Chapter 25: Mano A' Mano
Summary: Laura's indecisiveness keeps her trapped in the neutral zone, causing Steve and Stefan to encounter a little friction.
A MONTH LATER
A new year was supposed to bring promises of new beginnings but Laura felt unworthy of a clean slate this year. Where did her childhood go? She could remember a time when her resolutions amounted to nothing more than superficial pleasures and finding a new car under that tree would have been great. But all she really wanted was a flashing sign that would point her in the right direction, bow-wrapped and hand-signed by Santa himself. Or maybe Jesus.
To her profound relief, the holidays ended up being the antidote to her anxiety. Or rather, the perfect excuse to distract herself from her personal life. Working in the mall and staying occupied with running holiday errands kept her from thinking about the bombing raid that Stefan dropped on her, freezing her heart in suspended animation.
But of course, he always reminded her again whenever they spoke... which led her to keep the frequency of their phone calls minimal in order to avoid the issue as long as she could. She didn't want to touch the thought of pursuing her wildest dreams with a fifty-foot pole... because doing so always included the thought of never spending the holidays with her best friend again.
Especially after the memorable Christmas morning they spent together when they exchanged gifts and sang carols with her entire family. Not to mention that Steve hit her with a pretty mean case of the feels when she saw the gift he gave her parents — a framed portrait of her and Eddie that was so stunning that she could've sworn she'd seen sparkles softly cascading off of it. And to add insult to injury, the present Steve gave her was so devastatingly sentimental that not even her stubborn resistance of him could repel the value it had to her.
He'd given her a bound scrapbook that contained every love letter he ever secretly written to her from the time they were in kindergarten to the present, neatly sourced with notes and doodles in the margin regarding date and circumstance…including the farewell letter he'd written to her when they stopped talking in the third grade. And it was eerie taking a peek at herself through his eyes — it was like reading about some otherworldly, mythical beauty that human eyes were unworthy of beholding. And she was incredibly touched by it.
She secretly spent an entire week afterward perusing it from cover-to-cover, absorbed by Steve's knack for poetic expression that was crafted so passionately that it nearly brought her to tears every time. It was still hard for her to believe that she could be the object of such raw devotion in spite of how she used to treat him. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out a proper way to thank him. The keyboard she'd given him seemed stale and far less meaningful in comparison.
As for the gorgeous bouquet of red and white roses, a shimmery champagne-colored cocktail dress, and 2-carat diamond earrings Stefan sent her from abroad... it only served to riddle her with guilt at the fact that she hadn't even thought to get her own boyfriend anything this year for some reason. Maybe it was the symbolic nature of this 'space' between them. Maybe it was the fact that he had everything a man could ever want already. Maybe she was just bitter about the fact that she had to spend yet another holiday without him.
Actually, she feared that extending herself too much in either direction would persuade her to lean one way or the other. And she'd rather just tight-rope-walk the thin line between what her heart wanted and what her heart needed... even though she knew it was a matter of time before she'd have to take a plunge either way.
Spending time with Steve certainly didn't help her confusion considering that the past few weeks was like watching a butterfly wiggle out of its cocoon. He seemed even more driven to blossom into himself, even going so far as learning how to cook hibachi-style in order to improve his 'focus, coordination, and dexterity'... which was a laughable ambition to anybody who knew him — juggling knives in front of a hot stove was like walking on water to most people, let alone a guy who was well-known as an accident waiting to happen.
Even so, Laura made it a mission to be supportive and show up at his cooking debut. She was secretly rooting for him despite the fact that he'd broken or spilled something several times already that day. His arms were covered in so many bandages that he was a few strips short of a mummy as it was. But as doubtful as she was that he'd pull through, the very fact that someone let him work in their restaurant at all was enough to keep her hope afloat.
Much to her astonishment, not only did he do a fantastic job, but he made it look like he'd been a slice-and-dice master all of his life. Little did Laura know, it was her very presence that anchored him, giving him the concentration he needed to not only succeed, but blow her away with uncanny skill, creativity and precision.
"What a night..." sighed Laura as she walked through the back door into the kitchen of the house after the journey home from the restaurant. She wasn't surprised that Steve nearly drowned the place with a water hose trying to put a fire out. The shocking part was that he didn't even start the fire this time. There was hope for him yet… Thank God.
