Author's note: Thank you so much, UntilNeverDawns, for your help with this story! Fastest and best beta ever!
ThatGirl54: Sorry, for the cliffhanger. That's a bad habit I need to quit, but I do need to find a way to keep you guys hooked 22 chapters in, right? Her mother is even going to turn out much more of a treat, just you wait...
Bharm: You're wish is my command, dear. :-) Heaps and heaps of Stephen/Nina time coming up!
She stopped walking, stood on the balls of her feet and looked around. She finally spotted him among the arriving travelers. Their eyes met across the sea of people. He looked very handsome. Grey pants, grey vest, underneath it a white shirt, rolled up sleeves, matching grey flat cap. In fact he looked more handsome than he had any right to be. Seeing him did something funny to her. She felt some pull, right there in the area underneath her rib cage. It was a strange kind of longing, like homesickness, almost a physical ache. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as he walked towards her. He stopped mere inches from her. The tips of their shoes were almost touching. She briefly risked a glance down: it looked like those shiny Oxford shoes were having some sort of rendezvous with her black high heels.
When she looked up, she saw directly into his blue eyes that were so familiar, it almost took her breath away. The artificial light from above made him seem paler than he actually was, but she didn't mind that. Actually it was something that made her smile on the inside.
"Hi!" he said softly, almost sounding like he was afraid he'd scare her away if he raised his voice too much. She could have opted for a 'hi' as well, but she couldn't. Her voice failed her, so she just snapped her mouth shut.
She reached out her hand as if to touch him. It was ice cold and trembling ever so slightly. She stopped herself mid-movement. What if he didn't want that? What if his feeling for her had changed in the last couple of weeks and a simple touch was invasion of his privacy he didn't approve of? Her thoughts came to stuttering halt when his hand wrapped around hers and he placed his other one over it as well. They felt warm, rough and were so much bigger than her own hands, which almost seemed to disappear between them.
His touch was like a wake-up call. It made her snap out of her daze and reminded her that this was real. That he was really here now and this was really happening.
A smile broke out on her face. "Hi!" she said softly. Her mind was clear enough now for her senses to do their work in a more reliable fashion. She noticed the already fading, slightly yellowish bruise around his right eye and instinctively reached out to touch his skin. He flinched ever so slightly as her cool fingertips connected with the sensitive area around his eye.
"What happened?" she asked. Her voice carried some of the concern she was harboring and as if that wasn't enough, he could see it clearly written on her face. You couldn't fake that level of concern. It ran deeper than just a polite enquiry for his health, she was frowning like she was trying to think of ways to make it better and make his pain go away. Right now, this very instant.
"It's nothing," he said gently. "Just a little bruise."
"It hurts, so it's not nothing. Stop saying stuff like that. You can feed that crap to someone else. Someone who cares less." She was getting angry at him, mostly at his evidently lacking sense of self-preservation. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for a sign, any kind of indication that he got what his being hurt meant to her. Nothing. She continued. "I'm sorry if this is uncalled for…," she was biting her bottom lip, apparently trying to keep in the words that were on the tip of her tongue. She lost the battle. "Actually, scratch that! I'm not sorry. I care. I care a lot. And if that bothers you, well than you'll just have to deal with it." His eyes inevitably landed on her. It felt like he finally understood, because they widened ever so slightly. Or maybe that was just because her bossiness was irritating him.
"It's a shiner," he said matter-of-factly. "Not the end of the world."
"Of course it's not the end of the world. I know that." She was irritated. It was obvious. But it was unclear whom her anger was directed against. Him? Herself? The situation? His job?
"Okay...," he said slowly, cautiously.
"Just forget I've ever said anything. That comment was out of line. I have no right…," she looked at the shiny airport floor in embarrassment.
"No, please. You do. Tell me…," he said softly.
She looked up at him and got lost in his eyes. People were zipping past them, paying them no heed - just as little as they paid attention to them. They were only focused on each other.
"Forget it. It was silly. I mean look at you, you're this big tree of a man. Naturally you can take care of yourself. You don't need me. Just think how ridiculous it would be if I jumped into the ring and tried to beat up Big Show for you… Completely ridiculous." She scoffed. "But sometimes, just sometimes I wish I could protect you, you know?" She downcast her eyes. "Mmmmh, I guess that sounds pretty silly, doesn't it?"
"Heavens, Nina, it's not silly. It's one of the nicest things someone's ever said to me," he said, smiling at her. The last remains of his hesitance melted away. He could no longer keep himself from doing it. He pulled her against his chest and hugged her.
