A/N: Hello everyone, hope you're having a great start to your weekend. Things are moving along in the pre-McCord-universe, and as I go, I'd like to let you all know that you are welcome to share any ideas or insights with me for this story. I am quite honestly just winging it. :-)
The chapter's name is a little ode to all the firsts in this chapter-more about that in the note at the end.
Enjoy!
April 8, 1988 | Elizabeth
She's just flipped over to her back, laying and staring up at the ceiling of his Bronco while trying to catch her breath. The first time was a blur—slightly awkward and a little painful, but the second time something lit inside of her. Laying on her back was fine, but the second time she caught a different view and watched as he lay on his back. Something about the power she felt was terribly invigorating, watching him writhe underneath her body just as she probably had been doing moments before.
While the opposite happened after the first time, the rush of adrenaline seemed to have dissipate now. All she can hear is their breathing, and she's wondering what Henry's thinking. She wants to look over at him and search in his expression, try to make out the thoughts that could be going on in his head. But something stops her—suddenly her face is becoming red again, not from the energy she just exerted, but solely from embarrassment. She pulls the blanket up over her body and tucks her elbows into her ribs, narrowing her eyes on the ceiling. "What the hell did you just do?" She thinks to herself, shutting her eyes as her mind nags at her that she's only known Henry for two months, and here she is, lying next to him after having lost control and gave him something she'd never given anyone else. She'd come close with her high school boyfriend, but it never felt right. Was this right? Or did she just give in to whatever was going on in her head—in her body?
With her eyes still closed, she feels Henry's hand slide across her stomach. She wonders to herself when he turned on his side and how long he's been looking at her, but she doesn't ask. Her voice seems to be missing whenever she opens her mouth. Although she tries, the words get caught in her throat and she simply squeezes her eyes shut tighter, curling her toes and trying to sink further and further into the bottom of this floorboard.
"Elizabeth?" Henry whispers, and she peeks one eye open just barely to see that he's looking down at her. His fingertips are still grazing the skin just under her ribs, and his eyebrows are furrowed down like he does whenever he's concerned about something.
She opens her eyes the rest of the way and just stares at him, the blanket covering the lower half of her face. Again, the words try to come out, but they get stuck about halfway up her throat.
"What's the matter?" He asks, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her better.
Sighing, she shuts her eyes and pulls the blanket up over her head. "What did we just do, Henry?" She whispers.
The silence almost makes her pull her blanket back down, but she waits. She's wondering, though, what he's doing. "Why is he not answering?" She thinks, then hopes he's not upset by what she just said. Finally, she gives in and pulls the blanket down just slightly, enough to see him with her right eye.
He's smiling at her while his fingertips continue to caress her skin just enough to make goosebumps appear on her thighs and arms. "What did we just do?" He repeats, and she can tell he's on the verge of a laugh. "Elizabeth, I just…I had the time of my life. Are you…" His smile fades and goes back into that concerned expression, "Are you already regretting it?"
She groans and pulls the blanket back up again, feeling her neck and chest get red to match her face. "I know we talked about waiting." Elizabeth murmurs, "But you…" she sighs as she pauses, not wanting to say these words. They sounded so cliché and so…gross. "You're my first."
Again, the silence makes her pull the blanket down. She can't feel the hair on her face because her face mostly feels numb to her—she's unsure whether that's from the bout of embarrassment she's experiencing or from the rousing encounter—but Henry is pushing strands away from her forehead and cheeks. The little bit of sweat that she feels him wipe away from her head makes her cringe. "Well," Henry says and laughs quietly, "What if I told you that you're my first, too?"
Immediately, she props herself up by putting both elbows behind her, "I would tell you that you're lying." She says, raising an eyebrow. "You're telling me that you've seriously never had—" her red, hot face makes her completely unable to say that word. She's never had a problem saying that three letter word in front of Henry before, but damn it, she can't even begin to form the "s."
He's laughing a little and shaking his head, "I'm not lying." He assures, "I mean sure, I've fooled around with some past flings. But nothing…this far." He says, narrowing his eyes and biting his lip.
She wonders if he, too, can't form the word. Her arms feel shaky, so she lies back down and tucks her elbows back to her ribs, holding the blanket. "I never would have guessed." She whispers, "You seemed like you knew what you were doing."
His laugh gets a little louder this time as he glides his hand across to her side, pulling her closer to him and raising his brows, "I could say the same for you, Miss Adams." He says coyly.
She bites her lip and shuts her eyes again, and then suddenly a laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep within her. "I don't know what got into me that second time." She finally admits, opening her eyes and looking straight into his. "It was like some switch inside of me that I didn't quite know existed."
He raises his brow again, "You didn't know that existed? How did you ever not know that existed?"
She snorts and bites her lip once more, feeling the heat spread from her cheeks to her neck again, "Henry…" she mumbles, feeling a little embarrassed about it again.
