Author's Note: Well, jeeze, lookie at all the people. looks up innocently at the readers Here's the deal with this story; it's rather random, potentially cannon, with no set time-period. Obviously, as with all my X:WP stories, there's a hint of romance, for once tinged with reality. Okay, finish the boring disclaimers and stuff and READ!
Dedications: Still the same people it's always been dedicated to. Especially to Illy, LK, Tali, Tango, Rissy, Kat, and everyone who I still see online, as that's not many anymore.
Summary: "He probably could have been declaring his all-encompassing redemption, and, right now, it wouldn't have mattered… the Fates just really hated her…"
Warnings: Slightly angsty/reflective?
Rated: PG-13
Date Started/Finished: March 29th, 2005
By Delenn
It was a marvel, how he always seemed to appear when she was in exactly the worst mood possible. At any other time, she might have found his quips at least mildly amusing. Perhaps exchange a bit of playful banter with some threats thrown in.
At the moment, all he did was make her angry.
Either he had some sort of special 'Xena's in a bad mood' sense, or the Fates just really hated her. Seemed to be a toss up.
Of course, her bad mood couldn't be enough to deter him. No, it never was that easy, not for her.
"You and Blondie have a fight again?" She could hear the laughter in his voice; practically feel the smirk on her back.
Not that it mattered; he probably could have been declaring his all-encompassing redemption, and, right now, it would have irritated her immensely. "Spying on me again?"
Her words were laced with intent to hurt, not to play, but Ares remained undaunted. He offered a sneer as she looked up, "Didn't have to. How sharp is that sword?"
Obviously, he wasn't going to rise to the bait. And, then, she'd just managed to admit that he was right. That he knew her well enough to tell… that her sword really wouldn't get any sharper, no matter how much longer she slashed it along the stone. Smug bastard, "Care for a demonstration?"
Before he could protest, reply, she was up, her own smirk firmly in place as the sword slid through him. Prove that she was angry, not in the mood for him, not in any sort of mood at all. Always a little disconcerting, the way it slid right through him, easily with the force of her thrust, and just stayed put.
But then, that was why she'd done it. And he was always slightly disconcerted, if the odd half-grimace half-smirk he gave her was any indication.
Huffing indignantly, he stayed still, enjoying how close she'd come in her anger. Sometimes, he didn't mind being her pincushion, even if being stabbed did have an oddly uncomfortable feel to it. "Hey! You know that tingles."
A glare, smoothly transformed into a raised eyebrow, "I can make it burn."
Leaning down, closer, voice deep, whispered promises against her ear. "You always do."
The sword was forgotten. Eyes met, jaded with tints of hope, edges of pain. A moment and lips met.
Then it was more than a moment, and the world was half-spinning, everything forgotten but the draw, pull, passion… just like it always was.
A flash and she saw clearly. Remembered that it wasn't him she was angry at. She was mad at herself. Realized that at any other moment, they might be able to have a normal conversation, with the tension buzzing instead of burning through them. Destroying in its wake.
The clarity was short-lived, as always. The kiss lingering, as always.
Her words bitter and harsh, his reply cruel and hurt. Tearing words and slashed hearts, as always.
When the last angry flash of light disappeared, fury tinted on both their lips, Xena collected her sword from where it had been discarded.
Sat back down, sharpening it with smooth, calm strokes. Feeling the sharpness of the blade against her mind.
She thought of her anger at Gabrielle, how furious Ares made her for many rational and unexplainable reasons.
Wondered if they'd ever catch each other at the right time, at any time except the worst. What he'd come for.
She wondered, if it would ever stop burning, the kisses ever stop lingering. Tainting their minds with each other.
