24 Fic: Ceasefire 1/1 (Tony/Michelle)
Title: Ceasefire
Fandom: 24
Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida
Prompt: #020. Colourless
Word Count: 1,691
Rating: PG
Summary: "We've both made mistakes, but it's not too late to let it go - let it go - and follow me home tonight."
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to "Contemplations on Freedom" that I started earlier this year and only recently was inspired to pick back up again. I like it, though, and I hope you will too.
The way her stomach was clenching felt like she was on their first date all over again. Only this time she wasn't worried about whether her hair looked okay, she was worried about whether she could make it right with him. She didn't like that this was where she had to go to find him, but if this was what she had to do... so be it. They were better together than they were apart.
The bar was loud, so loud whatever Ozzy or Guns N' Roses tune they were attempting to get through the speakers came out more distorted than audible. And then there was the smoke. It was going to take three showers to even attempt to get the stench of tobacco out of her hair. How could he stand it in here? And nearly every night no less? At least she assumed it was every night.
Between the smoke and the low light, it took her a couple of tries to spot him. He was hunched at the far edge of the far, facing away from the door; another completely uncharacteristic thing for him. His hair was just shy of unkempt, falling into his eyes in soft curls instead of staying close to his forehead. He didn't seem to be drunk, though she had no idea if the empty glass he was spinning between his hands was his first or his thirteenth.
The thing that really struck her was how pained he looked. She thought of how he looked before, but now he just looked... empty.
Six weeks ago that look would've made her angry. Now it just made her sad. She hated seeing him like that.
Her feet brought her to the bar before her brain had fully decided what she was going to say to him. If he'd seen her, he didn't react. At least until she found her voice.
"Think I can convince you to buy me a drink, Marine?"
She watched his face morph into a mixture of annoyance and amusement at her lame, fake pick up line. At least until he saw who'd said it. Then he just looked plain confused.
"Michelle?" He glanced down at the glass in his hand, seemingly blaming it for making him see things.
"Hi Tony." She tried to smile her nervousness away. "I... can we talk?"
He nodded slowly, and she knew it was because she still didn't believe she was really there. That didn't necessarily help her own uneasiness, but she stood her ground, pulling her purse higher onto her shoulder.
"You really want a drink?"
It'd been a sore subject between them for weeks, but if he was going to give, she should too. She nodded slowly, mirroring him.
"Yeah, I do." She smiled again softly. "What're you drinking?"
The seat beside him was empty and she settled into it, indicating her willingness to stay.
"Wha? Oh, this is... not good. Here, I'll get ya something better." He lifted his hand to the bartender, eyes darting away from her almost guiltily. He didn't want her to know how familiar he'd become with the place, maybe?
"That's okay, I'll have what you're having." She smiled at the guy, pointing to Tony's glass. Her fingers closed over Tony's on their way down. She didn't know what he was having, but if it showed him she could accept it, then maybe he could accept what she wanted to say.
"I gotta warn ya, you'll hate it."
Impulsively, she leaned over, cupping the back of his head and kissing him. He was right. She could taste the bitter remnants of his drink on his lips, and she had a feeling whatever it was wouldn't taste good on the way down. She would drink it, though, to show him it wasn't the alcohol itself she'd had the problem with this whole time.
But, God, not even the taste of the booze could change how much she'd missed his kisses. Or how much she'd missed feeling his breath hitch when their lips touched and her fingers delved into his hair. She'd definitely missed the scrape of his stubble against her cheeks.
Pulling away took almost all of her strength, and when she licked her lips she realized her breath had already sped up. That kind of reaction might not help solve anything, but it was nice - more than nice - to feel it again.
Tony still looked stunned, but finally a blink at least brought him out of his spell. He really hadn't been expecting that. Before he could speak, her thumb slid across his cheek, tugging the corner of his mouth up gently. She'd missed his smile.
"Hi," she whispered, feeling the corner of her own mouth twitched at the absurdity of their situation. Here they were, married, and just a simple kiss was enough to cause this kind of confusion?
"Hey." He cleared his throat. "Didn't expect that."
Again, she nodded. "I know." Her thumb made gentle circles against his jawline.
His hand joined hers on his face, nails scratching his other cheek. She couldn't help but feel like it was a victory. She wasn't being met with casual indifference anymore.
"So," he continued, his voice something close to neutral. Or at least she assumed, given how noisy the bar was. "You wanna talk?"
She might've told herself not to nod again (who the hell nodded this damn much in a conversation with her husband? Wouldn't it just be easier to keep kissing him?) but she did it anyway.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"About what?" Even with an edge creeping into his voice, he didn't pull away. That had to be a good sign.
It was show time. He didn't beat around the bush, so neither should she. That didn't mean she didn't want a moment to collect her thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, she backed up just slightly. Their drinks had arrived while she was distracted, and two cold, almost colorless beers were waiting on thin napkins in front of them. At least it wasn't something like scotch, but that didn't mean it wouldn't still be terrible. He had said she'd hate it, after all. Before she took a sip, though, she was just going to blurt it out.
"I made a mistake, Tony." She knew he'd have to strain to hear her over the noise, so she lifted her eyes and said it again, "I made a mistake and I want to fix it."