Steve was close behind her, shutting the door once he made it inside and he gave a nod in agreement, huffing in relief that he survived to fumble another day. "You can say that again... I almost blew away your weave," he quipped, grateful that Mr. Tanaka was such a forgiving man — he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been chased out of an establishment after nearly destroying it. Thankfully, the man was wise and old enough to get the place insured for flooding. If that wasn't the markings of a perfect night, Steve didn't know what was.
As disoriented as he was from the chaotic grand finale of his performance, he was eager to do something about the grittiness causing discomfort in his drawers with every step he took. "Well. Good night," he said he grabbed the bottom of his coat and gave it a rattle, "I have to go shake the rice out of my pants." With that, he headed for the kitchen door to excuse himself.
"Uh... Steve, wait..." she beckoned before he could go too far.
And he perked and eagerly spun around quicker than a top to address her the moment she spoke. "You wanna come help?" he asked provocatively with a hopeful twitch of his brows. He had been dying to ask her for an honest critique of his performance all night but he didn't want to come off as desperate this time… which never stopped him before, but he'd found out recently that exhibiting subtly, and even a little resistance, was a much more effective method of getting her attention. That didn't mean he wasn't ready to pop like a rusty spring at the tiniest inkling of a hint that he was in her blind-spot.
Laura caught herself trying not to stare at him as she pensively reflected on his budding potential. The entire ride home, she caught herself marveling at the unrecognizable chameleon Steve had become almost overnight. She remembered how basketball was one of the only other things he'd learned to do gracefully and secretly, watching him fly like butterfly and sting like a bee on the court had always been exhilarating since it was so far out of character for him. But watching him dominate a hibachi like a vegetable ninja was stimulating, to say the least.
Actually... she found his emerging confidence more than stimulating… it was arousing. And she couldn't stop herself from acknowledging that no matter how much her better judgment screamed at her not to throw him a bone. She also knew that he didn't hear it enough and this time around, he definitely deserved it.
But she played it cool, ignoring the bashful flutter in her gut that his proximity had been serving her these days. She knew better than to be too enthusiastic — the last thing she wanted to do was mislead him again. Especially not when all of these daunting life-decisions were casting shadows of uncertainty all around her. "No," she replied tersely to keep things transparent, softening just enough to express genuine pride in his effort to accomplish the impossible. "I just wanna tell you, um... you really impressed me tonight."
…Well, as far as Steve was concerned, that was a sign that one of the heavenly angels just got their wings. "I did?" Unable to help himself, he swelled with a humble mix of delight and sheepishness, a coy smile springing to his lips. He couldn't remember the last time she'd praised him in such a way without beer and spirits coursing through her veins. It must've meant her heart really did have something to say and he was her loyal sponge.
"Yeah. I always think of you as, well... very clumsy." That was like accusing a zebra of being striped but even some zebras come with spots. Sometimes being proven wrong was a thrill. "But the way you cooked tonight, it was...it was really cool." Well, that was the best way to put it without pushing the envelope.
"'Cool'?" he echoed optimistically, beaming at her with a face-aching grin. Because she was pushing it whether she wanted to or not — with every affirmation from her, his hope accumulated another layer of durability.
"Yeah…" she admitted, waiting on some form of rebellion from her conscience that never came. As much as she wanted to dodge the warm feelings he was evoking in her, she felt compelled to let the truth fly free and it was a relief to let her heart speak out for once. "I'd even go so far as to say sexy."
…There was that word again! Only this time he didn't have to scan her brain to pick up on it, which must've meant his luck was on the verge of tipping dramatically. "'Sexy'?" he drawled with a prideful sway. His brows wiggled mischievously as he relished in the gratifying insinuation that her crush on him was definitely alive and well despite how reserved she'd been. And the thought that he'd not only impressed her, but managed to light her fire as well was incredibly tantalizing.
Of course it was sexy. What woman didn't like a man who could cook? One who could do it surgically was even more awe-inspiring. "...Very," she admitted, beyond any wall of a doubt at this point. For a split second, it made her wonder what else he could learn to do gracefully...
