Not Shy of a Spark

Darcy spent the weekend in hiding – only leaving to train and even then she sported haphazard side bangs. The wound where her eyebrow piercing had been ripped out was slowly healing but she had a bad habit of scratching at it and causing the newly formed scab to fall off and more blood to pour form it. It was going to leave a scar; she didn't know if it was going to be permanent but even if it wasn't it was going to be noticeable. Moxley had made a point to laugh at her whenever he saw her, telling her that the scab was nearly as big as her forehead.

"If you laugh at me one more time," Darcy said in a threatening voice, glaring up at him, "I will cut off your dick in your sleep and-" she hesitated, a blank look washing over her face.

"And what, Darcy? What are you going to do with my dick? Aside from what you obviously want to do to it every day."

Unable to think of a good enough way to finish her threat, Darcy huffed angrily and moved to sit down on the couch, crossing her arms and staring at the television. Mox's laugh echoed as he sat down beside her.

"Sorry?" He asked, leaning in closer towards her, obviously waiting for her to finish her sentence. He leaned ever closer when she didn't say anything, just glared at him in frustration.

"I fucking hate you."

"It's a cut," he shrugged. "It'll heal; you might have a nice scar. I thought you'd wear it as a badge of honour."

"I don't get hurt," Darcy told him in a strangled voice. "I don't like people seeing me hurt."

"Everyone gets hurt. You've just got to own it. Don't let it get you down."

"Let me see your scar." It was an order that he did not hesitate to follow. He was quite proud of the scar across his shoulder. "How'd you get it?"

Mox shifted after he removed his shirt, turning his back to her so that she could get a better look. Darcy leaned in closer to get a better look at it.

"Deathmatch in Germany. Barbed wire is not fun to go through."

"That's so metal," Darcy said breathlessly, touching her finger over the scar ever so lightly. "How much did it hurt?"

"You have no idea," Moxley responded, reaching up to touch it himself. His fingers brushed hers and both instantly stilled.

Neither moved for a painfully long time, Moxley reaching over his shoulder, Darcy kneeling behind him on the couch – their fingers touching.

Darcy's heartbeat picked up when Moxley moved his hand and turned around to face her. She retracted her hand and stared up at him, pulling her lip ring into her mouth. That was it for Moxley. It drove him crazy when she tugged on it and he was finally giving in.

There was no time for Darcy to react. He leaned forward, she leaned backwards and before she knew what was happening, he was basically hovering over her on the couch.

His lips wasted no time in landing on hers, kissing her roughly. She tasted like the raspberries she'd just been eating and he knew he'd never be able to look at the fruit the same. He tasted of nothing in particular but it still made Darcy crave him.

She made the decision quickly, no matter how hard it was. She had to.

As he was kissing her, beginning to deepen it and lean closer to her, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed at them slightly.

Moxley knew immediately what she meant and pulled his lips, painfully slowly away and rested his forehead against hers. Nothing was said and Darcy found herself wishing she hadn't stopped the kiss. Her hands were still resting on his shoulder and Moxley made no effort to move.

The kiss had shocked her. Intense, rough, passionate. She'd felt it all thorough her body.

She could still feel it.

"Jon," she breathed out. He stilled instantly, holding his breath – it was the first time she had ever used his first name and both knew it. "Jon, can you please...?" the rest of her sentence trailed off – possibly because she didn't actually want him to let her up or perhaps it was because he had lifted his head, their grey eyes meeting in a conflicted battle of restraint.

God, he wanted to kiss her again.

He pushed himself up and walked out of her line of sight. Darcy slowly sat up and looked over her shoulder to see Jon pulling a shirt over his head before he bent down to pick up his shoes.

"Where are you going?" She asked quietly.

"Out," he answered shortly, not looking at her.

"Where to?"

"Rachel's," Jon snapped. Darcy nodded slowly, looking at the television.

She didn't ask any more questions. He wasn't happy so it was best to leave him alone, she'd learnt that already.

She felt sick, though. The idea of him going to see her after what had just transpired... It made her skin crawl.

It also made her weirdly happy.

