A/N: This is why I start all my stories out at T, because I am incompetent. You'll understand what I mean once you've read the chapter. -_- Also, sorry if my writing is now kinda cliché. When I write romance it sort of gets that way. I do like romance, but I prefer angsty, dramatic romances. But if it were always dramatic then it would get boring, y'know? It took me so long to write because I felt like I'd never be happy with this chapter, so this will have to do. Hope it doesn't totally suck.
Chapter Eight
Mistel paced back and forth with his hands causally clasped behind his back. It wasn't anxious pacing, nor angry pacing, but impatient excitement pacing.
"When do you think she'll be here, Iris?" he asked his sister, trying his best to keep the mirth out of his voice.
Iris sat at her writing table, her fingernails loudly tapping away on her typewriter with fervor. She abruptly stopped and whipped her head in his direction, narrowing her eyes at him and looking quite displeased that he had interrupted her when she obviously had a lot of writing that she needed to type out as soon as possible; her deadline was vastly approaching.
"Soon, brother, patience," Iris scolded mildly. "She always comes after she's eaten dinner on Saturdays—I don't really understand why, since we have treats and tea before we play any games."
He smiled at the word patience. It was what he kept telling Beatrice hardly three days ago before and after he had confessed. It had to be one of the strangest confessions he had ever experienced, but at least she agreed to become his. A first—and with the most wonderful girl I've ever loved. His heart had nearly broken in two when she had denied him, but then when she hastily told him she was in love with him too it mended as quickly as it had broken.
He could hardly believe she was finally his, that she was now officially his Beatrice and no one else's. He smiled so large at the thought that it made his cheeks hurt. He had to pinch himself multiple times on his way home after he'd confessed to make sure he wasn't dreaming; he even slapped himself once just in case pinching didn't suffice.
He had been so glad to see her back to her usual spunky self, but was a little surprised by her outburst—but more so embarrassed. Tying her up? He scoffed to himself, shaking his head in amusement. What does she take me for, a pervert? I told her my love for her overrules my lust for her.
Her promiscuous words popped into his head, 'By the way, if anyone is getting tied up it will be you', and he couldn't contain his smile by the memory. He knew she had a little mischievousness in her, but that was beyond just mischievous—it was erotic, and he found that to be a little unsettling, yet at the same time found it to be highly arousing. His smile turned into a grimace. Why do I find that to be arousing...and why did I say 'I'd like that'? He shook his head in disgust and his subconscious nearly shouted at him, Because you probably would like that!
"Do you think game night counts as a date?" he wondered after a couple of minutes, attempting and failing to get the image of Beatrice with a mischievous smirk adorning her face untying his bow and using it to tie his wrists together. Please let me stop thinking about this, please let me stop thinking about this, the words repeated themselves violently in his mind.
"Yes, and no," Iris replied, turning her body to face him in its entirety. "Since I will be here for some of it, then that part won't be a date. But I will be leaving after tea, so I suppose you can consider that a date." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she asked, "Why do you want to know? So you know whether or not it's appropriate to kiss her tonight?"
"Is it that obvious?" he sneered. "And where will you be going after tea?"
Iris sighed heavily. Her face twisted into a mournful look and she looked away, crossing her arms underneath her chest. "I went to check up on Klaus three days ago, and you should have seen him Mistel. He looked like death itself. It scared me, brother. Really frightened me. I'm worried for his life," she said with anguish. "He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept at all since we had our little fight, so I've made him bouillabaisse and I'm going to make him eat it, whether he wants to or not."
"Ah, I see. I hope that's all you'll be doing?" Mistel asked in distaste. "Beatrice's idea of you abstaining from your...activities with him is a very excellent one, and I would like to think it shall teach him a lesson. You deserve a ring, sister. You deserve to be loved." His voice took on a soothing, calming tone at the last two sentences.
"Yes, that's all we'll be doing," she snapped, glowering at him. "Except maybe I'll be kissing his tears away. Goodness, you haven't the slightest idea of what he looked like. If you'd have seen him you would understand. He's never told me he's in love with me—nor have I to him—but I'm not that dense, Mistel. He loves me, I am sure of it. I have never been so sure of anything in my entire life. There's just something that he's keeping from me...as if he's afraid I'll run if he tells me. Perhaps I can coax the information out of him tonight...I'll just have to think of a good plan, because if I can't use my looks then I'll have to use my intelligence, and with Klaus it's much easier to just use my looks."
Mistel rolled his eyes. It didn't matter to him whether or not Klaus had some dark secret that he was afraid to tell her, he was still hurting his sister and for that he loathed him at the moment. He never really liked him to begin with.
He asked seriously, "You say he loves you, but do you love him?"
He wasn't sure why he even asked that question. Ever since their fight he could hear Iris crying herself to sleep at night, and for what other reason than love would she be doing that? He couldn't fathom her just missing being sexually intimate with him that much to sob so hard over it. He really wished she would have fallen for someone other than Klaus. He hated to hear her crying at night all alone; he had no idea how to comfort her.
Come to think of it, she had never cried over any boyfriend before. Except for the boyfriend she had when she was twenty-four—but she had only cried because the man was abusive, but Mistel had taken care of that. Even though he had only been thirteen at the time, he had scared the man away one night while Iris was getting ready for their date. Apparently toying with a knife while trying to look as malicious as much as a young blond haired boy could look, then telling the man if he ever saw another bruise on his sister again that he would be found dead in a ditch somewhere and no one would ever suspect it was him—since he was so adorable, as the man would often say—was enough to make the man run away and never come back. Iris was mad at him at first, but not even two days later thanked him—that she was a fool to think that man would ever change. She had hugged and kissed him, and he had been immensely proud of himself.