She let out a deep sigh and gave up all resistance as well. He felt her wrap her arms tightly around him. He actually lifted her off her feet. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck. One of his hands stroked the back of her head. They clung to each other tightly, unwilling to let go of each other in the next foreseeable future. "I missed you, Little Miss Sledgehammer." He had not used that endearment ever since right after the first time they had kissed and it catapulted her right back to that day.
The memories flooded her mind and they seemed more real for some reason now that he was here. Would it ever be that way again? So easy, so uncomplicated like in the early days? Maybe it could. She wanted to laugh it off, but she surprised herself when instead of a chuckle, a little sob escaped her mouth. "I missed you too," she answered with a quivering voice. Upon hearing the tears in her voice, he felt the need to let go of her, probably to comfort her, but she wouldn't allow it. Even though she was standing on her own two feet again, because he had set her down, she slung her arms a little more tightly around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Please, don't tell me you've changed your mind..."
"I haven't," he told her and she heard him clear his throat after those words. His own voice was heavy with emotions. "Have you?" She pulled back a little to look at his face.
"No," she said simply. His face was slightly flushed and she could see that his eyes were shining, probably thanks to the excessive air conditioning that was characteristic of airports. Couldn't be anything else, right?
The word "softie" was hovering to the forefront of her mind, but now was not the time to tease him. "I've really had a horrible time the last three weeks, you know," she said softly.
He smiled a genuine smile. One that reach his eyes, unlike the ones she had seen on TV those past weeks. "Not as bad as mine."
"Just as bad probably," she amended.
"You've lost weight," he observed and the way he said it, his voice laced with concern and affection, made it clear that he didn't approve.
"You've got a shiner," she replied softly. It was a befitting retort, but lacking any sting. Instead it had a rather tender ring to it.
"True," he smiled.
There was something in that smile that made her want to be closer to him. She stood on the balls of her feet. Her fingers caressed the side of his face. She brushed her knuckles over his rough beard. "I'm only going to say this once," their eyes met and she felt a sudden bolt of excitement rush through her, "I've been a broody, insufferable mess the last couple of weeks."
That smile again, now very up close and personal. "Oh, really? Correct me if I'm being too optimistic here, but does that mean you still want to be with me?"
"Steve," she sighed in exasperation. "Do you honestly still need to ask? Cause I'd be disappointed to find out your skull's actually that thick..."
They were slowly approaching normalcy again. Their banter was getting back on track and maybe their relationship would follow suit. Right now things were certainly looking up.
"No," he grinned. "But it still would be kind of nice to hear it, though...," there was that teasing sparkle in his eyes again that she loved so much. Her heart melted a little at the sight of it. She was relieved. Actually it was very well possible that she had never been quite that relieved before in her life. And it was probably because of that heavy burden having been lifted off her shoulders that she suddenly felt inspired to pour her heart out to him.
"Fine," she replied, looking down for a moment before she raised her gaze to meet his again. "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. About you and me and life in general..."
"Interesting," he quipped. "Wanna share your thoughts with me?"
"Yeah… Well, how do I put this best?" she chewed her bottom lip pensively, trying to conjure the right words in her mind.
Her next question came out sort of random, but since he knew that she would eventually make her point, he was willing to bear with her. "Do you ever stop to think about the difference between black and white photos and the ones in color?"
Huh? Where the hell was she going to go with that analogy? He chuckled and incredulously shook his head.
"So does that mean you haven't? Is that a 'no' then?" she asked and he nodded with an indulgent smile on his lips. "I do have a point here, okay?" Nina informed him sort of gruffly.
"I hoped as much," he told her with a grin on his face. "Maybe you want to get to it then, because I sort of have a difficult time following that analogy of yours…"
"All right. All right," she made an appeasing gesture with her hands. "Maybe on hindsight that metaphor with the photographs really sucks, but now I guess I have to go through with it."
"You might as well." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm curious, am I color photography, or what?" He stroked his beard, his eyes sparkling briefly in amusement under the artificial light.
"Yes?" she asked timidly. She took another deep breath, willing herself to struggle through the by now embarrassing metaphor. "Well, can you imagine anyone wanting to go back to plain old silly black and white photographs after color came around? I can't," she licked her lips nervously. She was getting close to making her point now. "I suppose you could say before you came along my life could best be described like one of those black and white pictures, sort of nice, orderly and a bit boring. The thing is, sort of nice doesn't cut it anymore..."
