. "You said that to me once, a long time ago." He shoots her a confused look as he sits on his bed and tugs her over, and she looks away from him as she moves. "When you were drunk and kissed me the first time."
He smirks at her next to him, remembering the times he had to be drunk to do anything with her. Back then, he wouldn't have believed that this could be his life now. "You were wearing a different red dress, then, right?"
"I really don't understand your obsession with that dress," she says peevishly, and he knows she thinks it's weird, but he's not gonna be ashamed about it.
"Can you blame me, though?" he asks, leaning over her and brushing a thumb over her bare collarbone. "It was the first time I got to see any of this." He kisses the base of her neck slowly, tasting the sweat on her skin.
"Matt," she says, clearly trying to sound annoyed even though his name came out in a heavy breath, and he knows he's got her. He moves off of her neck and tilts his head to hers, covering her mouth with his. Her hand comes up to his hair, pulling him more firmly against him and he thinks about how much he loves it, the way she can go from the professional to this in seconds.
Her tongue brushes against his bottom lip and slips into his yielding mouth while he pulls down the top of her dress, exposing her bra. He messes with the hooks, the task of taking it off almost impossible while he's swallowing her tongue. She laughs against him after he tries for a while and then pulls away, unhooking and taking off the bra herself.
He holds the underside of one of her breasts in his palm, feeling the weight of it under his hand, and starts tweaking a nipple until he feels it harden under his fingers. "You have the most fantastic tits," he mutters under his breath, and he watches his lover's cheeks go pink.
He never really says things like that out loud, but he thinks them every time he sees her. She's just so beautiful. He's so lucky now, that he can have her so often, hold that beautiful body in his hands and see her cute face come apart. He's been with her a while now, but he knows he'll never get used to it, the way her chest feels in his hands or the way it sounds when he makes her moan. She's... really perfect.
"Why are you saying something like that?" she asks, her voice coming out in whines as he pinches and prods her nipples. He digs in a nail, a move he knows she likes, and she yelps.
He leans down next to her ear and whispers, a smile breaking out on his face that he can't help, "I told you. I've got things to flatter."
Her face contorts and he swears she's about to hit him, so he pins her down on the bed and moves over her, biting her nipple gently in the way he knows makes her go crazy, hoping she'll forget about his dumb joke. A hand is on her other breast, palming it roughly, and a short whine escapes her lips. He smiles on her chest. He really will never get used to this.
She starts grinding against him as he moves on top of her, kissing her breasts and her collarbone and her neck. She's so desperate for something more now that he's tempted to make her wait, but the look on her face and the feel of her body moving under him are making his dick strain against his pants. He doesn't think he has that kind of control.
He stands her up then, thinking about how sure, the dress makes her incredibly beautiful, but fuck if it's inconvenient as hell, and she's already beautiful so it's not really fucking necessary. He fiddles with her zipper and finally pulls the dress off so he can see all her curves, run his hand over her soft stomach, get the full view of those creamy thighs... Before he can do anything, though, she's messing with his clothes, undoing his bowtie and unbuttoning his black dress shirt. She tosses the shirt somewhere on his bedroom floor and he wants to jokingly scold her for it, but he wants to fuck her more, so he works on getting his pants off instead.
When they're both naked and she's lying flat on the bed below him, he leaves a trail of kisses from her neck to her navel until he's staring at her, head between her thighs. He pulls off her plain white underwear and traces a finger up her slit, her juices leaving his finger wet. "You're so wet, Adrian. Guess I really am a pleasure, huh?"
Before she can threaten to kick him or something, he digs in, sucking hard on her clit. He's starting with full assault. He inserts two fingers in her, not bothering to do it slowly, and she cries out. He moves his fingers faster and faster as he sucks and licks and right before it seems like she's about to come, he stops, pulling out his fingers and closing his mouth. "Matt!" she cries, gripping the back of his head and trying to push him his face into her pussy.
"Hey, we've got time, you know?" he says, but he moves back in, licking the lips of her pussy agonizingly slowly, circling the rim of her vagina, but not going anywhere near her clit. Her nails dig into his scalp.
"Matt, please," she begs, and he thinks about how the only time she ever says "please" to him is when they're having sex. He's... surprisingly okay with that.
"Well, since you're asking so nicely," he says, and he knows she's probably gonna kill him later for teasing her so much, but she's falling apart under his mouth and fingers now, and he's a real in-the-moment kind of guy.