"Uh, Laura..." Steve croaked timidly as he took a sheepish step towards her.
"Yeah?" she asked, snapping out of her daydream before it could carry her mind away to scandalous places.
"...If you'd like, I could... chop some vegetables right now..." he offered suggestively, twiddling his bandaged fingers as his eyes speculatively bounced in his head. It seemed like a good idea to take some initiative in that moment now that he knew that his chef-wizardry was a guaranteed way to turn her on. And you better believe he was looking for the switch.
It seemed no matter how hard Laura tried to pull away from this new lens she saw him through, all of the things about him that used to annoy her had become his most charming traits, including the cute and dopey way he tried to flirt with her. "Let's not cheapen it with additional produce..." she teased with a wink, stifling the grin he managed to evoke from her before he could actually talk her into it. Because she just might say yes one day.
A FEW DAYS LATER
Even though they hadn't really talked about their little dilemma in depth since Steve found out about Laura's feelings, the subtle hints she'd been dropping hadn't been lost on him. What eluded him was an answer that didn't require a grey-area analysis. It was as if he was patiently waiting for her direct permission to tell Myra to get lost since he knew pulling that trigger prematurely would only tip the cheese off of her cracker.
But he began to wonder why that consent never came despite the signals he was volleying back at her… especially since he could still detect that sparkle of reverence in his lady love's eyes when she looked at him, even though she tried to hide it. It kept his hope burning brighter than ever, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't become a little concerned that she was beginning to ignore her heart all over again.
…That much was more or less confirmed when he noticed Stefan making scattered appearances around the house here and there out of nowhere over the last week. The man had mysteriously disappeared after the night they traded places, which was a tad confusing considering how passionate the gut-wrenching spectacle of them kissing appeared to him. Then again, Laura had sought him out to spend time with him only a few days later... and even cuddled with him. So it all begged the question of whether this little love triangle of theirs was worthy of Freudian dissection by now.
Especially during moments like this, when all he wanted to do was catch up on a documentary about arachnid mating practices but could barely keep his focus tethered to the television, distracted by Laura and Stefan's muffled voices quarreling from the kitchen. He had no idea what they were saying but being caught in a web of curiosity and cynicism had him squirming for relief from the impulsive itch to press his ear against the door.
Meh. He already learned a brutal lesson when it came to privacy and decided to resist the urge to eavesdrop this time…and it wasn't easy. But even as their conversation became more coherent, he remained on his best behavior, pulling two styrofoam ear-plugs from the breast pocket of his shirt and stuffing them in his ears. Sighing with relief as the sound of their bickering was remedied with silence, he sank into the couch cushions and continued to merrily munch on the bag of corn puffs in his lap... only to scowl when he realized he couldn't hear the TV now. Rats.
Meanwhile, behind the kitchen door, Laura was trying to talk her jealous boyfriend down... for the gazillionth time. "Stefan, it's just a Christmas gift. Why are you getting so bent out of shape about this?" she groused as she leaned against the island counter adorning the shimmery cocktail dress he got her... in fact, she was clad from head-to-toe in his presents, also sporting the earrings he bought her along with the glass slippers she kept from his Disney World proposal. See, she was trying!
"Oh, you don't want me to go there. Trust me," Stefan grumbled callously as he stood in front of her wearing a three-piece suit with a champagne-colored vest that matched her dress. They were on their way to a fashion charity event — their first date out in more months than Laura cared to keep track of anymore. And even so, it had something to do with his career, as per usual. Honestly, she would have preferred the drive-in. But nooo.
Instead, she was squirming in these uncomfortable panty-hose, trying to avoid yet another head-on collision with him. ...Although, she probably shouldn't have left Steve's scrapbook on her bed, all out in the open for him to stumble upon. The cover had a recent picture of two of them and once Stefan's curiosity was seized by it, so was his patience. She didn't want to be confrontational but she saw the merit for his disapproval, which was her humble reason for addressing him as patiently as possible. "Y'know, this attitude of yours is getting really old," she informed him curtly before pushing herself from the counter and dismissively heading for the living room door.