"Despite the awful analogy I think I get what you mean," he smiled, apparently ready to put her out of her misery.
"Do you?" she asked genuinely surprised, inclining her head to the side while she shot him a skeptical look. Not even she herself was sure she got the point that she had wanted to make.
He nodded. His next words seemed abrupt and random as well, like he was taking a page out of her book, but they really weren't as random as they appeared at first. "Did you know that ever since I came to America, it's been nearly six years by the way, I've almost travelled non-stop?" She shook her head mechanically, unable to tell where he was going with this.
He paused, preparing himself to admit something out loud he wouldn't usually have told any other living soul, because he didn't like to wear his heart on the sleeve like that.
"This job makes you turn into a nomad. And while travelling is nice and has its perks, cities get interchangeable, all those airports look the same after a while... You start to realize that you don't really have a home and begin to think about what home really is. Home isn't a hotel room or an empty house. But home can be a certain person...," he told her and looked at her, trying to convey the gravity of his admission by the way his eyes were intently fixed on her face.
"Yes, I suppose," she answered and cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice from getting too thick with emotions. "You know as a writer I kind of appreciate subtleties, even though as we previously established, I'm not very good at them. So I need you to actually spell things out for me this time. Because we have to say those things to each other now. It not like we can afford to sneak around them anymore. This is it..."
"Right," he looked down at the tips of his shoes and then back at her face again. This conversation right here cost him more courage than any fight he had fought in the ring. His opponents would usually just dish out pain. When they spotted a weakness they capitalized on it, so it was a bad idea showing any weakness in general. This little lady right in front of him wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than honesty. While honesty was at times a weapon that could be wielded to inflict damage, right now by being honest he only made himself more vulnerable. It required him to go against his instincts and everything that he had learned in the last couple of years. Still, he pushed himself to say the next words, because what was worse than being potentially hurt was letting a moment like that pass you by out of cowardice.
"The fact that I think of you as my home... well, I like to think that it means we belong together or we are meant to be or whatever the feck it is you're supposed to say when you love someone that much. But maybe I'm flattering meself here. Maybe you don't feel the same way." He had just revealed his most private thoughts to her. There was a shyness and vulnerability in his eyes he rarely let anyone see. The last time he had let anyone see that side of him, was back as a child. Years of being bullied had forced it into hiding from the rest of the world. Up until now.
"I do feel the same way," her voice was soft and heavy with emotions. How could he doubt that she did? She took a step closer, trying to communicate how serious she was about this by just looking at him.
His left hand came to rest against her cheek. His thumb stroked her skin. The gesture was almost reverent, like he was touching a china doll. It made her heart ache.
"So we're going to find a way to make this work?" she asked.
"Yes, because I would be a fool to ever let you go again," he answered. He leaned down to kiss her, feeling hopeful for the very first time in three weeks. There was passion in that kiss, but it was on the back burner in favor of those more tender emotions that were more dominant right now. The pressure of his warm lips against hers made her melt into him, forget everything around them. The airport, the people breezing past them, everything... It made her wish this kiss would never end.
Apparently he shared that sentiment. Eventually and very reluctantly he broke away from her after a while because he had the intense feeling of being watched by a pair of very disapproving eyes. He had developed a sixth sense for that over the years. After all a bit of paranoia had been part of the job description back when he had worked as a bodyguard. He flinched as he met the hateful stare of a well-dressed woman in her late fifties. She had glasses on her nose. Her arms were crossed over her chest and there was something about her face, especially the cheek bones and nose that reminded him a lot of Nina. Contrary to Nina, however, who was bubbly and talkative, she seemed to be a very sullen sort of person. The deep lines at the corners of her mouth showed that she was more prone to seriousness than any other emotion. He looked between Nina and the woman a couple of times and a dreadful sense of foreboding came over him.
"Please tell me that woman over there, bearing a striking resemblance to you and staring daggers at me with her eyes, isn't your ma'," he discretely took a step away from her and straightened his vest.
Nina smiled sheepishly. "I had to make a choice. Either bring her along or don't come at all."
"That still doesn't explain why the bleeding hells," he quickly lowered his voice that was threatening to become loud and booming in his outrage, "you saw it fit to bring your ma' here!"
"Cause she's just found out about Timmy's sweet little secret and needed someone to vent to," she explained to him as he picked up his bag. He grimaced as he took in the full extent of her words. Not only was her mother probably royally pissed off right now, but he was already up to a bad start with her as well. In his experience mothers didn't take to kindly to their daughters being kissed senseless right in front of them by a complete stranger. Given the fact that he just committed himself to the long-haul with said daughter, it would be a good idea to try and swing things in his favor. Years and years under that disapproving glance didn't sound like something one should aspire to.