That's how it had been for the two of them ever since their grandparents died. Iris took care of him and he took care of Iris. Iris could be a little overprotective at times, but he really couldn't complain much—he felt the same way about her. All they really ever had was each other, and if they didn't look out for one another then who would? Yet now it was slightly different. He had Beatrice to look out for him; to love him, and he couldn't help but to feel slightly guilty because of it. What if his dreams came true and Beatrice married him one day? Iris would be alone.
Sure, she was an adult and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but they had never been apart before. Of course he would still see her almost everyday. After all, he would still have to run the shop...but at night she would be alone. They told each other everything. Would that change once he was married? Would their bond not be as strong? He shook his head to get the thoughts out. He didn't want to dwell upon that right now. Tonight was going to be a good night, he was sure of it, and he didn't want to ruin it with such unpleasant thoughts.
After the incident with that horrible man Iris never dated anyone physically abusive again. Except now she was dating—well, sleeping with—someone who was mentally abusive. He knew he had no control over who Iris dated, but he couldn't allow his sister to continue dating Klaus if things didn't change—and soon. If he couldn't convince her to stop seeing Klaus he would have no other choice but to go directly to the source; and if Klaus really did love Iris as much as she thought he did, then Klaus would surely end their relationship after he told him how much he had been hurting his sister. That's what you do when you're in love with someone, right? Let them go if you're hurting them. He wasn't sure if Klaus would let her go, and if not he would just have to make him one way or another.
Iris's cheeks turned a pink hue while he was lost in his thoughts, but before she could answer he heard two soft knocks on the front door. He immediately stopped pacing and whipped his head in the direction of the staircase, anticipating her arrival. He felt so giddy he had to stop himself from jumping up and down with glee like a little schoolgirl.
"Uh...Iris, Mist—I mean darling, where are you two?" he heard Beatrice's voice come from the shop.
"Upstairs, my love," he called cheerfully. Where else would we be?
"Calm down," Iris mouthed at him.
Calm down? Calm down? He was so excited to see her he trembled to the very ends of his fingertips. It was impossible for him to even fathom calming down. He heard her footsteps quickly running up the stairs, his heart beating quicker with every small stomp, and when she rounded the corner he felt his heart stop for a split second.
Beatrice grinned so large that her dimples showed, and she greeted sweetly, "Hello, darling." She turned to Iris and nodded her head, saying, "Good evening, Iris."
Iris abruptly stood and strolled gracefully over to Beatrice, putting her hands on either sides of her face and kissing her cheeks. Iris pulled away and put her hands to her shoulders, her violet eyes shining as she smiled down at her. "Good evening, Bee! What a pleasure it is to see you! I feel like it's been forever since I've last saw you. I'm so happy that my brother finally confessed his feelings for you."
Beatrice's cheeks turned pink, but her lips curled into a sly smile and she stared at him with smoldering eyes as she said, "As am I. He sure did take long enough, didn't he?" Beatrice laughed, the noise chiming throughout the room, and Iris began to laugh loudly with her.
Mistel glared at both of them. I can't believe I'm jealous of my own sister. He strode over to Beatrice and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her protectively to him. Her ruby eyes widened and her blush deepened as he bent slightly, kissing both of her heated cheeks. "Salutations, Beatrice," he whispered huskily, ignoring Iris's giggles. "What a pleasure it is for you to be here tonight."
"It's game night, darling," Beatrice nearly whispered, her cheeks still heated. "The pleasure is all mine for you to invite me."
"I wouldn't dream of not inviting you!" Mistel giggled, releasing her. "I fear game night will never be the same without you ever since the first time you came over."
"O-oh," Beatrice sputtered. She gazed into his eyes with an intensity in her stare, and he gazed right back with unflinching, blazing eyes. As each second ticked by he felt his heart quicken. He could feel a spark between them, and the sensation was both exhilarating and slightly uncomfortable; but he couldn't get himself to look away, paralyzed and too absorbed in the beauty of her eyes.
"Ahem," Iris coughed, still giggling slightly. "It's time for tea, lovebirds."
Beatrice looked away and flushed again. He gave her a lopsided smile, trying his best to stifle his own giggles. Why must she be so adorable? He sat down on the turquoise sofa at the dining area, and Beatrice stood awkwardly by his side. What is she waiting for? An invitation?
"Iris, do you need any help preparing the tea?" Beatrice questioned, her voice squeaky.
"Oh, no, not at all. Please, take a seat," Iris returned.
Beatrice looked confused, her eyes frantically searching the room as if she was thinking of where to sit. She had sat down next to him almost every Saturday while they had tea, why was she acting so bashful all of a sudden? Was it because they were dating now? Mistel shook his head in amusement. He couldn't help it this time, and he erupted into a fit of giggles.
"Would you like to sit next to me, Beatrice?" he asked after a moment of calming himself.
"S-sure," she stammered, sitting down next to him but keeping him at arms length. He frowned. Why are you sitting so far away from me, my love? I won't bite.
"What kind of tea would you like, Bee?" Iris asked as the kettle whistled loudly.
"English Breakfast, if you have it," she replied with a smile. English Breakfast? Hmm, I must remember to pick some up next time I'm in the city. He was happy he knew another one of her favorite things; he would have to wait until next year to gift her more yellow roses. Her birthday was on Monday—coincidentally the same day as Valentine's Day—and he couldn't just give her tea for her birthday. He made a mental note to ask her some of her other favorites later in the evening.
