Hey guys. Long time no see. Blah blah mandatory whining about how college and work is kicking my ass, blah blah...yeah. You get it. I hardly have time to write these things, and sometimes the inspiration is lacking. But, it's all good. I eventually update. Hopefully I'll be able to churn out the next chapter of Last Sacrifice soon as well. In the meantime, keep reviewing, because I love it. (:

BY THE WAY: Just a hint. If you don't care about my story or have "lost interest in it", don't let me know. I don't particularly care, so I don't see why you would waste your time. Thanks. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own VA, but I own the writing.

You're My Better Half
Chapter Three
Purple-Nurples

"Have you never heard of an umbrella, dumbass?"

Yes, you heard correctly. That was my ever-intelligent response to my sopping-wet, dripping, you-can-see-every-line-of-my-gorgeous-muscles-through-my-thin-clothing roommate, Dimitri Belikov. I never was one for thinking before I spoke, but hey, it could have turned out a lot worse, right? Sure it could have. At least, I think so. I could have said something like, "Please lay me down on that table right there and fuck me until I can feel the inside of my cervix no longer." Yeah. It definitely could have been worse.

So, all in all, when Lissa gave me the "what the fuck are you saying, Rose?" expression and Dimitri flashed me his same, indifferent, "I personally don't give two fucks" look, I simply glanced back and forth between them with a nonchalant shrug, muttering a small, "What are you looking at me like that for?". Lissa pursed her lips and, ever so talkative, Dimitri executed what seemed to be a disappointed sigh. I furrowed my brows, placing my hands on my hips. "Seriously, what did I say?"

"Wonderful way to greet the man that's gone out of his way to retrieve you, Rose," Dimitri offered up the unneeded and unwanted advice, rolling his eyes as one hand brushed away a particularly sopping patch of hair annoying his face. I swallowed. How had he known that I wanted to do that so horribly? He didn't, I chastised myself, turning my hands into fists. He was simply doing what anyone would do with a bothersome piece of hair. "And, if I recall correctly, you barged your way out into the rain earlier, did you not? A bit of the pot calling the kettle black, I see. But that fits your archetype, so I won't hold it against you."

He had a point that was in fact logical, but my anger didn't like to see logic and, fuming, I glared daggers at him. But not just any kind of daggers, oh no! These daggers were on fire. On FIRE. That way, when they punctured that dripping skin of his, it would burn with the intensity of a thousand suns. I was having a little too much fun picturing Dimitri bursting into flames, but my indecent mental victory was crushed when I realized that, were this to happen, his glistening skin would probably put the fire out in a quick hurry because Dimitri always won. I let my once victorious smirk fall into a flat lined frown. Dimitri: 1. Rose: 0.

"Um, I'm going to go…play with Oscar," Lissa whispered to break the silence, causing the heated stare-war occurring between my dear roommate and I to momentarily cease. "Rose, just…come and get me whenever you need me." She gave me the look—THE look—the look that all girlfriends send each other in desperate times, and I was grateful. It was the look that said, "Knock on my door and I will come out here guns-a-blazin' to protect your ass, gurl." I nodded to her in thanks, watching her tentatively make way to her bedroom where she quietly shut the door behind her.

I turned to Dimitri, crossing my arms over my chest. I wasn't about to make the first move without knowing his motifs. Well, if we were going to stand here, he was going to speak first. After all, wasn't it him who traveled all the way over here to bring me home? Wait.

He came over here to bring me home? Did that mean he actually cared about me and the fact that he had, in fact, enraged and embarrassed me to the point of leaving the apartment? I was this close to being slightly less angry and more along the lines of satisfied when Dimitri decided to finally open his mouth.

"Baggy clothing isn't very becoming on you, Rose," He offered, smiling in that sort of lopsided way that made my tummy do equal amounts of lopsided-ness. I forced myself to ignore it, however, and instead focused on the audacity he had to insult me at this time of night and in an apartment that wasn't ours. I would have growled, but that would have been a bit creepy—even for me.

"Says the man who is literally soaked from head to toe," I countered, pointing a finger at him accusingly. "You don't exactly fit the 'recently used mop' look, either; hate to break it to you, pretty boy."

