I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 42
After Veronica left, Willy and Charlie resumed their inspection of the various rooms in the factory. Although the choices always seemed random, Charlie had learned that his Mentor was in fact quite organized. Today happen to be following the trail of the chocolate pipes as they ran from the river throughout the factory.
"Get got that gosh-darned stubborn leak fixed in the Chocolate room, but I'm still not 100 percent satisfied that the problem is fixed. Remind me again to send the Gloop family the bill for the damages," Willy grumbled, stepping off the ladder from closely examining one of the shut-off valve seals from the clear plastic piping.
"Now Willy, I thought we had talked about this – Augustus didn't mean to gum up the works. We can't charge them for an accident," Charlie said soothingly, a smile creeping across his face. This was an oft-discussed topic when the piping inspections were going on. It had been nearly four years now since Augustus Gloop had gotten stuck, but in Willy's mind it was always just yesterday.
"We can try – the pressure surge cracked nearly every junction in the factory. I was bleeding chocolate for weeks," The taller man said, folding the ladder and returning it to the room foreman who directed the small team of workers to stow it again.
They continued to the next room, this time Charlie was directed up the ladder. Willy walked him through the inspection process, discussing what to look for and guiding the teenager through a discussion of piping material, tensile strength and the illuminating explanation of how what he was learning in school about pressure actually applied to what he was currently working on in the factory.
"Huh…so that's what Mr. Gilicuddy meant by PSI. I kind of understood what he was saying, but I didn't get how it applied to real life." Charlie said thoughtfully.
"That's the kind of thing that gets discussed more in a university-level physics class or engineering – you're getting a leg up that area," Willy agreed.
Willy let Charlie take the lead on the next three rooms, offering only minimal hints and acting as more of an observer. He noted the note of respectful way Charlie let the room foremen know about what he found and what changes, if any, needed to be done. The Oompa Loompas in charge gave his apprentice the quiet respect he deserved, but still shot a glance at the impassive Chocolatier for approval before moving to follow his directions. Charlie was still building credibility with his workers, but that was a long term process and Willy knew that the next time these inspections would have to be done he'd have to find excuses to make himself absent to keep his employees from looking to him to second-guess his heir's decisions.
Such subtle games we play…
Willy decided to end the inspections for the day, "I'm heading down to the Invention room, interested in joining me?"
Charlie glanced at his watch and grimaced, "Can't. Mom's expecting me for dinner. Are you and Veronica joining us tonight?"
Willy pondered for a moment, "No. Not tonight. I'll ask her about tomorrow night instead, 'kay?"
"You just say that because you know Mom is fixing liver and onions," Charlie astutely pointed out.
"You're darn tootin'. See you tomorrow Charlie – just a few more days until school starts so we've got work to do," Willy grinned, seeing Charlie visibly wither at the thought of facing liver and onions without reinforcements. While the decrease in the amount of cabbage in the Bucket diet was a welcome relief, to its youngest member, the change to such things as liver and onions wasn't a welcome one.
Willy walked toward the invention room, enjoying the chance to stretch his legs, exchanging pleasant greetings with the workers that passed him in the multi-colored halls. Almost absently he bent to grab a rail about knee height and slid into the dark circular opening. The long twisting slide was dark with strobes of black light flashing sudden burst of neon color – disorienting to the eye. Willy easily avoided that by relaxing and closing his eyes. He heard the end coming and braced himself with one hand on his hat to roll neatly to his feet.
He quickly gained entrance to his beloved invention room and took a moment to gaze around with pride – the chaos, the sheer magnificence of the room created solely by his hand alone…beautiful.
He removed his coat and hat, carefully handing it from its accustomed hook, he turned his attention to one of the machines he was working on. Ultimately, it would spin licorice thread for the candy kites, but it needed to be modified to make the thread thinner, more pliable, but almost as strong as spider silk with the added benefit of being edible.
He threw on an apron, slid the work gloves over his usual purple latex and flopped down on the rolling platform to slide under the machine. Giving himself over to the work, he let his mind wander.
Something was nagging him. It wasn't anything in particular he could figure out, nothing overt, but it would bug him until he puzzled it out.
