Disclaimer: I disclaim.


I was sure that when Rickie returned to the kitchen in my chair, he was not expecting Marcus to be there, which is why, I assume, he ran into the table.

"Oops," he squeaked, as his arrival jerked me out of my emo reverie. Marcus looked completely unphased.

"Good job Cocoa-butter," I intoned dryly, as he jumped out of the wheelchair to give me my turn. Ha! I Crack me up. Get it? Crack? As in, I crack my bones...ALL THE TIME. It's why I need to keep around an electric wheelchair. Either laugh or ignore that one, I'm not asking forgiveness for it.

I felt it prudent to share my humor with the room. Not the last part. That'll be our secret.

"That's right. My turn in the chair, Rick. You can play with it again when I'm done." I paused. Why had it taken so long for him to get back..? "You didn't leave scuff marks on the marble, did you?"

He looked sheepish. Dammit. At least I wasn't the one cleaning it up. We had summarily ignored the vampire in the room up until this point, and I expect by the confusion he was showing the wheelchair, he'd never taken the time to ever see one. Good God. He didn't get out much, did he?

Rickie scowled cutely and avoided the side of the room with the bloodsucker in it as he walked over to lift me from one chair and put me in the mobile seat of snark, sarcasm, and slight women with several breaks. Everybody loves an alliteration. Mine sucked. Sorry.

He was warm, I couldn't help noticing again the difference in my little brother and my little problem. I know. Both are actually pretty damn big, but leave a lady her illusions. My thoughts cut short as Rick set me down with a quiet grunt, lingering a moment hovered over me in an awkward, bent over hug. I reached my good arm up to scratch his back, and he relaxed into the affection. I noticed that his chin rested on my shoulder, and his face was twisted so that he could keep his eye on Marcus. I didn't tell him that would count for shit if Marcus decided to slaughter us both here in the kitchen. See? I'm a saint.

After a moment more, he straightened up and cautiously walked over to the coffee corner to create my morning fix. I knew he would do it for me.

"I knew you would do it for me, schnookums!"

Rickie snorted disdainfully and I noticed Marcus twitch and raise an eyebrow when he looked down at me. I reached to the chair controls and skillfully backed away from the table, nonchalantly checking for dents where Rickie had run into it. None.

Good. It wasn't technically my family, but it was a family heirloom, and I tried to care very diligently for those. You never know, one of the old woman's living relatives might become a half decent human being that I could pass it down to. Besides, I actually like antiques. They have some character in them; the generations that kept and cared for them left little marks of their lives in them. But no wheelchair marks, dammit!

Marcus's eyes widened a bit as he realized (a little late, mind you. Did he miss the episode where Rickie rode the thing to into the room and hit my beautiful table?) the implications of me having a chair that I could move around in while recovering from a leg injury. I guess, being all supernaturally strong and fast and pretty and stuff, he didn't consider the inconveniences us puny humans worked around every day. Power to puny people.

He grinned a little at me where he towered over as I scooted by him to sit between him and Rickie. I doubted Marcus drank coffee, but if he did, he had to wait in line. First cup is mine bitches. Never forget that. It wasn't because the moment someone else was between him and the monster, Rickie seemed to sag a tiny bit in guilty relief. Marcus was smart though. He looked to my brother for a moment before frowning down at me.

"I mean him no harm, Luce," he said, sounding, of all things, a bit hurt. That was totally freaking unfair! He was the bloodsucking monster here!

"He's mine Marcus," I said back, a little frustrated, "My brother, my adopted kid, my responsibility. We just met, and I still don't actually know you. You can't honestly think that if his safety hadn't been part of the deal, I would have agreed to any of this?"

Crap, now he was definitely hurt. He recoiled as if I had hit him, but stared at the space between us before relaxing slightly. Rickie had stayed blessedly silent through this, though I could feel his anger and frustration as if it were my own, and his eyes shooting accusing glares down at me. I heard the percolator slam onto the stove a little harshly and winced.

The room was tensely silent for a few moments as we waited for either the coffee to finish, or the rapture. We certainly weren't waiting for me to apologize. That wasn't going to happen.

