A/N: Sorry about the delay. My kids started school this week and its been nuts! This chapter gets a little fluffy and I'm not great at writing fluff – just a warning. I thought they needed a little calm before the storm.
Chapter 6: Something Worth Celebrating
I couldn't help rubbing my sleepy eyes as I sat on the couch and pretended to read. The dreams had plagued me for the last five nights. Mostly, they were all the same, but sometimes Sid became violent. Those nights, I'd always wake up in the floor or with my head throbbing from where I'd banged it on the headboard. Last night, I'd screamed myself awake and both Stephen and Callum had come rushing in to ensure I wasn't being assaulted in my sleep. The dreams… they were really getting bad.
But that wouldn't stop this celebration from happening.
My smile widened as I mentally ran through all the party planning Boo and I had done these last few days. The decorations were in place in the kitchen and everything was going to be perfect. If he would just hurry up and get here! What a day for him to be running late.
And then I heard footsteps on the stairs. The door started to creak open.
"Another dead end," Stephen complained as he trudged in. He and Boo had been chatting up contacts all week, but so far, no leads. The books had been less than helpful as well. But I was too keyed up to worry about it right now.
"I thought Callum was staying with you," Stephen complained, visually searching the apartment for our overly-muscular roommate. "Please tell me he didn't just leave you here–"
"SURPIRSE!"
The word was shouted by the three people that came darting out of the kitchen… well, four if you counted Thorpe standing there awkwardly.
"Happy Birthday," I shouted, jumping off the couch and throwing handfuls of confetti in the air.
"B-birthday," Stephen stuttered, staring us down as though we'd turned into little green men in tutus.
"You're birthday, silly. Remember?"
He still looked very confused, and like he may be having a heart attack.
"Rory read your file," Thorpe explained. "She insisted we celebrate."
"Come into the kitchen," Boo cooed, and she and I each took a hand and guided him to the adjoining kitchen where balloons and streamers filled every imaginable surface. On the kitchen table was the cake I'd spent the morning baking.
"A cake shaped like a ghost," Stephen inquired, and I could see his mouth start to twitch up into a smile.
"Of course," I smirked. "They eyes are M&Ms!"
"And there's a plethora of adult beverages in the refrigerator. And you look like you could use one," Callum prompted, slipping a beer into Stephen's hand. He was still too dumbstruck to drink it.
"I haven't celebrated a birthday in years," Stephen whispered. "You really didn't have to do this."
"Please," Callum chuckled. "You know how insane Rory is. Like we could just say no."
Boo nodded. "And you deserve one. Too much work, not enough play!"
Stephen's smile spread and he reached down to gently squeeze my hand. No one noticed except Freddie, who had been standing over in the corner the entire time. Something about her face told me she was not pleased to see Stephen and me so close.
"First, music," Callum instructed, and he proceeded to turn up some British rock band I'd never heard before. He grabbed Boo's hand and twirled her around, purposely bumping into us all until we were all dancing around the kitchen, though Stephen was more swaying awkwardly by the table.
Only Thorpe, who was rolling his eyes, seeming out of the dancing spirit. I traded a conspiratorial look with Freddie and we both took his hands, pulling him out into the middle of the kitchen, forcing him to dance with us.
"A little more foot movement," I shouted over the music, but Thorpe just shook his head, trying not to laugh as he pulled away.
It was as close to a carefree moment as we'd had in weeks. I finally ended up with Stephen, forcing him to follow my lead as I spun around the kitchen.
"Dancing's really not my thing. I had lessons as a kid, but all my instructors agreed I was hopeless," he whispered, his lips just a tad too close to my ear. Another oddly upset look from Freddie. "I'll probably injure you."
"I can risk it."
Throwing my arms around his neck, which was quite a stretch considering how tall he was, we danced through two songs before Boo, out of breath and still clutching onto Callum, turned the music down.
"I say we go for presents! You have to open mine first," she shouted, rushing into my bedroom, where the presents were stashed.
She brought in a big box with a neat little bow on top.
"This you really didn't have to do," he insisted, but she just shoved the box into his hands. Making quick work of the paper and the lid, he pulled out several records – like real old-timey records. Where had Boo even found these?
"I know how much you like vinyl," she explained, and Stephen's face lit up.
"You must have searched months for these."
"I may have stalked eBay for a while, yeah."
Stephen wasn't one for public displays of affection, but he reached over and pulled her into a one-armed hug, his eyes becoming a little glassy.
"Thank you," and it was a truly heart felt thank you. Boo swiped away a single tear.