Willy could sense that indirectly it had to do with the idea of Charlie and Veronica leaving the safety of the factory to face off against the ravenous hoards of paparazzi that were gathering outside the factory walls. Little did they know he'd been getting security updates from a grim Smiley who let the Chocolatier know about the attempts to get entry through the loading docks, or sneaking over the walls. His countermeasures had ensured that none were successful, but he was worried about the increasing bravery of the intruders.
Ratcheting a bolt a bit more vigorously than really necessary, Willy followed the train of thought. Veronica had announced her intention to do some apartment hunting tomorrow, trying to reassure him by saying L.A. and her brother would accompany her. They would have to sneak out, probably through one of the tunnels used by the Oompa Loompas to one of the safe house across the street – in fact, the very same building he was planning on luring her to consider sub-letting.
Willy made a mental note to give L.A. the keys to the space on the top floor so Veronica could take a peek. He was confident in the quality of the location and had a feeling that she'd take it – if her taste in living space was consistent, judging from her last apartment.
There….it was something along those lines. Can't tell directly what was bothering him, but come at it from the side…
Veronica wouldn't be too far away…a hop and a skip by tunnel. If she took it, he could install one of those pneumatic tubes he always wanted to try – a capsule capable of holding one person that could shoot back and forth. She seemed adventuresome enough that the mode of transportation wouldn't bother her….
Willy was frozen for a moment, smiling slightly at the mental picture of a brass tube – about the size of a coffin with windows, soft velvet interior with Veronica resting inside shooting through a concrete tube at nearly 10 meters per second. Yeah…that sounded like fun. There might be a slight problem since it was such a short distance away…hmmm…
He shook himself free of the thought for the moment – all well and good to plan it out, but no good if she didn't actually want it. It would be so cool though…
The edge of what was bothering him was there…gently now…don't approach directly or it'll fade back into his mind.
Willy dropped the bolt. It thumped past his shoulder to the ground and he muttered a word that the world at large was sure he was innocent of knowing. Holding the unit in place with one hand he stretched his arm awkwardly across his body to try and grab it. It rolled under the cart and beyond his reach. Wiggling slightly, he managed to brush against it with his fingertips, just out of reach.
Silly thing seemed to have a mind of its own – not coming easily to hand and refusing to roll neatly into his grasp. Willy's arm was beginning to shake, the unit was not light and the bolt was the only thing holding it on at the moment, he needed it back. Stupid bolt – you're needed here and you abandon me at the wrong moment…
…steady…almost there.
Willy finally snagged the bolt with a grunt of approval, slid it home again, the part he needed freed from underneath. He grabbed the ratchet and turned it a few times just to loosely hold the unit in place until he could make the necessary modifications on its missing piece.
"There. Now stay put and don't run off on me. I know you want to run off and explore the world, but trust me, it's better for you here," he scolded, tapping the bolt with one finger. He slid out from under the machine holding the part in one hand as the words he'd just spoken sank into his busy subconscious.
Bingo!
Suddenly, the surge of emotion lurking in the background announced themselves with the casual disregard of anything else he happen to be doing at the moment.
Willy froze as realization dawned. He was angry!
He was irritated with Charlie for making him feel cowardly for not wanting to face up to the media.
He was angry with Veronica for turning down his invitation to stay at the factory, even as he understood her reasons for wanting distance.
He was angry at her for not staying put by his side, for not being content to spend the rest of her days with him - for striving for her own goals contrary to his own.
Willy dropped the part in shock, it hit his nose and he recoiled at the sudden pain, both physical and mental. Sitting up and eyes watering, he ignored the stinging sensation to jump to his feet and paced frantically.
He was furious…but he didn't want to be.
"Sherman…I need Sherman," He announced stopping suddenly, violet eyes brightening.
Ignoring his hat and coat, he bolted from the room, shutting and locking the door with automatic precaution. He sprinted for the Wonkavator, scarcely aware of the wetness on his face and work gloves. He leapt over his workers and hurtle-jumped over a flatbed cart hauling huge peppermint sticks – ignoring their startled yelps and alarmed eyes.