He slips his leg over her right one, tucking it up underneath her left one and tugging at her side again to get them as close as possible. "I liked it." He whispers, giving her a lazy, almost sloppy kiss by pressing his lips to hers and tugging at her bottom lip when he pulls away, "I liked that side of Elizabeth. I'd never seen her before." He admits, "There's nothing to be ashamed about."
She takes a deep breath and turns her head back to face the ceiling, staring for a few moments before finally asking, "I'm not an overly religious person, Henry, but I know you are…and doesn't this break, like, a lot of rules?"
He laughs quietly and shrugs, looking out the window and then back at her, "Yeah, I mean, it does." He answers, "But…I don't know. I think I might feel differently if I didn't know somewhere in my heart that you're going to be my wife one day."
Her eyes widen a little and she whips her head to the side to face him, "Henry James McCord." She hisses, "You surely can't know that yet."
He smiles at her, "I don't know if I would've given in had I not always believed that, Elizabeth." He coos, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand with his elbow still propped underneath him. His fingers have gone back to sweeping across her stomach, but this time it was lower. "You don't have to say anything back…it's okay. I know I move fast and that this whole thing has moved fast, but I—"
She takes his cheeks in her hands and smashes her lips against his, "Stop talking…" she whispers.
He chuckles quietly against her lips, letting his forehead lean down a little and rest against hers, "Yes ma'am." He whispers.
She opens her eyes and looks into his, "I love you, Henry. And I…can't really imagine anyone else being my husband." When he smiles, their legs quickly become unentwined when she moves her left knee outward, "I think we have time for one more before we go home, right?" She asks, biting her lip as he slides his weight between her legs once more.
April 9, 1988 | Elizabeth
When she heard a plethora of voices from her bed in the guest room, she opens her eyes and frowns, wondering what time it was. It was late enough that it was fully daylight, that's for sure. When she looks over, she sees that it's already 8:00—church was at 9:30. Mrs. Elaine was very strict about wanting everyone at church this morning for Easter.
She tumbles out of the bed and gets to her feet, freezing when she feels a pang in her lower back. That floorboard was fine for one time, but three? Maybe it was the way her leg was that last time—she's never been much of a flexible person. That's one of the reasons why her mom let her quit dance finally—she saw that her flexibility wasn't getting any better and that this, clearly, was not her thing.
She's scrambling to get dressed when she hears the voices again—it was Maureen and Gene bickering about something, and Elaine and Patrick were jumping in from time to time, too. She looks at the clock again to be sure she has time, but then she stands and just listens, trying to understand what they're saying since their voices sound so hushed. She can hear a whisk beating against a bowl, so she knows that they're in the kitchen—Elaine wouldn't go a day like this without making breakfast for her family.
"Well, I just don't think she's a good fit for this family." Maureen is saying.
Elaine immediately replies, "And what makes you the judge of who is and isn't right for this family?"
"I feel like Henry has just become a different person. Don't you? I mean—"
"Henry's the same person he's always been, Maureen." Gene replies.
"He might be here with us, but he's not here with us, Gene." She snaps back.
Patrick chimes in now, "Her fancy boarding schools and all probably have him thinking he needs to act a different way."
"Patrick…" Elaine scolds.
"It's true." Maureen says, and Elizabeth is now opening her bedroom door since she has a dress thrown on. "Queen Elizabeth needs to be treated a certain way, after all."
Elizabeth stops at the top of the stairs, feeling like she could tumble down them if she weren't careful. She couldn't believe exactly what she'd just heard, but she knows that her ears weren't deceiving her—Maureen said it loud enough for her to understand clearly.
"Maureen, that's enough." Elaine says.
"I'm going to tell Henry how I feel about her today." Maureen says.
"No you're not." Elaine interjects, "Let him be. And let her be. He loves her."
Just then, Patrick turns a little and sees Elizabeth at the top of the stairs, and she freezes. "Oh, Elizabeth," he says, "You're awake."
Elaine turns and looks at her, smiling sweetly, "I'm making pancakes."
Maureen doesn't even turn around, but Gene was looking at Elizabeth with a guilty expression. "I—I'm not very hungry. Actually, I'm not feeling very well this morning, and was just coming down to let everyone know I wouldn't be going to church today." She admits, blinking and trying to comprehend everything. "Is Henry not awake yet?"
"He's on the porch with Amanda." Maureen answers, still not looking at Elizabeth.
Knowing that the only way to the back porch was through the kitchen, Elizabeth just turns around and goes back to her room, immediately shutting the door and walking to her bed. It wasn't until she sat down that she let the tears flood.
April 9, 1988 | Henry
"Babe?" Henry says, knocking on the door. "Mom told me you weren't feeling well? Is everything okay or is this about…" he lets his voice trail off even though everyone else had already gone outside to their cars. "About, um…last night?"