"Don't make me the villain — I don't have one 'just because', Laura," he retorted with a grit of his teeth, also exhibiting his best show of composure since the last thing he wanted to do was ruin their date night. But seeing a bunch of collages and love letters from Steve when he barely got a phone call from her for Christmas was beyond irritating and he wasn't going to let his displeasure slip past her. "We're supposed to be working things out and yet you're still pushing me away — it's not fair and I don't like it," he expressed tersely as he following behind her, his hands calmly dipping into the pockets of his slacks.
...So he had a point. This very argument was the first meaningful exchange they'd had since he told her about Italy and that was no accident. But Laura was getting disgruntled with the underhanded ways he was getting that point across lately... like trying to influence the direction of her future without her input. Huffing a sigh, she balked just short of pushing the living room door open to toss her retort over her shoulder, "What's not fair is the way you're trying to hold me responsible for something I never agreed to," she replied firmly, referring to the way he was baiting her with the possibility of a new life in Italy… and she skillfully shrouded the fact that she wanted to say yes soooo bad. But the frustration of having to make so many sacrifices in the process was powerful ammunition for ongoing deflection if it would mean delaying a clean break through the thin ice she was skating on.
And every time she skipped around the issue, Stefan wished he had a pistol on hand so that he could shoot himself in the foot. Becoming exasperated with her unrelenting stubbornness, he rubbed his face in annoyance to get a grip on the unraveling threads of his tolerance. His motives for taking that preemptive plunge had started way before he knew there was a chance she'd say no. But it was starting to feel like he should've had an eight ball nearby when making those plans because she continued to make it seem like he was one who was stepping in mud puddles.
All of this dissension damn near pushed him to the edge, resisting the urge to just make things easier on her and throw in the towel right then. But whenever he was reminded of the emptiness he felt just by the idea of her not being in his life, he was compelled to power through the trial of fighting for her no matter what… but he knew he would never get through to her if he didn't adjust his approach. Besides, it was clear to him that she was looking for a reason to deny him and he refused to give it to her. So it took a beat of thick, pensive silence, a defeated sigh, and a few uncomfortable shifts from one foot to the other to feel calm enough to speak again. "Laura... I thought it was what you wanted."
She could've just called it quits to spare them both the pain of having to choose at all — the crossroads her mother warned her about kept creeping up on them at every turn. And yet her courage continued to escape her and she wanted to wilt every time she thought about letting him go. That stuck-in-quicksand feeling she'd been carrying around had only gotten stronger, leaving her stranded in a distressing space of vacillation where her only option felt like emotional stagnation.
For the moment, she foolishly elected that option as the most likely one to keep her steady. It felt like forever since she'd last seen him and try as she might to find every reason in the book to deflect his anger, she knew it was justified considering the hoops she had him jumping through. And because she knew he was right, she couldn't find a decent rebuttal if her life depended on it. "…Ugh, I don't wanna talk about this right now — are we going to this stupid thing or not?" she conceded dismissively with a scoff of frustration, turning to push her way through the kitchen door into the living room.
"Oh, now it's stupid," was his disenchanted reply, following behind her through the door. When he told her about this event months ago, she was practically drooling at the chance to gawk at fashion professionals. Then again, so many things had changed between them that he shouldn't have been surprised by her defiance. "You never wanna talk about it. We can't just keep tossing our relationship on the back-burner."
Blink-blink! Since the closed caption button on the remote wasn't working, Steve had been absorbed with intently reading the lips of the interviewers on the television but his entire endeavor to remain an uninformed third party evaporated almost instantly when the quarreling couple inattentively entered the living room. He stiffened self-consciously on the couch and quickly plucked the plugs from his ears to avoid explaining why he had them in the first place, just barely catching the tail-end of Laura's tight response to Stefan.
"Well, you should've thought about that before you —" she balked, slightly startled by the unexpected sight of Steve on the couch, her words leaping back down her throat as she paused her gait. "…Oh. Hey, Steve," she greeted timidly, wondering how much of their argument he heard. She could've sworn her and Stefan were home alone or she would have made sure that they didn't cross paths. Ever since the night they traded places, it felt like the fabrics of her universe would implode whenever they were in the same room together. Apparently, the tides of luck were working against her in that regard.