"I'm afraid we only have herb and milk tea," Iris said as she grabbed a tray from the top shelf of their kitchen, placing three teacups and a couple of fruit pastries on the tray.
"I'll have whatever Mistel is having, then."
"Herb tea it is," Iris said, laughing slightly. "Personally I prefer milk tea, but that's just my preference."
"Beatrice, why are you sitting so far away from me?" he wondered, frowning slightly. "I promise I don't bite."
"I, uh, didn't notice," she sputtered, looking down at her hands in her lap.
"Well, why don't you scoot a little closer, then?" he asked with a mischievous smirk, holding his arms out towards her.
Beatrice smiled and shook her head in amusement, her cheeks turning slightly pink. She scooted over and put her legs up on the sofa, folding her legs over each other and tucking them close to her body so that her knees stuck out. He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head upon his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, inhaling in her intoxicating aroma of strawberries.
Iris placed the tray on the table, making them both jump slightly, and cooed, "Aw, that is the most adorable thing I've ever seen!" She sat down opposite of them and gave a sweet smile.
"Oh, shut it, sister," Mistel said, rolling his eyes at her. He released Beatrice and she sat up slightly, but still leaned on him. All three of them began to take small sips from their teacups, and Iris and Beatrice ate the treats as they did. Mistel couldn't get himself to eat any of them; he was just too nervous.
"Have you seen Klaus lately?" Beatrice asked Iris, sounding worried.
"Yes, I saw him just three days ago. Have you?"
"Unfortunately..." Beatrice trailed.
"I know what you mean, dear. He looked absolutely dreadful! After I'm done with my tea I'm going to go see him and bring him some bouillabaisse. I'm awfully worried about him," Iris said solemnly.
"That's very thoughtful of you, Iris," Beatrice said with a grin. "After all he's put you through...well, it really shows how much of a forgiving person you can be."
"Thank you, Bee. You know first hand on how forgiving I can be," Iris said and finished her tea, then stood. She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl with a lid on top of it. She gracefully strolled toward the staircase, but stopped for a split second to say, "Have fun tonight on your date, you two. Oh, and Mistel—vous savez où je garde mes préservatifs. Si elles sont nécessaires, bien sûr." Iris winked at them then continued on her way to the staircase.
"I wish you would stop saying that, Iris! Il est notre premier rendez-vous et nous avons même pas embrassé!" he called after her as she walked down the stairs, and he heard Iris laughing loudly as she shut the front door behind her.
As soon as Iris left Mistel felt as if the atmosphere in the room had shifted; like there was some sort of tension he couldn't put his finger on. He had been alone with Beatrice before, but never in this kind of situation...and now he was beginning to feel awfully nervous; he nearly began to tremble.
"I wish you two would stop speaking french!" Beatrice said as she put down her teacup and turned to him, her ruby eyes blazing into his skull; subsequently making his heart flutter. "I really want to know what you two just said."
"Do you really want to know?" he asked in a teasing tone, also putting his teacup down.
"Yes," she said firmly, puffing out her cheeks.
"Fine, my love, I will tell you—but expect to be embarrassed. Iris can be quite crude at times," he said simply.
Beatrice slowly nodded her head. He said, "Iris said 'You know where I keep my condoms. If they are necessary, of course. And I said 'It's our first date and we haven't even kissed.'"
He watched as Beatrice's face turned scarlet, and she stammered, "O-oh, I see.. Well, I hope you know they will not be necessary."
His eyes widened in shock and he exclaimed, "Of course not, my love! How can you even think that I would fathom doing such a thing?"
"Boys will be boys," she muttered.
Mistel put a finger to her chin and gently lifted her head to meet his loving gaze. He said softly, "Have you already forgotten that I am a man, and not a boy, Beatrice?"
She giggled shyly and leaned up to quickly kiss his cheek, her ruby eyes shining with mirth as she said, "How could I when you remind me so often?" After a moment of an electrifying prolonged gaze she asked, "So, does this count as a date?" She attempted and failed to wink, instead one side of her face just scrunched up.
Mistel couldn't contain his laughter by the look; it was too adorable. "Y-yes, I w-would like to t-think it does," he said between his laughter.
"Darling, why are you laughing at me?" Beatrice sadly asked, pouting slightly.
"I'm so sorry, my dear, but that was the most adorable attempt at a wink that I've ever seen!" he giggled. "You would be laughing too if you had seen yourself."
"I'm not very good at flirting, so I've never had to wink before," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder again. "Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you!" She reached her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled something out of it, keeping her hand firmly clasped around it. She slowly opened her hand, revealing a white pearl resting in the center of her palm.
"You know it's not my birthday, correct?" Mistel teased, taking the pearl from her palm and examining it. He put it in his pocket and said, "Thank you, my love...and speaking of birthdays, what would you like for yours?"
"Hmm? Don't you remember when we first met? That you'd have to find out on your own what my favorite things are."
"Yes, but I'm afraid I don't have time for that!" Mistel sighed, exasperated. "Please won't you tell me just a few of your favorite things, and foods? Then I'll surprise you and pick some at random."
"Fine, I'll tell you," she said, wrapping an arm around his torso and causing his heart to accelerate. "As for gifts, I like violet and green jewelry. Books too, obviously. Some of my favorite foods are mashed potatoes, stew, any kind of pasta dish, and I absolutely love carrot cake."
At the mention of books a fantastic idea popped into his brain, and he smiled to himself.
