Romances of Maury Parkman, Chapter 5: Valentine's Day
A/N: This is set on Valentine's Day (Feb. 14) of 2011, so a little over a month since chapter 4.
He rang the bell and waited, grinning at the ridiculousness of his appearance carrying a huge, frilly red heart and a dozen long stem roses. A bit stereotypical - yes, but he didn't want his intentions to be misunderstood. The door opened and Angela Petrelli looked surprised. He hoped that was a good thing. He offered her the bouquet of red roses. "For you, my lovely," he said, smiling at her discomfiture. She took them. She could hardly turn them down, but if anyone could have found a way, it would be her. They'd been playing at a game with neither of them entirely sure of the rules, an uncertain dance for over a month now. Every time it seemed like he was getting close, she skittered away defensively.
She turned to take the flowers into the dining room, where she asked Cassie to get her a vase, water and scissors. He let himself in and put the ostentatious box of chocolates on the side table in the entry. Angela walked back to him. He indicated the box. "Also for you, my sweet."
She smiled tightly at him, but the corners of her eyes wrinkled with true amusement. "You're very thoughtful today, Maury." She opened it and selected a piece. He reached past and grabbed one for himself.
"Yeah, well, today's the day for lovers and hopeful hearts." He bounced up and down on his toes for a moment, feeling younger than his years this Valentine's Day. "So what are you doing today? Will you let me take you out?" He tossed the candy in his mouth. He'd taken her out to eat a number of times, but she'd tried to pretend they were on business or he was just being friendly.
She let her smile drift, but inwardly she was pleased by the attention. "No, I don't want to go out, Maury. The restaurants will be thronged with people. You've never liked crowds anyway. I was just enjoying a quiet afternoon." She walked back into the dining room and put the flowers in, arranging them to her taste. It wasn't that he didn't hear the hint - he simply ignored it, just as he ignored her turning her back on him and walking away.
He wandered into the living room and leaned over her chair, looking at the folded newspaper at the crossword puzzle. "Hm. Do you mind if I stay?" he called over his shoulder, reaching down and snagging the paper. He turned it to look at the cryptogram on the opposite side of the fold.
"Would you go if I told you to?" She walked out with the flowers and set them on the coffee table where they would be seen and admired. He'd already come in without invitation, taken one of her chocolates without asking and now he was reading her paper. He was a product of his upbringing, coarse and often uncouth, even so many decades from his youth.
"Of course," he said, insulted. He didn't know where she got ideas like that. He kept looking at the paper, pondering the possible combinations of letters. It was short. The short ones were the most difficult.
She pulled the newspaper gently from his hands and used the scissors to clip out the section he was looking at. She offered it back to him and got an extra pen out of the end table. He smiled suddenly and hurried around the chair to draw up another seat across the table from her. She sat back down and he joined her, pen poised over the code.
After working at it for a bit, he said, "I got it." He read out, "'The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.' Mother Teresa."
Angela listened and repeated the line silently to herself. Finally she said, "I would have expected something more optimistic for Valentine's Day."
"Maybe so," he said. "I don't want to be alone today, Angela." He leaned over the arm of his chair. "Let me help with what you have left there." He gestured at the crossword puzzle and she obligingly read off the next entry. They worked together, talking and relaxing together. She reflected that he wasn't so bad if you could look past the rough edges. He was smart and full of sharp comments and it had been ages since someone had simply spent time with her.
Cassie came out before they were done and asked, "Ma'am? I was going to have Taylor drive me home for the evening. Do you need anything before I go?"
"No, dear. Thank you. I believe Maury and I can take care of ourselves. Have a nice night with Larry."
"Of course." She smiled, cheered that Angela had remembered her fiancé's name. Mr. Grem came through shortly on the way to the garage. He looked between Maury and his employer for a moment, then moved on without comment.
Angela let her eyes slide to Parkman's face after the butler had closed the door after himself. "You heard something." He'd tilted his head in the characteristic manner telepaths seemed inclined to do when listening in on people's thoughts.
He gave her a conspiratorial smile. "Your butler approves of us."
"Does he now?" She smirked.
"Oh yeah. He hopes you get lucky tonight."
She snorted.
"For what it's worth, I hope you get lucky tonight too."
She tried to look sternly at him, but it failed as a mischievous smile took over against her will. She fought her features back to calm and spoke icily, "I'll have you know I'm going to watch a movie tonight and then go to bed. Nothing more."
Emotion colored his voice. "That sounds wonderful. Can I join you?"
Her eyes softened and she gave up the pretense of harshness. "Yes." She looked away, not trusting herself.
"Will you let me hold your hand while we watch?" He leaned forward over the arm of his chair even more, looking at her intently, eagerly. He sounded almost childishly hopeful.
She sighed, but kept looking away. He could hear the smile in her voice though when she said, "Yes."
He leaned back as if this was a great concession. "Ah! You know, at my age, that's about as lucky as I can handle."
"That's not true," she said, looking back at him.
He nodded. "Yeah? Well maybe one of these days we'll find out."
