Ma Soleil
Chapter Twenty-Five: Rings and Things
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fan fiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero, zip, nada profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
REVIEW, PLEAAAAASE! PRETTY PLEASSSE! If you liked it, tell friends! I'll write more if you review! My e-mail address is seraphtaurusthekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
# - indicates thought
- indicates telepathic conversation
- indicates that a language other than English is being conversed in.
XXX
Flashback: Seventeen Years Ago
Victor turned in bed, and his nose came in contact with warm skin that smelt of suntan lotion and salt. He opened his narrow amber eyes, and a smile floated over his lips. Oh, yeah. Her. He pulled himself into a sitting position as his wife stirred and curled into him, her arms tightening around his torso. She wasn't really little, even compared to him, he reflected. She was long and golden, with a build that was unusual but magnificent on a woman. He watched her flame-tipped lashes flutter and her eyes dart to and fro beneath her lids, and wondered what dreams she might be having. Then, he glanced at the motel room clock and shook her awake.
When her glacial blue eyes snapped open, he nearly winced. She may be beautiful while in repose, but she was, to put things mildly, a handful when awake. "Hey, darlin'." He murmured, in an attempt to begin the day on a positive note. She hissed at him and sprang out of bed, dragging a sheet with her, which she shook off at the bathroom door, then disappeared through it. Within moments, the sound of the shower turning on could be heard. He rose and headed after her. "Beck, darlin', we've got a plane ta catch. Hurry up, all right? I wanna shower too."
"Why don't you just shower with me, you bloody lug?" she growled, and Victor's brows headed for his hairline. Though she was quite the wildcat in the dark, he'd never seen her nude in any sort of light before, but had chalked it up to late adolescent modesty. Hell, she was young. He shrugged and opened the door. She was standing at the mirror, all five feet and ten inches of her, with her long hair of spun gold splashing down her back and over her shoulders. Victor touched her hand, and she started, drawing back from him as though he were a spider.
"What's wrong?" he inquired, and she turned to face him.
"Nothing's wrong, Vic," she murmured, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself into his body and burying her face in his shoulder. "Nothing's ever been wrong." She sighed, and it seemed to him that there was a note of wistfulness in that sigh. "Can I ask you something, though?"
"Sure, darlin'."
"Don't call me darlin' anymore." She turned her head slightly, and he could feel her mouth open and rest on his jugular vein, her teeth scraping gently over his skin. "I hate it; it gives you an excuse to objectify me...I'm not Rebecca to you, I'm just 'darlin'."
"All right," he shrugged. "I guess I can do that." She pulled back a little, and he pressed his lips to hers gently. "Ya know I'm...lookin' out for ya, right?"
Her eyes narrowed, and she loosed her hold on him, stepping away. "Yeah. Whatever." She stepped under the still-flowing stream of water in the shower and turned her back to him.
XXX
Present Day:
Victor scratched his head. Women. Never could understand them. It seemed to him that at about the age of thirteen they suddenly morphed from delightful children into indefinably stubborn, willful, estrogen-fit-throwing creatures. He sighed, and wondered what it was that got him tangled up with so many powerful women, when he was, for all intents and purposes, relatively simple in habits and needs. Either Fate had a terribly ironic sense of humour, or powerful women felt as though they needed someone to "tame," to display their supremacy over the male sex. Well, what was he if not an animal?
"Yer a bit'v a cad, fer one," a cheery British voice snapped Victor away from his thoughts.
"Hey, Starsmore. What're you doin' rootlin' around in my head?" he demanded.
"You were broadcastin'." Jono slumped down beside the big feral on the couch. "So wot's botherin' yer? Monet not puttin' out?" Victor narrowed his eyes and was about to make a snap about tearing his disrespectful throat out when he realized that the other man had known Monet for twice as long as he had.
"Nah. Just worried about Beck."
"Wot's wrong wif my sister?" Jono instantly seemed concerned, his brown eyes deepening.
"Nothin'. It's just that...I mean, the merc business..."