Throwing himself inside, he jammed a finger at the button for Sherman's office. He was startled by the vivid smear of red left behind as the vehicle took motion. His glove was covered in red fluid, and he noticed the wetness on his face that he initially took for tears was actually dripping down his chin at this point.
Willy started to hyperventilate…he hated blood…especially his own. With a shaking hand, he reached into his pocket to draw out his handkerchief monogrammed with the golden "W" that was his trademark to dab delicately at his stinging nose. Blood…there was more blood on the cloth…he was bleeding.
"Oh man!" he groaned, feeling slightly faint.
Pull yourself together man, it's only a nosebleed! Funny how that voice in his head sounded so much like his father's unsympathetic tones.
"Buck up Willy. It doesn't really hurt – you're just not used to the sensation," said his father – so tall and commanding, looming over the child he had been.
The boy looked up at his father, violet eyes wet with tears from the intense painful pounding of his heartbeat rushing through his aching head. The adjustments on his braces always brought on a migraine, but his father would never listen – sending him to school anyway. Little Willy could only console himself with icy visions of the Arctic tundra to soothe the savage fire of pain, to lure himself away from the agony with visions of different candies dancing through his head…
"Won-Ka?" came the hesitant voice of one of his workers.
He was staring at Tupik-Ra, holding the door of the Wonkavator that had come to rest outside Sherman's office door. Willy realized that he had blacked-out for a moment, sliding down the wall of the Wonkavator to sit, knees to chest on the floor, blood seeping unhindered from his nose down his chin to stain his shirt, vest and apron.
"Sorry – lost in a flashback for a moment. Is Sherman in?" Willy asked, pushing himself to his feet and plastering a manic smile across his face.
Tupik-Ra nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off the taller man, "Yes. But are you alright, you're bleeding? Let me contact Dev-On…"
Willy waved him off, "Pfft! It's just a nosebleed, no need to call out the old sawbones for that. I'll just…" He indicated moving toward Sherman's office and the little man quickly stepped out of his way.
He ignored the lawyer's concerned gaze on his back and entered Sherman's office with an air of confidence he clearly didn't feel at the moment. He shut the door and turned to make sure the office was unoccupied with any of Sherman's other clients before closing his eyes and sighing deeply, letting the smile drop.
"Won-Ka! You're hurt! What happened?"came the welcome deep voice of his trusted friend.
"Just a little accident. Do you happen to have a moment for me?" Willy asked in a small voice. "I don't mean to be a bother."
Alarmed by the blood and the Chocolatier's hesitant manner, Sherman declared, "I'm making one. Please, sit down. Let me get something to clean up and get the nosebleed to stop."
Sherman hustled to the small bathroom off the side of his office and brought back a wet cloth and an ice bag, "Here. Lean back and let me have a look."
Willy took a seat on the chaise lounge and laid back, allowing the smaller man to climb up and tend to his wound.
"You've got a good ding on your nose, that's where the blood is coming from, but I don't believe anything is broken. What happened?" Sherman announced, looking down into Willy's eyes.
"A revelation," Willy said shortly.
Sherman raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue, replacing the wet cloth and setting the ice bag on top to keep the bruising down.
"I went down to the Invention Room to work. I had a feeling that something was bothering me, so I worked and used what you taught me to try and figure out what it was. I had just taken out the compressor unit off the licorice machine when it hit me, both literally and figuratively." Willy explained.
Sherman nodded and indicated for Willy to continue as he gave him the ice bag to place where he needed it and climbed down to take his usual seat in the wingback chair.
"I realized that I'm angry – both at Charlie and Veronica. I don't want to be though..." Willy said.
"Why are you angry with them?" Sherman asked, grabbing his notebook from where it was stuffed down the side of his chair and scribbling rapidly.
"I'm angry because they're going to be facing off against the media. They won't stay safe inside the factory. It's stupid, they're going to get hurt and there's nothing I can say or do to make them drop this," he said, feeling the flood break free.
"Really?"
"You know what I mean. You're the one who introduced L.A., remember?" Willy snapped, lashing out at Sherman for bringing a whole new dimension to his conflict.
"Yes I do know what they're up to, but why are you angry?" Sherman calmly asked, sensing the fear under the fury.