He kisses her clit then and slips in three fingers, her warm, dripping hole taking them in easily. He pumps her slowly and moves his lips gently on her clit, making sure that her feeling lasts. When she finally comes, she screams, and he laughs to himself, pulling his fingers out and moving up to swallow the sounds she's making. When they break apart, he starts positioning himself at her entrance and licking his fingers lazily when he sees her frowning. "Don't do that," she says, voice ragged, and he frowns.
"I kinda thought this was what we were leading up to," he says, but he knows if she doesn't want to do it he's not going to. Another day with him and his right hand... what's new?
"No," she says, "stop licking your fingers like that. It's... weird."
He starts laughing. "I like the way you taste," he says, and she's blushing again and holy shit is he in love with the woman on his bed right now. "Wanna try?" He waves his hand by her mouth and the look on her face is way too disgusted for someone who likes sucking his dick so much, but he knows saying something like that to her would just be an easy way to get hit by his manager. He wonders why she thinks it's such a big distinction, but honestly, all he really cares about is how cute she looks right then. "I'm just kidding. You'd probably just taste my saliva, anyway."
She's still frowning and he decides he wants to kiss it off her face, totally forgetting what he was doing a second ago. She yelps when he kisses her, but melts into it as quickly as she usually does, fingers threading through his hair and holding his mouth to hers. He breaks apart from her, looks at her slightly-parted lips and dilated pupils, and breathes, "Adrian, you're so fucking hot."
"Am I another thing you have to flatter?" she asks, trying to make her voice sound dry even though all he hears is her out of breath.
Man, he... can't really tease her anymore. "No, I meant that," he says with no lilt to his voice, and when her face goes red, he pushes into her, gripping the back of her knees. He moans when he does it, unable to help it; she's so deliciously tight around him and hot and wet and warm. He stills, trying to feel all of her.
He stays like that for a second and then she bucks up against him, and he knows she wants him to move. God, she's so insatiable, the way she always wants to be fucked so hard, but it's worth it for her face when she comes and that scream he hears. He pulls out completely and then pushes into her again quickly, and she yelps. He sets a relentless pace then, fucking her faster and slamming into her so hard he's sure one of them will have trouble walking tomorrow. (Hopefully it'll be her because then he'll get to carry her around and it'll be cute.)
He feels it when she's about to come, and moves a hand over her breast, tweaking and kneading as he fucks her. He feels himself about to slow down, but then she's screaming and he finds a second wind, fucking her harder with an even pace. For a second he's almost worried he's pushing her too hard, but before he can contemplate it, his vision goes white and he's having the best orgasm he's had in a long time.
When they're done and he's laying next to her, face by her cheek, he says, "Hey, Adrian?"
"Yes?" she answers, and he pulls her into him.
"Thanks for coming to the premiere with me. I'm... really glad."
She kisses him on the cheek and doesn't say anything for a while, and he thinks she's fallen asleep. When he looks down on her, though, he sees her peering up at him through her glasses. He takes them from her and tells her that she should go to sleep, but she doesn't say anything. "Hey, what's up?" he asks her, wondering why she's acting so strangely.
"Are you okay?" she asks him. "Even though you're no longer the Nickel Samurai?"
He smiles at her. Was she worried? That's probably why she went with him, then... Man, she really does take care of him. "Aw, did you think I'd be upset? You know I'm not really a sentimental guy. Plus you lined up those jobs for me. I appreciate you asking, though." He moves his hand up to ruffle her hair. "Honestly... as long as I've got you, I think I'll be okay."
She's brushing the area around his right eye with her thumb, and he knows she's had a weird preoccupation with it for a long time and that preoccupation definitely intensified when he started slicking his hair back around her at times they were alone (including sex - she's done some weird things), but her hand there still feels strange to him.
He looks at her, bathed in afterglow and the thin layer of sweat on her face making her shine, and thinks about just how close they are, their noses less than an inch apart. Usually they sleep a regular distance, but she's studying him now and he took her glasses off before they had sex, so they're probably staying this way for a while. They've been together so long that he should be comfortable with her whenever, but the distance is awkward. He feels like he should be kissing her or something.
