"Wow, Port Charles looks so strange." Georgie reached out and fingered a
crisp green leaf, hanging off a tree on the edge of the waterfront behind
Kelly's.
"It's not New York City, that's for sure," replied Dillon. He inhaled deeply. "But we've only been here for an hour, and I already know it's home." He pulled Georgie in and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead gently. She sighed against his chest.
"I don't know," she said suddenly, pulling away softly and walking over to the edge of the pier, her arms crossed tightly. "There's been so much tumult and disorder and catastrophe here. Port Charles has been like a blessing and a curse for me, and yet I still think I wouldn't like to be anywhere else. I don't know why I love the place I also hate."
"Georgie, do you remember Sage? And my mother's antics? And all that crap with sex and the dead body in the boathouse? And even Tom or Todd or whatever his name was. There was a time in my life where I didn't know why I didn't loathe Port Charles. But Georgie, I think I know the reason."
"What?" Georgie turned around and looked at him. A curly lock of hair blew in front of her face in the warm breeze, and Dillon stepped closer and brushed it aside. Then he took her face in his hands and caught her lips with his, kissing her passionately. The humid draft of air blew past and water lapped against the wooden dock, splashing quietly. When they finally pulled apart, he toyed with her flushed cheek with his thumb and forefinger.
"Because...I found you here." Georgie blushed and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Dillon just smiled and took in her huge russet eyes, swimming with emotion, love, and tears all at once. That was another reason why he loved her; she cried at the drop of a hat, and always meant it.
"You cheeseball," she laughed against his mouth. But cheesy or not, she knew it to be true.
After sitting on the bench for a while, Georgie leaning on his shoulder and Dillon fingering a wispy stray lock of her hair, a humid late afternoon drizzle began to patter softly on the trees. Remembering the last time she had seen Port Charles, in the late fall four years ago when the tree leaves were dying, she smiled at the soft puttering of raindrops on the large, lush, newly grown foliage. Dillon lifted his legs a few inches off the ground and stretched them, his face turning a pinkish color. Georgie giggled at the slightly constipated appearance of his face, and he let out a stream of hot breath through his tight lips, his cheeks swelling and beginning to ache. Finally, Dillon let out a burst of laughter and Georgie buried her face in his shirt, pulling loose hair behind her ears and giggling uncontrollably.
Dillon leaned over her head and delicately placed consecutive kisses in a line down her neck, to where it reached her top. She shuddered softly underneath his moist lips and could hardly breathe. Dillon kissed the sides of her neck and right back up to her hairline, where he planted kisses, like abstract blossoms of melting snow, through her hair. Georgie pulled up her head and kissed him directly on the lips without notice, catching him by surprise and melting his heart like the kisses of snow in her hair; both at once.
"Hello?" Dillon called, stepping into the house. Unusually, the tall polished door to the Quartermaine mansion was open and inside, the halls, foyer, and elegant twirling staircase looked similar. Shining pewter, silver, and crystal and overly elaborate decorations accented the area and in the center of the spacious vestibule, a round mahogany table sat. In its center was a round Waterford crystal bowl brimming with multicolored flora of every size and shape. The wooden floors were waxed to the extent of blinding immaculate cleanliness, and the doors leading to other rooms and halls were all closed.
Suddenly, a burst of profane language erupted from the door to the parlor, and Dillon could make out Grandfather Edward's boisterous and boastful voice shouting. In a few moments, he could distinguish that the victim or backstabber he was spitting words of fire at was Luke Spencer.
"Georgie, come on, let's go in." He turned around to see Georgie fingering a dazzling piece of shimmery china, in the shape of a rose, on a shelf by the stairs. Crystal beads of water on the leaves were reflecting the color of her eyes; Dillon noticed. Georgie pulled her mind out of a daze and turned around, walking toward the door. "Sounds brutal," she remarked.
"No problem. Ego-bashing is a routine Quartermaine family tradition. Practiced by many generations for many centuries. Good story. Tell it to you sometime." He smirked and Georgie held in a titter as Dillon pulled down the gold lever doorknob and entered the parlor.
"Such mild language," he remarked sarcastically. "Yet, in true Quartermaine style, the family has managed to make their constant bickering heard by the rest of the world for a mile in all directions." Everyone in the room stopped backbiting and turned to face the door. The first to speak was Monica.
"Dillon! Oh, my goodness, what a surprise! Back so soon!" Monica walked out behind the sofa and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek.
"Hi, Monica. How are you doing?" he asked politely.
