The next couple of days were grilling. Nadine tried to keep in mind that Monkey Fist was due soon – whatever 'soon' meant. It didn't help though that she found herself faced with three tests and, much to her excitement, submitting her first draft of the paper to her mentor. By the third day, all tests complete and her paper figuratively ripped to shreds by her editing mentor, she was beat.
Nadine entered her dorm without calling her roommate. It was only six in the evening but her bed was calling for her. Drained, she opened her door and let her bag drop to the floor. She threw herself onto her bed and groaned at the sheer comfort, smothering her face in the plush pillow as if it were her last sin committed.
"If this is your daily ritual," a voice came from her dresser, startling, "I feel as though I should let you aware of my presence. Can't have another, ah, massage incident." The light flickered as Nadine jumped up, sitting on her bed with sharp attention.
"Monkey Fist." She breathed, her heart skipping a beat. She tried to ignore the lingering sensation of fluttering in her stomach. "How did you…?"
"Your roommate is unharmed," the man assured, "though she really should learn to check that the door has shut completely." He sat on a small plush box that doubled as storage, his back to the mirror with writing all over it. "You've been busy, I see." He gestured to the writing. And, if Nadine wasn't mistaken, there was a flash of pleasure in his gaze from seeing his note.
Nadine blinked and felt herself smile, pleased at his words. What was this? She felt an overwhelming desire to be praised by the man. Or maybe it was just because the paper she had worked so hard on had been drenched with the editor's pen of blood.
"You have no idea." She deadpanned. Standing from her bed, wincing at how sore her body was from the brief glimpse of comfort to her tired body taken away, she studied him. "That can't possibly be comfortab- did you go through any of my stuff?! How long were you here?!" Last she recalled, her roommate left for her classes at three which gave Monkey Fist three hours of exploring.
Monkey Fist chuckled as he stood from the makeshift seat. "You are right, it wasn't that comfortable. Still, it beat the rocks I've been meditating on." He took on a devilish smirk at her rapid fire of questions. "How ungentlemanly that would be, to rummage through your private things!" When Nadine glared sharper, he sighed. "I didn't look at anything, if that suffices. In the past three hours, actually, I've been studying your notes." He turned to look at the mirror.
Their eyes met through the reflection. Nadine's heart jumped once more and she felt her face warm. Her gaze traveled down his body before she looked away, refusing to give into her thoughts. Her control was shot after today. Alcohol, rest, food, and a warm body sounded lovely…not in that order or together, but damn.
"Well, uh, how about that tea? I'll tell you my theory while we drink, unless you've figured it out from my writing?" Nadine gestured to the door.
Monkey Fist tore his eyes away to look at her face to face. "I would have if I could read your writing."
"That's supposed to be the mark of a genius, right?" She smirked before walking to the kitchen. He followed quietly. As she made the tea, wary least she mess up one step for the Englishman. There would be hell to pay then, she thought. "Are you going to tell me about your adventures since we last parted?" She asked while trying to reach the loose earl grey on the top shelf. It was the only place that her roommate wouldn't try to bother.
The kettle started to whistle but, damn it, she was so close to the box! "I thought it would be best not to distract you until we sat with the tea." Monkey Fist's voice was right behind her just as his hand took hold of the box she was trying to grab. Nadine jumped with a soft gasp, making to turn to see him. He was only an inch behind her though, her movement pressing her body against his.
Fighting, and failing, the urge to blush, Nadine nodded. "The luxuries of being tall." She mumbled, the leaves held to the side. Their gazes locked. Every breath they took, their chests brushed together given the distance. Her hand slowly raised with the intent to take the box from him, instead resting on his forearm. Her fingers inched up to his wrist. Monkey Fist, for some reason or another, didn't budge.
Her eyes landed on his lips. Gods, it had been months since they last…and she no longer had Jacob to have fun with. Surely just one kiss, maybe something more, could…
The kettle whistled louder, snapping her out of her trance. She took the box which Monkey Fist took as the sign to step aside. It was only when Nadine had take the kettle away from the hot plate and was in the middle of placing the leaves in the mesh of the pot did she realize what had just happened. Monkey Fist didn't budge despite the close proximity, the obvious desire that overtook her. He didn't do anything but help with the tea. He had let her make the decision.
Relieved, the young lady poured the hot water into the pot before closing it. When Nadine glanced up again, he had taken a seat in the living room. His eyes traveled over the color scheme. Setting two cups on a tray with the warm pot, Nadine picked a roll of Girl Scout cookies – thin mint – from the fridge.
Clearing her throat as she carried the tray, she said, "Pardon the cookie selection, but it's the only junk food allowed in this dorm." Just as she walked around the loveseat, her foot caught the rug. A sharp gasp left her as the tray flew, its contents soaring.
In a blink of the eye, Monkey Fist jumped up and caught Nadine around the waist, forearm pressed to her stomach, and her shoulder to his arm – safe from a face plant. With his other hand, he caught the roll of thin mints. With his foot, he grabbed the tray and managed to catch the pot of tea and two cups, all without breaking a sweat.
When nothing crashed loudly and Nadine remained off the ground, she gave a breath of relief. "Amazing reflexes."
He set the tray and the cookies on the table before turning to look at her. She was standing now but his arm hadn't moved from her waist. "It would look like to someone with clumsiness."
This, thankfully, brought the would-be trance before it could start. "Hilarious." She walked to the tray and poured them two cups, opening the roll of cookies to munch on one. The near fall had woken her completely from her weariness. "So, adventure tales. Go."