Rachel meant release. Darcy had worked him up enough that he needed a release... At least he felt the same way she did.

Darcy was sitting cross legged on the couch when Jon came home. It was nearing 2 in the morning but she was wide awake, eating Corn Flakes and watching infomercials. As soon as she heard the door unlock she rested the bowl in her lap. She didn't look over her shoulder at him, just waited for him to walk past her to his bedroom.

"Hi," she said quietly. She swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat when he looked at her. He was elsewhere, his mind clearly not wanting to start a conversation.

"You should be asleep," he told her dryly, his hand turning the doorknob.

"You would have woken me, anyway." He stared at her blankly for a few moments. Darcy anticipated that he'd say something but he disappeared into his bedroom, the door shutting heavily behind him. She huffed. Of course, they had to make things awkward.

Darcy placed her bowl on the table and went about turning off all the lights and getting ready to attempt sleep.

When she finally laid back on the couch she, just like always, knew that sleep was eluding her but this time it had to do with how Jon was making her feel. She had a boyfriend... But with one kiss Jon had made her feel more wanted than ever before.

Just lying on the couch, Darcy could feel him hovering on top of her, his eyes staring into hers... It took everything she had not to walk into his room and finish what they had started.

Sleep that night was impossible. Darcy's mind was reeling with images of what would have happened if she hadn't stopped him. There wasn't any denying how much she wanted him.

Everything the next morning went exactly as normal. Darcy woke up, packed away her bedding and went about breakfast.

And then Jon got up.

"Morning," Darcy greeted like usual with a tired smile. That smile disappeared completely when Jon chose to not respond at all. She tried again, "Hello?"

The silence she was met with made her frown. She was sitting at the kitchen bench, watching Jon walk past her as if she was invisible. Her arms crossed over and she stared at him, hoping to catch his attention.

"Fuck sake," he grumbled, noticing the empty milk carton beside the sink. Darcy waited for him to tell her that they needed more but he didn't say anything, just grabbed his keys from the hook and walked towards the front door.

"Are you for real right now?" She asked him loudly, pushing the chair away from the bench. "You're actually ignoring me?" She furiously raked her hand through her hair, swearing when her fingers got caught in the knots. "We fucking kissed! That's no reason to ignore me!"

"It wasn't just a kiss and you know that." Darcy heard the softness of his voice, the vulnerability and she knew that he was letting her know how he felt. He was letting down his guard.

"I have a boyfriend, Jon." He closed his eyes tightly when she used his first name. It was going to take some getting used to. "I'm not going to apologise for that."

"You've been giving me so many damn signals since you moved in with me," he argued with her, opening his eyes. He wished she didn't look so small, standing in the passage looking up at him with sad, sorry eyes. He wished he wasn't so intimidating.

"I didn't mean to," she sighed. "Yeah, you're really fucking attractive and we get along great. That doesn't change the fact that I'm with Harry, okay?"

"Forget it, alright?" he said in a desperately angry voice, tossing his keys around in his hand. "We hooked up and it was a mistake that didn't mean anything, sure."

"Jon..." She was only seconds away from telling him that it did mean something, but he stopped her.

"I'll get over it," he told her firmly, continuing his walk to the front door. "That's what Rachel's for."

Darcy was left staring at the closed front door and she had momentarily forgotten how to breathe. Jon's angry exit left her feeling empty. She had hoped that he wouldn't react so badly.

While he was gone, Darcy took the opportunity to have a shower. The shower was much colder than she would have liked it to be, but there were certain feelings running through her body that she needed to get rid of.

Whenever she closed her eyes, Jon's face hovering over hers was all she could see and it was causing feelings she wished it wouldn't.

"Did you get milk?" Darcy asked quietly when Jon returned home, still clearly unhappy. He looked at her before turning his head up to the ceiling.

"Fuck!" he grumbled loudly, turning around and immediately leaving again. Darcy let out a light laugh and couldn't stop herself from smiling. He had that effect on her. She sat down on the couch, cradling her usual bowl of Rice Krispies and listened to Jon's car pull out of the driveway.

She dropped her back and groaned in frustration. Naturally she would go fuck everything up.