He rolled his shoulders just like he usually did before he headed onto stage and took a deep breath. "Let's go in then. I'm gonna turn up all me charms and try to sweep your mother dearest of her feet."
"Sound plan. Good luck with that, sweetie," she said ironically and a lot of that irony was dripping of that term of endearment.
He shot her a reproachful look, but nevertheless took her hand in his. They both plastered fake grins on their faces as they approached Nina's mother.
"So that's the young man you wanted to get from the airport. You seem to be quite... well acquainted with each other," her mother summed up the situation as they approached. More disapproval was sent their way in the form of dark glances thrown at them over the edge of some horn-framed glasses.
"Well, he's my boyfriend, so it kind of comes with the package," Nina said nonchalantly.
"This boyfriend of yours, does he have a name?" Mrs. Stewart inquired sharply.
Stephen seemed to come out of his trance at that question. He was used to the occasional 'boo' from the audience, but that woman's stern and very disapproving expression somehow managed to get under his usually very thick skin and made him feel uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Stewart. My name is Stephen Farrelly," he held out his hand to her and for a second he was afraid her mother wouldn't take it, the way she wrinkled her nose at it with an air of superiority.
"You're Irish," she remarked as she finally clasped his hand and shook it, placing his accent correctly the first time she heard it.
"Yes, I'm afraid you've got me there, ma'am," he smiled sheepishly as if she had surprised him with his fingers in the cookie jar. That smile usually charmed people, but seemed to have no effect whatsoever on Nina's mother. Mrs. Stewart retracted her hand and assumed her defensive posture from before, crossing her arms over her chest once more.
"So since when has this been going on? You kids seem to be determined not to tell me anything anymore these days...," her mouth was set in a sour, thin line as she regarded her daughter expectantly.
Nina narrowed her eyes in concentration as she tried to calculate the time in her head. "Three months?" she supplied, while Stephen said "Five months" almost simultaneously.
"Why...?" she looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. Five months? They had met roughly five months ago. Oh! She smiled at him. Was he really trying to tell her it had been love at first sight for him. Seriously? She grinned a teasing smile at him. This time she did say it. "You big softie!"
"Oi! Be quiet. Now is not the time," he muttered softly. He was right. Her mother watched their exchange and shook her head.
"So what is it you do for a living, Mr. Farrelly?" her mother asked, getting straight to the heart of the matter.
"I'm in sports entertainment as well," he said, instinctively sensing for some reason that it wasn't a good idea telling her straight away that he was a professional wrestler. He hoped that vague explanation he had given her would be sufficient for the time being.
Regretfully it wasn't. Mrs. Stewart narrowed her eyes. That woman was one tough nut to crack. "So you are a writer like Nina?"
"No, ma'am, I'm afraid my work with the WWE is not quite as... creative," he shifted on his feet uncomfortably, which had Nina feel the urge to jump to his defense.
"Mom, would you please stop it? This is not a police questioning," she gave her mother a sour look. "You're making Steve feel uncomfortable."
Her mother let out a contemptuous laugh. "I doubt I can intimidate a six foot man enough to feel uncomfortable, honey. It would be pretty unfortunate if that was all it took. After all I was just asking him about his job. Might I add that I still haven't gotten a proper answer to my question?"
Nina turned her head and saw Stephen's nostrils quiver ever so slightly at the next exhale. There was a slight flush rising from underneath the collar of his shirt. He was angry, but he hid that anger rather well behind a charming but artificial smile when he spoke his next words. "I'm sorry I haven't been clear enough before. I'm a wrestler with the WWE."
Her mother made no secret out of the fact that she wasn't particularly delighted by that piece of information and frowned. "So you get paid for beating up other people on a weekly basis like a modern day gladiator? People's addiction to violence is always quite puzzling to me..."
Nina took some preemptive measures and laid a calming hand on Stephen's bicep. The muscle underneath her hand twitched and tensed. She could see his fingers curl into a fist and his eyes flash in anger. Again he surprised her with his ability to keep his temper in check.
"I'm aware it's a job that isn't comparable to that of a scientist or a doctor. We're only entertaining people, not curing cancer or saving lives. But still... This job is about sportsmanship, discipline and hard work, which might not be the worst message to send to a young person. And there's also the fact that it gives me the possibility to support some charities with the money I earn, while I spend me days giving people bread and circuses."