"What happened to you?" she says quietly, and it's clear from the absent tone in her voice that she probably meant to just think that. She asked him about his scars maybe once before, but she never prodded him when it seemed like he didn't want to answer a serious question. She left his scars alone the way he'd left Celeste alone, until that day he found her asleep in the cemetery next to her grave.
He guesses if they've cleared the air on Celeste, maybe they should clear the air on this, too. "You... really want to know?" he asks her, leaning forward and accidentally touching his nose to hers.
Her eyes widen, disbelief clear on her face, probably since he never really wanted to talk about his scars before. That probably was the one topic they talked about less than Celeste. She moves her hand from his eye, resting it on his shoulder. "Not if you don't want to tell me," she says, avoiding his gaze.
He smiles weakly, the lack of effort making it seem more like he's baring his teeth than grinning. "No, it's... just not a good story. You might not like me after you hear it, I'm-" He meets her eyes for a second, and then blinks and looks away. "I'm not a good person, you know."
"I already said I would marry you. You don't need to be so insecure." She's smiling at him now, warmly, almost amused that he'd say something like what he said. It's meant to be reassuring, but... she hasn't heard the story yet. "I'm not going to stop caring about you after we've been together so long."
"I..." He kisses her nose. "Okay." Her hand finds its way to his, and she rubs circles into the back of his hand with her forefinger. "When it happened, I was five years old. I was kind of a loner, then. I was used to hanging out by myself since I was an only child, so I just played and stuff on my own in class. People seemed to like me even if I didn't talk to them, so it was alright.
"That changed when some kid transferred into my class halfway through the year. For some reason, he really latched on to me, and wouldn't let me spend a second alone. Every second he'd be there, trying to tell me how great I was, and it was okay for a while but then I couldn't stand him. Ignoring him didn't work, asking him to leave didn't work, and then my mom got so ecstatic I'd made a friend that she invited him over. I wanted to pretend I liked him, since it made her so happy, but when he was over, he did something really stupid, and I flipped.
"I can't remember what he did - it was like ripping something out of my hands or something, but it was the final straw. I pushed him on the ground and held him down, and then I..." He swallowed. "I scratched him. I was so mad then, so I dug my nails deep into the side of his neck until they drew blood, and I dragged them while he screamed. I told him he should've listened when I told him to leave me alone.
"My mom was there when it happened, and she didn't stop me. She just watched me, open-mouthed and crying. She kept yelling shit at me like 'What did you do? What did you do?' and..." He looks at her face, sees her biting her lip but can't read anything off her expression. "I know I say I don't really care about people, but I loved her, you know? I was fucking five. She was my mom.
"So I dug my nails into my forehead and I did it to myself. And I kept trying to tell her it was okay, we were the same, it was okay, but she kept fucking crying. Kept saying there was something wrong with me. It was ages until she stopped, ages until she thought to take us to a fucking doctor. The kid was passed out by then. I was awake, though. I was awake the whole time.
"When my dad came, she kept yelling at him about she had to send me to someone to get me fixed, and I was already at the hospital, so I knew she wasn't talking about that. He argued for me, though, he kept saying that I was fine, that it was bullshit that I needed help. The next night, she tried to take me away from him, tried to get me fixed, but I didn't let her. I didn't want to go with someone who thought I was broken. My dad found out about it, and the next time my mom left, she went alone and didn't come back." He breathes out and looks at her face, expressionless and silent.
"She never contacted you again, even after you became famous?" she asks him, and it's completely not what he expected her to say. That's just like her, though.
He shakes his head. "I never saw her again." He… doesn't want to think about stuff like that. When she left, he was young, but he can remember how horrible his days were vividly. He'd rather not. That's why he never tried to look for her.
She drops the subject immediately, probably seeing it on his face that he doesn't like thinking about his mom. "What happened to the person you hurt?" she asks him.
He groans at the thought of him. "He's still got the scar on his neck, but he's fine. He was fine enough to tell the whole school what happened. He's still wearing that scarf he used to wear to hide it." A thought flits through his mind, and he wants to dismiss it, but he knows he has to ask. "If I said he was dead, would you hate me?"
He's praying she doesn't say yes, praying she doesn't say something like "it was a long time ago, you're different now," because he knows how close he'd been to killing Juan Corrida. If she thinks he's different, she's wrong, and... she should hate him. She shouldn't be with him. "I'd be sad, but it's the same sadness I feel when I used to think about how you got your scars. I love you. I fell in love with you a long time ago. I can't undo that."
