After the whole earth-shattering, mind-blowing razor incident Cain had stayed nearly completely across camp from DG for the rest of the day. He made it a point not to so much as look at her, feeling her eyes following his every movement for some reason. The sensation was oddly uncomfortable; like there was something going on inside that pretty little head of hers that he should be worried about.
There was no way in hell he was going to get close enough to investigate, though.
Ooooohhh no. He wasn't going to run the risk of her deciding she wanted an "after dinner" hug, a "don't the stars look pretty tonight?" hug, an "I'm so glad you're my friend" hug, a "please don't be mad at me for sitting on your hat" hug, a "Good night, Mr. Cain" hug or any other type of hug she had invented over the course of their journey. The girl was like a little spring, constantly coiled up tight and ready to burst forth at him without so much as a moment's notice. To make matters worse he didn't seem to have any say in the matter, either. Shrinking away from her when she pounced only made the girl more tenacious in her grip once she had hold of him.
He'd called out a 'good night' to the group of men and DG, refusing to give her one personally, and ducked into the safety of his tent, only to find the voice of locked-up Cain waiting for him.
He managed, by some miracle, to get at least a few hours of sleep. But that was only after spending an extremely long time fighting back the startlingly vivid images his mind was painting of DG's…umm…injury, and what parts of him were offering to do to help her with it.
His extremely outspoken frustration still felt that, as her body guard, it might be a good idea to take a look and see if he needed to 'play doctor…' bow-chicka-wow-wow
To ' bandage her wound'!...he'd corrected himself sternly in his mind with a restless roll onto his side, and had put his foot down that it most definitely was not going to happen. He'd woken several times during the night, desperately trying to shake off dreams that left him panting and sweating and worrying just how loudly he may have been moaning in his sleep.
When his internal alarm clock had gone off he was beyond thankful, dressing quickly and pushing through the flap of his tent at dawn, eager to leave behind the thoughts that had kept him company all night.
He fought the temptation to turn right back around when he spotted her already sitting by the fire waiting for him, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Well technically, the voice reminded with a smirk, the term 'bushy-tailed', or 'bushy' anything for that matter, isn't really appropriate, now is it?
He rolled his eyes and pleaded for mercy.
She struggled not to crack a smile when his body went rigid at the sight of her, his face very clearly telling her that he was considering cutting and running in the other direction rather than dealing with her.
But he wasn't getting away that easily. She'd spent most of the night listing off ideas, her and the voice of sexual frustration in her head comparing notes on battle tactics. Between the two of them they had created quite a schedule for Mr. Wyatt Cain. The poor man was about to unwittingly undergo a week of Olympic events and he hadn't been given any time to train. Today would start off with a bang, a veritable triathlon of torture concocted by a Princess on a mission.
"Good morning, Mr. Cain." She said and almost made him miss a step, the sound was all wrong. Soft and breathy and utterly feminine and his stomach dropped.
Where was the perky, bubbly and youthful tone that wasn't dripping with 'come hither'? What the hell was wrong with her voice? Oh God, please don't let it be permanent, he begged, please just let it be that she's still half asleep…
She gave him a demure smile, not her normal goofy lopsided grin, and he swallowed hard.
He approached her with a level of caution reminiscent of that given to a coiled rattlesnake; sitting across the fire from her hoping that fear of being burned would deter her from leaping at him, or at the very least slow her down some.
"Good morning, Princess." He answered formally, his eyes scanning their surroundings for guards; a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach wanted a chaperone with them. He gave a pleading look to the group of men standing some thirty feet to their side, he knew they figured DG was fine so they wouldn't approach, but he silently willed them to get their asses over there to protect him.
She knelt on the ground beside the fire and he arched a brow seeing that she was pouring a cup of coffee. He frowned. DG never drank coffee…she said it tasted nothing like the other side version…what was she…Oh.
She approached almost fluidly, and he was stunned to note that even her posture was different. There was no clumsiness or uncertainty to her movements, confidence was radiating from her in torrents. She silently offered him the mug, using it effectively as a distraction from the fact that she was now sitting beside him.
When he realized that she had sidled up on him before his mind had thought to protest he was suddenly wishing for a pounce, he was prepared for a pounce.
Her hair was loose and wild, her bangs blended in with the longer hair and as he muttered a quiet "Thank you" he discretely took in the difference it made in her appearance. Much like her voice and posture, her change in hair style had effectively shed her persona of youth.
Little DG seemed to have grown up overnight. The thought alone sent a thrill of fear straight to his heart.