She blushed and picked up the crossword puzzle to look at the last few entries that had stumped them.
They had sandwiches for dinner and ate them while watching Gran Torino. She'd opened a bottle of wine. They talked through most of the show. He talked about the old cars he'd driven and how he'd always wanted to have a huge garage full of classic cars so he could drive a different one every day. She mentioned how annoying Clint Eastwood's Adam's apple was, bobbing up and down in a distracting, almost vulgar, fashion. The conversation strayed to immigration and neighborhoods and poverty. It reminded them both of the cryptoquote again, but neither of them mentioned it.
After the show was over, she said she didn't feel like going to bed so she put in another movie. Michael had brought several over for her recently from his collection. The next one was called The Departed. They finished off the wine. Maury sat next to her on the couch and finally got to hold her hand. It was warm and small and soft in his. He held it delicately like it was a baby chick, feeling privileged by the contact.
He could feel her presence strongly through his hand. He felt content to have that awareness of her there. He didn't pay much attention to the movie at first and it quickly became confusing and convoluted, but she was fascinated by the plot. He thought he'd just shut his eyes for a little bit and maybe they'd go back to talking later.
He was vaguely aware of her taking off his shoes. He knew it was her because he reached out with his mind as he roused from slumber and grappled with her mentally. She resisted him and he identified her and then went right back to sleep without ever opening his eyes. He awoke again much later to find he was lying on the couch, covered with a blanket, with a pillow under his head. He was warm and mostly comfortable, but a little stiff. Someone was approaching.
He sat up, recognizing Angela's mind before he could see her. He rubbed at the back of his neck as she came into the living room. It was dim, lit indirectly from the kitchen.
"Oh. I didn't mean to wake you. I forgot how…" She didn't finish. Telepaths were exceptionally sensitive to changes in the environment.
"It's all right. My neck hurts. I was probably sleeping on it wrong anyway."
She walked over behind the couch and brushed his hand away. His eyes flew wide and he held very still. She stroked the back of his neck and then began to massage it, starting at the base of his skull and working downward with firm, even pressure from her knuckles. He relaxed. A score of things ran through his mind to say, most of them snarky. He didn't give vent to any of them, not wanting to spoil it. He didn't even say the nice things that came to mind, afraid he'd break the moment. Does she know what she's doing? She's practically caressing me.
He sighed under her hands and enjoyed it. She worked out from the knot at the base of his neck to across his shoulders and then back towards his neck. Her hands slid down over his shoulders and stopped suddenly. She lifted them away. So… no, she didn't, he thought. The Petrellis had touched each other all the time, but he wasn't a Petrelli. It was like she'd forgotten that for a moment.
"Did that help?" she asked, her voice perfectly normal - a little too normal.
"That was great. Thank you." He looked back at her and smiled. One of her hands was on the back of the couch. He turned and reached up to cover it with his own. "Thank you."
She smiled. "There's a bedroom down the hall if you'd rather sleep there."
He glanced upstairs in the direction of her room. It seemed awfully forward to suggest anything, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. "When are you going to bed?"
"I might not."
"Hm." He nodded, accepting the refusal. He knew there was some side effect of her ability that meant she rarely slept and not well when she did... so maybe it wasn't a refusal per se. He looked at his watch. It was nearing four. "I think I'll… just make it an early morning. Do you want to go to breakfast with me?" He stood up and stretched, tossing the blanket aside.
"No, thank you Maury. It was a wonderful evening."
He nodded and walked closer to her, looking intently at her body in the dim light. She held her ground even though she felt a little apprehension. His posture was sexually aggressive, possessive. He stopped a little too close to her. He reached out and touched her shoulder, letting his fingers trail down to her elbow. She told him, "I'm not going to kiss you tonight." Her voice held an edge, telling him to back off without saying it out loud.
He heard her tone and understood the unspoken message. He took a half step back and dipped his head a little, becoming more hesitant. He didn't give up entirely though. "Then I'll kiss you." He leaned in, looking at her face one last time in case she wouldn't let him, but her features didn't change. He pressed his lips briefly to her cheek and then slid his hand down her forearm to hers and raised it, kissing the back of her hand. "I hope I'm welcome back some time." He let her hand go and leaned away, still watching her intently, but now looking only at her face.
She felt a thrill at his attention. It brought a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time, quickened her pulse and deepened her breathing. She raised her chin and exhaled, feeling the chill of trace moisture where his lips had touched her. "Yes. You are."
He smiled a little and walked over to the box of chocolates, snagging a couple more. "Maybe next time I won't fall asleep on you. Sorry about that."
"No, Maury, don't be sorry. You're relaxed with me. I know that doesn't come easily for you. It was nice not to spend the evening alone, to hear someone else in the house, even if it was your snoring." She smiled and he chuckled. She'd become convinced he was sincerely interested in her, not who he would annoy by chasing her, but instead that he really did just want to be with someone, with her.
She walked him to the door and waved good-bye to him. The house was silent after he was gone. It seemed far quieter than it usually was. She turned on some old love songs to fill the house and every now and then she felt her heart sing along with them.