A/n: thank you for the reviews! They make me happy and persuade me to post
some more. This chapter is the one I have had the most fun with since I
started writing M/R. I was at my beach house in CT when I came up with the
idea and I HAD to use it. I'm the biggest dork too ::laughs:: I took
pictures on the beach where I picture this scene taking place, so anyone
wants to visualize it let me know. I know.I'm pathetic and damn proud of
it. So yah, they still aren't my characters. The only thing that is mine
is the song lyrics that I'm still trying to come up with the accompaniment
to on my guitar. ::wishes she could be as talented as roger::
"Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, PASS out."
July 8th, 2002. Mark is turning twenty-two and this is my surprise to him. It could make him either a very happy man or make him run away. However, I'm pretty confident for a person who is so insecure to begin with. We are sitting in the car I borrowed from Joanne. She knows all about this, and I like her, I trust she won't say anything yet.
"Roger, where the hell are you taking me?" He keeps asking. We have been in the car for about two hours; we're almost there. "Will you stop being so damn impatient?!" I have to do my best to disguise the shakiness in my voice. "We are almost there. Here." I hand him a blue bandana. "Put this over your eyes." I don't want him to see any of the street signs. He looks at me strange. My stomach flips and I laugh a nervous laugh.
"Oh don't MAKE me pull this car over! Put.it.on." I stay as sarcastic as I usually am so he suspects nothing. He finally puts it on and I start to get even more anxious.
"Why are we here? You said you never wanted to come back to Connecticut first of all, and second of all we have never celebrated birthdays for as long as we have known each other." I can tell he is getting nervous too because of the way he fidgets with his hands. Curiousity has started to take over.
"Well I make a few acceptions, and it's about time we start celebrating." Phew, covered that one up nicely. Mark shakes his head and it stays silent. I get off on the exit that I'm supposed to and from there it's not far. 'Holy shit, oh my god, fuck.' Those three phrases kept on repeating themselves in my mind. After what took close to forever I pull into a parking spot.
"Finally." He comments. "Don't even THINK about taking that thing off. Stay here."
I step out of my side and go around to help him out. I open his door and grab him by the elbow as he steps out. "Waves are crashing and it smells like fish. What the fuck are we doing here?" He persists to ask. I go to the trunk to get some stuff out along with my guitar and his tripod. The camera is in his hand of course. I grab his arm again as my heart is about to burst through my chest. "Come on." I insist as I it gets more difficult to walk on the sand. I think he gave up on asking questions, too, because it was quiet other than the waves, crickets, and our feet plowing through the grains of sand. It is dark other than the slight moon and stars. The night is the way it should be in early July; clear, blue, and moderate with a slight breeze. We stop and he stays standing while I put down the blanket (a sheet from my bed), a thermos (it's Collins'), and my guitar. I then set up his tripod when he starts with the questions again.
"Can I take this off now? If I'm missing something good that I could be filming I'm not gonna be too happy." he threatens.
Instead of arguing my case I take the camera from his hand and set it up, turning it on. It just hit me that I'm only assuming this will go well. My stomach flips all over again but the sea breeze soothes me. This is the moment. Screw all of the odds that are against me. It's now or never, I'm going for now. I untie the bandana over his eyes from behind him. He opens his eyelids and rubs them, blinking a few times. Looking down on everything set up, then to the water crashing, and sky, eventually toward me. He suddenly looks even more scared and confused.
"Roge.? What's going on?" I swallow hard and sit on the sheet, he follows. He looks at me curiously and fidgets again. My first instinct is to hold his hands steady, so I do it. He isn't pulling away. That is a good sign. I begin my explination:
"Mark, remember when we were younger, what.seventeen?" He nods his head slowly. I continue: "You went to the beach one time with your cousin in Long Island or something and loved it. It was all you talked about. You had never been before, and as far as I know you haven't gone since." He shakes his head signaling that I was right. "About a week later when you told me about it you mentioned that someday you wanted to spend a beautiful, romantic, sappy, night lying on the beach with someone who loves you."
His jaw almost drops and I squeeze his hands tighter. "I-I don't' kno-" He stutters until I stop him by putting two of my fingers to his lips. "Please, don't say anything yet. Just give me another minute before you decide anything." I let go of his hands and open my guitar case, taking it into my lap. I clear the lump in my throat and play the first twelve notes to "Happy Birthday" before I start the song that I should have written for him years ago. I close my eyes and sing.