"Mine next," Freddie chirped, sliding some large, but narrow thing onto the table. It turned out to be a brand new atlas. "Since Callum kind of ruined yours."
Stephen actually laughed at this and Callum ducked his head.
"This is from me," Thorpe spoke up, reaching under the sink and producing an unwrapped laptop. "It's the newest model, best on the market."
"And it's also a present that inspires him to work. How convenient," Callum snickered.
"It will make work more efficient, yes."
"I do love efficiency," Stephen assured him, opening up the computer and starting it up. He still seemed in shock from the actual presents on his actual birthday.
"Well, I don't really do wrapping," Callum explained, holding up his beer. "You're drinking my present."
I couldn't hold off the eye roll as I ran into my bedroom to retrieve my present. Honestly, I was nervous. I'd wracked my brain for weeks over the perfect gift, searching every website I could think of and making phone calls. What if he hated it? What if he was furious and threw it out the window? Okay, that probably wouldn't happen. Get a grip!
Stephen's eyes immediately found mine as I re-entered the kitchen and I realized this was a pivotal moment in our relationship. Nervously, I handed over the somewhat heavy package and held my breath as he tore off the wrapping.
His expression went almost completely blank as he stared down, his entire frame still. It wasn't until he looked up and I could see the choking emotions in his eyes that I knew he liked it.
"Where did you find these," he asked, holding out the three volumes of Shakespeare's plays. They weren't first editions, like he said his sister had once possessed, but they were very old, printed in the 1800s, and in the original binding. It had cost quite a bit in the money department, but it was well worth it now.
"Oh, it was easy. You know, just down the street to the book store." The look he cut me was incredulous, but marred by his half smile. "Okay, so it was a little harder than that."
He moved quickly, pulling me into a hug and resting his head on the top of mine. "Thank you," he mumbled, and I clung to him tighter. I could have happily stayed like this for the rest of the day, breathing in the scent of his body soap that was still clinging to his skin. Despite the chill, he wore only a thin jumper that was soft under my hands.
"Uh-hum," Callum cleared his throat, and Stephen pulled away as the snickers followed. "I didn't say the party was over. We still have this cake to destroy."
And the cake – an old red velvet recipe handed down from my great Aunt – was devoured in less than ten minutes with even Thorpe sneaking an extra piece. But the entire time, I couldn't take my eyes off Stephen. Over the years, he had truly become gifted at burying his emotions, pretending they didn't affect him. It was nice to see the joy in his eyes, even as he tried to squash it. I couldn't imagine parents who discouraged joy. He was the happiest I'd ever seen him and my heart swelled at the sight. At one point, I loved him so much that I thought the emotions would choke me to death right then.
When I did pry my eyes from Stephen's tentative smile, I couldn't help but notice that the more drunk Callum became, the more affectionate he became with Boo. How he would randomly sneak up on her and tickle her or throw his arm casually around her shoulders as he told a story. When they danced, he'd pull her close and they'd stagger around the living room, bumping into tables. Clearly, even a star athlete was no longer graceful after enough beers.
"Now that Stephen's birthday present is all gone – thanks to you drunken louts – I say we continue this down at the pub," Callum offered while Boo was already grabbing for her coat.
"As much fun as I've had partying with you children," Thorpe began, inching towards the door, "I unfortunately have a glass of wine waiting for me at home."
"And I have to get back before curfew," Freddie explained.
Callum wrapped a friendly arm around Stephen's shoulders, leaning into him a little too much. "What about you, mate? The birthday boy can't say no."
"Actually, the birthday boy can do what he likes. My head's already spinning, so I'll decline."
"What? No! I need you there."
Stephen raised a brow in question, and I was quite certain Stephen had never went bar hopping with Callum, but after a moment of silence, Callum relented.
"I won't abandon you," Boo offered, and Callum took her hand and began dragging her out the door.
"Finally, someone I can trust."
And with that, Stephen and I were left completely alone in the flat.
"So," Stephen began, and immediately stumbled into the sofa.
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "So, you should probably sit down before you hurt yourself."
"Yeah, I really don't drink."
Gingerly, Stephen settled onto the couch. His eyes were glassy and his lids heavy. I was almost certain he'd be asleep within the next couple minutes. Part of me wanted nothing more than to curl up on that couch with him, to fall asleep with my head on his shoulder. But it had been five days since we'd kissed. Although there had been several glances and momentary holding of the hands, he had not made a single move. Granted, we hadn't really been alone.
I was a coward.