"They won't listen to me. I just want to keep them safe, but they're determined to go out and face those…carrion eaters!" the distraught man snarled.
"So, you're angry because they do not heed your warnings?"
"Yes! They just want to run off, leaving me behind to clean up the mess. I won't do it though," Willy sputtered indignantly, "Oh no! They won't abandon me…"
"You are angry because they leave you behind…abandon you?" Sherman's deceptively casual voice asked.
Willy was brought up short in his rant. His lightning quick mind grasped the implications of Sherman's gentle guidance. "Yes…"
"Why else are you angry?"
Willy closed his eyes and searched for the center of this feeling. It was difficult because he wanted to follow so many other trails that made his blood boil at the mention related to this topic, but he needed to discover the root of this infestation.
"I'm angry that they won't do what I ask. I'm angry because I feel like they ignore my need to keep them safe," he said weakly, knowing that it wasn't the issue even as he spoke.
"I'm angry…at me," concluded with a heavy sigh, weighed down by this conclusion.
"Indeed," Sherman said and waited for him to continue.
"They're so brave, so sure of themselves. It makes me feel…weak…uncertain," Willy confessed. "Veronica has shown such courage facing her own fears, it makes me ashamed that I'm not able to do the same."
He realized that his interaction with them throughout the day upon learning of her plan had been colored with his anger, even as he didn't realize it at the time. Even…
To his growing horror, he realized that there was an edge of anger present while he had made love to her that afternoon – an edge of cruelty that turned his stomach upon realizing it.
"Excuse me!" he said, shooting for the trashcan to be noisily sick.
Even as his stomach heaved, the self-recriminations rang through his head. You idiot! She cares enough for you to take you down there to relax and you throw it back in her face by hurting her like that. You're a monster – worse than that scum that attacked her before because at least he was honest enough to attack outright instead of hiding…claiming it to be an act of love…
"Won-Ka, calm down. Take deep breaths." Sherman instructed, standing by to steady him.
Willy realized that he was hyperventilating, shaking and sweating. Feeling his stomach settle for the moment, he slumped back and concentrated on taking slow steady breaths, the sweat on his body too cold for his oversensitive skin.
He felt another cold damp cloth being pressed into his hands and he wearily opened his eyes to see Sherman's concerned face. He smiled weakly and wiped his face and mouth. Sherman solemnly took the cloth and replaced it with a glass of water.
"Swish and spit – rejoin me when you're ready," he said kindly before exiting the room to allow Willy privacy to regain his composure.
Willy set the trashcan aside with disgust at his weakness, "Nice. She's the injured party and I'm the one throwing up. What's wrong with that?"
It was a few minutes later and he was feeling much calmer, but more guilty when there was a rap on the door. Willy indicated that he was ready and Sherman entered. The smaller man put the kettle on for tea and while it was boiling took care of the befouled trash can. By the time the cheerful kettle whistled, the psychiatrist was finished and quickly brewed an herbal tea for his companion.
"Sip this – it's chamomile and ginger to settle you down. Now, apparently something struck you while you were speaking that didn't sit well. Would you care to tell me about it?" Sherman said, retaking his seat with a similar cup on a much smaller scale.
"I think I may have hurt her… taken some of this anger out on…," Willy trailed off, shame flooding him.
"How?"
"We went down to one of the sorting rooms down by packaging…she saw that I was upset and needed to calm down. Somehow she knew that I liked to jump on the trampolines…" he trailed off, forcing himself to sip the tea. He was such a monster…
"We were playing, we started wrestling…" Willy flushed at the memory. She had seemed so happy…
"What happened? Is Ver-Oni-Ka alright?" Sherman asked, a bubble of worry rising in his throat.
"I think so…God, this is embarrassing…"
Sherman's eyes lit up in understanding, "Ah…you patooked."
Willy felt the blood thundering up to his face, the wound in his nose throbbed with it, "Um…yes."
"Did she indicate that anything was unwanted? Was she unsatisfied or unhappy? Did you have any doubts that anything was forced?" Sherman asked, sternly.
"N..no," he said, voice shaking, but expression clearing slightly, " I was a bit more…demanding…I mean, I didn't want her to do anything except accept what I was doing…even though she indicated she wanted to return the favor…"
"But you feel that this anger that you hold at yourself managed to color the interlude," Sherman stated, relaxing.