"Carrot cake? That sounds...disgusting. Ruining a cake with vegetables! That's almost a sin," he said distastefully.
Beatrice laughed loudly, her chiming laughter filling the room and echoing off the walls. It was a pleasant sound, and it made him smile. "I don't like vegetables either, but you can't taste it in the cake! It's quite delicious, you really should try it."
"Perhaps for you I will, but if it taste as disgusting as it sounds I can't guarantee that I won't spit it out into my handkerchief."
"I promise it won't taste as disgusting as it sounds. I was skeptical at first, too."
After a moment he asked, "Are you excited for your birthday?"
"Will you be coming over?" she wondered, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
"Yes, please be home by a reasonable hour. I'm going to make us dinner to celebrate your birthday."
"Then I'm very excited to be spending my birthday with you," Beatrice said in her usual singsong voice, beaming at him. She shifted slightly and put a hand to his cheek, her ruby eyes gazing into his while she battered her dark lashes at him. She grinned so large that her dimples showed, and his heart skipped a beat, then beat so quickly that it pounded in his ears. He stared back at her in stupor, his mouth slightly agape.
Beatrice's cheeks turned pink as she continued to stare at him, and he felt his own cheeks heat up. Her lips parted slightly and he could hear that her breathing had turned ragged. He watched, paralyzed, as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip then softly bit down on it for a second. He felt as if an invisible force was drawing them closer, and before he even knew it his face was only inches away from hers.
What do I do? Do I kiss her now? Do I ask first? Is it too soon in the night? Shouldn't we play a game first? "Beatrice, what game would you like to play?" he asked breathlessly, his violet eyes still locked on hers.
"We can play a game later," she said just as breathlessly as him. "I'd like for you to kiss me now, please."
He inhaled sharply. He wasn't sure if he was ready to kiss her yet; he was already trembling and she only had her hand on his cheek. He feared his heart would leap from his chest if her lips were on his. He leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly while Beatrice closed her eyes. He kept his eyes open. He wanted to see her reaction to what his was about to do.
Mistel gingerly brushed his lips across hers, back and forth for at least a minute. He abruptly pulled away and beamed at her while he said in a teasing tone, "Games now. Kissing later."
He attempted to calm his heart with slow intakes of breaths, then exhaling through his nose. Beatrice removed her hand from his face and gawked at him as her face twisted into a scowl, though her cheeks were bright red. "No!" she snapped. "Kissing now, games later!" She huffed and added, "You're such a tease."
"I am. Please get used to it if you wish to continue dating me," he said sweetly, beaming at her again. "I think it would be more appropriate if we were to play a game first, don't you?"
"Not really," she snarled, scooting away from him and crossing her arms below her chest.
Well, that wasn't the reaction he was expecting. He thought she might giggle and be just as relieved as him; but instead she was sulking and looking like a child who had their toy taken away, her mouth compressed in a thin line while she looked away.
"Please don't look so sad, my love. I was only messing with you," he said soberly. "Would you like to play darts?"
Beatrice's scowl softened and her lips twitched into a wicked grin, but she still wouldn't look at him. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll just go home. Teasing is one thing, but that, Mistel, was cruel."
He felt his heart leap into his throat. "Please don't leave," he begged, grabbing her hand and kissing each of her knuckles. "I didn't mean to be cruel, I only wanted to tease you a little bit. I thought you might have found it funny. I see now I was wrong. I promise to give you the best kiss you have ever had after we play darts." Why did I promise that? He cringed inwardly. I've never been praised for my kissing skills.
"You better keep that promise," she uttered. She suddenly shifted and knelt up on the sofa, leaning back on her heels. A mischievous smile adorned her face as she gazed down at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Since you've teased me, I think it's only fair that I tease you back."
His eyes widened in shock and he felt as if his whole body was aflame. Goodness, what in the world does she have in mind? "I s-suppose, Beatrice..." he stammered, shrinking back down on the sofa under her gaze.
"Are you ticklish, darling?" she asked a little too sweetly.
"Not in the slightest," he lied, his breath hitching in his throat.
Beatrice leaned in so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face. He felt his pulse quicken as his chest started to heave up and down compulsively. Without breaking eye contact she softly rubbed her nose along his, then murmured against his lips, "You're lying."
Oh no. Without another word she leaned back and started to ruthlessly tickle him under his ribs, laughing loudly as he squirmed and wiggled underneath her relentless torment. He started to giggle and laugh painfully as she moved her hands up his torso to his underarms, continuing on with her delightful torture. He attempted to grasp her wrists to make her stop but she slipped right out of his hands.
"Beatrice, stop!" he pleaded through his laughter. He thrashed his head from side to side as her hands moved up to his neck, her tickling unrelenting and strangely arousing. He tried to push her hands away from him, but she was stronger than he expected. She grinned down wickedly at him and he nearly shouted, "Please, my love, I cannot bear it any longer!"
She suddenly stopped and loomed over him, breathless and panting from laughter; his breathing mirroring hers. Her ruby eyes smoldered as she gazed down at him, glistening in...desire? Love? Amusement? Perhaps a mixture of all? He wasn't sure, but he was sure that the look made him stop breathing for a second.
She leaned in closer so that her nose nearly touched his, her lips curled in a coy smile. Her cheeks grew steadily redder as she held her gaze, her smile fading as she parted her lips again. "May I kiss you?" she whispered in such a low tone that he was surprised he could hear her.