"Well, much better as of about ten seconds ago! You'll stay for dinner, of course, you and Georgie? Oh, Georgianna dear, how wonderful to see you!" She wrapped her in a warm hug and Georgie squeezed her tightly. Out of the entire dysfunctional clan, Monica was one of the few unsung heroes that kept them all together.
In the next few minutes, Georgie and Dillon were bombarded with hugs and kisses and embraces of all kinds. Emily and Nikolas came up to welcome them home while everyone began to quarrel again. Georgie noticed that Emily's stomach was swollen to thrice its normal size and she had an unusually rosy glow on her face.
"Emily..." she said. "Wow, congratulations!"
"Thank you, but congrats are in order for you two as well! I'm so proud- and with honors, too! Both of you!" Emily smoothed her black cocktail dress over her burgeoning belly and leaned in to hug Georgie. Nikolas shook Dillon's hand warmly.
"Wow, congratulations man," said Dillon. Nikolas just smiled shyly. "She's wanted a baby for so long, and now that the Cassadines are no longer drowning in debt we can really start a family," he explained. Emily and Georgie grinned at him.
"So modest," teased Emily. "He wants to tell the whole world, don't you Dad?" She laughed and kissed his cheek. Nikolas grinned back at her and she took her hand in his. "We're gonna get some drinks. Do you guys want anything?"
"No thanks," said Dillon. "We're gonna sit." Georgie nodded her head in approval, and Dillon led her over to the sofa.
"Whoa, I didn't see that coming," Dillon breathed, leaning his head on the back of the couch.
"What of all those things that just happened?" asked Georgie.
"Emily being pregnant. That was not what I expected. I thought their bad financial problem was keeping them from getting into the whole 'lets make a baby' expedition, but apparently not."
"Didn't Nikolas just say that the Cassidines are out of debt?"
"Yeah, but it's a cover. I talked to Skye the other day over the phone, and apparently it's been hard times over on Spoon Island." Georgie took it in, then looked over at Nikolas and Emily, sharing a kiss by the French doors.
"She looks more beautiful now that she's pregnant, doesn't she?" she said softly. Dillon nodded sagaciously, then smiled at Georgie while she took in the ornate décor in the room. He had known that one day she wanted to have a baby, but he had never known how much; or for that matter, how much the sudden knowledge of Emily's pregnancy was going to eventually have an effect on her.
"It's not New York City, that's for sure," replied Dillon. He inhaled deeply. "But we've only been here for an hour, and I already know it's home." He pulled Georgie in and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead gently. She sighed against his chest.
"I don't know," she said suddenly, pulling away softly and walking over to the edge of the pier, her arms crossed tightly. "There's been so much tumult and disorder and catastrophe here. Port Charles has been like a blessing and a curse for me, and yet I still think I wouldn't like to be anywhere else. I don't know why I love the place I also hate."
"Georgie, do you remember Sage? And my mother's antics? And all that crap with sex and the dead body in the boathouse? And even Tom or Todd or whatever his name was. There was a time in my life where I didn't know why I didn't loathe Port Charles. But Georgie, I think I know the reason."
"What?" Georgie turned around and looked at him. A curly lock of hair blew in front of her face in the warm breeze, and Dillon stepped closer and brushed it aside. Then he took her face in his hands and caught her lips with his, kissing her passionately. The humid draft of air blew past and water lapped against the wooden dock, splashing quietly. When they finally pulled apart, he toyed with her flushed cheek with his thumb and forefinger.
"Because...I found you here." Georgie blushed and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Dillon just smiled and took in her huge russet eyes, swimming with emotion, love, and tears all at once. That was another reason why he loved her; she cried at the drop of a hat, and always meant it.
"You cheeseball," she laughed against his mouth. But cheesy or not, she knew it to be true.
After sitting on the bench for a while, Georgie leaning on his shoulder and Dillon fingering a wispy stray lock of her hair, a humid late afternoon drizzle began to patter softly on the trees. Remembering the last time she had seen Port Charles, in the late fall four years ago when the tree leaves were dying, she smiled at the soft puttering of raindrops on the large, lush, newly grown foliage. Dillon lifted his legs a few inches off the ground and stretched them, his face turning a pinkish color. Georgie giggled at the slightly constipated appearance of his face, and he let out a stream of hot breath through his tight lips, his cheeks swelling and beginning to ache. Finally, Dillon let out a burst of laughter and Georgie buried her face in his shirt, pulling loose hair behind her ears and giggling uncontrollably.
