Part 24
Michael was humming to himself as he entered the house, locking the door behind him before dropping his keys and wallet on the counter. He was reaching for the refrigerator door when his eyes were drawn to the two key rings lying next to each other beside his wallet. That just looked a little too… domestic. He frowned and pushed Maria's keys further down the counter, making sure there was plenty of space between them. Feeling slightly better he retrieved a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and removed the cap, tossing it in the trash and taking a long drink. He didn't even have time to enjoy the flavor before the bane of his existence spoke from behind him and ruined the moment.
"Well, look who finally came home," Maria drawled, as she leaned in the doorway and watched him. "Hmmm, and you even showered this time. How considerate of you."
Michael could feel his temper responding to her taunting tone and he slowly turned to look at her. "What the fuck are you bitchin' about now?"
He had to ask? She was bitching because he was going around acting like a dumbass! Instead of helping her find out why she was here, or focusing on his alien side that he had ignored for so long, he was running around sleeping with any available uterus! Well, she wasn't gonna just stay around here and keep her mouth shut. She had a few home truths for him and for once he was damn well going to listen to her list them off. "Do you always go crawling back to her? You have a bad experience with a woman like you did a few weeks back, so you resort to having sex with women Stone's age? You have a hard time satisfying a woman and your answer to that problem is to crawl into bed with a woman fifteen or twenty years older than you? I would say that older women must be more forgiving, but in her case, somehow I doubt it. She verbally castrated that guy Hawkins, and then turned around and stuck her tongue down your throat."
"Yeah? Well, if he could fuck worth a damn she probably would've stuck her tongue down his throat." He started to pace, trying to calm the fury that he could feel surging to life inside of him.
"That is not the point!" she snapped.
"No, the point is that none of this is any of your goddamned business!" Who did she think she was, mocking his sexual performance? And it was one thing for her to badmouth the usual women he fucked, but Stone was above her insults; the woman could be a cold-hearted bitch, but she had integrity and he trusted her. That couldn't be said of very many people and he didn't appreciate Maria lumping her in with the rest of the women he had fucked. "You have no rights whatsoever to even have an opinion about the women I fuck!"
"I don't need your permission to have an opinion."
God, the woman was drivin' him up the fuckin' wall! Always talkin', always protestin', always wantin' to have the last damn word; it didn't matter what the topic was. Well, not this time… she had no rights where he was concerned! "We're not married, either, so as far as I know, who I fuck doesn't concern you and you have no right to nag me every minute of the day."
Maria snorted disdainfully. "Like I would ever marry someone like you."
Michael's temper was quickly approaching the boiling point. For the past two months… maybe even a little longer, she had been constantly reminding him that he wasn't her precious Michael; that he wasn't as good as the other man, that she would never cheat on Mr. Perfect - especially with him - and now here she was, playing the role of the nagging wife. Obviously she had reached the next stage of her insanity, because suddenly he and his counterpart seemed to be one person. Out of nowhere she was acting like she and the other Michael had been married, but somehow she was confusing him with the other man, and he was getting a headache trying to figure it all out.
She had been uptight and defending her decision to be faithful to a dead guy every since she had rather brutally turned him down and now she was yelling at him and treating him like hehad cheated on her. Hell, if he had to deal with the shitty part of relationships, the accusations, the nagging wife at home, the constant bitching, why couldn't he enjoy some of the perks? Like having sex on a regular basis?
"How do you have sex with random women?" Maria asked, her tone biting. "How can you be so indiscriminate - "
"How do you not know when to shut up? Me an' you, we're not involved; as you've pointed out on numerous occasions, I'm not your Michael!" he shouted, feeling something unfamiliar inside of him snap. His eyes widened when a frying pan shot off of its hook and flew across the room, slamming into the doorframe when Maria ducked to avoid it. What the fuck? His gaze shot to Maria where she had crouched down to avoid being hit and several emotions hit him at once - anger, fear, concern, and relief. She hadn't been hit; she had gotten out of the way in time, but what if she hadn't reacted quickly enough?
Maria stared at the frying pan for several long minutes before she stood up and walked out of the room without another word. She retreated to her bedroom and shut the door, leaning back against it and sliding down to sit on the floor.