Sure, it wasn't nice of me to say, nor would it seem fair to either of them. I'm sure Rickie felt like a useless burden and Marcus felt like some bad thing or another. Not like I knew how vampires thought. But honesty hurts. That's when you learn to get the fuck over it. None of this had been my first choice, but I was making lemonade with my lemons. Pass me the fucking bourbon.

I'm not bitter. Not at all.

Rickie left the room, angry of course, but he passed a hand through my hair on his way out to let me know he would be back in a minute. I watched him leave, then turned to look back at Marcus. His face was a mask of stoicism. Good job. Somebody has to be able to put on a good poker face. Otherwise Lady Gaga wouldn't know what to sing about.

I tried to emulate. I sneezed. GODDAMMIT.


Marcus thought that it all had been going so well that morning, so when she opened her mouth and those words fell out, he felt them as a physical pain in his chest. It took him a moment to remember that they were true, but not the end of the story.

He glanced down at their connection. He could feel the tiny string of remorse hum up the line towards him. She had meant to hurt him, he thought, but he was certain her harshness was a form of self-defense. He was a little baffled and frightened by how quickly they were bonding himself, and he had a way to see and feel and understand what was going on. She could only struggle to understand the conflicting feelings she must have been feeling for him.

After all, hadn't he just told her a similar horrible truth? If it had not been for his brother, he would not have been any part of this deal either.

He would have simply remained the empty man until someone finally overpowered his family and he could die in peace. The thought was no longer something he looked forward to.

He noticed the boy looked irritated from his peripheral vision, but met his Luce's eyes instead of focusing any attention on the youngest in the room.

Lucy looked frustrated and angry and sad. And worst of all, resigned. As if she were an animal in a cage too tired to fight against her fate. Too hurt by the times she had tried before. It was not a look that he thought suited her.

The boy looked down at her too, with tears in his eyes before putting a hand on her head and then walking out. Marcus listened for him to make sure he did not go outside, but he went deeper into the house instead, so Marcus did not worry that he might meet something outside that had little use for him alive.

Lucy had watched the boy's back as he retreated, but turned up to look at him again, this time with a bit of her defiance shining through to him through eyes, posture, and the ever present and ever changing connection.

Her face was firmly expressionless for a moment, before an instant of surprise, and then she sneezed, with a tiny squeak and a full body twitch. He raised his own eyes heavenward. Could she possibly have done anything more adorable in that moment? One would think she had planned it that way to trick him into forgiving her for her words.

But, no, she was obviously embarrassed. That made it just that much more endearing.

Her face flushed brightly, and he ignored the accompanying burn, kneeling again so that they were level. She was so small, he did not want to loom over her like a tree.

"I know you did not ask for this Luce," he said softly to her, "I did not ask for it either," he was answered by a twinge of hurt in return for his own pain, though that had not been his intent, "But whatever we asked for, this is what we have."

He found her tiny, crooked-fingered hand with his own much larger, more graceful one, and felt the intense warmth of it seeping into his skin. It could not have been as comforting for her as it was for him, but he indulged himself regardless. She remained silent.

"You, nor I could have foreseen that we would be so well-matched." she opened a mouth to protest that, but he lifted his other hand to stop her with a gentle finger to her lips. "Do not deny it, whether or not you understand it. I see it."

She squirmed in the rolling chair, unable now to meet his eyes, but he continued, pressing as much as he dared. He should likely have given her time to absorb what he had said already, and press his suit when they had gotten better acquainted. But he couldn't help but add, "It is confused and tenuous, but the way we feel about one another is definitely growing by the moment, Luce."

That certainly made her look up, the horror and indignation made him a little sore, but he supposed it was his own fault for telling her what she was not ready to accept.

"Nope," she said, after gaping up at him for a few maddeningly long seconds, "Nopenopenopenope."

He blinked. Her face hardened with that infuriating bitterness that cut into him. Perhaps this might be a painful day for him. To be completely honest, he was a bit of a confused mess, with all of his heretofore deadened emotions coming back to him in jumbled bits and pieces. Perhaps he should be giving them both some space.

Unfortunately, it was a little late for that thought to do him any good. Her eyes burned with anger as she glared at him.

