i_vanquish_evil | otherways - writing... Stephen

otherways - writing... Stephen

Things I want to say:

I love you I'm sorry I want you
I need you I need help - from you

Stephen,

(This started out as a list, but this might work better.)

I'm sorry. I wish I knew what to say... or do. I thought it was done - under control - but something happened. Maybe it was just because David is leaving or maybe I'm just weak. Either way, it shouldn't have happened and I can't undo it. But I want to fix it, keep it from happening again, because I think it hurts you, though you never say anything specifically about it. And I don't want to hurt you. I love you too much to hurt you... to lose you. I was alone for far too long. Trying to live without you doesn't work. For seventy years I existed, but didn't live. When you showed up here, once I realized who you were, I was alive again. Happy. I haven't been happy in seventy years, because every time I tried, I thought I had it, something came along to snatch it from my grasp. Isabel was the most recent of those. There was a lot more, but I don't focus on that anymore. It's hard, but I don't. The past can stay in the past. Except the recent things. By recent, I mean the last week or so. The stuff with David. And if you're angry about it - tell me. I'm sorry and I wish I knew why it happened, but I don't. Worse is that I knew we shouldn't have done it, and we tried not to, but something took over, overriding the little voice in the back of my head. I don't understand. I wanted it and, normally, I can just deal with it; keep control, but this time - I couldn't. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I don't know what to do and that scares me.

I love you. I watch you. I watch you reading - I love it, love watching you read, because you love it - reading. It's a part of you. A part of who you are. I used to watch you working in the lab too. It fascinated me, that you could come up with all of those... things - weapons, trinkets, whatever - and make them work. It never mattered to me how long it took, because I knew that once you had it, it would work the way you wanted it to work; the way it was supposed to work. And watching your face when you made something work... it always made me smile. It made me happy to watch you succeed at something. I don't know if you ever saw me watching; I was never obvious about it, but I've always loved watching you.

I love the little things that I was never able to pick up about other people in my life - my existence. Those things are important to me. The way you look at me when I come in for the night - whether you want anything or not. The soft sounds you make as you curl around me and settle in to sleep. The way you kiss me awake in the morning when you're horny. The way your tongue plays on my skin, my cock; the way your eyes lock to mine as you take me; the way your hands feel when you touch me... there's a lot more. I know I could keep going. Maybe I will...

Maybe... The way your body feels pressed to mine; the way your mouth, your tongue, your lips feel when I kiss you. Your body beneath me, arching up as I enter you, touch you, taste you... I love all of that. I love just being in the same room with you. I can feel your presence. If the room was dark and people walked in one at a time, I would be able to tell when you walked in. Not only would I know, my entire mood would change, shift and I'd be happier, calm, more relaxed - all because you came into the room. I love that you do that; that you make me a better person just by being in the room; being with me.

I need you… there are probably a thousand reasons why, but the one that I always come back to is that 'you are the completion of my soul'. Although, I think that means you carry a great deal more of it than I do, and maybe that's why I need you so much more than I ever thought I did.

I want you - but you know that. You know that because I miss you so much when you're gone. And I mentally undress you when I watch you read; think about what I want to do to you when you're done. Well, you might not have known that part.

This might be the hardest part. Not only do I need you, I need your help. Help me?…

The letter is unfinished and Michael is asleep, sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall; the notebook is on the bed beside him.

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"You," he begins slowly, his voice soft and utterly melted, "are a much bigger ball of schmoop than anyone other than me would ever believe. And for that matter, I think I love you for it."

A soft kiss to the top of his head as he settles down in the bed.

Michael, is still asleep, and as such, doesn't actually hear anything Stephen's said. Give the man a break... he's exhausted.

Which is good because really, Stephen was talking to himself. It's a danger of needing to talk so much, monologuing, but he tries to keep the maniacal laughter out of it, so he figures he's all right.

So instead of waking him up to talk, he curls around Michael and kisses his head again.

Also good because Michael would glare at being called 'schmoopy' and he wasn't intending for it to be schmoopy anyway... it's all stuff that was 'bugging' him or tickling the back of his head. Stuff he's wanted to say and just couldn't find the right time to say any of it.

And Stephen doesn't really think it's schmoopy, but if he doesn't call it that, he might cry and he doesn't do that often...and he always hopes to never have to do it for Michael.

When Michael wakes up, he's going to know that Stephen read it; he won't be upset by that, but he'll want to know how Stephen feels about it.

Michael rolls his head a bit, he might be starting to wake up.

If he is, Stephen would really rather just cuddle for the moment.

He has thinking to do.

Michael yawns and rolls his shoulders. He half-opens his eyes. "Hi."

He smiles and presses a kiss to Michael's nose.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

He blinks himself more awake. "Is it morning?" Hard to tell in a room with no windows.

"No, but good evening would sound bizarre in this sort of situation and I don't feel like just saying hello and you DID just wake up, so I decided on good morning. Besides...it's probably morning SOMEWHERE."

"I'm sure."

He rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Read it?" He doesn't say what, doesn't point to anything; Stephen will know what he means.

