Nothing Compares

A/N: First of all, I need to credit Vera Roberts for one of the lines in this story. It's pretty much stolen right out of her story, Let Love Go, and is used here with her permission. Alright, y'all, this is where things start to pick up in our little fairy tale. We're ramping toward the end - only 5 more chapters to go. I hope you all continue to Enjoy!

Winter rocked slowly in the porch swing, her eyes fully focused on the sweating glass of sweet tea resting against her thigh. Mark had called twenty minutes ago to let her know that he was almost home, and she had been listening for the tell-tale growl from the diesel engine of his over-sized pick up truck ever since. There was something about the anticipation that filled her chest every time she knew she was going to see him again. Even after a year of dating him, she still found herself excited over the thought of seeing him step out of that truck and open his arms to her.

Though she had yet to fully move into his house, she spent more time wandering it's spacious halls than she did at her own apartment. Most of her clothes and personal items were there, and it was feeling more and more like home with each passing day. Something told her that she would be moving in soon enough.

By the time the truck eased to a stop in front of the house, Winter was standing at the bottom of the porch steps, an expectant smile on her face. Just a second more and she would be in his warm embrace once again. It took everything in her not to jump up and down and clap her hands together. Mark was home and she was ready to show him just how much she had missed him.

Pushing the door of the truck open, Mark swung his legs slowly toward the hard ground and cringed as he stood to his full six feet and ten inches. Running his hand over his face, he slammed the door of the vehicle and limped a few steps to the back door. Opening the extended cab, he struggled to pull two large suitcases from the truck.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Winter asked, rushing toward him, concern etched deep into her forehead. "Mark, what happened?" she repeated when he refused to answer.

He slammed yet another door and hissed in pain when he tried to pivot toward her. "I'm fine," he lied, wrapping his free arm around her in a half-hearted hug.

Rolling her eyes, Winter stole the suitcase handles from him and began rolling them toward the front porch. Mark protested, but couldn't help laughing when she began to wrestle the first piece of luggage up the steps. "Jesus," she called out, finally managing to get it onto the porch. "I know I did not pack this much shit for you!"

When she turned to gage his reaction, Mark was limping toward her, his beefy hand resting gingerly on his left thigh. "I bought some stuff," he admitted, his eyes closing in pain as he hoisted his body up the two steps to the front door.

Once they were inside, Winter placed his luggage by the stairs and pointed to his recliner. "Sit," she ordered.

"Come here," he countered.

But Winter shook her head. "Sit your big ass down. I'll get you a beer." She had no idea what had happened to him, but it was obvious that he was not fine. When he crossed his arms over his chest, she rolled her eyes. "Mark, I know you wanna be the tough guy or whatever, but you need to sit your ass down and get off that leg," she mimicked his stance, raising her pierced, left eyebrow. "I'm not impressed."

With a cocky girn, he moved his hands to his hips, and leaned as casually as possible against the back of the couch. "I'm not tryin' to impress you," he corrected, pushing away from the furniture to limp toward her. "I'll admit I'm hurtin'," he added, reaching out to his girlfriend and crushing her against his chest. "But I wanna say 'hi' to my girl before I crash," he added.

Blushing slightly at her presumption, Winter wrapped her arms as far around his back as she could and squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you're home," she mumbled.

Mark pulled back and held her smooth cheeks in his hands. Running his thumb over her bottom lip. "I sure missed you, Sweetness," he added, dipping his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Missed you real bad last night," he winked.

Tilting her face, Winter wove her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. The ranch was secluded, quiet, and undisturbed. But the pounding in her chest as he slid his hands up her back and then down below her rear was defeaning in her ears. When he lifted her into his arms, she wrapped her legs around his waist, continuing to feast on his mouth, gliding her tongue over his. His kisses were worth having him home.

Until he stumbled and began to fall backward. Fearing a fall, Winter unclasped her ankles and jumped to the floor in time to see him grip the arm of the couch for support. "Alright," she cleared her throat and strengthened her resolve. "You're sittin' your ass in that chair, Mister Tough Guy," she instructed. Resting her hand on her hip and pointing to the furniture, she dared him to challenge her. "Now!"

This time, he didn't argue. "Can you bring my suitcase over here?" he asked through clenched teeth as he dropped his heavy frame into the large, leather chair.

Winter moved toward the luggage and asked which one he wanted. When he gestured to the smaller of the two, she wheeled it toward him. Stopping it in front of him, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Are you hungry?" Mark shook his head. "Heating pad or ice pack?"

"Heat," he answered shortly, leaning forward in the chair to tug at the zipper of his bag.

Quickly gathering the heating pad from his bedroom closet, Winter stopped in the master bedroom to throw her hair into a ponytail, and then skpped back down the stairs. She grabbed one of the beer bottles that she had left chilling in the freezer a few hours earlier, and headed back into the living room.

His eyes fixated on her, following her on her path between the kitchen and his side. He was a lucky son of a bitch, and he knew it. There was no reason that this woman should be waiting for him to arrive home, worrying about him, and happily taking care of him. It almost made him feel guilty.