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. Why must she look at me with those eyes? He immediately regretted telling her not to gaze at him for too long with her ruby eyes. She was clever, perhaps a little too clever, and he knew in his heart of hearts that she was doing this on purpose.
Desire ran relentlessly through his veins and in the moment he really wished that he desired nothing but to make her happy—but that wish was in vain, because in truth he desired all of her; beauty, body, mind, and soul. Love overrules my lust, love overrules my lust, the words repeated themselves over and over again in his mind. He was starting to doubt that, though, as his shorts were beginning to become uncomfortably tight.
"Darts?" He laughed nervously, tilting his head slightly to the side and giving her a lopsided smile.
Beatrice put a finger to his mouth and shook her head, the most sly of smiles on her face. "I think I prefer this game," she lowly purred. He nearly melted. He wasn't aware his heart could beat any faster and momentarily pondered if he was too young to have a heart attack.
Mistel gently grabbed her hand and kissed her finger, then put it to his chest. "Beatrice, feel my heart and how fast it's beating. Do you wish to give me a heart attack?"
"No..."
"Well my heart feels like it very well may explode! You are making me slightly nervous..." he lied, as he was very nervous and really wished that she would drop the subject. He feared he would miss her mouth, or gnash his teeth against hers. He was positive that if that happened that it would be the worst kiss of her life, and he would be so immensely embarrassed that he wouldn't be able to look at her for weeks.
Beatrice sighed. "It's just a kiss, Mistel. I'm rather nervous myself, but it's just a simple kiss—and would you please relax? I can nearly feel how tense your whole body is right now."
He hadn't realized it, but his whole body was extremely tense. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in and let himself relax a little. "All right, Beatrice, you can kiss me—but just a small kiss, nothing too passionate." For the sake of my heart.
She pouted and whined, "But you said you'd give me the best kiss I've ever had after we played darts."
Mistel arched an eyebrow and teased, "Indeed, I did. But we haven't played darts, now have we?"
"Fine," she groaned. She stared at him for a moment longer, her flush returning, then moved her head over to the side of his face, tenderly kissing his cheek.
"I thought you were going to kiss me," he said, completely baffled.
"This is technically a kiss," Beatrice murmured against his cheek, "and I'm making my way to your lips. Now would you please shut your mouth before I lose all my nerve."
He swallowed hard as he felt his whole body flare. Beatrice kissed his cheek again, nearly kissing the side of his mouth, then abruptly pulled away and sat back down on the sofa, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, Mistel, I can't do this. I feel like I'm forcing myself on you," she said in a small voice, almost sounding as if she was about to cry. She shook her head rapidly back and forth, saying, "I haven't changed at all. I haven't changed one bit."
He hadn't the slightest clue what she was talking about. He felt his heart clench and leaned up, scooting closer to her and gently prying her hands from her face. He held both her hands close to his chest while he took in her appearance.
Her ruby eyes were wide and her lashes were beaded with tears, and as soon as they met his she looked to her lap. She looked slightly ashamed. It unsettled him. "Goodness, Beatrice, please don't cry," he nearly begged. "You weren't forcing yourself on me... Well, not exactly. It's just so early in the night, and I am not positive if my heart can handle a kiss at the moment."
"I'm sorry," Beatrice muttered, her eyes still glued to her lap.
Mistel squeezed her hands and said, "Please stop apologizing." He paused for a couple of minutes. "It's strange, isn't it? Going from best friends to lovers..."
"It is!" Beatrice emoted, finally looking at him. "I don't quite understand it. What do we do? Are we still best friends? Do we ignore that all together? I've never had this problem before."
"I'd like to think we're still best friends even though we are now lovers. Who says we can't be both? Not that I'd know, but I would think best friends make the best lovers, don't you agree? We already know so much about each other, so we can skip the awkward getting-to-know-you part of a relationship," Mistel said quickly.
"Well, yes, we do know a lot about each other, but not everything," Beatrice said a bit hesitatingly. "For example, I don't know anything about your past love life. Have you had many girlfriends?"
Mistel didn't really want to answer that. After a moment he said hollowly, "Define 'girlfriend'."
Beatrice laughed. "A girlfriend: someone who you go on dates with, someone who you love. Someone you kiss and laugh together and have a good time with."
"I've had flings, but I've never actually had a girlfriend. I've been in love, I've kissed girls, but I've never been in a relationship," he muttered. "Have you had a girlfriend?" He smirked.
Beatrice chuckled. "No, but I've kissed a girl."
His eyes widened in shock as he gaped at her. "I wasn't aware you liked girls in that way."
"Oh, I don't," she laughed. "Just me and my friends playing spin-the-bottle when we were young teenagers." She paused. "I must admit, I'm a bit jealous. I've never been in love before—well, until now. What was it like, when your 'flings' ended?"
"Painful," Mistel muttered. He quickly changed the subject back to about her. "I find it hard to believe that you've never had a boyfriend before. You are simply too beautiful. Surely a boy swept you off your feet at some point in your life?"
"I said I've never been in love, not that I didn't have any boyfriends," Beatrice replied conversationally.
"Boyfriends?" he hissed, releasing her hands. "As in, more than one?"
Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Only two, darling. Please don't tell me you're jealous of boys that I dated when I was sixteen and seventeen." She added, "Plus, it sounds to me that you've had more girlfriends—or flings, as you called it—than I've had boyfriends."
