Promise Ch 3- Making Old Times New Again

Once out in the hallway, Eliot trapped Aimee against the wall, one hand was on either side of her head.

"Eliot, what..." Aimee started, clearly flustered by their position.

"What's the plan?" he questioned.

"I, uh, I don't know, maybe I should just go back home, in close proximity to my shot gun," she finished with a nervous laugh.

"You know I hate guns," Eliot objected, his seriousness never faltering.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do here Eliot, you heard Nate, he couldn't help me," Aimee replied, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity in his blue orbs nearly took her breath away.

"Where do you feel safe?" he wondered.

"With, uh, I don't know," and her gaze fell from his once more.

"With?" Eliot wasn't going to let that one slip by.

"With you, damn it, why do you think I'm here?" she responded, trying to fight the red creeping into her cheeks. She figured Eliot was enjoying the hell out of her little admission, so it surprised her to be met with his nothing but business glare.

"Then you're staying with me," he decided.

"Eliot…" it was half a warning and half an objection.

"No, you said you feel safe, and this way we both win, you feel safe and I can keep you safe," Eliot said with half a smirk. That was the look Aimee had been expecting.

Eliot could feel them before he actually saw them. The two burly men started at them as they came around the corner, near the car.

"They followed you to Boston?" he whispered into Aimee's ear.

"No, those are different guys," Aimee replied quickly.

"Damn it," he grunted, pushing Aimee out of the way and shoving a hard elbow into the face of one of the guys. The other tried to get him from behind, but Eliot spun too quickly and caught him with a knee to his stomach. Somehow Eliot caught a fist to the face, but quickly returned the favor with a swift uppercut. A few more hits later, he'd neutralized the threat and met Aimee at the car.

"You didn't used to fight like that," she noted.

"It comes with the job," he shrugged, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.

"You're eye is going to bruise," she responded as nonchalantly as his last statement.

"Nothing I'm not used to," he mumbled, sliding into the driver's seat.

Eliot pushed Aimee behind him as he checked out his apartment once again. He let her past him as soon as he was done.

"Make yourself at home," he encouraged. "It's not much, but it is comfortable," he said with a soft smile. She gently nodded and ventured further into his space. "I uh, I'm just gonna change out of, uh, this," he stammered, pointing at his blood stained shirt.

Aimee grew increasingly more uncomfortable every moment Eliot did not return to the living room. She felt like he was either avoiding her or she was intruding on his space. After ten agonizingly long minutes, she pushed of the couch and went to find him. The apartment was only so big. Before she officially started her quest, she grabbed one of multiple ice packs out of his freezer. The number of ice packs he had surprised her. However, if he regularly got into fights like the one she witnessed earlier, that didn't seem unreasonable.

The sound of soft music pulled her towards his bedroom. At first she felt a little uneasy about entering a room so personal to him, but when she thought about it, it wasn't the first time she had been in Eliot Spencer's bedroom. The last thing she expected to find was him, once again shirtless, with a guitar nestled in his lap, singing softly. She rested against the doorframe as he finished the song.

"I didn't know you still played," she mused. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. At first they were full of anger, but that quickly dissipated. He was still getting used to having a house guest. He wasn't expecting someone to walk in on his playing.

"Only when I have time," he replied, setting the guitar on the bed next to him.

"You don't have to stop," she stated. He made some noncommittal face. Aimee held out the ice pack. "I bet your eye stings," she whispered. He reached for the pack but moved past it and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her into his lap. The ice pack fell to the floor. Almost impulsively, Aimee's hands threaded through his dark, thick hair. There was only a second of hesitation before their lips crashed together. He locked his arms around her waist and eased them backwards onto the mattress. She ground her hips against his, eliciting a low moan from him. She took the opportunity to slide her tongue into his mouth. He moved to roll them over, her elbow bumping the guitar.

"Oh, sorry," he murmured, pulling away from her and putting the instrument back on its stand in the corner. He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down on her. He ran both of his hands thorough his hair and removed his belt before climbing on top of Aimee. He propped himself up on his left elbow and sent his right hand up under her shirt. She arched against him as his calloused hand traveled up her abdomen. She reached between them and deftly undid the button and fly on his jeans. As he felt the sudden slack in his jeans, he looked down between them, then back up at her. "Damn, you are still the best at that," she praised, breathlessly.

"A girl's gotta take what she wants," Aimee replied, setting an example by wrapping one leg around his waist and grinding against him again.

"Yes ma'am," he smirked, going into kiss her again. It didn't take bout another minute until they were both divested of their clothing and reverting back to old times.

Aimee smiled against Eliot's skin as she ran a hand across his chest. The skin was marred with more scars than she could remember from the last time they were in their current position. It made her half way curious to find out what he'd been up to in the years since he left Kentucky. However, the dark clouds she saw sitting just behind is pretty blue eyes told her it was probably best if she didn't know. She smirked as she thought about the observation she'd just made. Eliot probably didn't even know he was showing that much of himself. Then again, Eliot probably was never around someone who knew him as well as she did, or well used to. She felt him shift underneath her. He softly kissed her forehead.

"Are you hungry?" he rasped, his voice still a little husky in the aftermath of their activities.

"Starving, why are you offering to cook?" she half joked.

"Of course darlin', my mama did raise a gentleman," he grinned. Aimee rolled her eyes. She slid off of him and out of the bed, taking the sheet with her. She glanced back at the bed to see the very naked Eliot Spencer, stretched out in her wake. His mass of hair was scattered about the pillow behind his head and a satisfied, lazy smirk resting on his face.

"Food?" she checked.

"Ok," he retorted with the slight widening of his eyes and a raise of his eyebrows. He stood from the bed and pulled on his jeans. He scooped up the discarded ice pack and walked out of the room.

Eliot arched an eyebrow at the tomato sitting on his counter. His attempt at lunch earlier flooded his memory. He grabbed a Ziploc and slid the tomato into it and set it back in the fridge. He grabbed a few things while he was in there and pulled together an idea for a meal for him and Aimee. He laughed to himself as he realized his day had not gone as planned at all.