Nina looked at Stephen with a proud smirk on her face. He had not only told off her mother, he had done it rather eloquently. She gave his arm a brief squeeze and he looked at her. There was something imploring to that look which seemed to say 'Help me, please or I'm going to kill her!' She smiled a bitter little smile. Her mother did have that effect on a lot of people. Her students had dubbed her the Ice Queen back when she was still lecturing.
"Why don't we head back to my car?" Nina suggested. "I'm sure you need to get back to Hartford, Mom."
Her mother looked at her watch pointedly. "It's eight right now. By the time we reach Stamford it will be ten. Am I really supposed to spend another two hours on the road after we get there? I think I'd rather stay at your place tonight."
"Fine," Nina said to her mother, hiding her wish to strangle her behind a seemingly sweet smile. They started walking and Nina felt Stephen pull at her hand, so they walked a couple of steps ahead of her mother.
He laid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. "Get her away from me or I'm going to do the Irish Curse on her!" he whispered in her ear.
"Just the Irish Curse? Why not go for the White Noise?" she answered in an equally low voice.
She heard him chuckle softly in response. "I'm afraid I don't have enough finishers in my repertoire for her."
"You leave that to me. I have thirty years of experience in dealing with her..."
"That's me girl," he smirked and continued their hushed conversation. "Next thing she's going to say is that I should sleep at a hotel. Just you wait."
They reached Nina's car and Steve quickly stuffed his bag in the trunk before he rounded the car to hold the door open for Mrs. Stewart, who thanked him for his chivalrous gesture with a tight little smile. He got in as well and Mrs. Stewart registered the fact that he had to push back the passenger seat all the way with something akin to contempt.
"Fasten your seatbelts. We're leaving," Nina told her mother, looking over her shoulder with a smile. Despite her mother's less than polite behavior towards Stephen, she felt happier than she ever had in the last couple of weeks. She threw the man next to her a smile which he reciprocated with one of his own that made her heart beat faster.
"By the way, who gave you that shiner, Steve?" she asked conversationally, while she drove off the parking lot. "You didn't have it yet last Friday night."
"You've been watching?" he asked in surprise.
"Of course, I have. Remember? I haven't seen that much of you in the last couple of weeks, à chroí."
He turned his head and looked at her in surprise upon hearing her pick up one of those Gaelic terms of endearment he had used on her a couple of times. There was a playful smirk on her face.
"Lovely thought of you picking up some Gaelic, darling," he told her gently. The presence of her mother forced him to limit himself to that rather short response, when in reality he would have liked to shower her in Gaelic terms of endearment and teach her how to say them as well. The presence of that very charming and affectionate woman on the backseat, however, threw a spanner in that particular plan.
"What does it mean?" Mrs. Stewart immediately piped in from the backseat.
"Oh, nothing really. You don't need to know," Nina told her throwing a reproachful glance at her through the rear-view mirror.
All three occupants of the car fell silent for a while. The silence was awkward. Nina and Stephen had a lot to say to each other but couldn't, not in front of her mother and neither of them felt like talking to the ever disapproving person in the backseat.
"Mind if we listen to some music?" Stephen suggested eventually and turned on the radio. It was going to be a long car ride.
The sleeping arrangements in Nina's apartment were subject to a lively discussion. Stephen kept mostly out of it. There was Nina's bed, which had enough room for two people and there was her pull-out couch, which was comfortable enough for QUOTE a princess UNQUOTE. The negotiations took off with Mrs. Stewart suggesting that he should sleep on the couch while she would sleep in Nina's bed. He had readily agreed to that, because he had already realized that if he added his own headstrongness to the headstrongness of those two women utter mayhem would ensue. Nina was less diplomatic about the issue, which was surprising because usually among the two of them she was the one who usually took it upon herself to diffuse critical situations. Now, however, she simply shook her head and explained to her mother that she would be sleeping on the couch too if that was where Stephen would be passing the night. So the negotiations started anew and quite surprisingly by the end of them he ended up in Nina's bedroom, while her mother begrudgingly agreed to take the couch.
"Night, Mom!" Nina called out to the living room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it with a sigh.
"What's the title of that movie where that little Viking lad meets a dragon? Wasn't it something like 'How to Tame a Dragon'?" he told her with a smirk.
"It's 'How to Train a Dragon'," she corrected him gently.
"Close enough. As long as it has dragons. 'Cause that the general theme of tonight..."