Winter put the beer in his hand and set about plugging the heating pad into the wall behind the chair. "This would work a lot better if you could take your pants off," she suggested. He just raised an eyebrow, but Winter tossed him a pair of shorts that she had brought from his room.

Mark laughed as he stood from the chair and changed into the shorts. When he sat back down, Winter was at his side, draping the warm pad over his thigh. He grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist before releasing her and reaching for his bag again. "I bought you somethin'," he said.

She watched as he withdrew a couple of small bags and then told her to close her eyes. "I'm not three, Mark," she reminded him, but did as she was told anyway. She could hear him rustling through his bag. When he told her that she could open her eyes, she gasped.

He was holding a soft motorcycle jacket made of black and red leather, the cuff branded with the Harley emblem. Though any riding gear was more his style than hers, Winter couldn't deny that it was beautiful. And it complimented his perfectly. "You like it?" he asked, his eyes bright and hopeful.

Walking toward him, Winter perched herself on his good knee and ran her fingers over the garment. "So we're that couple now, huh?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow. "The kind who wear matching jackets when we go riding?"

"Mine doesn't look like this," he insisted. "Not exactly." Rolling his eyes, he turned his face to hers. "What's wrong with being that couple?"

Winter pecked his lips softly and shook her head. "Not a damn thing," she answered, casting her glance to two small bags on the table at his side. "What's in those?" she asked. "Are they for me, too?"

Tightening his grip around her waist, Mark rubbed the exposed skin between Winter's shorts and tank top. "They're for both of us, actually," he blushed a bright pink when she moved to pick one up. "Read the card," he instructed, handing her a pink envelope.

As she pulled the small card from it's holder, she reached over to distractedly run her hand over his thigh. "Still hurtin'?" she mumbled as she read the anniversary wishes from some of Mark's female co-workers.

Mark grunted and shifted his weight beneath her. "It's goin' to for awhile. I think I strained the muscle pretty good," he admitted. "Nothin' too serious. Just need some time to heal up." He was running his fingers under the soft fabric of her shirt, relishing the smooth skin that he had longed to touch for the last three weeks.

With a soft moan, Winter looked into the Victoria's Secret bag that went with the card. Lifting the lace and pearl v-string from the bag on her finger, she wiggled her eyebrows. "Guess it'll be awhile before we can play with this then, huh?" Grabbing the other bag, she produced a powder blue bra and panty set. "Too bad, cause I'll betcha I'ma look cute in this one."

"Darlin, I strained a muscle in my leg," he reminded. "Not my dick." Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Mark chuckled and relaxed against the back of his chair, allowing his eyes to drift lazily. "That's not you," he said, leaning back and pulling her with him as the chair slipped into a reclined position.

Faking a pout, Winter held the little panties up and considered them. They weren't her. At all. But it was a nice gesture. Before she could say as much, though, Mark had taken the undergarments from her hands and lazily lobbed them to the floor. "What was that for?" Winter asked, her voice tinted with amusement. "I was going to try those on for you."

Mark just shrugged. "They're just gonna end up there anyway," he reminded his girlfriend as sleep began to find him. "Why bother tryin' 'em on?"

Playfully smacking his arm, Winter moved out of the chair and looked him over. "You need to sleep," she whispered, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead. He had already fallen into a peaceful sleep by the time she covered his legs with a woven blanket and started for the laundry room.

Her life had seemed pretty great just one short year ago, but now? Now it was better than she could have ever comprehended. Nothing had ever managed to make her happier than she was in that very moment.

---

"I know, Tasha, but Mark just got home." Winter moved from the oven to the island behind her, carefully balancing the telephone between her cheek and her shoulder. "He's still sleeping, his leg's all fucked up, and I'm just taking dinner out of the oven," she rattled off all of the reasons she wouldn't be available for the evening.

"Win, you promised," Tasha said. "Like a month ago. You can't just back out."

But Winter wasn't about to sacrifice a rare weekend with her boyfriend for a stupid concert. "Look, things change sometimes. I'm sorry," she said forcefully. "Just have Joy fill in for me. She's good."

Tasha huffed. "She sounds like Cher on the low notes. And her face does that weird thing."

At the thought of her drummer's girlfriend, face contorted in some attempt to hit a note that just wasn't in her range, Winter couldn't help laughing. "She'll be fine. It's not like it's a showcase or anything."

"Try to be there, okay?" Tasha asked before hanging up the phone.

Winter just shook her head and tossed the phone on the counter, searching the drawers for a spatula. Triumphantly, she held the plastic object in the air. "A ha!" she exclaimed, turning back to the casserole and jumping. "Jesus!"

Mark smirked and sank to the bar stool on the opposite side of the island, resting his elbows on the counter as he wiped sleep from the corners of his eyes. "Smells good," he complimented, reaching for the dish with his fingers.

She rapped his knuckles with the spatula and pointed it at him with mock firmness. "You can't wait five minutes?"