At least he stood a chance against Little DG. He could always resort to calling LittleDG 'Kiddo' if the situation got too personal. But this? He felt like someone was changing the rules of the game in their favor, having seen his hand and made alterations accordingly, rendering it completely useless as a defense. With a series of discrete sideways glances while sipping his coffee he noted her clothing and knew he was in trouble.
She was wearing a shirt he'd never seen her remove from her bags before, and while he knew it was likely intended to be an undershirt here in the OZ, it was the same style as her old Other Side "tank-top". The significant and jarring difference being that instead of non-threatening powder-blue cotton, this one was black and satin; its straps were flimsy and flirted shamelessly with locked-up Cain. Her normal pants had been replaced by what he could only assume had started out as jeans for an extremely small figured man, but the dark denim had been cut and rolled to her knees. A change in pants was innocent enough…sure, no problem…except for two key points.
Firstly, her old pants had been somewhat less tempting since their waist rested at…well, her WAIST. These, having been made for a totally different figure, only rested at the top of her hips. Secondly, and more pressingly at the moment, they served as a reminder of the razor fiasco of the day prior because there, just a few inches away from him, were two tortuous lengths of silky smooth, freshly shaved, porcelain and screaming to be touched skin.
He was just beginning to convince himself to stand and give any excuse to distance himself from her…but she stood abruptly, stepping away and leaving him with an odd mixture of both relief and disappointment coursing through his veins. He almost asked her why she had stood and had no idea where the urge had come from.
She answered his unspoken question, yawning and extending her arms over her head, an act that in her normal attire would have been fine.
However, she was very decidedly not wearing her normal attire and he was horrified to see that as she stood on her tip-toes and stretched her arms that flirty little satin shirt lifted as well, exposing him to yet another tortuous length of her skin.
His mind jolted with the same level of impact one would sustain from running headfirst into a wall. He took in the shape of her body and immediately calculated that if, while standing behind her, he put his hands on her waist they would fill in the exact distance that it dipped in from her hips, like two marvelous little handles.
What?!
He shook his head, literally, he couldn't help it. It was a desperate attempt to clear his thoughts before she did the unthinkable. Taking a few steps forward with her eyes seemingly wandering out over the forest and paying him no mind, she stopped with her body turned enough to give him a view of her profile. He watched her sleepy eyelids flutter closed as she placed her hands in the exact location where his mind had just painted his, and she leaned backward…oh sweet Gayle did she lean backward…the words nimble, flexible and temptress were being shouted through a megaphone somewhere in the corners of his mind by locked-up Wyatt.
His face took on an expression that could have easily been mistaken for anguish, his head slowly tilting to the side at the same angle as the arch in her back. His mouth fell open ever so slightly as he stared at her, unable to look away. Her hair was cascading behind her and the most nerve-wracking little moans and sighs were escaping her lips. His eyes followed the curve of her body from the source of those pain-inflicting sounds past her breasts…oh for the love of God, past her breasts…and his eyebrow leapt upward so high that it nearly rebounded off his hairline at the sight of her exposed stomach.
No…that's not right…more specifically her exposed, flat, soft, pale, smooth, flawless, begging to be kissed stomach.
The material of the jeans was too stiff to follow her motion and he felt his face flush seeing that there was at least an inch of space between the material and her body…like a little window promising a view that desperately needed to be investigated.
He almost broke a sweat resisting the urge to move toward her and a quick scan of his surroundings turned up more than a handful of the guards with the same expression frozen on their faces as his. It took them far too long to notice he'd caught them looking and he realized that if they were going to protect him from DG's suddenly alluring air, who was going to protect them?
This was a problem. Poor DG, he sighed. She had no idea what she was doing to them; she was, after all, innocent; completely and adorably oblivious to the one track minds of men.
Yeah, okay. The voice scoffed. Whatever you say.
He forced himself to stand and walk away from the scene, telling the men under his breath as he passed that if they valued their eyes they'd keep them off DG, ordering them to provide an additional bedroll for her as he hurriedly put some distance between himself and the wickedly flexible Princess.
Maybe her back was just sore or something from sleeping on the hard ground. That was probably it, he hoped. But whatever the cause he needed to fix it. Quickly.
Out of a cruel twist of fate DG had sought him out after breakfast and announced that she was totally out of some routine from her days on the Other Side that she needed to get back into again.
He gathered that she was talking about some sort of exercise and thought sure – why not? He of all people understood the need to stay sharp. Sounded fine to him, he'd given her a sort of disinterested nod and shrug, keeping his eyes averted from her as he pretended to scan their surroundings, praying for her to keep her distance.