"Bullshit, Creed. Don't feed me that. Bloody hell, she eat twenty o' you alive an' still 'av room fer dessert."
"Sure, that might be true, but I'm not so sure about this Warden sap."
"He's fine. Not a sap at all. She trusts him, an' yer trust 'er. 'Sides, in't it my job ter be worried about me own sis?"
"Just habit, that's all."
"Well stick ter yer own girlfriend. An' I'll be watchin' yer round M, as well. She's a tough girl but you hurt 'er an' I'll tear yer throat out. Then Jubilee'll gouge yer eyes out, then Skin'll tear yer fat head off, then Artie..."
"I get the point, Starsmore. It's good o' ya ta look out fer Monet, but I think I'm doin' a fine job."
"So when're yer gonna tug that fat ring out'n pop th' question?"
Victor's hand shot out and grasped Jono by the throat. "Shut UP! Ya wanna go on TV an' just tell th' world? I'm waitin' fer the right time. Hell, we've only been tagether fer six months yet."
As his windpipe was otherwise occupied, Jono telepathed. But yer love 'er?
"Course. Why th' hell...look, I'll do it when I know she'll say yes." He shook Jono once, and let him go. "I ain't takin' th' chance o' her sayin' it ain't right yet."
"I guess I know 'ow yeh feel." He stood up, dusted his hands over his jeans. "Well, I ain't too disosed ter gettin' strangled, an' I've said my piece, but if yer 'urt Monet..." his quick grin, savage and toothy, was chilling enough to make Victor raise a brow. "Yer know she's like me sister, too." Jono turned and walked away.
"Well fuck." Victor groaned. "Just glad he wasn't around when Beck'n I were tagether."
XXX
Jubilee slumped into her office chair, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. "Good God," She muttered, breath coming out in a low hiss. "Sometimes I hate my work."
"Sometimes I 'ate meself." Jonothon grinned, sticking his head through the door. "Knock, knock."
"Hey," she murmured weakly. "Why do you hate yourself, Jono?"
"Cause I'm about ter add a lil' more stress ter yer day, I am.'
"God damn it, I don't have the energy to swear at you well."
"I'll consider meself chewed out," he grinned lopsidedly and settled into the chair in front of her desk. "Yer look really tired, luv."
"I am."
"That's too bad."
"Why?" she snapped. "Look, if you need a drill instructor, go find Nate. You've been practicing with him for the past few weeks, after all."
"Isn't that. I 'ad these reservations at Grill Master, but I guess I'll just 'ave ter cancel."
"Is that your twisted way of asking me out, Jono?"
"Guess it is." He grinned hopefully, and was rewarded with a small book thrown at him. "That a yes?"
"Not tonight," she rubbed her hand over her forehead. "I'm too tired."
"Then lemme read yer a book by th' fire an' watch yer drop off ter sleep." He reached across the desk and took her hand in his.
"I'm too tired to deal with you right now." She sighed, and swatted him away. "Just lemme sink into oblivion myself."
"Fair enough," he stood and scrubbed a hand through his tousled hair. "But I'm takin' this as a raincheck. We're goin' out fer burgers within th' week whether yer like it or not."
"What if I wanted seafood?"
"On'y after a burger." He grinned, winked, and turned for the door.
"Jono," she called before he left.
"Yep?"
"Wanna take in some re-runs of the OC and laugh at how ridiculous and idealized and unrealistic everything is?"
"Nah." He grinned in satisfaction as her eyes fell. "Th' OC gives me headaches. Let's watch some slasher films. They gimme the warm fuzzies." She grinned, and he paced back to her side, tugged her one-handed from her chair, bringing her body flush against his. Her cheeks reddened, and he felt something twist in his abdomen. Hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to her forehead. "I 'ope yer headache goes away, luv."
She snarled at him. "Don't go gettin' all mushy on me, Starsmore. It's just a damn slasher film."
He laughed. "Hey, I got me date, didn't I?" she hissed in reply and cuffed him over the head.
