SabretoothandBirdybelongtoMarvel, allothersareofmyowncreation.
Reviewsandconstructivecriticismwelcome.
Birdy had laid all the sushi pieces out on to decorative serving plates and was pouring the kettle out into the tea pot when Creed came to pick up the dinner trays. One of the best things about being in Vancouver was the abundance of fresh fish and the smell made his mouth water against his earlier protests.
He hunkered over the kitchen island with his head hung low in defeat as he said, "Birdy, what do I do?" Her advice was usually unsolicited but sound.
She shook her head and shrugged, unable to answer him this time. "I guess the best you can do is roll over and submit right now."
Submission was against his better judgement and rubbed him the wrong way but wasn't he already half way there, pining for forgiveness? He picked up the trays quietly and exited the kitchen. The bedroom door presented a challenge as his hands were occupied but the door was shut firmly. He reached out and turned the knob while balancing one tray on his forearm, the green tea threatening to spill and burn, but somehow he managed to fake gracefulness and no one was the wiser as he walked up the steps into their bedroom where Emma was sitting out on the bed.
"If yer good, I'll let ya eat the sushi off o' me."
"I'm not really in the mood to pick your body hair out of my dinner." She murmured distractedly, turning the page to a well loved edition of Pride & Prejudice. The copy was ancient and stirred a memory deep within him that he couldn't quite ferret out.
With a deep breath, he placed the trays down on the coffee table of their sitting area near the balcony and poured them both a cup of tea before carrying over the first plate of nigiri and soy sauce to the bed.
"Can we talk, please?"
The words 'talk' and 'please' made Emma pause and put her book down. She took the food he brought her while he sat on the edge of the bed exacerbated, head in his hands.
"I did wrong by you." Creed began, talking to his hands. "You ain't never given me a reason to think you would leave me and I've done plenty o' things to deserve it, I know. Can ya forgive me for bein' such a dumbass?"
Emma ate a piece of fish before responding. "I think you can do better than that."
Frowning, he tried to think of something else to add to his apology. "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
"Okay, you're actually back tracking now. Can I give you something to read to me?" Without waiting for his response, she took another bite of sushi and dusted her hands off. The drawer to her nightstand opened and she pulled out the letter he had left her, followed by a stack of cards and letters held together by a pink ribbon. She pulled on one end and the bow unfurled, releasing the contents. Sorting through it all Emma found what she was looking for and handed a letter folded into thirds to him then sat back, pulling dinner back into her lap and continued to eat.
Victor looked it over and noted how old the paper was. It unfolded stiffly but remained intact and he noticed the familiar handwriting. He read through it once and cringed. "Can I just roll over and show you my stomach like a submissive dog instead?"
"Maybe later, read it." Her empty plate was moved off to the side and Emma rearranged her position on the bed in her pyjamas.
"Yer killin' me, here."
"Get out," Emma pushed at his shoulder to get him to move from the bed. "Get out!"
"Alright, fine! I'm readin' it!" He shouted back, getting up from the bed and away from her. Facing away, he took a breath and began;
"My little rabbit,
Today I woke up and you were there beside me and it made me happy. I want to make you just as happy to see me. I love you.
Also, enjoy the carp.
Lovingly,
Victor
Was I seven when I wrote this?"
"I think you were significantly older by then. The carp was good though." Emma smiled.
"I love you, have some fish." Creed mocked himself. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever written."
"No, I have that over here." She flipped through some more letters and pulled out a second one which was in his scrawl while learning to write. It simply said 'your breasts are great'.
"I'm a poet. What are you doin' with all o' these?" He handed the letters back to her.
"I keep everything you write me." The cards and letters were centred on the ribbon again as she spoke.
"Everythin'?"
To prove her point, Emma stood up and opened a drawer to the antique writing desk facing the far corner window of the bedroom and pulled out yet another sheet of paper. "'Birdy is god-knows-where, pick up my dry cleaning.'"
"You have problems."
"Yeah? Well it's these ridiculous little notes that let me know you love me." She threw it back into the desk and slammed the drawer closed.
"Whaddya mean, I tell you I love you all the time." Creed looked offended.
"Like when?" Emma crossed her arms.
"Last week." Came his response right off the top of his head.
"I believe the word 'fucking' was sandwiched in between 'love' and 'you'."
"Close enough, ain't it?"
"You're an idiot."
"I'm leavin'. ENJOY THE CARP!" The bedroom door slammed shut, rattling the wall briefly.