What difference did it make to him as long as she wasn't causing any distraction? She'd told him she didn't need any help from anyone with it which was even better, since locked-up Wyatt had instantly offered his services as a spotter.
Maybe if she took up this hobby or whatever it was again they'd get to Finaqua without any further incident.
And besides, he thought to himself as she spread a blanket out on the ground at the center of the clearing behind him and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, what harm could come from her doing something as innocent sounding as "yoga", anyway?
Wrong, Tin Man. Oh how completely and utterly wrong.
He'd nearly swallowed his own tongue when he turned to check on her a few moments later. The wide eyed shock on the face of a passing guard had been a major clue that something was amiss. Hadn't he just told this man that he fully intended to remove his eyes for a similar offense? The scene that awaited him as he looked over his shoulder was one that he would not soon forget.
"Oh for the love of--" He started, cursing under his breath when he spotted several of the guards jump guiltily from where they'd been enjoying the view.
She stood perfectly still, one foot planted firmly and flatly on the ground, eyes closed as she breathed peacefully, holding her other foot behind her head with both hands over her shoulders.
Words poured from him in his shocked state as he closed the distance between them, the body guard in him was in control, for the moment, and was extremely perturbed. "DG! What in the name ofGayle are you doing" He demanded, all but shouting, and watched her gracefully lower her foot to the ground and stand up straight, turning her confused eyes to him and answering simply.
"Yoga." As if that explained everything. As if he would respond, 'oh, yoga you say? Well in that case, carry on'. As if calling it by that name made it perfectly acceptable for her to be bent in impossible positions when she was the only female for a hundred miles in any direction, traveling in the company of this many men. His hand absentmindedly checked that his gun was clear in its holster lest he have to put one of his men down like a rabid dog.
He groaned that she must be completely unaware of the impact her actions were having on them. Well it's nice to see somebody's still in denial…the voice laughed but he ignored it and silently prayed that he wouldn't have to have to have an awkward conversation with her about the birds and the bees.
Oh, that's the best idea you've had this month! I take back the denial comment – you're right, she's clueless, let's go explain it to her…
He had just opened his mouth to speak when she began another stance. "That was the Lord of Dancer pose, and this is called the Standing Pigeon." She said in a calm, cool, 'I don't have my body bent in a position that nature never intended' type of way.
"No, it's called the last time during this trip pose, Princess." He snapped, hurriedly rolling up the blanket she'd been standing on as his face reddened in a combination of anger that the men had been staring at her and guilt for the thoughts that had been swirling in his own mind. "There'll be no more 'yoga' for you while we're out here, understood? Do it in the privacy of your quarters after we reach Finaqua…I swear sometimes, DG…" He muttered under his breath.
She waited for him to storm away with the blanket tucked under his arm before letting the victorious smile spread discretely across her lips.
Hey, do you think we got his attention? The voice asked with amusement and answered itself. Yeah…I'd say we're off to a nice start.
A noise to her left made the smile drop from her face quickly, retreating back to its hiding place as a guard stepped up close to her.
"Princess." He said in greeting, and she cast him a sideways glance noting the smile in his voice. He looked as amused as her inner voice would in that moment.
"Den." She replied, craning her neck so that she could see his face and watching him with interest.
The man was built like a brick wall, had to be at least 6'6 with arms the size of tree trunks. He was in his fifties but still as virile as Cain, rough and good-looking with salt and pepper hair and a barrel chest. After taking a second to contemplate just what was in the water around here that made these men age like fine wine her inner voice jotted down notes from her inspection and placed him on the runner-up list. Simply out of appreciation for his form, mind you, since she had absolutely no intention of letting someone other than Cain win the gold.
"Really rattled his chimes with that one, huh?" He said, watching the retreating form of Cain and she turned to him, hoping her face was giving a believable appearance of innocence.
"Whatever do you mean?" She asked in feigned ignorance.
He looked over at her and raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turned in a knowing smile. "Look, just because your Tin Man is in denial doesn't mean the rest of us are. We know what you're up to."
Her jaw dropped open slightly.
Well, hell. The inner voice said, tossing her notepad to the side. And here we'd been hoping OZ men were all as adorably innocent to our intentions as Cain. Talk about throwing a wrench in the works. Geesh.
"Umm…'we'?" She asked hopefully. Who knew? Maybe he had a little mouse in his pocket.
"Yeah, 'we'." He motioned with his eyes and she noticed, much to her chagrin, that throughout camp all of the other men were shooting her discrete smiles.
"Eh shit." She said as her posture relaxed to normal, dropping her act and Den laughed.