She brushed her thumb against his chin. "Will you help me?"
There it was, the million dollar question. Along with it came the return of the butterflies in her belly. She knew she hadn't put everything out there, but she just had to hope an admission of being wrong would go a long way. He knew how stubborn she was because he was just as bad.
Which made waiting for him to say something even harder. Was it really that stunning that she'd come to him and want him back?
Finally he nodded, although it was still hesitant. "Yeah."
She bit her lip gently. "Yeah?"
"Yeah Michelle. I'll help."
This time he caught her by surprise. When he kissed her, it was like he hadn't kissed her in years. She could only think of one other time when he'd kissed her like this - all those years ago at CTU, when anger was replaced with the desperation to be wanted.
Her arms wound around his neck, as her surprised squeak was swallowed by the clash of their lips. She hadn't been particularly steady on the tall stool in the first place, but when his mouth touched hers again, it was all she could do to keep her balance. Falling on the floor in an undignified heap wouldn't make her look all that good.
There was so much more she needed to say, but when she opened her mouth between kisses, all she managed to get out was a plaintive request.
"Come home."
"Y'mean it?" he murmured, lips nipping at hers. "Cause I'm - if you're just gonna throw me out in the morning, then I'm better off here."
Even though it wasn't surprising that he'd think that, she still felt the sting of hurt. Taking him home only to kick him out again... that wouldn't solve anything. He wasn't a yo-yo. When she took him home... she wasn't letting him walk out again. Literally or figuratively.
"I mean it, Tony," she promised. "You're not going anywhere. Just come home with me, we'll get everything..."
Cupping his head, she kissed him again slowly. "Just a word of warning though, we're going to be showering for about a year."
His fingers brushed her hair back in the same affectionate gesture he'd always made. "This place is practically an ashtray, let's go."
When she smiled, he gave her the briefest of kisses again. She watched him dig into his wallet and toss enough money on the bar to cover their tab. It wasn't a lot of money, even if it was ridiculously cheap, it was still just enough for the one he'd finished before she got there.
Her fingers brushed his arm as she tried to find a way to ask why he would hang out in a place like this for just one drink. One crappy drink at that.
Tony licked his lips in response to her unspoken question, and she felt his hand curl around hers. "Beats being alone."
She cringed at the way he said it so nonchalantly. Forcing him to be alone was never... she'd just wanted him to realize how bad things had gotten. Tony didn't do guilt-tripping, so there was no reason to think he was laying it on thick, but she still felt guilty all the same.
Especially when, as they walked out together, she looked back to see that he hadn't even touched that second drink.
Fandom: 24
Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida
Prompt: #020. Colourless
Word Count: 1,691
Rating: PG
Summary: "We've both made mistakes, but it's not too late to let it go - let it go - and follow me home tonight."
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to "Contemplations on Freedom" that I started earlier this year and only recently was inspired to pick back up again. I like it, though, and I hope you will too.
The way her stomach was clenching felt like she was on their first date all over again. Only this time she wasn't worried about whether her hair looked okay, she was worried about whether she could make it right with him. She didn't like that this was where she had to go to find him, but if this was what she had to do... so be it. They were better together than they were apart.
The bar was loud, so loud whatever Ozzy or Guns N' Roses tune they were attempting to get through the speakers came out more distorted than audible. And then there was the smoke. It was going to take three showers to even attempt to get the stench of tobacco out of her hair. How could he stand it in here? And nearly every night no less? At least she assumed it was every night.
Between the smoke and the low light, it took her a couple of tries to spot him. He was hunched at the far edge of the far, facing away from the door; another completely uncharacteristic thing for him. His hair was just shy of unkempt, falling into his eyes in soft curls instead of staying close to his forehead. He didn't seem to be drunk, though she had no idea if the empty glass he was spinning between his hands was his first or his thirteenth.
The thing that really struck her was how pained he looked. She thought of how he looked before, but now he just looked... empty.
Six weeks ago that look would've made her angry. Now it just made her sad. She hated seeing him like that.
Her feet brought her to the bar before her brain had fully decided what she was going to say to him. If he'd seen her, he didn't react. At least until she found her voice.
"Think I can convince you to buy me a drink, Marine?"
She watched his face morph into a mixture of annoyance and amusement at her lame, fake pick up line. At least until he saw who'd said it. Then he just looked plain confused.
"Michelle?" He glanced down at the glass in his hand, seemingly blaming it for making him see things.
"Hi Tony." She tried to smile her nervousness away. "I... can we talk?"
He nodded slowly, and she knew it was because she still didn't believe she was really there. That didn't necessarily help her own uneasiness, but she stood her ground, pulling her purse higher onto her shoulder.
"You really want a drink?"
It'd been a sore subject between them for weeks, but if he was going to give, she should too. She nodded slowly, mirroring him.
"Yeah, I do." She smiled again softly. "What're you drinking?"
The seat beside him was empty and she settled into it, indicating her willingness to stay.
"Wha? Oh, this is... not good. Here, I'll get ya something better." He lifted his hand to the bartender, eyes darting away from her almost guiltily. He didn't want her to know how familiar he'd become with the place, maybe?