Dimitri raised his brow. "You think I'm pretty?"

"No."

"That's what you said."

"I did not."

"Yes you did. I quote, 'Hate to break it to you, pretty boy."

"I didn't mean it like—Aw, Hell, I don't give a fuck what I said, Dimitri! Stop taking us in circles." I snarled, putting an end to the ridiculous banter with a prompt stomp of my foot.

"But it's fun to undermine your intelligence, Rose." I could have sworn he just purred that sentence. Did Dimitri just fucking purr at me? Is that even possible? And more importantly, what the Hell was I going to do when my heart finally decided to fail on me because of his subconscious, immense skill to flirt like there was no tomorrow? I swore I was counting down the days until I needed to start writing my goodbyes, if Dimitri even let me get that far. Honestly, he may have been dripping head to toe, but I was dripping in other places, if you know what I'm saying. It wasn't every day I got to see the outline of Dimitri's rock hard abs and chiseled forearms. And man did he have some nice arms…

I shifted uncomfortably, and Dimitri seemed to notice this. His head gave a small perk and his eyes went alit with mischief. Did he know what kind of effect he was having on me? If he did, he certainly didn't make much notice of it, or mention it. In fact, he said absolutely nothing, choosing instead to stare at me with that calculating stare that would have made me shift uncomfortably regardless of the fact that he was currently making me ruin my perfectly good underwear. I frowned, tired of the shenanigans.

"Look, comrade," I began, using the nickname that I had given him when we were small children, "Is there a reason you came here, or do you just like putting me through immense, absolutely, and terrifyingly horrible torture?"

"I'm putting you through torture?" He inquired, lifting a brow. "I had no idea I had that kind of effect on you, Rose." The first thing that came to my mind was "BULLSHIT! I call BS on you, Dimitri Belikov!" because God knows that Dimitri knew exactly what he did to every girl he happened to cross paths with; what made me any different? The second thought, however, was: "THAT'S NOT EVEN WHAT I WAS REFFERING TO, ASSHOLE." Which, luckily, was the thought I decided to say out loud.

"That's not even what I was referring to, asshole!" I repeated out loud, taking a step closer to him, "Your voice is annoying and staring at your face makes me feel like I'm about to have a hernia. Please inform me of your purpose or get out of my sight before I vomit all over Lissa's perfectly good rug. Not that it would matter because your gross bodily fluids leaking off of you because of the rain have done the job already."

"I see now why you got such bad grades in high school," Dimitri replied, lifting a hand to stare at his nails uninterestingly, which was sort of odd but mostly infuriating. "You were so busy trying to come up with insults that you spent all your time doing so…alone, naturally."

"Oh—What—Dimitri—I—UGH!" I fumbled, grasping my hair and turning away from him to stomp over to the couch. But before I could get my tired rump upon the comfort of the sofa, I felt a hand clasp my wrist none too gently, and suddenly I was being dragged backward. "What the Hell-?" Dimitri, with all those damn muscles he got from joining the army seven years ago, lifted me with ease and suddenly I was riding first class on his shoulder. Of course it wasn't exactly comfortable, so maybe it was more like second class. Oh who am I kidding, his hands were touching my back and I could feel all of his delicious muscles beneath my stomach, so this was definitely first class. I would handle the pain.

"PUT ME DOWN!" I yelled, berating his back with the unforgiving balls of my fists. I should have known that any kind of force, especially my fists, would do nothing to the quarterback-sized man beneath me. But, pretending I had a pride to save was pertinent, and so regardless of the fact that I knew it would do me no good, I continued pounding. When I was sure that it was no longer even fazing him, I reached a hand up to wrap my fingers around a large lump of hair, tugging relentlessly on it. If it didn't hurt him, it would sure as Hell annoy him. Of course, as he carried me outside into the pouring rain and I once again felt the cold droplets pierce my skin, I regretted my choice of words almost immediately. I really, really hoped he didn't put me down now.

He didn't. Instead he did what I wouldn't have ever bet on him doing. He slapped my ass.