XXX
Chapter Twenty-Five: Rings and Things
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fan fiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero, zip, nada profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
REVIEW, PLEAAAAASE! PRETTY PLEASSSE! If you liked it, tell friends! I'll write more if you review! My e-mail address is seraphtaurusthekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
# - indicates thought
- indicates telepathic conversation
- indicates that a language other than English is being conversed in.
XXX
Flashback: Seventeen Years Ago
Victor turned in bed, and his nose came in contact with warm skin that smelt of suntan lotion and salt. He opened his narrow amber eyes, and a smile floated over his lips. Oh, yeah. Her. He pulled himself into a sitting position as his wife stirred and curled into him, her arms tightening around his torso. She wasn't really little, even compared to him, he reflected. She was long and golden, with a build that was unusual but magnificent on a woman. He watched her flame-tipped lashes flutter and her eyes dart to and fro beneath her lids, and wondered what dreams she might be having. Then, he glanced at the motel room clock and shook her awake.
When her glacial blue eyes snapped open, he nearly winced. She may be beautiful while in repose, but she was, to put things mildly, a handful when awake. "Hey, darlin'." He murmured, in an attempt to begin the day on a positive note. She hissed at him and sprang out of bed, dragging a sheet with her, which she shook off at the bathroom door, then disappeared through it. Within moments, the sound of the shower turning on could be heard. He rose and headed after her. "Beck, darlin', we've got a plane ta catch. Hurry up, all right? I wanna shower too."
"Why don't you just shower with me, you bloody lug?" she growled, and Victor's brows headed for his hairline. Though she was quite the wildcat in the dark, he'd never seen her nude in any sort of light before, but had chalked it up to late adolescent modesty. Hell, she was young. He shrugged and opened the door. She was standing at the mirror, all five feet and ten inches of her, with her long hair of spun gold splashing down her back and over her shoulders. Victor touched her hand, and she started, drawing back from him as though he were a spider.
"What's wrong?" he inquired, and she turned to face him.
"Nothing's wrong, Vic," she murmured, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself into his body and burying her face in his shoulder. "Nothing's ever been wrong." She sighed, and it seemed to him that there was a note of wistfulness in that sigh. "Can I ask you something, though?"
"Sure, darlin'."
"Don't call me darlin' anymore." She turned her head slightly, and he could feel her mouth open and rest on his jugular vein, her teeth scraping gently over his skin. "I hate it; it gives you an excuse to objectify me...I'm not Rebecca to you, I'm just 'darlin'."
"All right," he shrugged. "I guess I can do that." She pulled back a little, and he pressed his lips to hers gently. "Ya know I'm...lookin' out for ya, right?"
Her eyes narrowed, and she loosed her hold on him, stepping away. "Yeah. Whatever." She stepped under the still-flowing stream of water in the shower and turned her back to him.
XXX
Present Day:
Victor scratched his head. Women. Never could understand them. It seemed to him that at about the age of thirteen they suddenly morphed from delightful children into indefinably stubborn, willful, estrogen-fit-throwing creatures. He sighed, and wondered what it was that got him tangled up with so many powerful women, when he was, for all intents and purposes, relatively simple in habits and needs. Either Fate had a terribly ironic sense of humour, or powerful women felt as though they needed someone to "tame," to display their supremacy over the male sex. Well, what was he if not an animal?
"Yer a bit'v a cad, fer one," a cheery British voice snapped Victor away from his thoughts.
"Hey, Starsmore. What're you doin' rootlin' around in my head?" he demanded.
"You were broadcastin'." Jono slumped down beside the big feral on the couch. "So wot's botherin' yer? Monet not puttin' out?" Victor narrowed his eyes and was about to make a snap about tearing his disrespectful throat out when he realized that the other man had known Monet for twice as long as he had.
"Nah. Just worried about Beck."
"Wot's wrong wif my sister?" Jono instantly seemed concerned, his brown eyes deepening.
"Nothin'. It's just that...I mean, the merc business..."