"I don't do feelings," she said shortly. He found himself at a bit of a loss when she did not elaborate. The silence grew awkward again, and he pulled back his hands from where he had moved them to the arms of her chair. Her features scrunched up a bit, and she seemed to fight some sort of internal battle before continuing bluntly.

"This arrangement," she started, "It involves sex."

He froze, wondering how the conversation had gotten so far away from him. He was truly out of practice with speaking to women. Didyme would be laughing at him. Except Didyme was dead, and were she alive, little Luce would not be.

"It's just...I don't generally do that where there are feelings involved...sex, I mean," she said. He was certain her face could not possibly get any brighter red, and it was distracting. Oddly enough, not for the reason it should be, he felt. It was perhaps a tiny bit vindictive, but he allowed her to flounder about trying to explain herself. He was not sure he liked where this was going.

"Crap," she looked down at her lap, "I don't usually even like the people I do that with," she mumbled. Then she covered her face with one hand, "I kind of thought this would be easier for that part."

He frowned now. No, he didn't like where that had gone at all.

"You take lovers that you do not care for?" he asked, not wanting to hear her answer, "Do you play with men's hearts?"

She snorted loudly and leaned her head back, but still would not meet his eyes. She looked above his head and blinked rapidly for a few seconds.

"I'm not exactly a heart-breaker Marcus. I just don't get sexually involved with people who are looking for more than just sex. And I don't really want to screw someone who means anything to me. It's not really fair to do that when I can't offer them anything besides my body. Besides, most of the people who show any interest want something. Financially."

He hurt again. He hurt very badly. Not because she had obviously taken casual lovers and felt uncomfortable with what he asked for. He hurt because she was scarred from a very old wound, and did not want to give up any piece of herself to anyone. Because while someone had taken from him his Didyme in the heat of battle, someone had stolen from her any security and trust she had ever felt with men. He understood and wished for ignorance.

"I see," he replied. She must have noticed how much he had seen, because she was suddenly frantic and swallowed convulsively. Pressing her back tightly into the chair she sat in, she back-peddled furiously.

"I mean, I'm just not the type of girl who gets into relationships like that. I'm mean, and I don't like people, and I, uh, I just don't want to bother with the other parts."

She winced and blushed, and there were the very beginnings of tears in her eyes as she looked anywhere but at him. Her heart beat faster than he had ever heard it. He bowed his head. He had not even the slightest clue how to make this situation any better. When he had met Didyme, it had been all smiles and laughter and hopeful dreams of peaceful days mixed with wild adventures.

Lucy was not Didyme, and this love was going to be very painful at first, he thought. He hoped against all hopes that it would not be so tragic later on. He could not live with a second loss.

Finally, he simply put his arms around her waist as he had this morning, tucking his face into the space between her breasts. She seemed for a moment as though she would struggle, then made a tiny frustrated sound when he would not give way and settled down.

He did not know any words that would help, but he could hopefully take advantage of the mind-numbing allure of his species to hers. If anything else, the scent of him might perhaps distract her from her panic. It was his best option at the time, so he simply held her, and he waited.


I sneezed. I fucking sneezed.

Nothing ever goes my way. That couldn't have been more embarrassing if I had planned it. And he was looking at me like I was a kitten that just tripped over it's own feet. Craaaaaaaaaaap. I'm a social disaster. People wonder why I don't go out!

He knelt down on the floor again, in a facsimile of an earlier, much less humiliating moment from the morning. But when he spoke, it was gently, seriously.

"I know you did not ask for this Luce, I did not ask for it either," Oh. Not good. That didn't feel good. That should not have bothered her at all, "But whatever we asked for, this is what we have."

I wanted lemonade. With bourbon. Or the other way around. Or maybe just bourbon. Yeah. Bourbon.

Oh look, he somehow got her hand. That was so not good. Did I mention how not prepared I was for feelings? Not the day for feelings. Could he come back with this never?

"You, nor I could have foreseen that we would be so well-matched." My mouth fell open. I had no idea what for. There were no words. "Do not deny it, whether or not you understand it. I see it."

Nope. Nopenope. Not good. I've never dealt well with the...this stuff. Could we go back to talking about, what had we been talking about that morning? Had we talked earlier, or did I just get randomly horny when he walked in?