"What the fuck?" I screamed, and the way I said it one would have figured I was outraged at his moral indecency. Which, I was, don't get me wrong—I was just sort of more weirded out that I was so immensely turned on by the simple action. I felt my loins tighten and constrict, and all too suddenly I wanted Dimitri to push me against the wall and take me with revered passion. When that didn't happen, however, my libido went into a corner and cried and I was pretty sure I wasn't far behind it. Kicking my legs, I was surprised when he set me down on them, and with a strength I didn't know I had, I forced myself to stand upright (which wasn't easy if you considered the fact they felt like jelly from his touch). Now both of us were being pounded by the tiny cold droplets, and if the situation called for any humor I would have laughed. We both looked sort of ridiculous, albeit he was a hot sort of ridiculous and I was just utterly ridiculous, but none the less our glares were matching and for a moment I remembered why we had been best friends for so long. There was something about opposites attracting, but more so it was because we both loved a good challenge.

Currently his was "Get Rose to the car ASAP", while mine was "Do not let the sexy, muscular Russian lure you into his pedo van." Alright, so Dimitri wasn't a pedo and he definitely didn't drive a van, but if I allowed my brain to consider him an enemy, maybe my body would actually listen to me for once. We stared each other down for a considerable amount of time, and I began to hate the stupid staring matches we participated in. What did we obtain out of them other than wasted time? Rolling my eyes, I held my arms out, giving him an exasperated look while doing so.

"Dimitri, please tell me why you are here, honestly. Other than that pride of yours that is continuously inflated for no damn reason at all, why come here and try to bring me home? If anything I would think that you would be grateful for my absence. This way you can bring Tasha over and be as loud as you want. Not that you don't already do so when I'm there, but this way you can avoid the annoyance of my complaints the following morning. Right?"

He revered me with an indifferent look, but something told me there was more behind it then he was letting on. I saw his chest rise with a silent inhale of air and he let it out slowly. "I…don't know, Rose. Is it uncommon for me to care about you?"

"Um, yes," I replied immediately, probably quicker than I should have. I saw the hurt flash over his face for a mere second before he went back to his calm resolve, but I didn't back down. "The last time you asked me how I was doing was when I was cooking you your hot wings before the football game, and that was because the game had already started and your tongue had yet to taste food."

Dimitri pursed his lips. "Well, usually you cook them faster than that," He explained, seemingly at a loss to say much else. I sighed.

"Answer my question, Dimitri, or I will walk my happy, wet ass back inside and you can take your nice, wet ass home."

He seemed to catch something I said, and his eyes betrayed the thought running through his mind. "Did you just say I have a nice ass?" Why did he catch all the things I didn't want him to, but never the ones I so desperately needed him to? And why did he always take them the wrong way?

"Forgoing your ignorance," I started, waving my hand dismissively at him, "I expect an actual answer. Now."

"I figured we should…um," He was struggling for the right words to say, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't one of the most adorable things I'd ever seen. "Well, at the very least, shouldn't we talk about what happened today?"

This threw me for a loop. "What?" I questioned incredulously, widening my eyes in disbelief. "You are actually taking the initiative to talk about an issue we have? I must have done an exceptionally good thing coming over here to Lissa's, because the last thing I want is to be alone on the day of the apocalypse."

Dimitri wasn't amused. "Rose," He growled out seriously, causing me to sober up quickly. "I'm not trying to be facetious here, so I'd appreciate if you weren't as well. I think we should talk about this, lest our relationship get even more…"

"Awkward?" I offered, to which Dimitri nodded thankfully. "I don't know what you think there is that needs to be said."

He furrowed his brows, and I watched him cross his arms over his chest. Oh boy did that almost cause my legs to give out on me. Seeing those forearms in all their muscular glory... "I walked in on you masturbating…to the thought of me. I think that something is a bit of an understatement for what needs to be said, don't you think?"

"You're quite full of yourself," I countered prestigiously, "For all you know I could have been picturing another Dimitri. You're not the only one in the world, Belikov."

"And the award for 'Suckiest Smartass' goes to Rose Hathaway," He rolled his eyes, "Look, if you are honestly telling me that you were picturing someone else—if you can swear that you were, I will drop this and head home immediately. But something tells me that's not the case." He was giving me that look, and I frowned. I hated when he gave me that look. It was like a huge guilt trip all bundled up nicely in a small package waiting on my doorstep. I couldn't lie when he was staring at me like that.

