Spoilers: Seduction, Close Encounters Author's Notes: I can't get this quite to my liking. I'm sorry if the tone changes abruptly, I was interrupted while writing this and I couldn't get the frantic quality back into the writing. I'm also sorry for the overuse of some adjectives and the extremely cheesy title. Hope this is still enjoyable.
Disclaimer: The characters and events referred to do not belong to me.
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Walking, fast and hard. Needs to escape needs safety needs to be away from the bitch and the man who believes her over his own son.
Help him please help him. Someone, please. He can't – he doesn't know how to handle this.
Touch of any kind scares him and yet he needs it now, craves it. Not it; her; because she's safe, with her soft golden hair and warm eyes she saves only for him. With her silky skin and hugs that hold just as much aching desperation as his.
Desperation for safety, for acceptance, for solace. She seeks that too, he knows. And he needs it now. He's asked so much of her and yet it's not enough, he has to have more.
Shelby. Shelby Shelby Shelby. His eyes burn and his heart hurts and she's there, silent and warm, with him. Fingertips, soft like tendrils of gentleness slide over wet skin. They're warm over his cold tears and he leans into her hand, craving its heat, it's caring. He doesn't care if Peter finds them like this; he doesn't care if anyone finds them like this. Her touch is spellbinding, making his knees grow week and the tears in his eyes come faster.
They're unstoppable now, splashing over her hand, warm and solid on Scott's face. He tries to speak but all that comes out is her name cut up by whimpers.
She doesn't say anything, just pulls him against her. His face is pressed into soft cotton and all he knows is Shelby. Her sent, her warmth, the feel of her breath feather light on his neck, the hard grip she has on him when the sobs start, quiet against her.
And she doesn't say a word, doesn't move. Doesn't try and lure him into a false sense of security by stroking his hair or his back or with whispers of soothing lies. Because everything's not okay, she knows that. Scott knows that too, and knows she can't make it that way.
But she can take the edge off the agony, just a little bit. She can, she is helping by being there, by understanding. And it's not making anything better, but it's making it something besides hurt and fear and hate. Shelby reminds him that he can feel good, here in her arms.
"Shelby," he gets out when her shirt's soaked. It's raw and small and scarcely audible, shaky with recent sobs.
He feels her nod against him, knowing he meant thank you and so much more in that simple word. Her head rests on his shoulder, cheeks warm and wet with her own tears. He tightens the hug, trying to imprint this feeling of almost goodness in his mind forever, just in case it never happens again and trying to help her too, trying to give back a little of what she's given him.
And when Sophie finds them standing in the shadow of the bear statue, crying silent pain and clinging to each other, she can't break them up. The emotions are an almost tangible storm around them, but they're in the center. They're safe, for a little while. And she can't shatter that.