"Have you just compared my mother to a dragon?" she asked him with a skeptically raised eyebrow and a smile on her face.
"Me? I'd never...," he grinned, ever as cheeky as she remembered him.
"Relax," she grinned. "She's been called worse during her time at university... Her students used to call her the 'Wicked Witch of Hartford' and the 'Ice Queen."
"Really?" he asked with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
"Really," she nodded in confirmation. "I'm sorry you got to see that side of her. I just hope I haven't angered her even more."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much. Someone with those sort of nicknames can take a bit of gentle coaxing from her daughter," he told her and leaned forward to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.
"Coaxing?" she smiled. "More like full-on manipulation."
"I don't care how we got here. What counts is that we're finally alone...," he told her with a sincere timbre in his voice. Almost instinctually his arms encircled her midriff and pulled her closer to him.
"Yeah, finally alone," she said and did something she had wanted to do for the last two hours. She kissed him. It wasn't a kiss for the public eye. It was passionate and thorough. Her mouth opened slowly as she deepened the kiss, which was pure provocation. She was nipping at his lips, brushing her tongue against them. He backed her further into the door. He wanted to be closer to her. They were pressed up against each other and it was just barely enough for now. His hands disappeared underneath her shirt and she arched into his touch. He felt his body react to that enthusiasm of hers immediately.
He tried to control himself, because if he didn't do that now, things were bound to get out of hand. By the time he broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard. It had been a close call. He couldn't just take her right here against the door with her mother sleeping on the other side of it. There was no way they would be able to keep it down after having spent so much time apart.
She too seemed to be aware that right now they were in no position to give in to what their bodies demanded they should do. "Sorry, I got carried away," she said sheepishly. Her voice was rather breathless as well. "It's just that it's been a long time since we've last..."
"No kidding. A thrice damned eternity," he grinned. "But I thought the modern woman of today had a vibrator to take care of those needs. Didn't you tell something like that to McMahon?"
She giggled at his crude remark and swatted him on the arm. "Nowadays I prefer the real deal," she told him in a conspiratorial tone of voice.
"Oh, you do? Well, kick your ma' to the curb and we'll talk," he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "That woman's a right banshee anyway..."
"First you call her a dragon, now a banshee? Steve...," she grinned at him and he just shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence. "Kick her to the curb? You're not serious, right?" In fact she knew he wasn't. He had always made the impression of being quite close to his own family, so as a consequence she concluded that his appreciation of family values even extended to the dysfunctional Stewart clan.
"You know I can't kick her out," she continued. "She's just found out Timmy has been keeping Sandra's pregnancy from her for weeks. Give her a break. She's had a very rough day."
"What about me? I've had a rough three weeks," he pouted.
"Poor little thing, you," she cooed and actually patted his hair, messing it up a bit in the process.
"Yeah, I'm a mistreated minority," he hoisted her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed where he laid her down gently and immediately followed behind.
She welcomed him with open arms and hugged him to her for what it was worth. He let out a groan.
"Oooh, that feels good! Now can we try again with fewer clothes?"
Nina rewarded his last words with a slap to his upper arm. "Behave, you brute or I'm going to kick YOU to the curb!"
"Again with the violence and the abuse. You never learn, do you?" he laughed and pinned her to the bed underneath him.
He looked down at her and the expression on her face was everything he could have wished for. It was open, serene and showed him that she was genuinely unafraid, even though she was completely at his mercy now. Actually, if he was honest, it felt like it was the other way around most of the time.
"I love you," he told her, because there was nothing else left to say at this point.
She smiled. "Tá grá agam duit," she said back and his blue eyes widened in surprise.
"The Internet is a rather helpful place sometimes, especially when you're lovesick and keep thinking about a certain handsome red-haired devil," she grinned.
"Tá grá agam duit,"" he replied softly.
"So you're breaking out the Gaelic now to melt me into a puddle without any willpower whatsoever? Clever move, Farrelly," she teased him and pushed a little against his hands holding her wrists. He let go of them and she gave his chest a gentle shove. He rolled over and she immediately grasped the opportunity to reverse their positions.
"Actually it was you who started it," he pointed out shrewdly.
"Hmmm, okay," she amended as she gazed down on his face. He possessed a certain boyish charm when he grinned like that. His hair was a darker red now, freshly dyed. She ran her fingers through it. Her mood suddenly took a turn towards pensive.