"…I don't know another Dimitri," I admitted. It wasn't exactly stating outright that I had been fantasizing about him, but it got the truth across. "But other than that, I don't know what to say."

"Then perhaps you'll answer my questions," Dimitri proposed, taking a step closer to me. I felt my face flush at the all-too-sudden intimate closeness between us, and I wanted to back away. "Why were you fantasizing about me of all people?"

I felt pressured, and the walls surrounding me were slowly closing in on me. I could have been hyperventilating for all I knew, but I did know that any place besides Dimitri was a good place to focus on. I struggled for words, failing miserably when I realized that each one just became stuck in a jumbled mess inside my chest. Grasping at thin air, I grit my teeth. Why did he have to know so damn bad? Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? I just needed time to be away from him, and then I would come back home and we could act like nothing happened. Why did he have to come over here all curious and inquisitive? And more importantly, why did he have to look so goddamn smokin' hot wet?

"So you walked in on me with my hand down my pants!" I yelled, throwing my hands up in exasperation. I took a step back from him, my personal space invaded and focused on the ground. "No big fucking deal, right? I mean, girls can masturbate, too! If I remember correctly, I walked in on you once when you were in the ninth grade, masturbating to some grade B porno! Did I make a big deal out of it? No!"

"Actually," Dimitri held up a finger, "You took a picture of me and posted copies all over the girl's locker room."

I blanched. "Oh, right. Well…I think you deserved it, because the week before you took a pair of my underwear and hung it up like a fuckin' flag in the boy's locker room."

"Maybe," Dimitri smiled as he reminisced of our younger, wilder days, "But in the end I won because the posting my picture only served to cause more girls to flock after me."

I snorted. "Yeah, I know. Because of you I can associate a moan with every girl from yours and my high school class."

Silence enveloped us once again, and this time neither of us seemed too keen on talking. Maybe the memories had Dimitri feeling nostalgic, but whatever the case was, he wasn't talking and I wasn't even looking at him. He was staring at me, that much I could tell from my peripherals, and I shifted nervously under his gaze. What was he staring at so intently anyways? Knowing him, I probably had something on my face and he was just waiting for me to ask the question so he could poke more fun at me. That was what Dimitri did best, after all. I narrowed my eyes, thinning out my lips into a slim line.

"Something. Interesting?" I snarled, punctuating my words through my gritted teeth. Dimitri's lips lifted into a subtle amused smile, a quiet chuckle reverberating in the cavity of his chest. Surprised, I lifted my head and stared with a confused expression. He was inches from me, looking down at me from his six foot seven height. Since when had he gotten so close?

"Well," He whispered, "It's raining and you're in thin clothing. It seems your body is reacting to the cold."

I paled, glancing down at myself. Somewhere in our struggle, the top buttons of my loose, flannel shirt had come unbuttoned and a copious amount of my well-endowed breasts were revealed. Cleavage was exposed, as were my taut, cold nipples pressed against the fabric, and I suddenly felt all the warmth still residing in my body fly up to my cheeks where they promptly tinted with red.

"I…uh," I stumbled over myself, too embarrassed to even move at this point, "S-Stop looking!"

"But I enjoy it," He mumbled huskily, and I watched his eyes glaze over with unmentioned lust. "I forget you're a woman sometimes, Roza."

Oh fuck. The nickname. Jesus Christ he hadn't used that nickname on me in years and the last time he had was back in my sophomore year of high school when we'd had our first sexual experience. It had been awkward and misplaced—we were both drunk out of our minds and I had, unfairly, seduced Dimitri in my drunken stupor. I had no idea what I was doing, and he had no control over himself, and so naturally that lead to one thing after the other and, successfully, he had taken my virginity. It would have been even slightly romantic had he felt any sort of interest in me while sober, but alas, we all know how that's gone. Either way, he'd stopped calling me the childhood pet name since and the effect it had on me came back full force when he used it now.