By the time their cups were empty and refilled, Monkey Fist had finished his update of the past few months. "And your theory?" He had been patient, after all. And she had no doubt that he didn't want to hear her few months back in academia – even she didn't want to.
She set aside her full cup, no longer thirsty. "Well, I was thinking about the sorcerer and his friend. Pet. Whatever. It stands to reason that DuPoi wouldn't have drawn blood from Zarzarak in order to transfer his power. If he had, the villagers would have noticed something was wrong. Not only that but…it's just cruel to cut a friend." Nadine tried not to look pointedly at Monkey Fist, recalling his drunken visit long ago. He had apologized for it though so she brushed it off. "It went to Zarzarak's hand…meaning either he concentrated his power to do so or…maybe it was the point of contact. Maybe he had…okay, backing up.
"When you were chasing me, the hand went from fist to open. I think it gradually worked alongside with the level of danger, but more on that in a second. So if the hand had opened finally…maybe it, the power, the sorcerer…maybe it transferred from palm-to-palm contact."
Monkey Fist opened his mouth to speak, but Nadine held her hand up, the scar prominent. "Hush." She sat on the edge of her seat. "The curse? I'm getting to it. When Zarzarak's hand was cut off, that had to be when DuPoi enacted the curse. Those who wanted to use it willingly would be damned. Those who used it unwillingly, without want – forced, as Zarzarak was to lose his hand – would find the power. The drawing of blood, perhaps, was the 'unwilling' part…it helped the one in danger. Does that make sense?"
Nadine had stood through her ramble. When the man opened his mouth again to answer, she carried on before he could speak. "So then it would stand to reason, well, forget the magic from the hand. That's a bit trickier to handle, ridiculously risky. So, forget the hand for now. Put it out of your mind." She had started to pace around the table, careful not to step on the man's feet. "But to transfer the power! To transfer! I think it would be something like the original pair. I think if we just…pressed our palms flat together, that would…"
The man stood in the middle of her latest ramble. At this point, as she turned the corner of the table, he was in front of her. Before she could crash into him, however, he took hold of her arms in a soft hold, one she could, if desired, break out of. Nadine fell silent and stared up at him, feeling her heart speed up for the umpteenth time. He looked down on her with dark, hungry eyes. To hear her theory…
The pair didn't move for a full moment, staring instead into each other's eyes. Then Nadine started to lean forward. Monkey Fist copied her action. At the same time, his hands started to trail down her arm to her wrist. Their heads tilted, their fingers laced together. Just as their lips met, rough and demanding from so many lonely months, their palms pressed together.
Warmth traveled through her left arm and his right arm, the hand she had injured in self-defense. Then she felt a sharp tingle run down her arm and through her hand, making her fingers twitch against his. Then it was gone. A second later, his fingers twitched – whatever that sensation, that 'power', had left her and found a new home with Monkey Fist.
Nadine thought he would pull away, laugh, thank her for the tea and power, and be gone for the rest of her life. It was a flash that crossed her mind, but it was long enough to make her heart ache at the thought. So when he groaned into the kiss and cradled the back of her head, deepening their kiss, she moaned.
She pressed her body against his, their marked hands still together. With the nudge, she got him to sit down while she straddled him. Just as she started to use her free hand to tangle through his locks, the front door clicked.
Nadine jumped and stood, miraculously not falling backwards into the table, as her roommate opened the door. "Nadine, why can't I ever seen to get laid?!"
Just as Nadine made to look at Monkey Fist – the irony of her roommate's complaint too rich – she saw her bedroom door close. He must have dove in there just in time to keep hidden. Sighing softly, she murmured, "Maybe it's your roommate's fault." Without letting her respond, Nadine walked around the couch and entered her room. The two cups on the table would be questioned, but perhaps Emily would assume it was Jacob or something.
Alas, when she entered her room she saw the window open and no monkey master. Her heart sunk. He just…left? When she went to wipe away the writings on her mirror, finding no purpose to it since she had given him what he wanted, she was surprised to see new writing, red to contrast.
'Next time, I'll make you a true cuppa'
Then as if an afterthought, he had written, 'Open your closet'.
Nadine blinked. Her closet? She looked at the door a bit wearily, but reasoned that there couldn't possibility be anything damaging in it. When curiosity won out, she walked and opened the door slowly.
On the floor sat a potted azalea with a note attached.
Crouching, she picked up the note and read it. 'It would be un-gentlemanly, after tasting your lips, to leave you empty-handed on Valentine's Day. –MF.'
Nadine's heart leapt and she laughed softly. Ah, that's right, it was Valentine's today! How did she forget? Re-reading the note with a grin, she picked up the potted flower and stood. Placing it on her window sill, she stuck his other note across from the window-note on her mirror. A quick search on the internet as to how to take care of azaleas turned up the meaning of them as well.
Take Care of Yourself for Me; Temperance; Fragile Passion.
She leaned over to stroke the soft petals, shaking her head. Them, her, in a nutshell…or, more appropriate, a flower. Perfect. Nadine shut the window but did not lock it. She went to change into her pajamas, brush her teeth, and wash her hair before returning. As she got into bed, catching the soft scent of the flower next to her, she grinned.
Her hand went to flick off the light. The last thing she saw was the mirror. Her musings in black, his in red, with two notes on either side of the frame, and her tired, but content reflection staring back.
