So Close
{1.9}
Remy guided her from the bar late at night (or early in the morning, whichever way you wanted to see it). She was giggly and swayed as she walked, proving that he had let her have one too many mojitos. Her sweatshirt had long been abandoned, the alcohol heating up the color to her face and her core temperature. She had wrestled Georges when he'd taken a five dollar bill from her hand, and the result was that her hair was wild and loose in dark blond waves down her back and framing her face. Her eyes were lit up like Christmas decor, something he'd only seen when she was remembering something good about her life before all the merde hit the fan. She was actually happy, giddy, even, and that was enough to put a smile on his face.
Then again, that wasn't saying much. Usually just being with her when she didn't act drained or tired or spaceous put a smile on his face.
"Wow," she breathed, stumbling slightly on her high heels as she looked up at the Louisiana night sky. "It's amazing."
"It gets hotter 'n' hell in th' ete, chere, but we got stars," Remy mused, kissing her cheek as she leaned against him, shoulder fitting perfectly under his arm even if the bony joint dug into his rib. Somehow the slight discomfort it caused when she leaned into him too much made him happier, because it meant that she was real and that he wouldn't wake up in the cells of Strkyer's Three Mile Island alone. Her head found the crook of his neck and he grinned, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. She had seemed a bit displeased about his habit at first, but had loosened up about it as the night had progressed.
"Sure do," she said, still looking up as she took her head away from the comfortable position it had rested in to gaze endearingly at the stars. The result was a good view of her long ivory neck. Remy looked away and tried to think about other things. The last thing she needed on the one night she seemed to be happy was him ruining it by trying to bang her.
Dieu, he thought, what a mess.
"You know you can kiss me if you want," she suddenly declared. Remy almost dropped his hold on her, making her go towards the ground. He caught her, and let his cigarette fall to the ground. He stubbed it unconsciously with his foot.
"Y-you're sure? I don't want to pressure y'all, chere," he said carefully. It was true, he didn't want to rush her and scare her away, but at the same time, he also really, really didn't want her to change her mind.
"Oui," she replied, French a bit slurred from the sugary mint cocktails. He stared at her for a moment, just waiting for her to change her mind. For days she'd been distant, like her mind was back with Johny while her body remained with him. He didn't want to compete with that, as much as he hated to think of it that way. He didn't want to have to fight for her love anymore, especially not with someone deceased. Green met crimson and he felt himself sweat from tension, a very rare thing for Remy Etienne LeBeau to do. He didn't want her to regret it in the morning (or afternoon, it really depended on when she woke up...), and think of Johny like she'd betrayed her former love. He wanted her to want this with no regrets.
The very last thing he needed and wanted at that point was to be rejected, especially when his 'opponent' was six feet under a couple hundred miles away.
"Really sure?" he asked hesitantly. She sighed, sugary breath on his lips. He hadn't realized how close they'd gotten.
"Really sure," she replied before she slammed her lips on his.