"The one who takes me away Cures every pain with his eyes and soft touch Smiles to force my heart to beat faster Occupies my mind through the day In dreams. I want you to be the one for me."
I feel his hand being placed on my knee as a shiver runs through me. I keep my eyes shut in fear of loosing concentration if I look at him. I sing again.
"The one to be there when you need a heart To sleep in their arms each night To cry with, to talk to, to laugh with, to hold you To bring back your spirits when they seem lost forever To kiss you To love you Please let me be the one."
I end the song with the remainder of the "happy birthday" melody. I slowly open my eyes and meet Mark's. Even in the darkness I can see the moisture in them. His hand is still lying on my leg so I pick it up and put into my own shaking hands. His are so soft and cold where as mine are rough and warm. Perfect match.
He smiles and his glance never parts with mine. There are so many things I wanted to say and tell him how I have loved him for years. Right now it wasn't appropriate. Actions speak louder than words. I slowly inch my face closer to his and close my eyes after studying his precious face. Our lips brush lightly and we both pull back to look at each other again before I persist on making my dreams reality. I lean in again and kiss him more confidently this time. These small but passionate kisses go on for about a minute before we stop. I open my eyes first to see him looking so peaceful with his lips still slightly parted. I have never felt this completely happy and well.in love.
He opens his eyes and I smile at him, running my fingers over his cheekbone. "What are you thinking?" I needed to ask. "I-I'm-well-um." He stumbles over his attempt at a sentence. "So I did a good thing?" I say to loosen things up a bit. He nods and we both laugh. I pick up the thermos and take off the top placing it next to him. "It's your favorite mix of coffee and hot chocolate. Happy birthday." He looks like he is about to cry. 'Please let that be a good thing.' My worries subside when he smiles and eventually speaks.
"What am I going to do with you Davis?" he shrugs and I laugh, leaning back onto my hands. "I think that's your call now, Cohen." He chuckles this time rising to his knees in front of me. Before I know it his sweet, moist lips are on mine and I am being pushed to the ground. After a while we mutually break apart. He rests his head on my chest as I stroke his hair, both of us looking at the stars.
"Roger?" "Yeah?" I respond. "I love you too. I always have." I kiss his head and lye back down, still caressing his face with one hand and his arm with the other. Never before have I known anything for sure, until now. This is the way my life was meant to turn out. We fit together perfectly; just like coffee and hot chocolate.
A/n: The whole coffee/hot chocolate thing.As I said this story is a gift for someone and coffee and hot chocolate is a thing with her so I included it in the story.
"Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, PASS out."
July 8th, 2002. Mark is turning twenty-two and this is my surprise to him. It could make him either a very happy man or make him run away. However, I'm pretty confident for a person who is so insecure to begin with. We are sitting in the car I borrowed from Joanne. She knows all about this, and I like her, I trust she won't say anything yet.
"Roger, where the hell are you taking me?" He keeps asking. We have been in the car for about two hours; we're almost there. "Will you stop being so damn impatient?!" I have to do my best to disguise the shakiness in my voice. "We are almost there. Here." I hand him a blue bandana. "Put this over your eyes." I don't want him to see any of the street signs. He looks at me strange. My stomach flips and I laugh a nervous laugh.
"Oh don't MAKE me pull this car over! Put.it.on." I stay as sarcastic as I usually am so he suspects nothing. He finally puts it on and I start to get even more anxious.
"Why are we here? You said you never wanted to come back to Connecticut first of all, and second of all we have never celebrated birthdays for as long as we have known each other." I can tell he is getting nervous too because of the way he fidgets with his hands. Curiousity has started to take over.
"Well I make a few acceptions, and it's about time we start celebrating." Phew, covered that one up nicely. Mark shakes his head and it stays silent. I get off on the exit that I'm supposed to and from there it's not far. 'Holy shit, oh my god, fuck.' Those three phrases kept on repeating themselves in my mind. After what took close to forever I pull into a parking spot.
"Finally." He comments. "Don't even THINK about taking that thing off. Stay here."
I step out of my side and go around to help him out. I open his door and grab him by the elbow as he steps out. "Waves are crashing and it smells like fish. What the fuck are we doing here?" He persists to ask. I go to the trunk to get some stuff out along with my guitar and his tripod. The camera is in his hand of course. I grab his arm again as my heart is about to burst through my chest. "Come on." I insist as I it gets more difficult to walk on the sand. I think he gave up on asking questions, too, because it was quiet other than the waves, crickets, and our feet plowing through the grains of sand. It is dark other than the slight moon and stars. The night is the way it should be in early July; clear, blue, and moderate with a slight breeze. We stop and he stays standing while I put down the blanket (a sheet from my bed), a thermos (it's Collins'), and my guitar. I then set up his tripod when he starts with the questions again.
