Chapter-way-too-many-damn-I-miss-one-shots-but-I-want-a-fic-with-100-reviews-wOOT!
I'm not dead, not even retired, but real life is beating me down, so that's why the long interruption. Vinyl's new chapter was like a smack in the ass to get going again.
Oh my god.
Curiosity made me do it. The first one I opened was harmless enough. There was a promise of cake, which made me grind my teeth. How the hell were these people not all diabetic? But then, there was probably a spell to prevent it. I had no idea who the hell Ctiulappe-attizai was, but apparently he wanted to get to know me better. I knew demons were crazy, but the names attached to the…emails? just strongly reaffirmed this fact. Some even made Al's summoning name look normal.
Other messages were plainly gross and I deleted them after a few glances…just to make sure there wasn't anything important in there...yeah. So what, I'm a bad liar.
Most were somewhere in between, though if I read one more speculation about my favorite type of cake, my relationship with Al, or if the carpet matched the drapes, I was going to hurt someone. Or smash my room interface. Which I didn't do—barely, cause I had some concerns about getting out of my room if I did in fact go all Office Space on that damn thing.
I ran a brush painfully through my wet, curly, and now ridiculously knotted hair. Damn it, I was very much pissed at Al. But I needed to talk to him. If for nothing else than to figure out how to block everyone else's access to my inbox. I'd had enough pervy demon love letters to last this century and then some, thank you.
My stomach's insistent comments reminded me I need some breakfast, and after tugging the brush through my hair one more time, I used the glyph to jump into Al's non-spelling kitchen. It should be good neutral ground if I ran into Al. But for all I knew, he'd jumped back in the tub when I'd vacated it. I paused, remembering I'd left my toiletries kit in his bathroom. Damn it, he better not look through my stuff. Knowing Al, he probably was. I tried to think if I had anything more awkward than a razor and deodorant in my bag, couldn't think of anything, and so proceeded to pick through Al's kitchen in pursuit of edibles. And it was as quite a task. I'd found smoked eel and what I swear were pickled pigs feet in here last time, and so I was duly cautious.
Crackers were my first find, and I munched on these as I continued digging through Al's plentiful cabinets. They were all quite a mess too, since apparently the demon used up his anal retentive powers in his lab. But then, I kind of preferred the mess. Al was so uptight about his workroom, I'd been swatted more than once for putting something back in the wrong place. In his mundane kitchen, he didn't apparently give a fairy fart, or at least hadn't bitched at me about making a mess.
Al was very suddenly ejected from the forefront of my mind. I pulled my find out from the dark confines of the cabinet, checking for an expiration date before I got excited. According to the packaging it was still good, so I did a little victory dance. Trail mix with carob, pecans, and dried cherries was way better than what I'd expected. There was damn near a pound of the stuff, and I was tempted to stash it in my room, not sure if I could find it again in the cabinets of if Al would eat it all to spite me. I had splashed soap in his eyes after all.
I practically shoveled the granola mix into my face, and even with the slight acrid tang of burnt amber, it was damn delicious.
An overly dramatic sigh made me turn, my mouth full and practically bulging with half-chewed trail mix. Al was there, not naked anymore, but in his bathrobe, leaning casually against one of the counters and eyeing me. Some clothing was definitely an improvement, but I knew he could just materialize his usual green frock. The bathrobe, all black and silky with almost-feminine ruffles at the open neck, was probably more for me than him.
"See what I mean, itchy witch? Eating all my expensive GORP like circus peanuts. You are high maintenance," Al said chidingly, and I couldn't honestly tell how much of it was his teasing and how much might actually be anger.
"Iss naw gwaaaaap," I tried around my mouthful of plunder, swallowed at Al's raised eyebrow, and tried again. "It's not GORP, no peanuts, no raisins. It's…" I thought about it, staring at the bag in my hands instead of trying to hold Al's evaluating gaze. "GOCAPACSEF," I mumbled, making sure I got them all: granola, oatmeal, cherries, almonds, pecans, apples, carob…yep, all there. Though GORP sounded more normal, mine almost sounded like a damn demon name.
I dropped the bag on the counter, remembering again why I was willing to deal with this level of awkwardness with Al, because speaking of strange demon names…
"I need to know how to block other users from messaging my room interface," I said suddenly, and Al shifted against the counter, as if thinking of moving towards me, then deciding otherwise.
"Why?" he said flatly, and I looked up at him then, curious at his tone and the bland expression I couldn't read on his face. Was he hiding a roiling jealousy that other demons were leaving me dirty emails? He could even be upset; maybe he thought I'd answered some of the messages? But no, the skin around his eyes was too relaxed, too neutral, and he always seemed to love a good reason to yell at me. So what the hell was it then? I caught myself turning my head to the side as I studied him. He offered a thin smile, and I shook myself, trying to remember this was about STOPPING demon advances, not trying to figure out Al's MO.