"I'm not," Mistel lied smoothly. "And I've only ever had a couple of short flings. With me and Iris moving around so much there wasn't enough time to actually have a real girlfriend. We did stay in one town for about a year, but apparently the girl I was in love with wasn't looking for a real relationship; she just wanted to drag me around by the nose. She was cruel... She acted very sweet; she would tell me how much she liked me and would kiss me, but when I confessed to her she turned me down.
"Enough about my love life. I've kissed a total of three girls in my life, so there isn't much to tell," he laughed without humor. "Tell me about your past boyfriends. What were they like?" Am I a masochist now? Why did I say that? I'd prefer to think they never existed.
"Simple. Stupid. And not nearly as handsome as you," Beatrice replied, flashing him her brilliant smile.
"Then why in the world would you date them?" Mistel asked, bemused.
"Reasons I'd rather not discuss with you at the moment. I fear you'll track them down and castrate them," Beatrice said frankly.
"Ah, I see," he attempted to say simply, but his voice came out in a subtle growl. He felt his blood begin to boil and started to take deep breaths to calm himself. She needn't say anymore, he understood completely what kind of relationship she had with those boys. He quickly changed the subject to something else before he lost his mind. "I must admit, it is kind of peculiar to see you without a book by your side."
"Lillie said it would be rude to bring a book with me... I wasn't sure if this was a date, but she said just in case that it was that I shouldn't bring one," she returned. "Lillie also told me to wear something else other than this dress. She said something about how she helped Corona the other day in helping pick out an outfit and that Gunther loved it. She was a little crossed with me for not letting her pick out an outfit for me, but I just feel more comfortable in this. Would you have preferred if I had dolled myself up?" Beatrice didn't sound anxious or nervous when asking, and he could tell that she was starting to relax a little more; that she was being her usual self instead of trying to act like someone she wasn't.
"Well, nothing bad can come of tidying oneself up..." he said a bit hesitatingly. "Although I'm positive you would look excellent in anything, and you do look wonderful tonight, as always," he said with a faint smile, taking her hand in his and kissing the top of it. He held on to her hand. He liked the feeling of her skin on his, even though her hands were always so cold. It made him feel comforted, it made him feel whole.
"So you would have preferred if I did doll myself up?" she said crossly, looking down at their hands while her cheeks turned scarlet.
"No, you misunderstood...but if you do ever decide to 'doll yourself up' please only do it around me. With that brilliant smile of yours it would do nothing but inflate the number of suitors I would have to fend off," Mistel said, grimacing.
"Oh, shut up," Beatrice said, laughing.
"You don't understand in the slightest. Goodness, you really don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" Mistel said, and Beatrice kept her eyes fixated on their hands. "All of the boys in town look at you like you are something to be devoured, but you're not. You are to be savored, you are to be treated preciously. You're not just a pretty face, you're intelligent and clever and thoughtful. You are truly the most wonderful person I have ever met."
He felt his body relax and his cheeks flush. He smiled sweetly and said, "When I started dating you, I thought I didn't have to worry about you anymore...or anything else, for that matter. But I just got greedier and greedier, to the point that I'm never satisfied at all anymore! And that's not a good thing, is it?"
Beatrice looked at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean? Of course you don't have to worry about me anymore! I only have eyes for you, I hope you know that. And what do you mean by 'I'm never satisfied at all anymore'?"
"It's not you that I worry about, it's those boys with their hungry eyes," he assured her, scowling slightly. "And I meant that I just want to be with you always. The past three days without seeing you have been torturous. I know you are a very busy person, but I do need some affection just as you do."
"I'm sorry, I'll try to come see you every other day from now on. I've missed you, too," Beatrice murmured.
"While that would make me very happy, I do not want to interfere with your work. Just come see me when you have the time, or I could come see you."
"That sounds good," Beatrice said with a shy smile.
After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence he asked, "So, what book are you currently reading?"
"The Time Machine," Beatrice replied.
"Really?! That's my favorite book!" Mistel emoted. "How do you like it?"
"It's very interesting," she said. "I didn't take you for the type of guy who would like science fiction. Why is it your favorite book?"
"Don't you find it interesting, the concept of traveling forwards or backwards in time? Then how over thousands of years people can evolve, and even split into two different species? One who are brutish and are cannibals, while the others are oblivious and don't care about anyone but themselves? And the ending! It's just so wonderfully interesting!" Mistel said excitedly.
"Don't tell me about the ending, darling! I haven't finished it yet," Beatrice said, playfully slapping his arm.
"I won't!" he laughed loudly. "I didn't say anything to spoil it for you. But you must finish it, it's truly a masterpiece."
"I will. Perhaps even tonight if I can't fall asleep," she said. "What would you like to do for the rest of the night?"
"Would you still like to play darts?" he suggested.
"Hmm, no, I don't think so. Would you like to dance? You have quite a lot of room and a beautiful record player."
"I would love to dance," Mistel said, smirking at her. He stood up and offered his hand to Beatrice, pulling her up from the sofa. He hadn't anticipated on her being so light, and she ended up falling into his arms. She leaned against his chest, looking slightly up at him while her cheeks grew steadily redder.
"Are you all right?" he asked, lifting her slightly by her arms and straightening her out.
"Y-yes," Beatrice stuttered, casting her eyes to the floor.
Mistel giggled loudly. "You're blushing again! I've never seen you blush around anyone but me, you know. Not that I mind. I'd rather keep your adorable blush to myself. But I do wonder, why is it only me who makes you blush?"
"I'm not sure, I really have no idea. I hardly ever blushed before I met you," Beatrice said, looking into his eyes intensely. "Perhaps it's all the teasing, or maybe it's because I've never felt this way about anyone before."
