author's note: im sorry for the horrible delay, im afraid I had to take a breif respite from my normal writing (as usual) but i have been able to get this chapter put together. alas, my lack of consistency. Now that school's over, I really missed how fun it was to write romance. Sorry if this chapter's a bit short, but there's more to come! Promise!
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Quatre walked down the street a bit before he was finally able to flag a taxi, one of the many luxurious limo-taxis that frequented the hotels close by. It was running well below the speed limit, but not enough so that it didnt skid to stop close to quatre.
He motioned to Dorothy to hurry, and she scowled when he opened the door for her. Regardless, she sat down and took in the interior of the limo.
Quatre walked around to the other side and briskly got in, closing the door behind him. " Klouderhoven Base, if you please." Quatre stated to the driver. As they drove off, Quatre spied the nubile young waitress from the restaurant in the doorway of the restaurant behind them.
His mind was about to wander, but before it got far, Dorothy's tongue brought him crashing back into reality like a bungee cord. "You like her don't you?" She inquired, Quatre was caught off guard. He never figured dorothy to be the jealous type, but this comment, construed as suspicion, turned to jealousy. Although nothing corroborated this theory, he felt the green monster, an ugly blemish that the host didn't want to admit though everybody sees it. "I mean, you just CANT resist any little cute waitress who wants a fling with the great Quatre Reberba Winner." Quatre's theory was as good as law. Internally, he smiled.
Knowing he we would irritate her, he answered; "You know you are the only one for me, Dorothy." Dorothy, face livid with anger reached over to the other side of the limo and snatched a throw pillow opposite them. She brought it unto Quatre's head with a satisfying and muffled WHUMP! This time Quatre was ready. He pulled another pillow from under his seat and flung it at her. She covered her face, screeching in surprise at Quatre's premeditated retaliation. she swung blindly at Quatre, but her pillow connected with air. She opened her eyes and Quatre wasn't next to her anymore. she turned and saw him opposite her on the other seat with another pillow. She moved to strike him but he was faster, knocking her beret off in one clean whap
They carried on for a few more minutes, dorothy's cold ruthless strikes eventually being suceeded by playful, laughing swings, not really aimed anywhere. On a particularly strong swing, Dorothy slipped from the seat and lost her grip on her pillow, letting it fly, but narrowly missing Quatre's head. Taking the opportunity for a final, killing blow, Quatre reared back to give one last swoop, but slipped on Dorothy's pillow and tumbled forward, his arms desperately groping for something to stave his fall. Dorothy reacted on instinct, grabbing Quatre by the shirt and pushed him to her left, all the while pulling him towards her. Executed flawlessly, Quatre stifled an "oof", closing his eyes as he absorbed the force of is fall. His head, spinning from the reversal, slammed rear-first into the floor of the car, stunning him.
Dorothy heard the mild thump on the car floor as Quatre's back and skull connected the low-cut carpeting. Why she had reversed him as he fell she did not comprehend, and whichever logical reason her mind could have concocted would not be accepted anyway - her mind wasn't working at all since the plane ride and therefore shouldn't be trusted- so she simply sat there, taking in the young man below her.
His shirt was taut, he hands pinning all the slack, stretching to reveal an intriguingly fit chest and abdomen. Dorothy's eyebrows raised and her imagination played on Quatre's body like a professional musician who had not had the chance to practice his work in a long time. His tight muscles were the strings of a grand harpsichord, of which dorothy's mind nimbly plucked, sending wonderful chords through her, and driving a response that burned her cheeks red.
Quatre's eyes fluttered open, and his vision slowly returned to him. Amazed at what he saw, he blinked once more. He could make out the lineaments of dorothy's round face, her eyes fixed on his chest, her body straddling him. Her hair fell about his and Dorothy's faces, creating a veil that blocked out the light, and to him, everything outside of them including time itself. Dorothy's eyes flickered to his with the quickness of a viper. He then noticed the slight blush that her face had taken on. Quatre was puzzled as to what brought it on, but soon he too felt his cheeks turn a darker shade of pink.
Dorothy's mind was a whirr of thoughts and questions, that is, until Quatre opened his cobalt blue eyes.Time imploded on itself.
Her heart froze, her mind drew blacks across all boards, shrouding her logic and wiping clean her minds eye, leaving nothing but burning anxiety and pure, flaming emotion. It was one she was unfamiliar with, a stranger in her own mind. 'Is this...is this love?' she pleaded to herself. The power of this emotion spread like fire though her head and burned with pleasure as hot as plasma. She felt power over her own mind slip cleanly out of her grasp as if it were covered in oil.
And then time exploded.
Her mind raced once more, outpacing itself a dozen times over. Her heart stopped beating but began to hum, pumping more adrenaline than blood, rushing dorothy's body with so much pleasure that it hurt. Her vision tunneled as the world seemed to spin past her at blazing speed. Everything physical around her, the car, the seat to either side of her, lost their defining lines, and their colors began to smear-spill-into each other creating a fabulous swirl of excitement...all except Quatre. Dorothy leaned forward from her straddling position towards his face, the medals on her chest making a near inaudible clink. Quatre put up no resistance, instead he gently closed his eyes. Dorothy did the same. And as their faces drew closer, her mind eased, and her heart geared to a fluttering stop in anticipation as she felt the uneasy breath of her love on her lips...
A kiss. A simple kiss, can change everything.
Dieter Osterhout glanced into his mirror to see the young couple he was driving to see them on the floor of the limo, one straddling the other. He chuckled. "Ah, Liebe. Ich kann mich mrinnern, an als ich diese Junge war." he murmured to himself, fixed on the two. a smile played on his mouth. "Es ist ein guter Tag fur Liebe." And he was right. the people of New Berlin were becoming warmer with the approach of the festival, and the sun seemed to shine brighter. The Bio-enhanced trees looked greener and the air smelled of burning H-Fuel...what? Dieter sniffed around his seat, and under his arms, paying no attention to the road. When he finally did, he saw the massive hunk of steel that was the Derringer MkII tank mere meters from his front bumper. Instinctively, he slammed the brakes.
Dorothy was millimeters from Quatre's lips when an invisible rope seemed to grab her. Her eyes snapped open to see Quatre's face somehow slip to the left of her vision. And then she felt the force of her head hit the lip of the middle seat, smarting intensely. The piercing screech of tire on asphalt filled the limo, and soon it ended as they came to a complete stop. The silence was soon broken by the heavy driver. "Vee have arrived at zee Klouderhoven base."
Dorothy Quickly rose to her knees and her head popped up, scanning in three-hundred sixty degrees like a merekat scouting its surroundings. After she figured the reason of the abrupt stop, she frowned at the driver who chuckled sheepishly under her cold glare. "Es tut meir leit, frouline." he offered.
Quatre sensed the frustration in the air and began to laugh, almost maniacally at the situation. He was about to inquire on what happened a few seconds previously when Dorothy, quickly tired by Quatre's mockery, dealt I'm a swift jab to the diaphragm, stealing the wind from his lungs.
Dorothy opened the limo door and stepped out into the acrid air around the base and dusted off her gold-trimmed white uniform frustratingly. Confused by her own thoughts, she popped her head in the vehicle to call Quatre an "Asshole!" once more. With that done, she slammed the door on a squirming Quatre.