"Bullshit, Creed. Don't feed me that. Bloody hell, she eat twenty o' you alive an' still 'av room fer dessert."
"Sure, that might be true, but I'm not so sure about this Warden sap."
"He's fine. Not a sap at all. She trusts him, an' yer trust 'er. 'Sides, in't it my job ter be worried about me own sis?"
"Just habit, that's all."
"Well stick ter yer own girlfriend. An' I'll be watchin' yer round M, as well. She's a tough girl but you hurt 'er an' I'll tear yer throat out. Then Jubilee'll gouge yer eyes out, then Skin'll tear yer fat head off, then Artie..."
"I get the point, Starsmore. It's good o' ya ta look out fer Monet, but I think I'm doin' a fine job."
"So when're yer gonna tug that fat ring out'n pop th' question?"
Victor's hand shot out and grasped Jono by the throat. "Shut UP! Ya wanna go on TV an' just tell th' world? I'm waitin' fer the right time. Hell, we've only been tagether fer six months yet."
As his windpipe was otherwise occupied, Jono telepathed. But yer love 'er?
"Course. Why th' hell...look, I'll do it when I know she'll say yes." He shook Jono once, and let him go. "I ain't takin' th' chance o' her sayin' it ain't right yet."
"I guess I know 'ow yeh feel." He stood up, dusted his hands over his jeans. "Well, I ain't too disosed ter gettin' strangled, an' I've said my piece, but if yer 'urt Monet..." his quick grin, savage and toothy, was chilling enough to make Victor raise a brow. "Yer know she's like me sister, too." Jono turned and walked away.
"Well fuck." Victor groaned. "Just glad he wasn't around when Beck'n I were tagether."
XXX
Jubilee slumped into her office chair, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. "Good God," She muttered, breath coming out in a low hiss. "Sometimes I hate my work."
"Sometimes I 'ate meself." Jonothon grinned, sticking his head through the door. "Knock, knock."
"Hey," she murmured weakly. "Why do you hate yourself, Jono?"
"Cause I'm about ter add a lil' more stress ter yer day, I am.'
"God damn it, I don't have the energy to swear at you well."
"I'll consider meself chewed out," he grinned lopsidedly and settled into the chair in front of her desk. "Yer look really tired, luv."
"I am."
"That's too bad."
"Why?" she snapped. "Look, if you need a drill instructor, go find Nate. You've been practicing with him for the past few weeks, after all."
"Isn't that. I 'ad these reservations at Grill Master, but I guess I'll just 'ave ter cancel."
"Is that your twisted way of asking me out, Jono?"
"Guess it is." He grinned hopefully, and was rewarded with a small book thrown at him. "That a yes?"
"Not tonight," she rubbed her hand over her forehead. "I'm too tired."
"Then lemme read yer a book by th' fire an' watch yer drop off ter sleep." He reached across the desk and took her hand in his.
"I'm too tired to deal with you right now." She sighed, and swatted him away. "Just lemme sink into oblivion myself."
"Fair enough," he stood and scrubbed a hand through his tousled hair. "But I'm takin' this as a raincheck. We're goin' out fer burgers within th' week whether yer like it or not."
"What if I wanted seafood?"
"On'y after a burger." He grinned, winked, and turned for the door.
"Jono," she called before he left.
"Yep?"
"Wanna take in some re-runs of the OC and laugh at how ridiculous and idealized and unrealistic everything is?"
"Nah." He grinned in satisfaction as her eyes fell. "Th' OC gives me headaches. Let's watch some slasher films. They gimme the warm fuzzies." She grinned, and he paced back to her side, tugged her one-handed from her chair, bringing her body flush against his. Her cheeks reddened, and he felt something twist in his abdomen. Hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to her forehead. "I 'ope yer headache goes away, luv."
She snarled at him. "Don't go gettin' all mushy on me, Starsmore. It's just a damn slasher film."
He laughed. "Hey, I got me date, didn't I?" she hissed in reply and cuffed him over the head.
XXX