Urk.

"It is confused and tenuous, but the way we feel about one another is definitely growing by the moment, Luce."

Oh God. Couldn't deal with that. Nope. Noooooope. Nope.

Nopenopenopenope.

Oh. Fuck. That last bit had happened out loud. Good God. Could I possibly do anything right without hurting him?

Why should I care?! Why couldn't I not?!

Nope. Couldn't handle this today.

"I don't do feelings."

This was the worst. I felt like I owed him an explanation. I didn't! I had no obligations to be kind to him. Even if he was some sort of monster's idea of good to me, did I? I hated that feeling. It was the worst, because in some weird, inexplicable way not only did he deserve my respect and understanding and what little kindness I could offer...I wanted him to have it. I wanted him to understand in some weak, frightened, desperate little part of me. I wanted to trust him. That was perhaps more terrifying than anything that had happened thus far.

I spoke.

"This arrangement. It involves sex."

Fuck. I hadn't meant to. That was a bad idea.

And there he was. Just. Sitting there. Like I hadn't just crossed the line we weren't crossing. How could he be unaffected? Just. Waiting for me to throw it out there? Okay. Have it.

"It's just...I don't generally do that where there are feelings involved."

"Sex, I mean."

He said nothing.

"Crap." Yup. "I don't usually even like the people I do that with."

I wanted to sink into the floor. This was not going well at all. That was why I didn't do feelings!

"I kind of thought this would be easier for that part."

That came out wrong. Didn't mean to say that. At least not like that.

"You take lovers that you do not care for? Do you play with men's hearts?"

Oh my God. I had made myself out to be a slut. He thought I was a slut. That's fucking ridiculous. I snorted. I couldn't look at him. I was going to have to commit ritual suicide after this. Like a samurai. What a joke. I don't know how he can look at me and think that I'm any man's wet dream. It's instinctual. Men look for women who are healthy an beautiful. I have my charms, but that's if they could get beyond the obvious signs of sickness and weakness I carry physically. Usually that involves the man in question being blinded by green.

"I'm not exactly a heart-breaker Marcus. I just don't get sexually involved with people who are looking for more than just sex. And I don't really want to screw someone who means anything to me. It's not really fair to do that when I can't offer them anything besides my body. Besides, most of the people who show any interest want something. Financially."

I was babbling by that point. I mean, even if I were the average man's love-of-my-life type, that just wasn't something I could ever be comfortable with. I mean, I didn't want to be crippled sexually. I had enough handicaps in my life, so I overcame one that I could. But that's all I could handle. Fuck and duck out. Nothing vulnerable. Nothing exposed.

"I see," he replied.

He didn't say much, but it was enough. All of a sudden, I felt both vulnerable and exposed. Last time we had talked about this, I told him something had happened and that it was dealt with. It was almost just a story, an exchange of words, flippant almost. Proof that I was stronger than the circumstances of my life. This time he saw right through something else. To the damage. I hadn't been expecting it and I had no control over that.

I was going to hyperventilate.

I don't even know what I said next. I was just babbling and it wasn't helping and then he just reached out and held me. I didn't want it. It was awful, and uncomfortable and I didn't want to be touched at all, but I couldn't even articulate that and he was completely immovable.

Small mercies. His face was in my boobs so he wasn't watching me fall apart.

That was why I didn't do feelings.

We both ignored the tears running silently down my face.


So, if this is the most awkward chapter you've ever read, then my goal is reached. Because I want this to be a realistic relationship, more or less, and bitches both got baggage. There is no easy way for that to come out into the air, and neither of these characters are skilled with self-expression. Marcus isn't used to having feelings, and Lucy prefers sarcasm and snark to actually dealing with deeper issues.

Therefore, awkward, hopefully difficult to read chapter, if you'll forgive me. It was certainly difficult to write.

Another thing-it's short. There was no easy way to pick that back up from the awful place I left off that wouldn't feel jolting to me, so I decided a chapter break would do it. That being said?

The next one is at least a third of the way through, and will have more words. And some reconciliation, I think? We'll see. Maybe I'll offer a trade of fluffies for reviews?

Lemme know what you think guys! If you're reading this, shout out!