Mistel turned around and smiled to himself, whispering, "Neither have I."
He strolled over to the bookcase where the records were kept. He picked out one of his favorites and placed it on the record player, setting the stylus to one of his favorite songs.
Beatrice walked over to where he was standing in the middle of the room. Mistel smiled mischievously and gave a slight bow. He held out his hand to her and asked sweetly, "May I have this dance?"
Beatrice returned his smile, her cheeks turning pink. She gave a small curtsy and took his hand, saying, "Would you mind leading? I fear I'm not nearly as good as a dancer as you."
"Of course," he said, smirking.
The song he picked out started out slow, and he held her hand high in the air while he wrapped his other around her waist, pulling her close to him. Beatrice put her free hand on his shoulder and Mistel began to slowly spin her around the room, their eyes never leaving each other's.
The music picked up the tempo and he grinned at her as he began to spin her around more quickly. He let go of her waist to spin her around in a circle, then spun her into his chest. They both began to laugh, breathless from dancing quicker. Their eyes met for a split second before her spun her out from his chest, spinning her once more in a circle.
Mistel wrapped his arm around her waist again, holding her body flush against his while they danced around the room. Beatrice looked up at him with a huge grin on her face, her dimples showing and her eyes dancing with mirth. Mistel had never seen her look so happy before; and now that he thought about it, he had never felt so happy before. He wished she could stay in his arms forever.
He knew the song was about to end, and he dipped her down low. He bent down with her, and the next song began as they stared at each other. Beatrice's ruby eyes widened as her lips parted slightly. She was already breathless from dancing, but her breathing became even more uneven as she held her gaze.
Mistel's already pounding heart beat even quicker as he stared right back at her, and before he even knew what he was doing he leaned down even further, closing his eyes and softly pressing his lips to hers.
Mistel thought that would satisfy him; a sweet kiss without even their lips moving, but once he felt how soft her lips were and how intoxicating the feeling was he felt anything but satisfied. Without breaking apart, he pulled her up and put his hands to her waist, gently pushing her until her back was against the wall.
He pinned Beatrice to the wall with his hips, tilting his head slightly to deepen their kiss. He heard her breath hitch in her throat, his heart beating a mile a minute. He put one hand to her cheek, the other balled up in her hair. He moved his lips sweetly and slowly with hers, and she grasped his waistcoat tightly in her hands, attempting the impossible to pull him closer to her.
He heard Beatrice make a low moaning sound deep in her throat, causing his whole body to feel like it was on fire. He broke their lips apart for a moment to catch his breath and to tilt his head the other way, but he hardly had a chance to.
Beatrice moved one hand to his blond locks and roughly pulled on them to force his lips back to hers, her kisses more urgent and hungry. Mistel shuddered against her body, and gently pulled on her chocolate-colored hair to tilt her head. Their bodies were so close he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his own chest.
Beatrice moved her hand back to his waistcoat, pulling on it again. He could feel her trembling against his body, and smiled inwardly. Apparently he was having just as much as an effect on her as she was on him. He felt her timidly brush her tongue along his, as if asking for permission, and he happily obliged; entwining his tongue with hers.
Mistel immediately regretted doing that, as Beatrice began to passionately kiss him without mercy. He felt a wave of desire rush throughout his body and kissed her just as mercilessly as she was kissing him. She tilted her head and he caught his breath for a short moment before she pressed her lips back to his, then softly bit on his lower lip.
Their eyes met with a spark, and he moaned loudly into her mouth—which caused Beatrice to press her body more firmly into his. He really didn't want to pull away; he would be perfectly content kissing her for the rest of eternity. But their kisses were becoming more passionate by the second, and he feared that if he didn't stop soon things would go further than he wanted to tonight.
Mistel broke their lips apart but continued to pin her body to the wall with his hips. Beatrice let out a small groan of displeasure, and he gave her a few more swift pecks before resting his forehead against hers. He lovingly gazed into her beautiful ruby eyes while they gasped for breath, and although Beatrice's eyes glistened with love they also were dark with desire—and he had no doubt that his eyes were no different.
He felt as if his brain had suddenly stopped working, his head clouded to the point where he could hardly think at all. He felt slightly woozy and weak in the knees. He had never been drunk before, but he was almost positive that the intoxicating feeling he felt was the same effect alcohol would have on him. He momentarily forgot how to speak, and had a hard time stringing a sentence together. "So...how...was that?" Mistel hoped she couldn't hear the uncertainty in his voice.
Beatrice beamed, her adorable dimples showing, and said in her usual singsong voice, "Perfection. The best kiss I've ever had. You kept your promise."
Mistel sighed in relief. "Ah, I'm very glad to hear that. Overjoyed, actually." He realized he was still pinning her to the wall and took a step back.
"Well... How was it for you?" Beatrice wondered, her tone sounding uncertain.
"Atrocious. You are an awful kisser, my dear," Mistel said seriously. He tried his very hardest not to smile.
"Wh-what?" Beatrice gasped. "I had no idea I was such an awful kisser..." She pouted, fixating her eyes on her boots. Her whole face turned crimson.
Mistel giggled loudly. "I'm just joking, my love! You are a wonderful kisser. That was positively the best kiss I've ever experienced!" He put a finger under her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. "The very notion of you thinking that you would be an awful kisser is absurd. I never wanted it to end!" He beamed brightly.
He pressed his lips softly to hers again for a second. "You are far too adorable. I can hardly handle it! You've cajoled me into wanting to kiss you every second of every day with your adorable naivete!"