"Now you've never struck me as the stuffy, prissy, royal type – but be that as it may, I still have to ask." Den said and she stared at him in wonder. "Permission to speak freely?"
Oh this is getting interesting… The voice mused and pulled up a chair.
"By all means." DG said with a smile.
He nodded his appreciation and crossed his massive arms over his equally massive chest, motioning with his eyes to where Cain was now standing across camp by the fire giving orders.
"That man is wound up tighter than a bull's ass and I don't think in all my 54 years I've EVER seen someone in such a desperate need to get laid." He began and DG fought the laughter that was threatening to burst from her just so she wouldn't interrupt. "I know he's a man of discipline, he feels responsible for your safety and the last thing he wants to do is overstep any lines…but for fuck's sake if he doesn't do something about the tension between the two of you soon he's liable to burst."
DG had to let some of her laughter out, she just couldn't help it. The cut-to-the-chase, no-bullshit manner in which Den was speaking to her was such a pleasant change of pace from anything she'd encountered so far in the OZ and she adored it.
Cain's head came up and he turned ever so slightly toward the sound of DG's laughter. Despite himself, for the briefest of moments, his face displayed the jealousy that tore through him when he found her standing closely to Den on the other side of camp…laughing and putting her hand on his arm…smiling at him.
A little piece of his self control gave way with a resounding 'crack', like a tree branch splintered over a knee.
He turned his neck slowly and tilted his head, trying to work out a knot of tension that had just sprung up in his shoulder and closed his eyes as the inner tirade began. The men closest to him took discrete steps backward as his coloring reddened; his little head/neck turn had been done in a manner reminiscent of a psychopath and had very effectively scared the shit out of them.
God Damn it! He's older than WE are! The voice screamed. SEE? I freaking told you to shut up about the age difference! I told you she didn't care! But no, Mr. 'Stick-to-your-guns', 'I'm always right', you just wouldn't listen, would you? Now she'll be shacking up with Gigantor over there and we'll be left with what? The razor?! I don't know about you, but I'm betting that thing's not gonna keep us warm in the bedroll at night or do anything that'll curl our toes.
He heard the sound of sawing begin and knew the voice had smuggled something sharp into his cell and was beginning his escape. To hell with this, when I get out of here it's over, Tin Man. I've given up trying to reason with you.
"Just look at him." Den said in amazement watching Cain act like he was alright as a civil war erupted inside his mind. "He's probably over there right now telling himself that he doesn't mind you talking to me – but that vein sticking out in the middle of his forehead says otherwise."
He shook his head and dropped his tone, leaning a little closer and ignoring the way Cain's whole body twitched with the desire to shoot him where he stood. "Now if you ever repeat this we'll all act like you're crazy, just so you know…" He waited for DG to nod her understanding, curiosity burning brightly in her eyes. "But we're all rooting for you. If you need any help with this little plan you've got going…we have decided to offer our services." He grinned at the shock on DG's face and hooked his thumbs on his belt, looking around the camp. "You are the Princess, after all. The way we see it you outrank him, so it's not really a mutiny – we're just doing our job. If you want us to make ourselves scarce for a little while, or you need help setting something up, just say the word."
Her inner voice broke into song. It's raining men! Hallelujah, it's raining men! Amen! Oh, I couldn't have asked for something this perfect…
DG being, well DG, couldn't resist the urge to pounce. She leapt onto Den, hugging him enthusiastically and he caught her, one of his tree-trunk arms holding her steady as her feet dangled nearly a foot off the ground. His laughter reminded her of the Jolly Green Giant, booming through the camp before he muttered quietly, "You're welcome, Princess. And by the way? I don't know if it was part of your plan but you're killing him right now."
Cain's body was so rigid that it was literally painful as his inner voice launched into another tirade.
A Pounce?!!! God damn it those are OUR pounces! Are you freaking kidding me? Now we'll be forced to endure THIS on a regular basis??? He's touching OUR DG! Go lop that freaking arm off at the shoulder! Put it on a pike as a warning to the others!
DG laughed and gave Den another squeeze before letting go. "Nope, but I must say it is a bonus. You guys rock!"
"I'll assume that is a compliment." He said with a smile, inclining his head to her and taking his leave. He purposefully chose a route that led him right by the fire and nodded to Cain, muttering a cheerful 'good morning' as he passed, just to add a little salt to the wound.
DG watched Cain fight to contain his glare, if he ground his teeth any harder they were going to break.
By lunch it was evident that Wyatt still had no intention of talking to her, so she decided to take the opportunity to get to know 'her' men, since it was obvious they were going to follow her command. It was dual purposed, as the jealousy it inflicted on her Tin Man was threatening to eat him alive.