I was slightly aware that his hand was moving, his arm rising to gently brush against my collarbone and down the exposed line of my neck toward the area of my breasts. His tongue delved out of his mouth and licked his lips deviously, his fingertips trailing down my supple skin while I did absolutely nothing to stop him. For a moment I forgot that he had a girlfriend, that he was a man-whore, and that this would absolutely ruin our friendship. All I could think at the moment was the undeniable desire I had for him to touch me…everywhere.

His fingertips swept over my aroused nipple and I began to arch into his touch, my mouth falling open. My arms were preparing for launch, ready to wrap around his neck to hold myself up, but before I could, the sound of the door opening pulled us out of our own little worlds. Simultaneously we turned our heads, and Lissa's eyes flickered back and forth from mine to Dimitri's.

"Sorry, sorry!" She apologized repeatedly, but it was too late. Realizing his mistake, Dimitri withdrew his hand, taking a step back to get some distance in between us. But, of course, not before making sure to cover his ass. His fingers, once soft and willing to pleasure me into oblivion, now chose the opposite route. With a smirk coated in mischief, Dimitri closed his hand.

And promptly gave me a purple-nurple.

"FUCK!" I yelled in pain, eyes widening at the sensation running through me. The action had once perhaps had the potential to be satisfying, but he had clamped down so hard that I could have sworn my nipple was being ripped off rather than pleasured. A hand covered the sore nub and rubbed it tenderly as I felt tears of anger well up in my eyes. "What the fuck, Dimitri!"

"I'll see you at work tomorrow, Rose," Dimitri chided, and suddenly he was at the bottom of the stairs, "Don't be late!"

And then he was gone.

It felt like what had just occurred had all been an elaborate fantasy I created in my head. I blinked, glancing over at Lissa after watching Dimitri peel out of the parking lot in his 2010 Mustang. Lissa gave me the biggest "I'm guilty" look ever and immediately rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me. "Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to ruin anything, I was just concerned because you guys had been out here for awhile and it's raining and—"

I pushed her away from me, but not out of anger. At least she had confirmed the fact that it had been real and I wasn't batshit insane. Shoving her back inside, I shut the door behind us and made my way toward the bathroom to get a towel for my wet hair. Thank God I'd brought a change of clothing. "Look, Liss, its okay. It wasn't your fault. In fact, I'm glad you stopped whatever was about to happen. It would have been a mistake had Dimitri made any sort of move. But, to be honest, I don't think he was going to. I think he intended on giving me that damn purple-nurple the entire time."

"Oh, Rose," Lissa murmured sadly, obviously distraught over my situation, "He's a jerk. Forget about him!"

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled in response, heading into the guest room where Lissa had dumped my suitcase. Opening it, I rummaged through it to find something acceptable to wear to bed tonight while I dried my wet clothing. I assumed Lissa hadn't heard me with her lack of response, and so instead I focused on getting myself to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it, taking a deep breath while my mind reeled over what had just happened. I grabbed the towel hanging on a rod by the shower and wrapped it around my head to dry my hair. Beginning to unbutton whatever remaining buttons were left on my shirt, I sighed.

I tugged the wet material off my body and tossed into a foreign corner. I did the same with my pants and replaced them with the only other sleep-wear I had to my name: a black nightie. It was some kind of expensive silk and felt amazing to the touch, but it was just a bit embarrassing to wear outside where Lissa would be looking over me as if she were appraising a property. I found her robe hanging on the back of the door and slipped it around myself to cover up the negligence.

After bidding Lissa a goodnight (hers consisting of "we will talk about this in the morning on the way to work~!"), I shut myself up tight in the guest room and sighed as my back hit the bed. I hadn't realized how tired all this emotional mess had made me. My heart felt like it had just run a marathon. Wrapping the covers around me, I felt Oscar jump up onto the bed and snuggle up at my feet. I bid him the appropriate goodnight, scratching him behind his ears and kissing the top of his head. I would see Dimitri tomorrow at work, I realized with a frown. What would happen then? Would he insist we finish our 'talk', or would he advise we start a new one over what happened outside Lissa's apartment? I had no idea, but my brain wasn't willing to let me argue with myself anymore. Too tired, I felt my eyes start to slide shut. Falling back onto my pillow, I resigned to the overwhelming desire of sleep.

A sleep full of wet dreams that consisted of my hot, Russian best friend.