Possibilities…
By Kryss LaBryn
(in gratitude to Flofett for her magnificent "If Wishes Were Horses…" available at community dot livejournal dot com slash vendetta underscore fic slash. I, of course, own nothing. And the line about "cool little fingers" is Flofett's.
The bubbles had long since dissolved, the water was past cool and heading towards chilly, and still V read on, enthralled.
It was decidedly odd. He had no idea where the book had come from. He had come across it earlier that night in search of something to soothe his chronic insomnia. He had certainly not brought it down into the Shadow Gallery himself, and he had brought everything in himself. He almost –almost—suspected Evey of having something to do with it, but judging by the condition of the volume it was much older than she. But the mystery of its sudden appearance was eclipsed by the contents of the slim novel.
It was about him. Him –and Evey.
It was fascinating. It seemed to be exploring and expounding upon an undercurrent of sexual tension between them of which he had hitherto been barely aware. However, faced with the possibilities presented here to him as fiction, he had to wonder… Was there more between them than he had supposed? And if so, how did he feel about it?
Intrigued, he read on.
Hmmm… Dancing with Evey, in the dark, without his mask, free to feel the stubble of her warm shorn head against his cheek… Suddenly the water in the bath didn't feel so cold. In fact, he was beginning to feel decidedly heated. And tingly.
Possibilities… In the book, Evey was kissing him, begging him to—V almost dropped it in the water. My word! he thought, and then, I wonder…
Had Evey left it for him? Had she somehow written this story, and cleverly aged the volume, to sound him out as to the nature of his feelings for her? She knew, she had to know of his regard, his affection for her. Was this her way of determining the depths of his emotions?
Was this how she felt?
Was this how he felt? He decided, upon reflection, that indeed it was. He had tamped the lid down rather tightly on his emotions toward her, but that lid was loosening rapidly under the books' influence. Him and Evey. Evey and V. Her cool little fingers slipping under his shirt to brush against the heated skin of his chest… Dear god.
Should he leave it out for her to find? Should he suggest it to her? "Oh, Evey. Are you looking for another book? May I suggest this one? It's rather… interesting." He snorted. She'd probably accuse him of writing it himself, as she had Valerie's letter. She'd accuse him of trying to manipulate her emotions to his own ends, and then; well, and then, no piano instruction. For either of them.
He sighed, and returned to the book. The delicious, highly enjoyable book. In the end, did it truly matter from whence it had sprung, if it provided such a delightful evening's entertainment? By the end of the next chapter he was positive he could see wisps of steam rising from the surface of his bath…
"V?"
V started guiltily. "Yes, Evey?" he called back.
"Are you all right in there? I tried knocking, but you didn't answer…"
"Oh. Ahh… I must have drifted off. I'm sorry," he said nervously. "Is there something I can do for you?"
Oh, is there ever, he thought, and blushed guiltily.
"I was just wondering if you were going to be much longer. I mean, I don't want to rush you or anything, but I've really got to pee and I don't think I can wait much longer."
"Of course. I'll be out in just a minute. Just let me, ah, rinse off…"
"All right. Thanks, V." He listened gratefully to the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hall, and rose to dry off. And was confronted by a bit of a problem.
Well, he thought, this won't do. But what to do? He daren't finish himself off where he was; she'd be bound to hear the splashing. But if he left without doing something, and he ran into her in the hall… Could be somewhat… embarrassing.
Ah! His clothes! Of course. Hastily, he towelled off, hearing Evey shuffle from foot to foot in the distance, wrapped his thick black robe about himself, donned his mask and wig, and gathered the rest of his clothes up into a conveniently concealing bundle. The strange book (with very strange illustrations –I know it's supposed to be pitch black, he thought, but who on earth would actually illustrate that!) he tucked securely into the middle of the bundle. Upon reflection, he decided that he didn't want Evey to come across it just yet. However, he would, perhaps, keep an eye out for any little signs he may have missed, and –who knew?—if at some point in the future, their relationship did evolve in a manner such as that suggested by the curious story, he might share it with her, as a funny little oddity. In the meantime, he'd finish the last chapter in the privacy of his bedroom.
Ah, the possibilities…
He nodded cordially to Evey as he passed her in the hall. "The loo's all yours," he said.