Dillon leaned over her head and delicately placed consecutive kisses in a line down her neck, to where it reached her top. She shuddered softly underneath his moist lips and could hardly breathe. Dillon kissed the sides of her neck and right back up to her hairline, where he planted kisses, like abstract blossoms of melting snow, through her hair. Georgie pulled up her head and kissed him directly on the lips without notice, catching him by surprise and melting his heart like the kisses of snow in her hair; both at once.
"Hello?" Dillon called, stepping into the house. Unusually, the tall polished door to the Quartermaine mansion was open and inside, the halls, foyer, and elegant twirling staircase looked similar. Shining pewter, silver, and crystal and overly elaborate decorations accented the area and in the center of the spacious vestibule, a round mahogany table sat. In its center was a round Waterford crystal bowl brimming with multicolored flora of every size and shape. The wooden floors were waxed to the extent of blinding immaculate cleanliness, and the doors leading to other rooms and halls were all closed.
Suddenly, a burst of profane language erupted from the door to the parlor, and Dillon could make out Grandfather Edward's boisterous and boastful voice shouting. In a few moments, he could distinguish that the victim or backstabber he was spitting words of fire at was Luke Spencer.
"Georgie, come on, let's go in." He turned around to see Georgie fingering a dazzling piece of shimmery china, in the shape of a rose, on a shelf by the stairs. Crystal beads of water on the leaves were reflecting the color of her eyes; Dillon noticed. Georgie pulled her mind out of a daze and turned around, walking toward the door. "Sounds brutal," she remarked.
"No problem. Ego-bashing is a routine Quartermaine family tradition. Practiced by many generations for many centuries. Good story. Tell it to you sometime." He smirked and Georgie held in a titter as Dillon pulled down the gold lever doorknob and entered the parlor.
"Such mild language," he remarked sarcastically. "Yet, in true Quartermaine style, the family has managed to make their constant bickering heard by the rest of the world for a mile in all directions." Everyone in the room stopped backbiting and turned to face the door. The first to speak was Monica.
"Dillon! Oh, my goodness, what a surprise! Back so soon!" Monica walked out behind the sofa and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek.
"Hi, Monica. How are you doing?" he asked politely.
"Well, much better as of about ten seconds ago! You'll stay for dinner, of course, you and Georgie? Oh, Georgianna dear, how wonderful to see you!" She wrapped her in a warm hug and Georgie squeezed her tightly. Out of the entire dysfunctional clan, Monica was one of the few unsung heroes that kept them all together.
In the next few minutes, Georgie and Dillon were bombarded with hugs and kisses and embraces of all kinds. Emily and Nikolas came up to welcome them home while everyone began to quarrel again. Georgie noticed that Emily's stomach was swollen to thrice its normal size and she had an unusually rosy glow on her face.
"Emily..." she said. "Wow, congratulations!"
"Thank you, but congrats are in order for you two as well! I'm so proud- and with honors, too! Both of you!" Emily smoothed her black cocktail dress over her burgeoning belly and leaned in to hug Georgie. Nikolas shook Dillon's hand warmly.
"Wow, congratulations man," said Dillon. Nikolas just smiled shyly. "She's wanted a baby for so long, and now that the Cassadines are no longer drowning in debt we can really start a family," he explained. Emily and Georgie grinned at him.
"So modest," teased Emily. "He wants to tell the whole world, don't you Dad?" She laughed and kissed his cheek. Nikolas grinned back at her and she took her hand in his. "We're gonna get some drinks. Do you guys want anything?"
"No thanks," said Dillon. "We're gonna sit." Georgie nodded her head in approval, and Dillon led her over to the sofa.
"Whoa, I didn't see that coming," Dillon breathed, leaning his head on the back of the couch.
"What of all those things that just happened?" asked Georgie.
"Emily being pregnant. That was not what I expected. I thought their bad financial problem was keeping them from getting into the whole 'lets make a baby' expedition, but apparently not."
"Didn't Nikolas just say that the Cassidines are out of debt?"
"Yeah, but it's a cover. I talked to Skye the other day over the phone, and apparently it's been hard times over on Spoon Island." Georgie took it in, then looked over at Nikolas and Emily, sharing a kiss by the French doors.
"She looks more beautiful now that she's pregnant, doesn't she?" she said softly. Dillon nodded sagaciously, then smiled at Georgie while she took in the ornate décor in the room. He had known that one day she wanted to have a baby, but he had never known how much; or for that matter, how much the sudden knowledge of Emily's pregnancy was going to eventually have an effect on her.