"Yes," he said, shamefaced, "I made her beg me to…" Was he ever going to live this down?
Sherman had to cough to hide his amusement with the taller man - these silly outsiders and their odd ways, "I understand what you mean. No need to torture yourself Won-Ka. Remember I am a happily married man myself. In fact, as I understand it, getting her to beg is a good thing. As long as you did not torment her and then did not fulfill her need."
"No worries about that," he said, not able to help the slightly proud smirk from creeping across his face, "She seemed quite the happy camper a few times."
"Excellent. Then I see no reason to worry about that aspect of your anger."
"I beg your pardon?" Willy asked, "Doesn't that make me as bad as that beast who…"
"No. I believe Ver-Oni-Ka is perfectly willing to let someone know that their advances are wanted or not without confusion," Sherman said dryly, sipping his tea. "If you feel so horribly about it though, why do you not speak with her about it?"
Willy lost what little color he possessed and Sherman had to worry about his employer passing out, "I couldn't! What if she gets angry with me and…"
"Sip your tea," Sherman ordered, seeing Willy about to work himself up again.
The Chocolatier did, the heat causing him to sip cautiously and he felt the liquid roll down his throat and hit his stomach with a satisfying splash.
"I think you are giving both Ver-Oni-Ka and Char-Li too little credit. I also think you don't allow yourself enough credit as well. You are all thinking, reasoning beings – you also share a bond of love. They seek to protect you just as you have for them. Accept this. You will wrestle with your anger and fear for a long time, but share that burden with them as they have with you. That is what love is," the wise man said.
Sherman set his cup aside and stood up to address the Chocolatier, "You come to me to discover the root of your anger – now that you know what it is, what do you seek to do about it?" He smiled mysteriously and exited, leaving the man to his thoughts.
--
It was nearly 9 p.m. when Veronica finally made it back to her room. Her feet were still aching from the day spent in heels, no matter how often she kicked them off while sitting down. Her head was still aching slightly from earlier and the stress headache of dealing with Reggie and Spencer in full protect-mode wasn't improving her temper any. That also wasn't mentioning the sore muscles both inside and out from their exploits on the trampoline. It had been a while since she'd gotten any major exercise like that and her body was letting her know that it was not going to settle quietly for that kind of behavior.
Maybe adding daily exercise to her routine was something to consider.
"Bloody stupid shoes…bloody stupid men," she grumbled, fumbling for the door handle. Three hours trying to soothe ruffled feathers and work out schedules so one or both would be available to join her on this monstrous expedition tomorrow to apparently overhaul her life. God, all she wanted to do was curl up with Willy and ignore the rest of the world one more day…
"I hope I'm not included on that little list," said Willy's light voice from where he rested on the couch.
She was surprised to see her oft-sterile room transformed into an island of tranquility with a few deft touches. The overhead lights were shut off, soft lamp and candles providing soothing relief to the usual harsh glare. Willy rose and she was again surprised to see his usual formal attire traded out for silky red pajamas with a dark grey quilted robe and the wild slippers she bought for him. His dark hair almost looked black in the subdued light. There was a fresh cut across the bridge of his nose, a dark line startling across his pale skin
"What happened to your nose?" she asked concerned.
"Just an accident in the Invention Room, nothing serious," Willy smiled quietly. He moved toward her, something strange in his eyes.
"I thought I'd surprise you with a relaxing dinner in your room. I'm not the only one looking stressed earlier," he said, with a strange note of regret in his voice.
She kicked off the hated shoes by the door, sighing with relief from the cool tile underfoot, "Sounds lovely."
Willy drew her into his arms and she sighed with satisfaction and joy. The strong arms around her comforted her frazzled nerves and the cool texture of his robe against her face combined with the warm spicy smell of him made her want to purr.
"Gosh, you're tense. Interesting conversation with the dynamic duo?" he said, looking down into her eyes and running his hands up and down her back.
"They've agreed to work me into their busy schedules tomorrow. Between L.A., Spence and Reggie I have lost complete control over my life, my wardrobe and my mind," she moaned, nuzzling closer – trying to hide from the world.