That was the real problem. Stephen was obviously drunk and I was afraid he'd either reject me or that things would progress and we'd do something he'd come to regret in the morning. We'd kissed all of two times now and each time I craved him more and more. I didn't think I could take it if he turned me away again. I would shatter right here on the floor and since I was the one who did all the housework, no one would clean up my scattered pieces. They'd be tracked into the carpet and squished under the sofa.
And now I was thinking like a mental person. Maybe I was drunk too.
Instead of giving in to desire, I moved to the kitchen and started cleaning up all the cake plates. The lights were still set low from the dancing and the white balloons gave the room an ethereal feel. It was so quiet and peaceful that I nearly jumped out of my skin when Stephen's arms encircled my waist.
"Thank you," his breathed against my ear, his voice husky. "I know I said it before, but I really mean it. Thank you. I haven't had a birthday party since I was twelve, and even then it was just me and my sister."
"You know, I've been imagining some really horrible punishments for your parents. After this is finally over, I'm going to hunt them down and…"
But I trailed off when I felt his lips on my neck, just below my ear.
"I like drunk Stephen," I muttered. He chuckled against my skin.
"I know. My tolerance is terrible."
Turning my head, I was met with his bright eyes staring down into mine and his arms tightened around my waist. He had to bend over to be this close to me, but at the moment, he didn't look like it bothered him. The longer he stared at me like that, the faster my heart sped and my nerves got the best of me.
"Your family reminds me of this guy I went to school with who–"
But his lips descended on mine before I could finish the nervous babbling.
"Has it been mentioned that you talk too much," he inquired, and then we were kissing again.
Really kissing. Kissing that leaves no room for breathing. I'd turned in his arms without consciously realizing I was doing it and my hands worked their way up into his hair as I went up on my toes. The height difference was certainly bothering him now and he took my breath away as he lifted me up and sat me on the kitchen counter, pulling me flush with his body. My legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord and I couldn't help the small moan that escaped me as his hand ran up my thigh under my dress.
I really did like drunk Stephen. Sober Stephen would have never been this demanding. He would have denied what we both wanted and thought only of propriety and what was right. But drunk Stephen took what he wanted and allowed his love of control to take over. For the first time since I'd come to this rainy country, I wasn't cold. If anything, I was overheating.
As my dress slid inch by inch up my thighs, my clumsy fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling as I undid them. I was rewarded by the smooth skin of his chest and the chiseled muscle it revealed. Police training really did work wonders.
But as Stephen's hand found the zipper of my dress, I felt the first stirrings of panic. Where he had abs to write home about, my stomach was more of the squishy variety, complete with a nasty scar cutting across it all the way down past my waist. I'd never really been self-conscious about by body before, but I'd also never been in this position before. And I'd never been in love before.
"Wait," I whispered against his lips, and he froze instantly.
"I'm… Sorry. I'm sorry. It was too fast. Drunk Stephen tends to act before he thinks."
"No, no. It's not that. I don't want to slow down."
I tightened my legs around his waist when he tried to pull away and his hands gripped the counter on both sides of my thighs as he let out a small gasp of pleasure.
"What is it, Rory?"
He was looking right at me and for a moment, I was struck speechless. How could anyone's eyes be so blue? I was drowning in them. My head swam and all I wanted was to feel those lips against mine.
Those blue eyes drifted down and he finally seemed to catch the reason for my unrest. Without even realizing I'd done it, my hand had come to rest against my stomach.
"Your scar," he inquired, and I hung my head sheepishly. "Rory, you are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The only thing this scar shows is how brave you are."
"Says the guy that's never seen it."
"I'm serious, Rory."
"So am I." My voice had taken on a whiny quality that usually meant I was embarrassed. "It's really gross and when you see it, you're not going to be thinking about kissing me all night. You'll be begging me to cover it back up."
Softly, Stephen tipped my chin up so he could look me in the eye. "Let me prove it."
"Huh?" His eyes were doing that intensely blue thing again and my brain momentarily turned to mush.
"Let me see it."
Slowly, I nodded my head and he stepped back, letting me make the decision myself.
"Not here," I instructed, taking his hand as I slid off the counter and led him down the hall. I walked backwards, never taking my eyes off him until we were in his bedroom with the door shut.
Reminding myself to breathe, I closed my eyes as I gripped the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head, tossing it to his floor. Holding my breath now, I waited one second, then two, then three. And then I wanted to cry and yank the dress back on, cursing myself for ruining what would probably have been a wonderful night and–
"Rory," Stephen spoke softly. "Open your eyes."