But Steve didn't dare look their way… not directly, anyway. He wanted to appear as indifferent as possible but he managed to sneak a few peeks at them out of the corner of his eye long enough to offer an upbeat greeting. "Hi, Laura! Hiya, Stefan!" he chirped brightly before popping another puff in his mouth.
Stefan didn't bother adjusting his affronted stance just because Steve was there. In fact, his alpha-male instincts kicked in the moment he spotted him. He just took a suave, swagger-tastic stroll to Laura's side and slipped his arm possessively around her waist. Just to make a few things clear. Squaring his jaw and tonguing his cheek, his curt reply was about as polite as a shank stab. "Urkel."
...Really? Laura couldn't help but shoot Stefan an admonishing glare, narrowing her eyes up at him. Someone was reeking of insecurity. But what could she really say? It's not like she didn't understand why he was so miffed. It didn't mean she was in the mood to deal with the jerk in him that she was getting to know a little too well these days. "I left my purse upstairs," she murmured at him with a grit of warning as she defiantly pulled herself out his embrace, leaving his arm hanging in the cold, and she bee-lined for the staircase. "Hold on, I'll be right back." With that, she quickly ascended the steps to fetch her purse... and perhaps take a moment in solitude to gather her wits.
But the tension seemed to fly right over Steve's head... possibly because he was trying to ignore it. He merrily popped another puff in his mouth and kept his eyes glued forward as Laura left them to choke on the uncomfortable silence ...that is until he felt the glare of a thousand suns burning a hole into his head. He was suspicious that if he took the gamble to peek that he'd stare into the face of hate itself. But there was no need to be rude.
Sure enough, the moment his gaze swiveled to Stefan to acknowledge him, he saw nothing but frustration and resentment in his stare... and for a second, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion for his counterpart as he watched him meditatively pace the living room in deep thought. As the man's creator and clone, he knew him in ways that nobody did, including Laura. And he knew Stefan only got this upset under one condition — when he genuinely felt threatened.
...And that notion was kind of appealing since it was pretty difficult to ruffle the man's feathers. It only served to reinforce the depth of Laura's feelings because Steve never thought he'd see the day when Stefan's temperance would be pushed beyond the impenetrable boundaries of his notorious coolness... then again, it took over a decade to get his lady love's attention in the first place; miracles can happen.
Steve also noticed that they were both dressed to the nines... which wasn't out of the ordinary for Stefan, but Laura was a fan of jeans. He knew matching formal attire always meant an extravaganza of some kind was on the horizon and he was sparked with curiosity. It became the perfect avenue into some form of cordial conversation with him. "Lookin' spiffy, my man! Going out?"
"That's none of your damn business," Stefan replied scornfully as he continued to slowly walk out his frustration, feeling the dissolution of the last few months crashing down on him in one fell swoop. Gnawing his tongue impatiently, his hands once again found refuge in his pockets.
"...All righty, then." Well, if Steve didn't feel the tension before, the fog of it was pretty thick now. He wanted to offer the poor guy a corn puff but he had a feeling that he'd get the entire bag dumped on his head. Shrinking timidly, he carefully settled the bag on the coffee table just to prevent the disaster he saw unfolding. In the meantime, he wasn't one to let animosity linger without looking for a solution. The scientist in him wouldn't allow it.
Grabbing the remote, he turned off the television to give his counterpart his full attention. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked formally before cheerfully extending the olive branch. "Whatever's bothering you, I'm sure we can resolve it like men!" ...If that wasn't double-speak of the century. He knew exactly what the problem was... he just wanted Stefan to say it first. And considering that Mr. Cool was slowing inching up on his boiling point, he didn't expect him to hesitate.
And he was right because it was Steve's aloofness that pushed Stefan even closer to the edge. Fortunately, his calm composure remained intact for Laura's sake. "Are you serious?" Stefan sneered incredulously as he stopped pacing long enough to turn towards Steve to address him with a sarcastic jab, "Did you forget that you kissed my woman and got her all confused or are you just a struggle-bus driver in disguise?"