"It's so very hard to tell when you're joking, darling!" Beatrice exclaimed, her flush slowly fading.
"It's a skill I've mastered," he said, his bright smile returning. He cast his eyes to his grandfather clock and pouted. "Drat! We must've lost track of the time, it's nearly eleven. Surely you must be getting tired! Let me see you home."
Beatrice yawned and said, "Yes, I'm a bit sleepy. But there's no need for you to walk me all the way back to my farm. It's about a half an hour walk at least, and then you'd have to walk all the way back home. I'd feel bad."
"If you insist, my dear. At least let me walk you to the mountain trail." He was slightly disappointed that he wouldn't be walking her home; he wanted to be with her for a little while longer. But she was right, if he did walk her home he wouldn't return until midnight, and he needed to get some sleep; he had work in the morning. Although he now doubted he would be able to fall asleep at all with the memory of their kiss fresh in his mind. He would probably be thinking about it all night, anticipating the next time he could feel her soft lips against his.
"Yes, of course you can walk me to the mountain trail, that's hardly a five minute walk!"
Mistel smiled and took her hand in his. "Let's be off, come on."
He pulled her down the stairs and out the door. Once outside he let go of her hand, and before he could even catch his breath Beatrice roughly pushed him against the door, putting her hands on either sides of his face and passionately claiming his lips.
She pulled away after a moment, her cheeks dusted a light shade of pink. She gave him a coy smile and said timidly, "I wanted to kiss you one last time before I had to leave. I wasn't sure when the next time I'd be able to."
After a second of composing himself Mistel beamed at her, cheerfully saying, "You can kiss me anytime, anywhere you'd like!"
Mistel heard a loud noise that sounded like a slap coming from the direction of Klaus's house and both him and Beatrice looked over. It was apparent that Iris had just slapped Klaus, as he was holding his hand to his cheek and gaping at her. In the next moment Iris grabbed Klaus's face in her hands and kissed him very passionately, then pulled away and slapped him hard.
Beatrice looked to Mistel and raised an eyebrow, giving him a weird look. He just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"Promise me our relationship will never be as screwed up as theirs," Beatrice muttered.
"That, my dear, is a promise I am positive I can keep," he said in a teasing tone.
Klaus hung his head low and walked into his house. Iris stormed over to them with a scowl on her face. She fiercely stated, "I'm done with him! He is a disgusting man, and I'd be happy if I never had to see his face again!"
With that she threw open the door and stomped inside. Mistel looked to Beatrice and said a little sadly, "I'm afraid I won't be able to walk you to the mountain trail, I have to go and see if Iris is all right."
"That's fine," Beatrice said. "I'd much rather you make sure Iris is okay, anyway."
Mistel took her hand in his and kissed it. He looked into her eyes and said, "I promise next time I will take you on a proper date. Until then, my dear."
Beatrice grinned and kissed his cheek. "Until then," she said, then turned on her heel and walked away.
"Perhaps you could come visit me before then!" he called after her.
Mistel heard her chiming laughter and watched her until she rounded the corner of the eastern stairs, then went inside of his home. He walked up the stairs to see that Iris was sitting on one of the turquoise sofas, a glass of wine in her hand.
"So I take it that it didn't go very well?" Mistel said, arching an eyebrow.
Iris scoffed and downed the glass of wine in one swig, then poured herself another. He sighed and sat down next to her.
"I don't want to talk about it," Iris said. "All I need is you. You are precious to me, Mistel, and you're all the love I need."
"I just want to see you happy, Iris," Mistel said soberly.
"I don't need a man to make me happy, brother!" Iris snapped.
"I know...but I would prefer you have a significant other to keep you company..." he said hesitatingly. "I may not always be here, you know?"
"I know," Iris sighed. "I feared this day would come... I just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon.
"I really don't want to be alone once you're married off, but what other choice do I have?" Iris looked into his eyes and for a moment he feared she might cry.
"You could try dating a man who would love you like you deserve to be loved," Mistel suggested.
"I think it would be best if I were alone for a little while...but I did hear through the grapevine that a man named Nadi would be arriving in town soon," Iris said. "Perhaps I could try pursuing him?"
"As long as it's not Fritz I will be happy with whomever you choose to be with," Mistel said with a faint smile.
"Thank you, Mistel. I think I may drink a little more and go to bed, but you look rather tired yourself. So please don't worry about me, and go to sleep. You have work in the morning," Iris said sternly.
Mistel stood and walked toward his bedroom. Before he opened the door he said, "Please do not drink too much, sister. I'll worry all night if you do."
"I won't," she promised. "Just one more glass and I'll be off to bed myself."
He sighed. "Goodnight, Iris. If you need me you know where to find me."
Iris nodded her head and took another sip out of her glass. Mistel headed into his bedroom and closed the door. Apparently he wasn't going to have to convince Klaus to leave her.
He changed into his pajamas and laid down in his bed, all of the things that had transpired throughout the night dancing in his brain while he tried to fall asleep.
The thoughts were bittersweet. Although Beatrice and him had a successful night, Iris had the exact opposite. He didn't want her to feel lonely or left out, but what could he do?
He was happy and she was miserable.
Mistel fell asleep that night with the sound of Iris softly sobbing and thoughts of him and Beatrice dancing and their kisses. As much as he tried, he couldn't get the thoughts of her soft lips on his out of his mind, nor her ruby eyes boring into his head.
Mistel couldn't fall asleep until at least two a.m. He had no idea when Iris fell asleep. He could still hear her sobs as he drifted off.