"Because I'm sick of weird emails filling up my inbox. I don't want to talk to a bunch of pervy demons who think I put out for cake because of your little act in Dali's garden!" I shouted the last bit for good measure.
"About that, Rachel. Court date is on the thirty-seventh," Al said with a smirk.
"I didn't say I'd do it," I grumbled while I wondered what the hell was up with the demonic calendar. The thirty-seventh of what?
"If you want help with your room interface, I need your help in return…" Al lifted his hands in a gesture that was probably supposed to look helpless. But I stared at his bare hands, remembered them on my bare skin, stroking, teasing, gentling me to him, and shook my head sharply.
"Well then, I'll leave you to your many suitors," Al said as he turned to go.
Suitors? What the hell…
"Al…" I said, the warning clear in my voice, but the bastard kept going. He blew a kiss and disappeared on the sigil face. My hands knotted in to fists and before really thinking about it, I raced to follow him. I could feel his trail on the sigil still: he was in the library. I jumped after him, glad it was just the library, not sure what I would do if he had retreated into his bedroom.
"Al!" I came into the library yelling, striding across the room towards his reclining form on the couch and hoping I looked at least half as pissed as I felt.
Al, still in his damned bathrobe, looked up from his book, not even a pretense of surprise in his red goat-slitted eyes as he tracked my progress to him. I didn't let the sudden fear his gaze could hold slow me though and marched right up to him, my knees brushing his.
For a moment, I lost my words. He was there, waiting to hear me yell at him, and I was sufficiently angry to do so. But I felt tired of it all before we even started. I'd been here over a week now, and all we'd done beside a few bastardized lessons was fight and bitch at each other with a few more awkwardly tender moments of "making-up" in between. I was tried and I was sick of the ever after and I was sick of Al and I missed my home and my friends.
My expression must have given me away. Al looked up at me, resting his book against his leg to reach a hand up and grasp my own. "Rachel?" he asked, not hiding the concern in his voice now. His hand was warm and heavy in mine, but it didn't evoke the kind of reaction his skin against mine usually did. Even the shift of energies felt like an empty gesture.
"It's nothing, it doesn't matter," I said, and turned to go. I didn't even want to reclaim my bag of super GORP, I just wanted to crawl back into bed and cry. And then when I was done with that, maybe figure out a way to contact Jenks and Ivy. Damn, I needed to hear their voices.
His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back to him, hard. I overbalanced when he pulled again insistently, and I fell back onto him. I cursed and kicked and tried to get off him, but his bare hands came up and either side of my face, practically trapping me, and held my gaze inches from his own. One of my hands was on his chest to steady myself, but the damn bathrobe had bunched, and I was touching his perfect skin, feeling the hard muscle and the soft rise and fall of his breath.
"So much anger, just gone, and so suddenly, so cold," Al said softly, his breath mingling with my own. He stroked one side of my face slowly with his thumb.
"I don't have anything to say to you," I tried for indifference, but I sounded hurt, damn it.
"We are past words, but there are still many things we still have yet to share with one another," Al said softly, his thumb still stroking, his hands still holding me close to him.
I only meant to blink, but I kept my eyes closed for a moment, reshuffling my thoughts and trying again for anything resembling clarity. Al's lips brushed my neck, and I shuddered, opening my eyes to watch him work his way back up, leaving a gliding trail of warmth up my neck and cheek until our lips met. His lips were gentle on mine, tender, and that just made me remember all the more how much more heat and force his kisses could deliver.
Al pulled away a moment, his words as soft as his kisses, "Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to pretend, if you'd let me show you more of what being a mate entails?" His lips returned to mine, pressing lightly, soft punctuation to his question.
Damn it. I shuddered again in his arms, and one of his hands moved to smooth my hair. I tried to move, testing his hold, but he didn't give, so I lowered myself completely to rest on top of him. I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in and just grateful I didn't have to look in his eyes for the moment. He hummed in pleasure, one hand still stroking through my hair as if it weren't a rat nest of tangled curls, the other rubbing my back like he was comforting a child and not the woman he'd just been propositioning a moment earlier.
"I'd have to think about it," I said against his chest, and both of were surprised by my sudden words. Al made no move to stop me, and I clumsily got off him. I got to the glyph without a backwards glance and jumped to my room. Gasping when I arrived, grateful for air that didn't smell like his indomitable musk. I collapsed on the bed and wondered why the hell I even bothered to leave it in the first place.
Sorry about the teasing…but not really. You know you love it.
Thanks again for updating, VinylVictory. Your fic, No Rest For The Wicked, is turning out to be my favorite Ral fic ever, and your perseverance inspires some semblance of it in me.