He doesn't hear any reply, not even a movement. He knocks again, "Elizabeth? Are you alright?" He asks.
When she still doesn't answer him, he finally announces, "I'm coming in," before turning the knob and pushing the door open carefully.
She's lying on the bed, all curled up and facing the other wall—probably looking out the window. "Elizabeth, what's the matter?" He asks softly, walking over to her bed and putting one knee on the mattress, leaning over to peek at her face.
The glimpse he catches of her face before she tucks it into the pillow beneath her showed that she had been crying—her face was tear-stained and red, and her hair was wet underneath her. "I'm just not feeling well, Henry." She murmurs.
He frowns, "Is this something to do with last night?" He asks, suddenly concerned that she was regretting it all way more than she had been last night. "Elizabeth, last night was—"
"It's not about last night, Henry. I just don't feel good."
He sits on the side of his leg beside her lower back, facing her headboard and letting his hand skim the side of her thigh gently, "Is there something I can bring you?" He asks.
"You should be leaving," she mumbles, "It's almost time for church."
He looks at the clock and shakes his head, "I'm not going to leave you alone like this." He says, "Are you sick?"
Her body wracks underneath his hand and he frowns deeper, leaning over to get a better view of her face before she finally speaks up, "I'm not sick."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Henry."
He blinks a few times, looking at her basically shrivel in on herself. Someone who was normally so confident curling into a ball made his heart sink. "Do you want some saltines?"
"I don't need saltines." She says, then sits up quickly and stares at him, "I just want to go home."
He looks at her face and studies all the redness, bringing his hand up and pushing back the bundle hair that was stuck to her cheek and lip. "Elizabeth, what's this all about?" He asks quietly, "Did they say something to you?"
Her body goes from being rigid and stiff as a board to slumping over, and she looks out the window again before her body wracks once more, "Not exactly to me." She murmurs, "They had no idea I was in earshot."
Immediately, a rage builds in his stomach and bubbles up to his chest, "Did Maureen say something? Or dad?" He asks, balling his other hand into a fist while the one still was resting on her thigh. "Elizabeth, please tell me. Did one of them say something?"
She sniffles and drags her head to look back at him, "Ever heard them call me 'Queen Elizabeth' before?" She asks.
The rage that was bubbling within him forces him to stand to his feet, pace the room, and go punch the chair in the corner. When he turns around, he sees Elizabeth almost cowering, and he immediately regrets losing his temper like that in front of her. "Who said that?" He asks.
"It's not that important." Elizabeth says, "I'll be okay. I just didn't want to sit next to them in chu—"
"Who said it, Elizabeth?" He asks again, trying to not get angry with her just because he was angry at his family.
She eyes him and frowns, shaking her head, "Henry, I don't like this side of you." She whispers, "I'm not going to tell you if you're just going to make a big deal of it. It was just something that was said—I'll get over it."
He turns around quickly and puts his hands on his hips, trying to take deep breaths, "Let's go home." He says.
"But your mom—"
"I don't care." Henry answers, "I can't stand to look at any of them."
"Your mom stood up for me." Elizabeth adds, "And so did Gene. So don't do something rash to hurt Mrs. Elaine just because you're upset with your other family." She says and sniffles, wiping at her face and shifting to sit criss-cross on the bed.
"Then who said that?" He asks.
She shakes her head, "I'll tell you when you cool off, but for now, Henry, just go to church and sit with your mom."
"I can't." He says, shaking his head and walking back over to the foot of her bed, leaning over on it. "I can't bring myself to look at any of them right now, and I know it'll hurt my mom, but I'll find some way to make it up to her. For now, let's just go home and—let's just go home." He repeats.
The ride home was fairly silent until they were about an hour outside of Charlottesville. Elizabeth had been looking out the window the whole time, but she finally pulled her gaze to him and turned the radio down, "I have something serious to ask you, Henry." She says.
He furrows his brow and looks over at her, his elbow propped against the door while his hand held the wheel, his other hand lying on the gear shift, "Okay?" He asks.
There was a pause, and it made him look over at her again to see that she was looking out the window once more. "What do you think about getting an apartment together?"
He's pretty sure he almost crashed the truck since he briefly blacked out, "An apartment?" He asks, "After what happened with my family, you still want to—"
"Henry…" She says, looking over at him again and grabbing his hand that was was on the gear, "I love you. Your family are people that come along with you." She says, "And people say hurtful things. But I still love you."
He looks down briefly at their hands and sighs, then brings his eyes back to the road, "Why an apartment?" He asks.
She squeezes his hand a little, and he sees her move to face the road again. "Well," she starts quietly, then clears her throat and looks over at him, squinting her eyes a little. He could tell whatever she was about to say was somewhat difficult for her to get out, and it made him feel more nervous than it should have, "I don't want to spend my summer alone again." She says, practically holding her breath after she gets it all out.