When I did, his was standing only inches away from me, his hand reaching out slowly to run down the length of my scar. Holding my gaze, he dropped down to his knees and…
His lips… on my stomach. I was tingling all over and my legs were suddenly so wobbly that I wasn't sure they'd continue to hold me up. He drug his lips down my scar, to my bellybutton and back up. If there was a small part of me that was cursing the plain white bra and panty set I was currently sporting, it shut up fast. My hands wound into his hair and when he stood back up to capture my lips again, I pulled him to me so hard, I sent us both falling back onto the bed.
"I always state the facts, Rory. You're beautiful," he promised, his lips tilting up in a smile against my neck and in that moment, I was the happiest I'd ever been.
~SoL~
Since moving to London, I had never once woken up warm. The minute my eyes open, my body would instantly curl up in a fetal position, trying to hold the warmth in as long as I could before I had to venture out of my bed and sometimes I'd start to shiver from the very thought. Once, I'd tried daydreaming about the Louisiana sun, hoping I could trick my tired brain into thinking it was home.
I didn't have to daydream this morning, because for once, I was actually warm. My head was still a little fuzzy from the alcohol last night, so it took me a moment to work out why I wasn't in my bed… and then I noticed the arm wrapped tightly around me, holding me flush against a very warm body.
Stephen's breath fanned out across the back of my neck as he slept and I couldn't hold the smile back any longer. Last night… had that really happened? My swollen lips were proof that yes, it had happened. Stephen had seen more of me than anyone – ever – and he'd said I was beautiful. Beautiful.
I'd been called cute and pretty and Jerome had always appreciated the way I looked, but no one had ever called me beautiful, not like that. And the kisses… they lasted for hours and hours until we'd both been so exhausted that we fell asleep in each other's arms. I had never been so perfectly content.
Despite the presence of drunk Stephen and giddy Rory, we had taken things slow. His pants had stayed on, as had my annoyingly plain underwear, and for now, this was enough. Perfectly enough.
I felt Stephen shift beside me and the arm holding me tightened.
"Morning," he breathed against my neck, dropping a kiss just under my ear.
"I want to wake up like this all the time. You're like my very own space heater. I think this is the warmest I've been since I got here."
"Glad I could help."
I took his hand, pulling it up to my lips and laying soft kisses across his knuckles. He started to raise up behind me… and then he groaned in pain.
"My head," he lamented, falling back against the pillows. "I really don't drink."
Rolling over so I was facing him, I ran my hand up his face and into his hair, massaging his temple softly. "Bet I can make it better," I murmured as I brought my lips to his. The kiss was slow this morning, but deep and decadent. Neither of us had any plans of ever moving again.
His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me on top of him and my contentment was suddenly gone, replaced by a desire so strong I couldn't hold it in.
"I love you," I spoke against his lips… and he froze.
Why, oh why, wasn't I born with a verbal filter like everyone else?! Why did I always just blurt stuff out? Stephen was staring at me with wide eyes, completely speechless.
"W… what did you say," he managed to whisper.
"I said, I love you."
I could feel the heat traveling up my cheeks as my blush spread. It was uncertain whether he was staring at me in complete amazement or utter horror, and I was just about to kiss him again, just in case it was the latter, when there was a rapid knock on the door.
"Stephen, get up! Rory's gone," Callum shouted through the door, and as the panicked look spread from Stephen's face to mine, I knew we'd just had the same thought. We'd forgotten to lock the door.
"Stephen," Callum called out as he threw the door open and stormed in. "Did you hear me?! I said Rory's…"
Throwing the covers up over my head a second too late, I heard Callum bust out laughing.
"Um… uh," Stephen began, but his voice seemed to have left him.
"Next time, just leave a 'do not disturb' sign on the door or something," Callum chuckled, and a moment later, I heard the door close.
"Rory… I'm so sorry. I can't believe I didn't lock the door."
Pulling the covers back, I planted a kiss on his cheek. "So much for hiding."
"Maybe we still can. We can say–"
"Stephen, your shirt is across the room. I don't think he's going to believe I had a nightmare and didn't want to sleep by myself."
Nodding slowly, Stephen started to sit up, but I pushed him back down.
"He already knows, Stephen, and I was not done kissing you!"
At first, I thought Stephen would protest, but then a look crossed his face that I'd never seen there before. It was mischievous. With no warning at all, I was tossed on my back as Stephen's weight settled on top of me and his lips were on mine once again.