"Can I take this off now? If I'm missing something good that I could be filming I'm not gonna be too happy." he threatens.
Instead of arguing my case I take the camera from his hand and set it up, turning it on. It just hit me that I'm only assuming this will go well. My stomach flips all over again but the sea breeze soothes me. This is the moment. Screw all of the odds that are against me. It's now or never, I'm going for now. I untie the bandana over his eyes from behind him. He opens his eyelids and rubs them, blinking a few times. Looking down on everything set up, then to the water crashing, and sky, eventually toward me. He suddenly looks even more scared and confused.
"Roge.? What's going on?" I swallow hard and sit on the sheet, he follows. He looks at me curiously and fidgets again. My first instinct is to hold his hands steady, so I do it. He isn't pulling away. That is a good sign. I begin my explination:
"Mark, remember when we were younger, what.seventeen?" He nods his head slowly. I continue: "You went to the beach one time with your cousin in Long Island or something and loved it. It was all you talked about. You had never been before, and as far as I know you haven't gone since." He shakes his head signaling that I was right. "About a week later when you told me about it you mentioned that someday you wanted to spend a beautiful, romantic, sappy, night lying on the beach with someone who loves you."
His jaw almost drops and I squeeze his hands tighter. "I-I don't' kno-" He stutters until I stop him by putting two of my fingers to his lips. "Please, don't say anything yet. Just give me another minute before you decide anything." I let go of his hands and open my guitar case, taking it into my lap. I clear the lump in my throat and play the first twelve notes to "Happy Birthday" before I start the song that I should have written for him years ago. I close my eyes and sing.
"The one who takes me away Cures every pain with his eyes and soft touch Smiles to force my heart to beat faster Occupies my mind through the day In dreams. I want you to be the one for me."
I feel his hand being placed on my knee as a shiver runs through me. I keep my eyes shut in fear of loosing concentration if I look at him. I sing again.
"The one to be there when you need a heart To sleep in their arms each night To cry with, to talk to, to laugh with, to hold you To bring back your spirits when they seem lost forever To kiss you To love you Please let me be the one."
I end the song with the remainder of the "happy birthday" melody. I slowly open my eyes and meet Mark's. Even in the darkness I can see the moisture in them. His hand is still lying on my leg so I pick it up and put into my own shaking hands. His are so soft and cold where as mine are rough and warm. Perfect match.
He smiles and his glance never parts with mine. There are so many things I wanted to say and tell him how I have loved him for years. Right now it wasn't appropriate. Actions speak louder than words. I slowly inch my face closer to his and close my eyes after studying his precious face. Our lips brush lightly and we both pull back to look at each other again before I persist on making my dreams reality. I lean in again and kiss him more confidently this time. These small but passionate kisses go on for about a minute before we stop. I open my eyes first to see him looking so peaceful with his lips still slightly parted. I have never felt this completely happy and well.in love.
He opens his eyes and I smile at him, running my fingers over his cheekbone. "What are you thinking?" I needed to ask. "I-I'm-well-um." He stumbles over his attempt at a sentence. "So I did a good thing?" I say to loosen things up a bit. He nods and we both laugh. I pick up the thermos and take off the top placing it next to him. "It's your favorite mix of coffee and hot chocolate. Happy birthday." He looks like he is about to cry. 'Please let that be a good thing.' My worries subside when he smiles and eventually speaks.
"What am I going to do with you Davis?" he shrugs and I laugh, leaning back onto my hands. "I think that's your call now, Cohen." He chuckles this time rising to his knees in front of me. Before I know it his sweet, moist lips are on mine and I am being pushed to the ground. After a while we mutually break apart. He rests his head on my chest as I stroke his hair, both of us looking at the stars.
"Roger?" "Yeah?" I respond. "I love you too. I always have." I kiss his head and lye back down, still caressing his face with one hand and his arm with the other. Never before have I known anything for sure, until now. This is the way my life was meant to turn out. We fit together perfectly; just like coffee and hot chocolate.
A/n: The whole coffee/hot chocolate thing.As I said this story is a gift for someone and coffee and hot chocolate is a thing with her so I included it in the story.
