Head Wound
This is my second fic, I decided to go a bit lighter with this one than I did with my last one. I'm in a very lovely mood, hopefully that reflects well on my writing. Post season 2, about a year or so into the T/M relationship… kinda comical, very much a bumbling, fumbling Michelle, just how I love her…
As usual, the characters are not mine, don't sue. La la la, blah blah. Just. Don't. Sue.
Recommended listening music (I.e. the music I was listening and sighing to as I wrote this, it helps set the mood): "This Is For Keeps" by The Spill Canvas. It's AMAZING.
Yep, he has definitely caught me. All that is within me, every single emotion and fear and feeling has started to swirl within deep the pit of my stomach as my eyes lock with his. Our gazes hold, I can't breathe. Unwillingly, I feel a smile play upon my lips, see his own start to turn upwards. I make the move to break eye contact, my body, everything, beginning to be overwhelmed and shut down by him, by the one… the one that I…
The one that I need.
The one that I want.
The one that I love.
The realization that I was in love with him came to me merely hours ago. The situation was quite simple, very normal. Nothing really fantastic or overly extravagant about it at all, we are at work after all where hardly anyone knew about us, save for a few select people who know merely by chance or simple speculation. I can still see the moment happening, it's been playing over and over in my head ever since it hit me…
He had been sitting on my desk, going over the latest data and I, of course had been listening. I had not been looking into his eyes, imagining how they had looked upon me last evening. I had not been looking at his hands, remembering how lovingly and longingly they had roved over my body last night. I had certainly not been looking at his lips, dreaming about the pressure of them upon my body in the throes of passion.
I didn't think about the way that his hand held mine, or the way his beautiful lips surrounded the syllables that made my name, made it sound reverent and lovely and so damn attractive… didn't think about the eyes that stared into my own and made me feel…alive.
I didn't think about the person… who I realized I couldn't live without. I didn't think about how… I loved him.
Loved him.
Loved him.
You love him.
Even as he was speaking to me and gesturing with his hands, the case file within his grasp moving exaggeratedly, I tried on the new and unusual words for size. They echoed in my head, reverberated through my body.
Oh, God. Oh, dear God…
I loved him. In that moment, I hurriedly put on my well established "poker face" , and hoped that it did not convey the utter panic and surprise that hummed through my fatigued and stress-filled body. I know, though, that my eyes had widened. I know, though, that my cheeks had flushed. I know, though, that my hand flew up to my mouth in response to the whispered secrets that were now floating around inside of me and making their way from my skull to travel through my body.
I know that he questioned me with a look of concern on his face, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then put his hand on my face to check my temperature. His simple gesture only made my face flush even further and made my heart begin to hammer its way into my throat. I choked out a lame excuse and then made my way to the bathroom in a near sprint. I heard him call my name from behind me questioningly. I heard his concern for me. I heard him yell my name… again. I heard him… I just pretended not to.
I went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, splashed water onto my face and exhaled slowly. I tried the words on for size, the words that at this moment were winding their way inside my head, making a tangled, sticky web there, establishing the thought, the thought that I really didn't want to be having at that particular moment in time. A time when he, the object of my affection, was present and I could not keep the feelings and apparently, the FUCKING LOVE that I felt for him, out of my thought process.
The words were out of my mouth quickly, and for a second, I merely stood there, saying them over and over, watching my reflection, watching my mouth form over the worlds, each syllable like honey dripping from my mouth, or molasses, or anything equally as sweet, sticky… and irritating.
"I love Tony," echoed through the washroom for what I can only assume was a few minutes before I heard a noise behind me. A noise that sounded alarmingly similar to a toilet flushing. Eerily similar to… a stall door opening. Alarmingly, eerily, unmistakably similar… to the sound of feet padding as softly as they possibly could against linoleum. With a large gulp, I turned to look behind me to see… Chloe, the new systems analyst walking up to the sink beside me. My mouth went dry, my cheeks flushed again for the fifteenth time that day, and my head had dropped in mortification of my admission. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the look on her face as she awkwardly tried to go about as if she had never heard anything at all, the look of confusion, disapproval… and something akin to amusement. With another deep breath, I had looked at her and spoken her name. At first, she had pretended not to notice, but as my voice had grown increasingly bolder and less… squeaky, she looked up, irritation clearly on her face.
"I just want you to know, Michelle," she had spoken hurriedly and with an edge to her voice, "that this is entirely unprofessional, and you've made me feel totally uncomfortable in the work place."