"Hmm…at least you've still got your health."
She snorted with laughter and looked up at him, "God, I love you."
"I love you too. You can tell me the particulars in the bath," Willy said, turning her and nudging her toward the bathroom.
"I get a bath too? Okay, what's going on? This is guilty behavior," she said jokingly.
Willy was silent, but a guilty expression crossed his face, "Who says I have to have done anything."
"Willy. What's the matter?" she asked, all humor falling to the wayside.
"Let me do this for you first. I need the time to rally my thoughts, 'kay?" Willy said, a bright smile crossing his face. It was his fake smile, that told her that something was deeply bothering him.
Veronica was silent as they entered the bathroom, she kept his eyes on his face trying to puzzle him out as he carefully removed her clothes, loving fingers taking particular pleasure caring for her. His eyes were intent on the task and she worried what was going through his mind.
She held his balancing hand as she stepped into the tub and sank with a hiss into the hot water delicately scented with lavender. "Join me?" she asked eyes vulnerable as he started to turn and leave the bathroom.
He regarded her for a moment, face impassive for a short moment before he nodded and started untying the robe. Veronica leaned back and watched him, his movements to tug the gloves from his long white fingers before bundling the latex in a ball and shooting it into the wastebasket with a practiced gesture.
Willy's face was open, expressive as he watched her watching him undress. She hummed her approval as he untied the knot of his robe and slipped it from his shoulders, hanging it on the back of the bathroom door. He toed off the slippers, revealing long toes and delicate high arches of strong feet before nudging them too behind the open door out of the way.
He returned his violet gaze to her face, watching her expression as he carefully unbuttoned the red silken pajama top. Her eyes darkened and face started to color slightly as she watched him unveil himself to her waiting eyes. She unconsciously licked her lips as he removed the shirt, revealing pale skin and silken gleaming muscle. He hung the shirt on top of the robe and turned to her.
Veronica could tell he was nervous before her frankly hungry stare, so she smiled slightly and allowed herself to lean back, long arch of her throat exposed and steaming slightly in the flattering candlelight, eyes and face inviting him to join her non-verbally.
Still, he hesitated.
"It's okay if you don't want to," she whispered, seeing his discomfort.
"No, I want to, I just want to make sure you actually want the company and aren't just humoring me," Willy replied, that strange note back in his voice.
"What do you mean? Of course I want to. Willy, what's going on?"
He didn't reply. Emboldened by her response, he colored slightly and stared into her eyes as his fingers, normally so limber, fumbled with the drawstring of his pants.
Her mouth went dry at the sight. It wasn't that she hadn't seen and admired his form before, he'd just never seemed so vulnerable, so open. His eyes held hers, finding reassurance in their loving depths. The long lean lines of his thighs complemented the lean torso, the broad shoulders and strong arms, slender lines of whipcord muscle dancing beneath the surface. But it was his face that captured her heart – so open and expressive, the violet eyes gleaming with emotion. It was the first time he'd really seemed naked to her.
Veronica held out one hand in invitation, and he paused for a moment before taking it. Her face was so open in its appreciation for him that any doubts that he held about her wanting him with her slipped away.
Willy stepped into the tub and settled himself behind her, settling her between his outstretched thighs. The tub was just barely big enough to accommodate the two of them, the water level threatening to overflow the top.
He started bathing her by releasing her long braid from its prison, raising an eyebrow and smirking at the pencil holding it up. "Hey, it was the only thing I could find at the time," she laughed, slightly embarrassed at the silly gesture.
He removed the band and unbraided the hair, smoothing the long strands with careful fingers, the ends quickly soaking up water. Using a cup by the side of the tub, he carefully wet her hair before smoothing shampoo into the wet mass and massaged her scalp with strong fingers.
Veronica's eyes rolled back in her head at the wonderful pressure, "Good God that feels magnificent."
Willy paused and smirked at the rough texture of her voice, he thought there was only one context he would hear it like that – apparently he was wrong.
With long soothing movements, he rinsed and conditioned her long hair before moving on to soaping the rest of her.
The touch was sensual but lacked the sexual overtones to arouse. His careful strokes and circles were tender, caring – more interested in tending her sore spots than anything else.