...Yeah, Steve expected as much. Unfortunately for Stefan, he had promised himself the night he'd unveiled his secret to her that he would never hold a guilty bone in his body again about loving her the way he did. It was like denying himself the will to breathe. And despite his own 'situationship', he'd never hesitated to make that clear and he wasn't going to start now. At least he was polite about it.
"Well... the way I feel about her shouldn't surprise you, Stefan." Standing from the couch, he circled the coffee table to firmly stand on his truth before his counterpart. "And for your information, she kissed me," he reminded him with an animated point at himself. Facts were facts. But it felt necessary to keep his own feelings as transparent as possible to prevent anymore confusion. "...And sunk me to the bottom of the ocean like a rare jewel, might I add," he followed up with as he stared off into space whimsically. But he didn't get too careless with his daydreams... just his words. Gazing back at Stefan, he couldn't help but get a little lost in his pride as he shot him a haughty smirk, "But is it my fault that she thinks I'm a hunk? Look in the mirror, my man. You'll see what I mean."
...Dork. Stefan just gave him the side-eye and shook his head ruefully. He couldn't even believe they were having this conversation right now. But his raging insecurities definitely had him bursting at the seams at this point. Huffing a heavy sigh, he glumly vented outrage in this entire situation as courteously as he could. "Brotha, you must be dreaming if you think I'll ever be cool with this. I can't even believe that I have to compete with you, of all people."
The way Steve saw it, he had a feeling his years of tenacious pestering weren't the reason Laura suddenly shifted gears on him. And if that was the case, he was just as much the victim of her profound confusion as Stefan was. Sympathizing with that, he metaphorically painted the picture for him, "Well, I wouldn't call it a 'competition'... per se. It's more like we're last on the draft, waiting to be picked for the best team. Only the one that's picked gets the championship ring automatically." All he could do was give a cavalier shrug because life was unpredictable that way sometimes. Besides, he could appreciate it when the stars aligned in his favor every now and then.
Predictably, Stefan disagreed. And his shoulders stiffened in offense to the implication that this was all a big game to him. But he humored the metaphor just to make a point. "Yeah, well, the game's rigged," he renounced solemnly before stating a prime example of the foul play at hand. "You see her every day. You got to spend Christmas with her. I've had to settle for scraps ever since this whole thing started."
"Even so, she's always so distant!" Steve griped in reply as he considered the advantage Stefan would always have over him as the significant other, whether he was thousands of miles away or not. Laura's hesitance definitely saw to that. And as usual, his wistful thoughts were artlessly expressed aloud, "At least you still get to do all the things I wish I could do."
Blink. Stefan's gaze instantly zeroed in on Steve with the narrowed-eyed glare of a predator, taking a stalking step towards him... and Steve found himself cowering under his shadow like the prey of the day as he back-peddled. "But rest assured!" he recanted firmly with hands lifted submissively. He didn't want to give the man the wrong impression! "I'd never act out on my feelings that way."
That didn't mean he wasn't going to stand his ground. The last thing he wanted to do was have a confrontation with his own creation but unlike Laura, his heart never let him deny his own truth, no matter who was on the other end of receiving it. And he stood in it proudly, impishly quirking a brow as he followed up his innocence with a cheeky slip-in. "Not without her permission, anyway..."
...And the thing that enflamed Stefan's sensibilities more than anything was the fact that she was likely to give her permission at all. His gripes had been expressed to Laura about it as they should have been so far. But in that moment, the real obstacle in his way was standing right in front of him... and it was a little eerie since it was like facing-off with a warped version of his own reflection. Perhaps that was more symbolic than he wanted to admit.
"Good," he replied tersely as he took another step towards Steve to draw a line in a sand. The way he saw it, it wasn't Laura's permission he needed anymore. So he laid down the deal-breaker as he candidly sized up his creator-turned-opponent with a stern and forthright warning, "Because if you don't keep your distance, a problem will develop. And not one you wanna deal with anytime soon. It's not like you've got the brawn for it," he challenged, shooting him a disparaging look.
"...Oh, reeee-eeeaaaa-aaalllly?" Steve belted dramatically after the recoiling pause it took to absorb the insult. Well, he didn't see that coming. Did Stefan feel so threatened that he had to resort to violence now?