She strokes his face and kisses his right eye again.
"You don't need to be so scared, Matt. I'm never going to leave you."
They invite less than twenty people to their wedding, most of them from her side of the family. She ends up doing most of the planning, as much as he tries to help, because she's her and that's who she is. That's... who he fell in love with.
When his father is tying the bowtie he'd bought for him in his changing room, the door opens. His father covers his eyes immediately. "Papa-"
"You're not supposed to be here! He's here now!" his father whispers furiously, as if he'll somehow be unable to hear it in closer proximity to him than the person he's whispering to. His dad can be really weird sometimes...
"It's only a superstition, Mr. Santos. I want to speak to him," she says. "Is that okay?"
His father uncovers his eyes and grumbles, "It's your wedding." After a second, he hears the door open and shut. He must have left.
When he turns around to look at her, he thinks that she looks like an angel, even though - she'd kill him if he told her this - he still thinks she looks best in that dress she used to wear when he took her out to dinner.
About that dress... They've really come far, haven't they? Now that he's seeing her in a wedding dress, like this. It means a lot more, he guesses, than that little red thing. He might've fallen in love with her in the red dress, but this is the one that means he gets to keep her. And she... really is beautiful in it; even if it doesn't hug her curves the same way as the other one, he knows it's not supposed to.
"You look perfect," he breathes as she walks up to him.
"You almost do," she replies, and he's thinking about how that's pretty harsh and wishing she'd at least be nice to him on a day like this when she stands on her toes and slicks his hair back. "There. Now you're perfect."
He kisses her then, even though he knows he's supposed to wait until later.
romcom credits pt 2:
- After their weird connection at the movie premiere, Will Powers becomes like a second mostly absent but well-meaning father figure to Matt. When he calls him for advice about Adrian, he never has to update him on the situation because he already knows.
- Similarly, Adrian connects weirdly to Pearl at the premiere and starts feeling inexplicable motherly feelings she's never felt about children before. This is because Pearl is her ideal child: basically a small adult.
- The red dress that "hugs her curves so well" is literally a size too small for Adrian. She found it on the clearance rack. It fits her, but a size bigger would fit her better. This is why she judges Matt so hard.
- Will, Phoenix, Maya, and Pearl all go to the wedding because Will was like, "Hey, can I bring my friends?" and Matt didn't want to straight up be like "no." He meant to ask Adrian to do it, but he forgot, and they all show up to the wedding and immediately realize that they should not be there. They stay for the food.
- Matt invites Juan to the wedding because he doesn't have that many friends and he wants to mess with him. Juan comes to the wedding because he doesn't have that many friends and wants to mess with him. Adrian lets it happen because she's the one who agreed to marry him, anyway.
- Shoedinger's Cat lives on. Or perhaps I should say "exists and simultaneously does not exist on."
- I'm confirming Matt becoming US President now. He does indeed become the president when he's old enough. I mean… Ronald Reagan did it.
- Matt's father is actually a good father, or he at least does his best. They don't say "I love you" a lot or ever, but he's the one who teaches Matt how to pretend be sweet and innocent and he doesn't hide that he cares about him. It's a rough-around-the-edges thing, but they care about each other. Matt parallels Adrian to his mother in his story, but her relationship with him has more in common with the one between him and his father.
- Matt's mother was locked out of his life by his father, so he really isn't perfect. She's not a bad person and she definitely wasn't wrong when she tried to take Matt to therapy, but it messed Matt up badly and he can't see her as anything other than a villain.
author notes:
- This took seven years to write but it was worth it. My children have all their problems resolved and they're married now. I'm crying...
- Honestly, I don't even like married-ever-after endings because they can be cheesy and they're too far off for someone like me to understand or relate to, but I thought these two deserved guaranteed stability. I'd love to write an epilogue but honestly, any farther from this is Too Far for me.
- I really, really want to write more for these two. If you're interested, keep an eye out. I may even try to find a way to get them together in canon, but that's ambitious even for me, who created this relationship from nothing. Let's see what happens, though.
- Please leave a comment if you can or hit me up on tumblr at morphigenetic. I need to yell at someone about my obscure OTPs.
- Thanks for reading! This is the longest fic I've ever written and first fic I completed that wasn't a oneshot, so I'm pretty proud.