Veronica responded with moans and sighs of relief - the sheer intimacy of the moment touching her heart and soul.
"Thank you – that was one of the more wonderful moments of my life," she breathed, leaning back to rest against his chest. "Allow me to return the favor?"
"I don't think I deserve it," Willy said.
She half sat up and turned to face him in surprise, "What? How do you mean?"
Willy pulled her back to lean against him again, "Veronica, I'm afraid I did something today that I don't feel particularly proud of."
Heart sinking, she asked in a tremulous voice, "Oh Willy, what did you do?"
"I figured out that I was a bit angry with you today, and realized that I may have taken it out on you inappropriately."
"Angry? When?"
"When we…I mean during…"
Her eyes widened when she realized what he was referring to. That was anger? If that was anger she might have to see if she could get him pissed off more often…
"Oh!"was all that escaped her.
"It was wrong of me to do that. It took me a while to figure out that I was mad, but then when I figured it out and what I had done to you…" Willy said, his voice thickening with emotion.
The poor man actually thought he had hurt her, Veronica thought astonished. "What? The three screaming orgasms or the helpful advice and support this afternoon?" she asked, realizing that she had to nip this level of self-flagellation in the bud.
"Huh?"
What kind of man is a stranger to the regular frustrations and anger that tinged day-to-day life?
Willy Wonka, that's who.
"Willy, it's alright. You didn't hurt me – in fact I found the experience quite enjoyable and hope to try it again some day. You might have been angry – but the only thing I noticed was that you were a bit more…open…with what you wanted at the moment." She blushed, turning to face him.
"I thought you'd hate me…especially after what you'd gone through," he said in a small voice.
"Never. You took nothing that wasn't offered first. As for your anger – it's perfectly understandable."
"It is?"
"Willy – your lover and apprentice basically said that you were wrong in not approaching the press earlier despite your worst fears. If someone had done the same thing to me and said I was wrong in not declaring to the world my issues with Marcus, I'd torn them a new hole."
"Really?"
"Certainly. I appreciate the mature manner in which you've been handling the situation – I didn't realize that it was because you'd started a slow burn and didn't even realize it."
Willy smiled shyly at her and she couldn't help returning it, "We are a couple of dunces, aren't we?"
"No, just learning about each other and how all this works," Willy said ruefully. "I'll make a promise to you. Next time I figure out that I'm getting worked up over something, I'll come talk to you first. Will you do the same?"
Thinking back at the round-about way of instituting her plan, she had to agree, "Yes. I promise."
"Good."
"Now, switch places with me. You're going to get a good scrubbing. Next we're going to eat whatever it is you ordered for us…" Veronica commanded, standing up to step over the sitting man and shifting around until he had taken his place in between her outstretched legs, head leaning back against her chest.
"Pizza," Willy provided helpfully.
"Wonderful. And while we're eating that, I'm breaking into some of my Christmas gifts and we'll watch some really horrible sci-fi movies," she declared, carefully pouring water over his head, slicking back his dark hair.
"Plan 9 from Outer Space?" he asked in hopeful tones.
"…and Frankenstein versus the Martins," she concluded firmly with a grin down at him.
"Great," Willy snuggled down and let out a moan or two of her own as her clever fingers sought out the spots of tension along his temple and jaw as she shampooed his hair.
"I hate to sound so prudish," she said softly, tilting his head against her chest to peer at her face upside down, "But would you mind terribly if we didn't…you know…tonight?"
"Thank God!" he sighed in relief, "No, I don't mind at all. I have to admit, our pace over the past couple of days is taking a bit more out of me than I cared to admit."
"Me too. I'm still a little tender from this afternoon...not that I mind," she quickly added, seeing his stricken expression. "But it's not necessary every night. I just want to curl up and watch silly movies with you before heading into chaos tomorrow."
Willy used his legs to push up and kiss her – still upside down, something that caused both of them to giggle for a moment, "You've got yourself a deal, sweetheart."
"Sweetheart?" she asked giggling.
"Umm..honey?"
"No."
"Beloved?"
"I like it, but it feels too formal…"
"Schnookie wookums?"
"Urg."