Chapter 27: Hooked On You

Comments: All right, this is the second to the last chapter. I know, I know, don't kill me.

Mood Song: Your Guardian Angel by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

An unknown number of hours later, I'm lying, sprawled, on my leather sofa, holding an ice-pack to my throbbing skull. Out of all the scenarios that could've happened, I honestly didn't see that one coming. But then again, who would have?

Edward is silently fidgeting in the recliner, his eyes looking everywhere but me.

"Okay," I begin, "while I'm in this vulnerable state, I think it would be the perfect opportunity to talk this out."

Edward directs his attention, finally, to me and I take this as a sign to continue.

"I haven't been very subtle with my actions and you have probably realized already that I like you. A lot actually. Hell, when I get nervous I tend to talk myself into a hole so I'm just going to spit it out. Edward, I'm in love with you and I know there's a huge difference in age but-"

"I don't care about age," he interrupts, shaking his head.

"You what…what are you trying to say?"

"I love you, too." He says it so plainly that I do a double take to make sure he's not pulling my leg. I'm at a loss for words.

He loves me. As in, he feels the same way as I do, possible has all along. I feel a little piqued that I made a fool out of myself during all this time.

But then again, maybe we're both just fools in love.

"But-"

Oh no, there's a but. Note to self: Hunt down Webster and kick his interfering ass for putting such a condescending word in his dictionary.

"But, we're going to have to tell everyone the truth about us," he finishes.

I nod glumly. Hawkeye was going to shoot me full of holes for lying to her.

I'm so caught up in wondering how a chair could be a good shield that I fail to notice that Edward has moved until I feel weight on my abdomen.

"This is a nice change opposed to you running from me or hitting me in the groin," I mutter, tongue in cheek.

He leans forward, his bangs brushing my forehead. "I was thinking, instead of hitting you, I could just do this."

And he grabs me. Holy fu- When the hell did he grow a backbone?!

And just as suddenly as it came, the warmth of his hand leaves and I'm left trying to catch the breath that left me in a nice whooshing noise.

"Dirty, old man," he mutters, resting his head on my chest.

"Keep it up, short stuff, and I'll dump you on the floor."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT--"

I silence him with my mouth, my tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip in a sensuous motion. I practically sigh into his mouth when it opens for me.

And then I'm kissing him. Teaching him with my tongue how to fight back. He tastes amazing. Like strawberries and the mint from his toothpaste.

When air becomes necessary for both of us, his head falls limply back on my chest. I kiss his hair and his fingers fiddle with the buttons on my pajamas.

"I'm tired," he murmurs absentmindedly.

Reaching around to the back of the sofa, I pull the throw down and cover our bodies with it. His fingers stop moving and his breathing almost lulls me back to sleep.

"Roy," he whispers, fatigue slurring his words.

"Yes," I reply, not bothering to open my eyes.

"I love you."

I pull him closer to me.

Author's Note: Ah, shameless fluff…