I had looked down then, more than slightly embarrassed. But there was something else inside of me also.. Something like… righteous anger, absolution. I had opened my mouth to speak, but I was quickly shut up by another line of comments from Chloe.
" I didn't HAVE to know that you loved Tony," she had stated haughtily, " I kinda already knew… it's not like everyone doesn't know already. I mean," she had looked at me then with a very un-Chloe like expression on her face, one of exasperation, and unless I'm mistaken, one of befuddled amusement, "that's pretty much the duh statement of the year, isn't it?"
With the words out of her mouth, she had spun quickly, grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, and left, leaving me looking like an idiot, my mouth gaping like a fish caught out of water. I closed my mouth then, patted my face dry with a paper towel, and opened the door to the bathroom, quickly looking around for Tony… in hopes of avoidance. I hadn't seen him then, and I had run to my work station. I won't lie, I ran, with my head down, my cheeks flaming, my heart racing… my veins pulsating with horror, humiliation, and a tinge of anticipation and excitement. I ran. Right. Into. Tony.
The papers had flown into the air, like something reminiscent to a tornado, a gust and whipping through the air in a swoosh of limbs and random appendages. With a crack, the fell to the floor, one on top of the other.
When I say one, I mean me. When I say other… I mean Tony. For a couple of seconds, I could only close my eyes and sigh… with… well, of course, humiliation. Again. With resentment towards the God that obviously liked to delight in my torture, and in exhaustion… God, the One who loves to torture me so on behalf of Your complete and utter amusement, I had asked myself in that moment, when will You make this day end!
Below me, I heard the stirrings of the man that I had run into, a groan at first and then with the realization of what had happened, the immediate barrage of question in relation to my health. He untangled out tangled arms and legs, sat us both up without a moment's hesitation, checked me out for any ailments, concussions or life-threatening cancers…I'd moved to say that I was fine, that I was okay except for the obvious lack of coordination that I possessed when I heard his rapid intake of breath, and felt his hand on my forehead.
"Ouch!" I'd said without a moments hesitation, when I felt his fingers pressing into my flesh. It was then that I had realized that if there was pain there, then obviously everything was not fine. With a sigh, he extracted his fingers from my "OUCH!" place and wiped them on his shirt. Where there had once been crisp and clean blue material, now lay a sort of red, coppery, sticky liquid.. Oh, bloody hell.
And that was when I noticed that I had blood running down my face. And I don't mean sluggish, oozing blood. I mean rivets, rivers, fucking OCEANS of blood that was currently leaving an absolutely gorgeous pattern on my favorite pale yellow top. I had cracked my head open. On Tony. The being. Person. MAN I LOVED. God, I'd thought then, my day is so absolutely FUCKING wonderful.
He took his shirt off, it already being stained with my blood, and pressed it to my forehead. While I was secretly pleased that he was removing his shirt in front of me, that pleasure that I took from the even was quickly squashed by the fact that I had a gaping hole in my forehead. And that he was ruining his favorite shirt. My bottom lip had jutted out. He looked REALLY hot in that shirt.
He'd led me away to the infirmary then, me clutching onto his bicep, half out of my need for stabilization, half for the fact that all of CTU was watching us, nearly all of them women. Women who had a look of satisfaction on their faces from seeing nearly shirtless Tony. But I was the one holding onto his VERY TONED, VERY MUCH MINE, bicep. I would've smiled…
Except for the fact that I already had a hole in my head… I didn't need the whole "fish out of water Michelle" episode happening again, or anything akin to it.
As we were walking, I had felt the beginnings of his laughter start to shake him. I simply hung my head and continued to walk as he laughed quietly to himself at the situation… and I covered my face by more of the shirt. When he saw me do this, his laughter had stopped. I think he had felt bad, but in reality, I was just covering up the smile that had begun to form on my face.
I needed to act and look the part of injured, helpless Michelle with a hole in her face, didn't I?
We had reached the infirmary when he finally took the now red shirt off my face, had grimaced at the nasty gouge, and had sat me down on the patient bench. I heard the paper crunch underneath my weight, saw him pull up a chair after had had gotten me comfortable so that our legs were touching. With concern etched on his features and laughter and amusement in his eyes and voice, he had spoken to me.
"So, ma'am," he'd said with barely contained amusement, "Where were you going in such a hurry?"
I didn't speak at first, had simply laid back hurriedly with a thump against the rubbery bench with a groan, blood still running down into my eyes, only slightly slowed from when I had apparently put my face into some metal-esque part of his body.
I only had a moment of rest, however, until he entered my vision again and asked me the same question, this time adding another about my quick and sudden departure when I had gone to the bathroom.