His eyes flick to the paper before he looks at Michael.

"Love you too."

He nods. "I know."

"Sit with me?" He holds his arm out to let Stephen curl in closer.

He nods and crawls into Michael's embrace, happy and content as he sighs lightly before settling.

"Always."

He wraps his arms around Stephen. "Thoughts?" He means what he wrote again. He wants to know... he didn't write all of that for nothing.

"What can I do, love?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

He leans his head against Stephen's. "I actually meant, thoughts on the whole thing, not just the helping." He turns to look at him. "I want to know."

He shrugs.

"I love you too. What can I do to help? I'm not going anywhere."

Because important things don't require words so much as understanding.

"First, I want to know if you're angry with me." It'll upset him, but he deserves it - or thinks he does.

He shrugs.

"How could I be angry when I know what it's like with Harry? And David has never tried to kill me. Tried to sleep with me, but not kill me. I'm not angry, I'm not going to be angry, and if I was angry, you'd know. The only way I'll get angry would be if you continue to ask me if I'm angry."

He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm angry at myself."

"Why?"

He looks to Michael.

"I'm really rather confused on this point."

He blinks. "Because I tried not to do it. I mean really tried." He lowers his head, shaking it, eyes closed.

"And I tried not to go with Harry that night. If I'm not mad at you, and I'm really the only person with any right to be getting upset about it...why are you?"

Head still down. "But, you only did it once."

"And I might do it again. Just because I'm a homebody doesn't make me a better or worse person. What's pissing me off more than anything is this...ridiculous need to feel guilty about it. I am not Jinette. I'm not going to help you hate yourself so I can manipulate you to my needs. That's now how we work. It is, in fact, never how we worked. If I tell you it's all right, it's all right, god damn it."

He looks up at him. "I know you're not trying to manipulate me, but I get the feeling that something is and it's frustrating the hell out of me. Because it seems that every time I think I have control, something comes and snaps it away. I want to be in control of myself... my feelings... me. The fact that I'm not really bothers me. And that is why I get upset about the things I've done. If it was just lust, it wouldn't bother me so much, but I swear there is something else." He actually looks angry now... angry that someone or something is 'out there' making him do things he may not want to do.

He actually stares at Michael for a moment...and he doesn't laugh, but he does look very sad.

"It's called fate. Cruel and cold and doesn't-give-a-shit-about-you fate. Unless you have proof it's anything else, that's it."

Now he glares. "Oh no. Fate I would understand. This is different. Feels different. Like I have just enough control when you're not here to manage, but as soon as you're back... it's gone again. Fate is cruel, but not like that. And I can feel something. It's not tangible, but it's there."

He shrugs.

"I...I don't know. If you want, I could look some things up the next time we're in our world."

He blinks and smiles; it's the smallest of smiles, but it's a smile. "Please?"

He smiles.

"I like doing research. For you...I love doing research."

The smile broadens. "I know." He takes a deep breath. "Can we leave for Venice tomorrow? I... I don't want to leave Nick, but I want to be alone with you." He draws him close for a soft, warm kiss.

He nods without a word.

~~uses right smiley icon this time~~

"Mmmm. Good. And, if I tear all your clothes off right now, are you going to pout at me?" he asks with a wicked grin.

He pouts.

"What do you think?"

He sighs and slouches.

"Damn. I knew you wouldn't be up for it." He rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a grin just before he tackles Stephen onto the bed, kicking the stupid notebook to the floor. "Mmmm, maybe we should try that clothes half-on thing." And he buries his face against Stephen's neck.

He pouts.

"No with the tearing and the stripping and the pouncing and the taking? I'm disappointed. I thought there would be tearing all my clothes off..."

"Oh... you want that... well, why did you say so?"

He laves his tongue from the very corner of Stephen's jaw all the way to the tip of his chin, where he bites, a little harder than 'gently'. He's also in the process of none-too-gently removing Stephen's shirt...

He gets a look for his trouble.

"What?" He blinks... a really ineffective attempt at being innocent. "If you want me to stop, you'd better say so." He kisses his way down Stephen's chest, maybe stopping to lick at nipples and nibble along ribs.

Notice his silence. No, really, notice it. It's difficult.

Stephen is no longer wearing his shirt and soon, he might also be missing his pants and socks and anything else he might have on. Michael, however, seems remarkably clothed for a man who may or may not intend to engage in acts of carnal pleasure.

No he doesn't. Because Stephen is working on his clothes even as Michael works on his.

Mostly naked, he pulls Stephen with him as he rolls over, leaving Stephen straddling him for now. He looks up, tracing lines down the librarian's chest. "Damn... you are incredibly sexy... Tell me what you want... anything."

"I'm really rather easy to satisfy, Gabriel. Well, simple enough to satisfy...easy is quite another matter, I should suppose."

He nuzzles into Michael's neck before whispering into his ear.

"Love you."

"I know. I just wanted to know if there was anything specific that you've been wanting to do or try or, whatever..."

His eyes close and his head tilts to the side and he moans at the whisper in his ear. "Love you too."

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otherways - writing... Stephen

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