XxX
Damn
XxX
"You are the most pig headed, stubborn, infuriating man I have ever known!" she yelled at him.
"Yeah, well, ditto babe!" he yelled back, as he stormed out of her house. He slammed the door behind him and took great satisfaction that the windows rattled. It was a lame ass comeback, and he knew it, but he did have the advantage of a mighty fine exit on his side, so he figured they pretty much came out on a par with this fight.
He took the stairs by two, slid into his car and slammed that door, too. He revved the engine as he sped away, saluting the nosey neighbour who was peeking through her curtains. No one, and he meant no one, got under his skin the way she did. Not even Simone, with all her drunken embarrassments, had ever got him as fired up as Harry was capable of doing. And the fact that she managed it with a lot less effort and while being completely sober was a little daunting.
He had no destination in mind, so he just drove. And thought about the infuriating blonde who gave as good as she got and never let him win an argument if she could help it. The law of averages said he had to be right at least half the time, right? But did Harry understand that? Probably. Did she accept it? No. According to her she was always right and he was always less right. Not wrong, she didn't say that. She implied it, but she never said it. She'd just nod and kiss his cheek and flash him that superior smile that drove him up the bloody wall because it was so fucking hot. And she knew how hot he found it, because she used it ruthlessly on him. She had no mercy, his Harry. None at all.
If he was totally honest with himself, it was one of his favourite things about her. He liked a bit of fire in his women, and Harry had a whole hell pit of that. She was passionate about everything in her life, relationships included, and sometimes when that passion collided with his it led to some spectacularly volatile arguments that made him want to pound the walls in frustration because she could push every single one of his buttons without even raising a sweat. Even when he managed to push a few of hers she lobbed right back at him, and it felt like they were dancing on the razors edge of their relationship. It was, in some fucked up way, intoxicating. He liked that she could get him so wound up, he liked being able to trade verbal punches with her, and he liked that she could take it and give it back in spades. She was his equal, in every sense of the word, and it was liberating.
And the make up sex, holy crap, that was something else.
He huffed at the memories, already looking forward to making up. He couldn't for the life of him recall what had actually triggered the fight in the first place, but he had no doubt that Harry would tell him.
He had it bad for his beautiful blonde girl, he knew it. If he had known that asking her out would lead to a contentment he never knew existed, he would have done it sooner. Because he was ridiculously happy these days, and it was all her. Before, he'd had a career that was satisfying and a partner he could trust. Yeah, they fought. Yeah, they bickered. Yeah, they even had fun. But all that was nothing to what they had now.
Now he had a woman who heated his blood like no other, who could wrap him around her little finger with a look, who pushed him to be better. A woman who stopped heads in the street because she was just so damn gorgeous, a woman who could hold her own against whatever she came up against, a woman who didn't take any of his crap. A woman who made him laugh, who trusted him enough to follow his gut, who could tease the bad mood right out of him if she put her mind to it. A woman who made a night of TV on the couch seem like bliss.
Oh yeah, he had it bad. He had it so bad he could even picture a future that involved marriage and family and kids and forever.
He could picture forever with her.
"Well damn," he said, and turned the car around.
XxX
A/N: It's been a while, sorry. Life, and all that jazz, is rather intrusive sometimes, yes?