But he just shook his head and dipped another finger into the dish. "Nope," he said, feigning innocence as he placed the bite on his tongue. "Damn," he nodded. "That's good, baby." She just smiled and continued flitting around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on her meal. "Who was on the phone?" he asked casually, standing and making his way slowly toward the refrigerator.

"Tasha," Winter answered distractedly, checking the vegetables steaming on the stove top. "There's a show tonight at the Roundabout, but I told her I couldn't make it," she went on, grabbing the salt and pepper to season the dish.

Mark twisted the cap on his water bottle and mosied back to his stool. "Why can't you go?" he asked with a grunt. She just smiled knowingly at him. "I can go with you, ya know? I'm not an invalid."

"You're barely walkin' around the kitchen, Mark. It's fine. I don't need to go," she assured him. "They're gonna have Josh's girlfriend fill in for me."

But something about the way she dismissed the show bothered Mark. He loved having her there to take care of him. He loved falling asleep, knowing she would be there when he woke up. He loved the way she did his laundry, cooked for him, and packed his suitcases before his trips without complaining. He loved her. But something was bothering him.

"So it was a last minute thing, then?" he asked.

Winter shook her head and rubbed her nose with the outside of her forearm. "It was scheduled awhile ago, before I knew you were coming home. But they know," she assured him, "that my priorities shift when you're home."

"Why?"

"Why?" Winter repeated with a scoff. "Because I don't get to see you that often. And when I do, I don't wanna fuck around with anything else," she answered, pulling the vegetables from the stove top. "Dinner's done," she told him, grabbing a couple of plates from the cabinet.

"You need to go to that show tonight," Mark told her, standing to help her set the table.

Winter sighed. She didn't want to go to the show. She didn't want to leave the house. Not when he was only going to be there for a few days. Even when he was around for a week, it wasn't enough time. It was bad enough that she had to go to work. But she wasn't about to leave him for superfluous activities that had nothing to do with being naked in his bed.

"It's not a big deal," she assured him. "It's an opening act for some regional band. It's not like we're even featured."

When she told him that a few of her friends had a band, and that she had agreed to sit in with them on a few shows, he had been thrilled. After hearing her sing on their first date, Mark was more-than-convinced that she had the talent to become, at the very least, a self-supporting musician. Maybe she wouldn't be the next Amy Lee, but she could be successful. If only she had some drive.

"It IS a big deal," he insisted, leaning against the kitchen table and crossing his arms over his chest. "You made a commitment, Winter. You can't just back out of it." When she rolled her eyes, he felt his irritation beginning to rise. "You've got three other people counting on you," he added to the list of reasons she had to go. "And you never know who could be there! It could be a break that you weren't expecting, and you're sittin' on your ass at home."

On more than one occasion, she had found herself on the other side of one of his "scoldings." Mark was a determined man, driven by a work ethic that was unmatched in his business. He was motivated by the need to do things solely because they were the right things to do. Even when his company seemed to be going down the toilet, losing ratings battles with WCW on a weekly basis, he refused to jump ship because he had promised that he wouldn't. He wasn't known as the moral conscience of the industry by accident.

But while Winter appreciated that aspect of his personality, she wished that he would try to see things from hers once in awhile. "Is it so bad that I wanna spend some time with you?"

"I said I'd go with you!" Mark reminded, his arm swinging to his side in frustration. "Why are you makin' excuses?"

"Because I'd rather be with you! Alone with you! If you were here all the time, Mark, I would have no problem going to that bar tonight. But here's the thing," she said, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she slammed her potholders on the kitchen counter. "I share you with the rest of the world most of the time. When you're here, when I can finally have you to myself? Yeah, I wanna shut everyone else out and just be with you!"

He studied her face for a moment and then chuckled. "That doesn't even make sense," he fired back. "You know that this is my life - you've known that from the beginning, for the last year. I don't want you to rearrange your life around my schedule. You can't do that," he insisted.

"Why not?" Winter asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because you're not willing to do it for me?" He began to speak, but Winter held up a finger to 'shush' him. "I know what your life is like, Mark. I've known since the day I met you that our relationship wasn't going to be normal. I knew that, and I'm okay with it." Crossing her arms over her chest, she levelled him with a stern gaze. "Are you?"

Swallowing hard, Mark thought about what his girlfriend had just said. Was she right? Was he unwilling to sacrifice his dreams for her? Why the hell should he have to? He had a great job and he loved it. How could she expect him to just give it up? "Winter, this is asinine," he huffed, sinking to his seat at the table. "You don't wanna go to your show tonight? You wanna leave your friends hangin'? Don't go. I'm not gonna be able to change your mind anyway," he growled.

Dropping his plate in front of him, Winter moved to grab his water bottle and slam it down beside him. "You eat. I'm not hungry," she grumbled, leaving the room without a look back. Grabbing her keys from the entry table, she stormed from the house. She loved him more than anything, but he was annoying the hell out of her. And at the moment, all she wanted to do was run as far away as she could.