She sat on a log surrounded by guards munching away, chatting and laughing and getting to know each of their names. Up until that point she'd been stuck to Cain like glue and hadn't spoken to these guys all that much. In retrospect she felt guilty for it, here they were away from their homes for her protection and she had been too wrapped up in her Wyatt addiction to even be cordial to them.
Of the men who were sitting with her there was Andrews and Miles, Richards and Clark, Michelson and Kingsford, Daniel and Luther, Billings and James, Paul and Abrams, Stevens and Ryan, Thomas and Zeke – which she learned was short for Ezekiel, and after asking why he was the only one who didn't go by his last name had been informed that she wouldn't be able to pronounce it. The others had all muttered their agreement. And then of course, there was Den, who was sitting on the log to her left leaving at least four feet between them, but the two of them had shared a knowing smile that it was royally pissing Wyatt off.
She struggled to keep her eyes off of him where he stood at the edge of the clearing, chopping wood for the fire aggressively. She almost felt sorry for the logs seeing how angrily he was bringing down the axe, but he was also…
Sweating…my god look at those arms…heeerrree, Cain…who's a sexy Tin Man? Her inner voice called and whistled…I see you're all pent up…I can think of some other activities to help you work off that aggression…
She smiled to herself at the thought, tearing her eyes away from him so that he wouldn't catch her looking. She was supposed to be ignoring him unless he sought her out, that was the plan for now and it was having the desired effect.
Cain felt oddly alone in the camp; DG's lack of buzzing around him was duly noted. He should have been happy about it, he was always shooing her away from him, but now that she wasn't there he felt something other than relief. It was a sensation of emptiness inside his chest. He swung the axe again, harder this time. He knew if he wasn't careful he was going to break the damned thing but just didn't care.
Why were the men suddenly being so nice? Why couldn't they just stay the hell away from her and not force him to deal with the emotions that were sparked by her talking to them?
And what the fuck was going on with Den? He thought angrily, spurring another hard swing of the axe. Was he really going to try and make a move on DG and not expect to be shot? She was the Princess; it was his duty to keep men from trying anything on her.
Oh yes, because I'm sure that's the only reason why you don't want it to happen. My God, when did you get so dense? The voice asked, but he ignored it.
Maybe he'd been too harsh with her about the yoga thing because she didn't seem interested in coming over to talk to him at all. In fact she seemed perfectly content right where she was, joking around with those traitorous bastards. She hadn't even asked him if he wanted to join them…she didn't even come running over to ask him why he wasn't eating anything. She wasn't worrying about him or fussing over him anymore.
Considering the possibilities as to why made him dizzy and a train-wreck of thoughts spun out in his mind.
Was she over him?
Over you? Wait – time out here – did you know all along that she wanted more than friendship?
Did she decide to give up and move on?
Why should you care? You've always said it was just friendship anyway. And hey – you're ignoring the part about whether you've known…
How could he expect her to constantly chase after him when he rejected her so many times?
Hello? So you're really saying here that you've been ignoring DG wanting to be with you?
Oh, God, and what is that horrible feeling in your chest? Is that regret??? Where did that come from? What closet have you been hiding that in?
Did this mean it was almost time to face the music? To decide whether he would become more than friends with DG or be nothing at all? He'd been hoping it would take a lot longer before it got to this point.
OH what the hell is going on here? Did you know it was heading that way? And you still lied to yourself about it? Way to go! Now you're completely unprepared. You could have been thinking this through the whole time if you hadn't been in denial…
Locked-up Cain was watching a few of the other pieces of Wyatt struggle to get on the same page with interest from his cell. It was taking forever, but it was a good sign that at least some progress was being made. Things inside Cain's head were a disaster area, feelings and emotions walled up in make-shift cells in all directions, memories lying in heaps on the floor with no perceivable order to follow. The place really could use a woman's touch and Cain's locked up sexual frustration wasn't the only part rooting for DG.
He dropped the axe to the ground in frustration and walked away, ignoring the dozens of eyes that were on him as he went.
Ooh, he's doing his inner turmoil thing again. We're really good at causing that. DG's inner voice chimed.
But he looks so sad…DG thought to herself, frowning and struggling to stand and follow him.
Don't you dare…he has to do this…he has to figure out what's going on inside that head of his or we'll get nothing but a cold shoulder from him. Buck up, Princess…you knew this wasn't going to be easy.
She sighed, knowing it was true, and found Den giving her a look of understanding. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and nodded as if agreeing with her inner voice.