For some reason, that thought only ignited Steve's determination to the point of matching his counterpart's aggression with the fuel of pure spite. And so his poise stiffened, suddenly struck with the same fearlessness he'd felt the night of his cooking debut. He might not have been much of a fighter but the one thing he couldn't stand was a bully. And if Stefan thought he was going to let him start pushing him around, he had another thing coming. "So that's how it is, eh? Is that a threat, Sir Struts-A-Lot?" he retorted tightly and took a daring step towards Stefan in acceptance of the challenge.
"That's a promise," Stefan corrected brazenly, compelled to cement his warning with the hard feelings rapidly stirring between. "And I suggest you move on before it comes to that." ...But then he blinked as if a light-bulb had suddenly switched on in his mind and he couldn't help but scowl in confusion as a discrepancy came to him. "Wait, come to think of it, aren't you with Myra?"
"Technically, but that's always been up for debate," Steve replied indifferently without hesitation, clearly unaccountable for the fact that he was a bigger dog than he thought he was. And the fact that he had Laura tethered to him when he had his own girlfriend practically crawling after him was just murder to Stefan's ego and the icy cold glare he shot Steve was enough to make him shudder... just a little.
Sure, Stefan was a tough guy — genetically, he compensated for all of the physical strength Steve lacked. But as far as Steve was concerned, he'd already been through every type of pain there was and so the threat of another clobbering hardly moved him. That didn't mean he wanted to be blatantly boorish... not without durable logic to back him up, anyway. "Look, Stefan…I mean no disrespect. I know she's your girlfriend and you have every right to be upset," he began steadily as his stance softened submissively... but only briefly. Becoming staunch in an instant, he subliminally threw out one variable in particular that gave him a certain advantage, "But scientifically speaking… I saw her first."
Ha! Stefan just scoffed with a dismissive roll of his eyes. "Oh, that's cute for you," he belittled with a taunting smirk... before continuing his tempered steps towards Steve to assert his dominance, the anger he'd been choking on radiating off of him like a hot furnace. Only this time, Steve didn't move a muscle as he was confronted. In fact, he found himself scowling right back at him as his fists curled, his chest swelling as Stefan sneered at him indignant insults, "But I was in first place before I even got here, homeboy. Thanks to your 'brilliance'. Man, you're so pathetic, it makes my ass itch."
...Well, then! Don't start nothin', won't be nothin'! Steve was practically the poster-child of that saying and Stefan's building impudence was his cue to dial up the pressure. With a little gall of his own in tow, he boldly called his bluff. "Oh, yeah?! Well, I'm just glad I'm placing at all, runway-boy!" he spat back defiantly, leaning forward to put extra emphasis on the clapback. "You're gonna be in for a big surprise when the odds against you hits ya in the rashy backside!"
"Yeah, you would know about odds, wouldn't ya?" Stefan replied scornfully and proceeded to roast through his own account of scorching facts with a vicious narrow of his eyes. "Just like you knew the odds of never having her for yourself when you made me, genius. Why else would I be everything Laura really wants and can never get from you? You made your bed, man. And if you think I'm gonna let your scrawny behind come between us after all this time, then you must not know your own inventions very well."
"That's where you're wrong, Calvin Klein!" Steve retorted brashly, starting to feel his own ire begin to vibrate under his flesh as he was motivated to stand his ground with every degrading remark Stefan made. Who did this Frankensteined sack of flesh think he was?! "I know pleeeenty, including the fact that our 'behinds' are identical! At least mine is itch-free and powdery-fresh!"
"Oh, you got jokes," Stefan mocked with a devilish smirk, thumbing his nose once he felt himself slowly losing a grip on his patience. And they both took a step towards each other with every exchange of vilified words... to the point where they were eventually almost nose to nose, reviling each other through guttural sneers. "Won't be so funny when you get dropped like the third wheel that you are and beat down like a dusty church rug."
"Oh, I daaaaaare yooooou, you disrespectful little specimen," Steve taunted with a sizzling glower before sealing his rebellion with a warning of his own. "Laura will send ya right back to the petri dish you crawled out of quicker than you can say 'doppelgänger'! Newsflash, Versace: I'm not scared of you!"