"So how is this going to work? You know that it's not enough to be crazy about each other," she looked at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. "What are your expectations? What do you want?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I mean it's a nice change and all, being asked what I want. It rarely happens to me anymore. Usually I'm being told where to go, what to say...," he said, half in jest, half in earnest. "Give me a second here, luv..." In his experience one needed to carefully weigh one's words when talking to a woman about those sort of things.
"Well, until you have made up your mind, you can ask me the same question right back, if you want to." She let go of his wrists and sat up straight. He scooted up against the headboard of her bed, so they were on eye level again.
"Alright," he said. The next words were easy. Already formulated and nicely laid out for him to say. Much easier than the answer to the question he was about to pose. "So what are your expectations for the future concerning this?" he motioned with his hand between the two of them.
"THIS sounds a bit strange, don't you think?" she pointed out. Leave it to her to be picky about the wording of something.
"Well, our relationship. There you made me say it. It sounded all kinds of neutral and detached. Like it wasn't the right word."
"So what's the right word then?" she asked, regarding him interestedly with her head inclined to the left.
"Something less detached and very much heartfelt," he answered, which made her smile. "So you wanna talk or should I?"
"Just give me a second here," she told him. He noticed that she was picking at her nails again. She was nervous. Obviously she had given this subject a lot of thought. She finally started talking. "You know what feels strange about this? This relationship's like a TV show. We're having it in episodes. A couple of days here, a couple of days there. And while it feels like I've known you for a very long time, we've only met five months ago... Isn't that strange? Doesn't that strike you as... well, odd?" She looked at him expectantly and he finally nodded after a while.
"Strange, but good, right?" he asked finally not able to keep a certain insecurity out of his voice.
"Yes, it's good that it feels like there is some connection between us, but it's not that good that I don't get to see you as often as I should, being your girlfriend and all...," her voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. She wasn't sure it was the right thing to say. Maybe he'd think she was nagging him or that she had no right to say things like that.
"I know that we don't see a lot of each other and I'm sorry about that, but I don't think we can change anything about that at present, if that's what you're trying to say," he said carefully.
"That sucks, but that's not really the point," she said. She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair, trying to come up with a good way to say what she wanted to say when probably there was none. "Okay...," she started, "we both know each other as well as you can know someone given the circumstances, but the time we've spent together is hardly enough to be able to tell how'd we work out as a couple if we were together for a longer period of time. Maybe we'd do fine, maybe we'd argue all the time. I don't know. Do you?"
"No, I've got to admit I've been thinking about that too," he said in a somewhat exhausted tone of voice. This was a difficult issue to resolve. Perhaps it couldn't be resolved at all, because it was not like he could run away with her. He had certain obligations to fulfill. Obligations written down in black and white and signed by yours truly. But that didn't mean he hadn't thought of grabbing her and riding off into the sunset. Yes, he definitely had. Right now, however, that was only a daydream.
"Hello, you still with me?" She waved her hand in front of his face.
"Yeah," he answered, blinking a couple of times as if waking from a daze.
"Very reassuring. I talk about not getting to spend enough time with you and you zone out. If you're thinking about throwing in the towel on us, I'll have you know that that's not an option," she nudged him in the side. His pensive face brightened a bit at her words. After all they were sort of reassuring.
"I wasn't thinking about quitting on you. Actually the opposite, but what if we can't make it work?" he told her truthfully. "I've already had a couple of relationships fail because of the life I lead."
Nina narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not liking him mentioning those other relationships. "But you haven't tried with me," she told him sternly. "I'm stubborn as hell and I'm no quitter. Plus, I have most weekends off and I have absolutely no problem with getting a whole lot of those frequent flier miles under my belt."
"That's great, luv, but I don't want you to pay for all those tickets... You'll spend a fortune on silly old me."
"I'm not sure how they deal with blind passengers on a plane. In Pirates of the Caribbean they had to walk the plank. Do you think they'll give me a parachute?" She made a face and stuck out his tongue at him, clearly playing dense intentionally.
For once, although the temptation was great, he ignored her silliness in favor of having an adult conversation. "I was going to offer to pay for them... It doesn't seem fair to let you do it, seeing as I rarely get any time off. But that doesn't mean you always have to be the one to hop on a plane. I'll try to visit whenever I can," he told her.
"Relax. It's not like I don't know that," she threw him a smile. "Despite you constantly trying to tell me you're not a nice guy, you're actually quite possibly one of the nicest people I've met."
"Clearly I haven't been around a lot of people then," he shot right back, briefly looking down, a last trace of some long since shed shyness shining through in his behavior.