"That's okay, I'll have what you're having." She smiled at the guy, pointing to Tony's glass. Her fingers closed over Tony's on their way down. She didn't know what he was having, but if it showed him she could accept it, then maybe he could accept what she wanted to say.
"I gotta warn ya, you'll hate it."
Impulsively, she leaned over, cupping the back of his head and kissing him. He was right. She could taste the bitter remnants of his drink on his lips, and she had a feeling whatever it was wouldn't taste good on the way down. She would drink it, though, to show him it wasn't the alcohol itself she'd had the problem with this whole time.
But, God, not even the taste of the booze could change how much she'd missed his kisses. Or how much she'd missed feeling his breath hitch when their lips touched and her fingers delved into his hair. She'd definitely missed the scrape of his stubble against her cheeks.
Pulling away took almost all of her strength, and when she licked her lips she realized her breath had already sped up. That kind of reaction might not help solve anything, but it was nice - more than nice - to feel it again.
Tony still looked stunned, but finally a blink at least brought him out of his spell. He really hadn't been expecting that. Before he could speak, her thumb slid across his cheek, tugging the corner of his mouth up gently. She'd missed his smile.
"Hi," she whispered, feeling the corner of her own mouth twitched at the absurdity of their situation. Here they were, married, and just a simple kiss was enough to cause this kind of confusion?
"Hey." He cleared his throat. "Didn't expect that."
Again, she nodded. "I know." Her thumb made gentle circles against his jawline.
His hand joined hers on his face, nails scratching his other cheek. She couldn't help but feel like it was a victory. She wasn't being met with casual indifference anymore.
"So," he continued, his voice something close to neutral. Or at least she assumed, given how noisy the bar was. "You wanna talk?"
She might've told herself not to nod again (who the hell nodded this damn much in a conversation with her husband? Wouldn't it just be easier to keep kissing him?) but she did it anyway.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"About what?" Even with an edge creeping into his voice, he didn't pull away. That had to be a good sign.
It was show time. He didn't beat around the bush, so neither should she. That didn't mean she didn't want a moment to collect her thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, she backed up just slightly. Their drinks had arrived while she was distracted, and two cold, almost colorless beers were waiting on thin napkins in front of them. At least it wasn't something like scotch, but that didn't mean it wouldn't still be terrible. He had said she'd hate it, after all. Before she took a sip, though, she was just going to blurt it out.
"I made a mistake, Tony." She knew he'd have to strain to hear her over the noise, so she lifted her eyes and said it again, "I made a mistake and I want to fix it."
She brushed her thumb against his chin. "Will you help me?"
There it was, the million dollar question. Along with it came the return of the butterflies in her belly. She knew she hadn't put everything out there, but she just had to hope an admission of being wrong would go a long way. He knew how stubborn she was because he was just as bad.
Which made waiting for him to say something even harder. Was it really that stunning that she'd come to him and want him back?
Finally he nodded, although it was still hesitant. "Yeah."
She bit her lip gently. "Yeah?"
"Yeah Michelle. I'll help."
This time he caught her by surprise. When he kissed her, it was like he hadn't kissed her in years. She could only think of one other time when he'd kissed her like this - all those years ago at CTU, when anger was replaced with the desperation to be wanted.
Her arms wound around his neck, as her surprised squeak was swallowed by the clash of their lips. She hadn't been particularly steady on the tall stool in the first place, but when his mouth touched hers again, it was all she could do to keep her balance. Falling on the floor in an undignified heap wouldn't make her look all that good.
There was so much more she needed to say, but when she opened her mouth between kisses, all she managed to get out was a plaintive request.
"Come home."
"Y'mean it?" he murmured, lips nipping at hers. "Cause I'm - if you're just gonna throw me out in the morning, then I'm better off here."
Even though it wasn't surprising that he'd think that, she still felt the sting of hurt. Taking him home only to kick him out again... that wouldn't solve anything. He wasn't a yo-yo. When she took him home... she wasn't letting him walk out again. Literally or figuratively.
"I mean it, Tony," she promised. "You're not going anywhere. Just come home with me, we'll get everything..."
Cupping his head, she kissed him again slowly. "Just a word of warning though, we're going to be showering for about a year."
His fingers brushed her hair back in the same affectionate gesture he'd always made. "This place is practically an ashtray, let's go."
When she smiled, he gave her the briefest of kisses again. She watched him dig into his wallet and toss enough money on the bar to cover their tab. It wasn't a lot of money, even if it was ridiculously cheap, it was still just enough for the one he'd finished before she got there.
Her fingers brushed his arm as she tried to find a way to ask why he would hang out in a place like this for just one drink. One crappy drink at that.
Tony licked his lips in response to her unspoken question, and she felt his hand curl around hers. "Beats being alone."
She cringed at the way he said it so nonchalantly. Forcing him to be alone was never... she'd just wanted him to realize how bad things had gotten. Tony didn't do guilt-tripping, so there was no reason to think he was laying it on thick, but she still felt guilty all the same.
Especially when, as they walked out together, she looked back to see that he hadn't even touched that second drink.