"Then I suggest you try harder, Tinkerbell, because you should be," Stefan growled menacingly, stepping all the way in Steve's face with a stare that could wither roses.
But Steve just mirrored him with a low snarl of his own, his top lip curling viciously as he pierced daggers into his creation's hateful eyes. "Why, I oughta — !"
"You 'oughta' what?" Stefan challenged with a gnashing grit...
"...Hey! What are you two doing...?" interjected the angelic, deeply concerned cadence of Laura's voice from the staircase, immediately snapping the two of them out of their pissing war... neither of them wanted the object of their dispute to actually witness the discord since it was only bound to stir more confusion for her. And that was the last thing either of them needed. So for a split second, all they could do was scramble to a quick recovery, silently exchanging a yielding look that triggered a mutual stand-down.
"Nothing," they insisted in perfect unison and stepped apart as if an invisible rope that tied them together had been severed. They spun to face her and began reluctantly calming the turbulence between them as they spotted her frozen on the mezzo platform, scrutinizing them with a bewildered stare.
And Steve immediately picked up on the disturbed knit of her brows as her gaze shifted between them, silently inquisitive. His mind quickly deferred to the easiest lie he could think of... even if there was no way he could know for certain just how much of that she really saw. "...Boy-talk!" he blurted impulsively, feigning cheerfulness even though he couldn't keep his voice from wavering with uncertainty. "Sports! Y'know, cricket, bad-mitten...!"
...Ugh. Couldn't just say basketball, could you? Stefan resisted the urge to roll his eyes since he had bigger fish to fry at the moment. "Y-yeah, yeah... just a few... words between men, Princess. Nothing to worry about," he insisted calmly, somehow mustering a sincere smile. Managing to put his irritation on a leash, he put on airs of butteriness in order to support the lie since he refused to stand here and explain what just went down right now... though he had a feeling he'd be prodded about it for the rest of the night anyway.
Shifting gears to focus his attention on her, he gallantly stepped to the foot of the stairs to offer his elbow for her to latch onto on her way down. Because it was time to get the hell out of here. "Ready to go, baby?"
But Laura just gave him a crestfallen stare. This time, she was more than just irritated with him for his behavior... she was disappointed. With a despondent sigh, she just rolled her eyes and dismissively descended the rest of the stairs without his help, defiantly brushing past him and completely ignoring his escort offer as she stalked towards the front door. And without another word or a look to either one of them, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
Blink...left hanging for the umpteenth time tonight, all Stefan could do was scowl as he helplessly watched her exit, deflating with his own bout of discouragement as he recognized the hot water he'd gotten himself into. Boy, this was gonna be a long night. Shaking his head ruefully, he languidly dragged himself towards the door to follow after her.
"Smooth..." Steve remarked sarcastically after the beat of silence it took to absorb Laura's defeated reaction, totally not appreciating the fact that his lady love's feelings were hurt. And he definitely blamed Stefan for that outcome. Looks to him like the poor bloke was starting to lose his magic and he didn't hesitate to snidely point that out, "By the way. Right Said Fred called. He said he wants his sexy back."
"For what?" Stefan retorted as he stopped just short of pulling the door open, grabbing the knob as he tossed a snarky remark of his own over his shoulder. "Hope he doesn't think you can borrow it without needing an ambulance." Dismissive to the entire situation at this point, he began to pull the door open to step outside.
And to that, Steve had one very powerful weapon of truth at his disposal. "Laura seems to think so." BOOM. Total knockout.
...And he could tell immediately that he'd hit a major nerve by the way Stefan balked mid-step on his way out to spin towards Steve and shoot him a glare that would make a giant whimper. Gnawing his tongue as he clung onto the last threads of his patience for dear life, he calmly snapped the wrinkles out of his lapels before issuing a final token of advice. "...I'm warning you, Steve. And it's the last time I'm gonna say it — stay the hell away from my woman or we're gonna have more than words."
And with nothing more to say, he finally crossed the threshold and furiously slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Steve to wallow in the trembling silence of his own ire. "...Oooooh, I'm shakin' in mah knickers!" he yelped angrily towards the closed door... only to shrink away slightly in hopes that Stefan hadn't heard him... he talked a good game, but secretly, his shorts were sweating.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 26