"As for that long time exposure...," he started. She laughed at his way of putting it and he smiled back at her, "What? Don't laugh, this is serious."
"Long time exposure? You're not a toxin or a flu bug. It's not like I've caught 'the Stephen'. Be a little nicer to yourself," she lightly punched him in the upper arm. "I love spending time with you."
"I do too and that's why I thought about a way we could spend a little bit more time together..."
"Such as?"
"Have you already taken your holiday?" She shook her head. "How much time do you get?"
"Two weeks," she replied softly. "And no."
"If you want to, you can come and spend those two weeks on the road with me. But I'm warning you, most of the guys' wives keep complaining that it's horrible touring with us. It's not the most glamorous sort of life..."
"Oh, really! Do tell! I was expecting caviar and champagne and a bed of roses," she rolled her eyes.
"I'm just saying...," he raised his hands defensively.
"Steve," she sighed, "you're not really encouraging. It's almost like you're telling me I should give up right away without even trying... Do you want that?"
"No, no, of course not," he even jumped to his feet in agitation. He ran his hands through his hair, looking at her like he was conflicted about something. He eventually shook his head and muttered: "Ah, the hell with it! I'm going to say it!" He spoke the next words in a louder voice: "The thing is that I am completely arse over kick for you. I might not show it all the time, because I constantly tease you and make jokes, but I really am. This here I got because I wasn't paying attention during training," he pointed at the bruise around his eye. "It has never happened to me. Never. Period. I was thinking of you when Damian planted his big ol' fist in me eye... That's how much I want this. And the thing I'm most afraid of is that you might change your mind or that you might stop looking at me the way you do now..."
"Does 'arse over kick' mean the same as 'head over heels'?" she asked softly. He nodded.
"Come on. Sit down again," she told him and patted the place on the mattress next to her. He followed her invitation after a brief moment of hesitation. "You might not have noticed, because of your thick skull," he rolled his eyes, but nevertheless smiled at her words, "but I kind of feel the same for you. That's why we're having this conversation after all. Yes, we're putting our hearts on the line and it's risky, but that the whole point of it, isn't it? Love isn't love without a little suffering. And I definitely know it's love because I've done a fair share of suffering in the last couple weeks," she told him.
He just pointed at his shiner wordlessly. "Yeah, I know. Case and point." She sighed and leaned forward. Her lips touched the bruised skin in a featherlike kiss. "Better now?"
He grinned. "Maybe a wee little bit."
She gave him an exasperate look, but her exasperation faded the longer she looked at his face. Eventually she shook her head. "I think we're only fooling ourselves now if we think we can still go about this rationally and take some precautions against eventual heartbreak. We're already in too deep. No way to turn back now, so let's do this properly and not ruin it by being afraid of what might happen."
"Are you afraid?"
"Aren't you?" she asked back, aware that she was probably not going to get a straight answer out of him. He was not the sort of guy to admit he was afraid of anything. Again he surprised her.
"I am, but what scares me more than anything is the prospect of those three weeks without you turning into a much longer period without you…"
"Not gonna happen." She rewarded his frankness with a kiss and he responded eagerly. They sank down to the mattress, her on top of him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, unwilling to let her go.
"Careful, lass, I'm starting to think you're rather fond of me," he told her with a smile after their kiss had ended.
"Fond? Honey, I could eat you all up," she grinned.
He laughed and followed up that laughter with that slightly maniacal smile of his. "So we're going to do the stupid thing and just throw ourselves in without holding back? Grand! I like your way of thinking. I'm completely game, luv."
"Yes, and please try not to call it stupid," she told him half-serious, half-joking. "People used to call it passion. You're just calling it stupid because you're old and jaded and basically not eighteen anymore."
He actually laughed at her comment. "You might not like me pointing this out to you, but you're not exactly eighteen anymore yourself..."
"Are you calling me old? Might I point out that you've got 4 years on me? And again with the teasing! If you wouldn't be teasing me all the time, what would you do, huh?" Her eyes had that nice, inviting sparkle to them that always encouraged him to tease her right back.
"Ah, you don't wanna know!" he waved her off with a grin and sat up. "Braid daisies into your hair and sing you some little ditties about love? A bunch of manly stuff basically."
She giggled in amusement. He had never heard her make such a sound, but it was rather cute. He wouldn't tell her though, mind you, she'd kill him straight away if he said that to her face.
"So now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about the easy stuff." Stephen rubbed his hands together. "Kids? Marriage? White picket fence?" he grinned at her.