Michael slowly crossed the room and leaned down to pick up the pan, transferring it to his left hand as he straightened back up. Reaching up, his fingers traced over the depression created in the wood where the frying pan had impacted it. Fuck, he hadn't meant to do that! He couldn't remember ever losing control like that; he was always careful to keep a strong hold on whatever it was inside of him that caused things like that to happen. This was different though… something about her had caused that tenuous thread on his control to snap. He had never felt the swirling maelstrom build so quickly, or been unable to contain it, and he had a bad feeling that it was connected to Maria.
He carefully and quietly set the pan on the stove and moved through the house, checking all of the locks and turning off lights as he made his way back to his bedroom. He paused at the door to her bedroom, his left hand coming up to briefly rest against the wood; there was nothing he could say that would change what had happened, but something inside of him felt… weird.
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Several hours later he gave up on sleep and prowled around the house restlessly, unable to shake the unsettled feelings clawing at him. He was a lot of things - cold, cruel, uncaring, and unfeeling, but he would never intentionally hurt a woman and he hoped she knew that much about him.
He turned a lamp on when he passed through the living room again and he threw himself down on the couch as he looked around at the subtle changes that had taken place in his house over the past couple of months. Instead of just blinds, curtains hung over the windows, colorful accent pillows adorned the furniture, lacy things had been placed on every available flat surface, and scented candles sat atop them.
Each new addition had only been added after an argument between them and somehow, despite the fact that he owned the house and everything in it, she had gotten her way on just about everything. He could feel a difference in the house since she had moved in and while he wouldn't admit it to anyone else it wasn't all that bad having a woman around the place. It would definitely be better if they were fuckin' like bunnies, but, even without that particular perk, it was okay most of the time.
His gaze turned downward and he looked at his hands, feeling regret wash over him as his thoughts once more turned back to the reason for his bout of insomnia. He stood up after a while and wandered back down the hall that led to the bedrooms, pausing in front of her door for several minutes before he reached out and turned the knob quietly. He opened the door and peered around it, checking to see if she was asleep and stepping inside once he was sure she was.
He walked around the bed and crouched down beside it, studying her features in the darkness. She rarely looked peaceful while she slept and he was pretty sure he was responsible for the disturbed expression on her face this time. As usual, she was reaching out across the empty space beside her, searching for the man who had been taken from her, the man who was obviously so much more to her than just a lover.
He rubbed his right hand over his tee shirt before laying it on the bed, not far from the edge. Like a heat-seeking missile zeroing in on its target, her hand found his within seconds. He had lost count of the number of times he had crept into her bedroom and done this very thing; he didn't understand why he did it, but the simple action spoke to something deep inside of him that he didn't acknowledge in the cold light of day. Once she had made contact her expression slipped into something resembling peace and the moment she calmed, that thing inside of him responded in kind.
Despite the early hour the sun wasn't making its way across the eastern horizon when he crept out of her bedroom and closed the door behind him. It was a clear indicator of impending rain and by the time he had changed into his running clothes and stretched the first clap of thunder was rolling across the sky.
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It rained all day and Michael spent hours out in the shop working on the motorcycles with the stereo turned up to drown out the noise created by the storm. He didn't bother going inside for breakfast or lunch, choosing to hide out in the shop instead. He wasn't sure what to say to Maria after what had happened the night before; he wasn't the type to apologize and he sure as hell wasn't wrong for getting mad about her accusations towards Stone.
He reached for a new socket, switching it out with the one already attached to the ratchet before going back to work. He had been going over everything that had happened the night before and he still didn't understand how his powers had gotten out of control like that. He shook his head and dropped a handful of bolts into a pan of cleaning fluid on the counter beside the disassembled engine. He had to find something else to think about before he did something stupid, he thought.
Maria moved from room to room for the most of the day, unsettled by the fight she'd had with Michael. If she'd had any doubts that he was pissed off, his absence at breakfast and lunch had given her all the confirmation she needed. As the day wore on she started dinner and did a couple of loads of laundry before moving into the living room to straighten things up.