He rubs his thumb over the top of her hand, smiling a little and giving her a quick glance, "An apartment sounds great." He says, "I've been wanting to move off campus anyway."
She's breathing again and much more relaxed, "I was really worried you'd be so upset about everything that happened today that you'd say no."
He laughs, "Why would I be the one to say no?" He asks and raises a brow, "You're the one that my family was taunting with no remorse."
She shrugs, "You just get like that sometimes." She says in a nonchalant tone, and it makes him chuckle and shake his head.
"Fine," he answers, "You might be right about that. They just get to me sometimes."
Her head whips around to face him again, and he looks over to see that she's giving him a look, "Sometimes?" She asks, "Babe, you let them get to you a lot. And I get it, they're kind of psycho sometimes," she admits, "But they're your family."
He laughs quietly, "I know." He says, "They're just hard to handle."
"But you love them, right?"
He thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath. He doesn't always feel like he loves Maureen, but he loves her on her good days. On her worst days, the ones like today when she goes and says something idiotic, that's when he wonders if it's true, sibling love that he's experiencing. "Yeah," he answers finally, "Most of the time."
Silence surrounds the truck again, just the noise of Bob Seger playing quietly on the radio and the sound of the tires against the road. He wants to start fuming again over what Maureen called Elizabeth, and he wants to address it with Maureen, too. But Elizabeth told him not to—and it's already killing him slowly. What he'd really like to do is knock Maureen's lights out, but he knows better—he tried fighting his sister once when he was seven and she was nine. He would've won, too, had it not been for Patrick breaking them up.
"Why do you pick on your brother so much, Maureen?" Elaine was asking right after Patrick tore the two off each other. "He's nothing but nice to you."
Henry knew that wasn't quite true as Elaine was saying it—he did a lot of mean things to her, too. But today, Maureen started it all. The big cut on his shin wouldn't have happened had it not been for her pushing him off his bike.
It all started when she was riding her bike around him in circles, and he was still riding around in his training wheels even at seven years old. She was taunting him the entire time, but then she said something that crossed the line even for his seven-year-old ego, "You ninny," she called out, "You still ride with training wheels because you're too much of a baby."
He gripped his handlebars and frowned at her, watching as she circled him like a shark. "I'm not a ninny!" He yelled, "At least I'm not a…" he paused, trying to think of the meanest word that he could think of. One suddenly had popped into his head that he'd heard his dad say one day about a waitress who messed up his order, "At least I'm not a bitch!"
At that moment, Maureen jumped off her bike and let it fall to the ground, coming over and pushing his over. The strength it took to push over a seven-year-old on a bike with training wheels was not to be messed with, and the pedal came down right on Henry's shin, causing it to gash open. He had road rash, of course, but the gash was what Elaine was most concerned about.
"He's not nothing but nice to me!" Maureen replied, rubbing her face where Henry had punched her. "He called me a bitch!"
"Maureen!" Elaine yelled.
"He's the one who said it!" She snapped, pointing at Henry.
Elaine turned her attention to Henry and eyed him, "Why did you say that to her?"
"Because she was making fun of me for my training wheels." Henry replied simply.
Elaine's attention turned back to Maureen, "You have to start being nicer."
They were turning into UVA by the time Henry had finished thinking about all the times he and his sister came to blows. He looks over at Elizabeth to see her napping, then looks down to see they're still holding hands. He smiles sweetly and squeezes her hand a little, "Babe?" He says quietly, hoping to not startle her. "We're back to the campus."
She picks her head up off the window and looks around tiredly, "Oh." She says, "You want to stop at the cafeteria first? I'm starving."
He laughs, "Already was headed there." He says, "Let's stop in the student center and get those pamphlets for apartments. We can check them out while we eat."
She nods and then looks at him and frowns, "Henry," she says, "What about your mom?"
"What do you mean?"
"She'll be heartbroken to think we're sleeping together."
He shrugs, "She can either believe the story that we're just roommates or she can be heartbroken I guess."
"Henry…" She warns, "She's not the one you're mad at."
He sighs and leans his head against the headrest, "I know, I know." He says, "But I'm an adult, Elizabeth."
She nods and clears her throat, "I know." She says, "I just…don't be upset with her. She's just looking out for you." She says distantly, and Henry looks over and wonders where her mind just went. Is it with her mom, wishing that she were here to look out for her, too? He decides to not press it and instead just agrees with her.
"I'll call her later and apologize to her for skipping church." He states. "And then I'll let her know that I'm getting an apartment off campus for the summer. She'll think it's just because I don't want to go home and see Maureen or any of them, really, over the summer."
A/N pt. 2: First time, first "Queen Elizabeth," and first apartment. Ahh, the firsts. :-)