With horror, my mouth did the thing that it normally did when I was around him, it leaked.
" I love you." I'd said in a rush, the words coming together in a rush of breathlessness and exclamation.
Silence proceeded these words, a long with a wide-eyed, open mouthed look directed in my direction.
Hey, I'd thought, Tony is totally doing his impression of me! This humor was lost on me, however, as I looked into his wide eyes. Oops.
He'd gone to say something after those few moments of silence, his face mere inches from mine, until we were interrupted by the sound of footsteps against linoleum. God, how I hated the sound! The doctor had showed up, and to make a long story short, we all sat in silence as he stitched my face together. Forty-seven stitches and a hell of a lot of pain reliever later, I was a new woman! Less holey and more than ready to paint the town… well, not red.
I'd painted Tony, his shirt and myself red enough for already. Tony had escorted me back to my station, still silent, his eyes practically begging himself to say something. I could see conflict inside of his eyes, but I thanked him professionally as I headed back to my work station. Apparently, Chappelle didn't think that a major head wound was grounds for early dismissal, so I had had to stay there for the remainder of my shift.
Tony had grumbled about that, but I had goofily smiled at him, still slightly aloof from the pain killers. And that was then…this is now.
Our eyes are locked. I'm on the lower level, he's on the upper. He's my boss, my best friend… the person that I told I loved today while laying on an examination table. And I'm having eyes sex with him. With a sigh, I break said contact and move to finish up the files on my computer. My shift end in twenty minutes and by the time that that shift is over, I'm sure as hell going to get out of here as fast as I can. My head is KILLING me.
Twenty minutes passes quickly, and I swing by Tony's office to tell him I'm leaving, my lids half closed from the onslaught of exhaustion that has seized my body. He looks at me, but I barely register. I'm SO DAMN TIRED.
I walk to my SUV hurriedly, rummaging around in my bad to find my keys. With a sigh of pleasure, I feel the keys in my hand. I pull them out, hit the 'unlock' button and pull the SUV door open with a click.
I feel the person come up behind me, I don't hear or see him. Or her. Or it. Or they. Or…
He spins me around, his arms suddenly around my waste and seals his lips over mine. Without thought, I open my lips and invite in his tongue to plunder my mouth. I sigh, put my hands to his face and feel my legs against the bottom of my vehicle, and feel my back being pushed against the driver's seat.
I break the kiss with a smile and a gasp, look into his eyes, my cheek still on his face. He has no smile on his face, only a look that I am all to familiar with. My mouth is dry, now, my word as well, as the arms around me lift me as well, scoot me back so they whole length of me is spread out across both the passenger side and drivers side. He's on top of me, his body pressed against mine, and I only feel him leave me to close the door behind him with a loud sound of metal against metal.
He's on me again within seconds, his mouth once again plundering my own. His hips are cradled within mine, my legs spread to accommodate him. I feel him begin to move against me, the length of him making me gasp, my eyes screw shut. When I break the contact of our lips, he moves to my throat, suckles there for a second, and then moves slower. With haste, his hands find my skirt, hitch it up, find my panties, take them down.
With haste, I find his belt buckle, undo it, find the fastening of his slacks, undo it as well. Find his boxers, pull them down.
His fingers slide within me, and the moan that I make is audible, I'm sure, to even the people in CTU. But I cannot stress enough to you how much that I don't. fucking. care. right now.
I beg him for what seems like an eternity before he slides within me, completes me. We move so well together, I think. I know. He brings me up, builds me up, tells me how beautiful I am, traces the line of my stitches with a tenderness that leaves me with tears in my eyes, and brings me crashing down around him so quickly that it's a wonder that my heart didn't explode from the exertion of the experience.
His orgasm follows soon after, and he collapses on top of me, both of us a mess of sweat and wrinkled, messed clothes.
In those moments of silence and euphoric bliss, I felt the words bubbling up within me but kept in mind to keep them to myself. Maybe he just wasn't ready…
The words had come then, and they reached my unbelieving ears.
"I love you, Michelle." he said, tracing his thumb over my stomach, where his head lay buried. The smile that lit my face then reminded me once again of "fish out of water Michelle" but the thought was fleeting. I whispered the words to him back, still in numb, euphoric paradise. It was only moments later when he looked into my eyes and traced the soon to be scar on my forehead that I allowed myself to burst into the peels of laughter that had been threatening me all day.
Tangled in clothes and each other, they lay in her vehicle, half naked and laughing at themselves, each other… and the complicated chain of events, though humiliating they may have been, that had lead them to each other.
feed my, please!
Witknee