She stood at the patio doors and watched the rain pouring from the overcast sky, her thoughts on the night before. She knew she had pushed him, provoking him into losing his temper, but it was the first time his powers had showed themselves under duress; it hadn't been an intentional response, she was sure about that. She should probably go talk to him but she was certain that he was still too angry, and if she intruded on his territory he was bound to see it as a sign of aggression. She wasn't interested in getting into another argument with him so soon after that last one.
She was getting ready to go check on dinner when the shop door slid open and Michael stepped outside. He took his time crossing the yard, unconcerned with the downpour that soaked him within seconds. His right hand reached out to settle on the handrail as his left foot landed on the second step, and he froze when he looked up and their gazes locked.
Maria's breath froze in her throat as she was thrown back several years to a rainy night and another Michael Guerin. In that time and place he had been seeking acceptance, reassurance, and a safe place where he could fall with the knowledge that her loving arms would catch him. This man sought none of those things, but in that moment she knew that the regret that briefly flared in his dark eyes was probably the closest thing to an apology that he had to offer.
She saw him take a step back and on an impulse she pushed the door open, sliding it along its track and standing aside. "Dinner'll be ready soon," she offered quietly.
He took the steps two at a time and quickly entered the house, heading back towards his bedroom without a word.
"Michael?"
He paused, but didn't turn around.
"Look, I shouldn't have said anything about Stone; I obviously don't understand your relationship with her."
"No, you don't." He waited a few seconds before nodding to himself and continuing on his way down the hall.
Maria watched him go and wondered if he had been waiting for an apology for more than her comments about Stone. Well, if that was the case he might as well get used to waiting because he wasn't going to get an apology for anything else; she wasn't the slightest bit sorry for the rest of it.
She went to get something to clean up the water trail he had left in his wake and then walked back to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner. Despite their fight the night before she wanted him to sit down and eat; considering the amount of food he put away on a daily basis, she was surprised he hadn't passed out from not eating.
Michael stepped into the bathroom and scrubbed his hands, getting rid of the oil and grease from the engine parts he had been working on. Finished with that, he stripped out of his shirt, hanging it over the shower rod so he could peel his pants off and drop them in the bathtub. He reached for a clean towel out of one of the cabinets and rubbed it over his body, drying off as he looked around the room. She had infiltrated the bathroom as well as the other rooms in the house; her stuff was completely mixed in with his and he always had to remember to double check to make sure he wasn't grabbing the wrong deodorant, soap, or shampoo.
No matter how many times he had moved things around in an attempt to keep all of her stuff separate from his, it always ended up mixed in together again. Most mornings he had to weed through the dozens of small bottles and tubes of makeup and other crap she had accumulated just to locate his aftershave and cologne. His gaze moved along the counter to the pair of electric razors sitting in their chargers next to each other. He rolled his eyes and ran the towel over his hair, getting most of the wetness rubbed out so he wouldn't have to resort to using the hair dryer that now resided on the shelf behind him. He'd had no choice but to build the shelf because for someone who had no intention of hanging around she was collecting an awful lot of things that were necessary to her daily life, and burning his hand on her curling iron had been the last straw.
He hung the towel up and walked through his bedroom to the closet to grab a clean set of clothes. He pulled a clean pair of cargo pants up over his hips, zipping then and ignoring the button as he reached out to plow through the shirts available. Selecting a red, sleeveless tee shirt he draped it over his left shoulder and made his way back through the house.
The smell of food got stronger the closer he got to the kitchen and his stomach growled loudly, reminding him once again that he hadn't eaten since the night before. He could hear one of his Blues CD's playing in the small stereo in the kitchen, but it was the female voice accompanying the singer that caught his attention. He paused in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wood frame and watched her.
She was wearing a multi-colored shirt that kept slipping off of one shoulder and a short black skirt. Like him, she was barefooted as she moved around, collecting the dinner dishes and stacking them on the counter to be placed on the table. She was totally unaware of him as she sang along with the song playing, the ease with which she transitioned when the tracks changed indicating that she listened to it frequently. His dark eyes followed the uninhibited movements of her body as she swayed to the music, and he craned his neck to the side when she bent over to open the oven door.
He growled low in his throat when she leaned over a little further and the skirt crept up with her movements, revealing more of her thighs than was previously visible, but not nearly enough in his opinion. It was so tempting to just walk up behind her and slide his hands over her ass before turning her around and taking her pouty mouth in a deep, hard kiss.
Maria was pulling the metal rack out to check on the roast when she felt a familiar tingling sensation dance along her spine and she knew without looking that Michael was behind her. His dark gaze was penetrating and she could feel it as surely as if he had reached out and touched her; it was something he had in common with her Michael and it was as disturbing as it was exciting.
She straightened up and whirled around to face him. "Can I help you with something?" she snapped, annoyed at the heat that flooded through her as his molten gaze traveled over her body. She immediately regretted the question, knowing what he was going to say before he said it.
"Oh, there are so many things you could help me with," he whispered huskily.
"I'll just bet there are." She shook her head as she moved to turn the volume down on the stereo built into the wall. "Anything that's not X-rated?"
He snorted and straightened up, entering the kitchen and walking up to her to clamp his hands around the edge of the counter on either side of her. "Not X-rated? Where's the fun in that?" His dark eyes gleamed triumphantly when she lowered her gaze to his bare chest and he saw the green irises darken to jade. He held his breath when he saw her right hand lift from her side and come to rest flat against his chest, pressing his dog tags against his flesh.
Maria waited several long, torturous moments before she slid her hand up and over the sculpted muscles, feeling the slight quiver in them. She heard his breathing quicken as her fingers trailed to his side and up under his arm. She had him right where she wanted him; he thought she had finally reached the end of her rope and she was giving in to him. She smiled to herself as she grabbed several of the hairs under his arm and jerked them as hard as she could.
Michael jumped back away from her, his right hand coming up to press against his left armpit as he howled in pain. "Son-of-a-fuckin'-bitch!" he screamed, pacing around erratically. "What the fuck did you do that for?"
"One way or the other, you're gonna learn what the word no means."
As soon as the stinging, eye-watering pain subsided he withdrew his hand and looked at it, surprised that she hadn't drawn blood with her vicious attack. "And maybe next time you could simply say no," he snarled.
"I've already told you no and you seem to think that it only means I'll change my mind at a later date and that you're welcome to keep trying."
Michael pulled his shirt on over his head and glared at her. "Only one of us is lyin' to ourselves, and it's not me." He grabbed the stack of dishes off of the counter and carried them over to the table. "You can deny it all you want, Maria, but we both know it's only a matter of time before you end up in my bed."
She refused to let her mind go there. She simply refused. She would not trade her Michael in for the first copy available. "You live in a fantasy world."
Huh? She was the one who refused to accept her lover's death and who kept hoping that he would help her do something - something that she didn't even understand - to turn back time or work some kind of alien magic and he was the one living in a fantasy world? Fuck, that Maria girl was seriously delusional! "Believe whatever you need to believe to get you through the night."
"Just take the roast out of the oven." Maria went on as if he hadn't said anything. It wasn't a comment worth responding to.
Michael narrowed his eyes, not liking the way she was totally ignoring what he had said. "Y'know, there's a very fine line that separates fantasy from reality."
"Why don't we talk about what happened last night," Maria suggested, desperate to change the subject. She didn't want to think about how much she was really attracted to him or that there was a part of her that wondered what it would be like to make love with him.
"No." Michael carried the roast over to the table and set it down before crossing over to the refrigerator and pulling out two bottles of beer. He carried them to the table and sat down, placing one on the table in front of her plate before leaning back in his chair and uncapping his bottle.
Maria slid a pan of rolls into the oven and watched him, seeing his unwillingness to discuss the unexpected display of his powers. "Michael, something happened that you need to - "
"You make salad to go with dinner?" he asked, walking back over to the refrigerator and opening the door. He didn't want to talk about what had almost happened; she could've easily gotten hurt by his loss of control and it bothered him on a level that he didn't care to examine too closely.
"On the second shelf." She moved the rest of the serving dishes to the table and took her seat while he debated which dressing he wanted with the salad. He finally gave up and grabbed both bottles along with the salad and carried it to the table. It had taken weeks before she had been able to convince him to eat a salad, and once he had discovered that enough dressing covered the taste of the actual salad she hadn't had any more problems.