God, really, I missed my stove. I missed my whole freaking kitchen, but at the moment the stove was the immediate concern. Mainly because I was trying to stir up some more pain amulets and it pretty much was impossible over an open flame. Seriously, I had no idea how witches had done this pre-gas stove.
Frustrated, I pushed a piece of hair out of my face, my new charm bracelet making a gentle clanking noise. I'd finished spelling all those charms last night; today I'd planned on going shopping in the village to get a few more ingredients once I'd finished with this. Throwing down my spoon back into my second-largest copper spelling pot, I thought about giving up for the evening. It was obvious I was getting nowhere.
Hey, score me at 0 for however many things I'd tried in the last two months. I was doing fantastic, really.
"Turn it," I muttered, closing my book and hunting down my shoes. I was, once more, dressed in clothes of Claire'schoice, not that I had much of one. I'd even tried to buy a new pair of leather pants,
( ... )
For all his determination, Peter couldn't help but pause in the door for a few seconds, staring. He still didn't know who had brought new clothes for Rachel (it had to have been someone else, Rachel loved her leather far too much), but he made a mental note to thank them personally. They had good taste, and the style flattered Rachel in ways the leather hadn't done. She'd looked dangerous and sexy before; and completely unattainable. Peter liked these new clothes a whole lot better
( ... )
I had pretty much given up on Peter. Honestly, I couldn't have said why I'd held out as long as I did. If there was one thing I didn't do well it was pursue; I'd always been the one being chased after. So why I'd done it with Peter, why I'd pushed time and time again after I had just gotten shoved aside, I hadn't a clue.
But I did know that I was done.
There was nothing more to say, beyond the fact that I was sick to death of words. He said he loved me but his actions spoke louder and of something quite different. I was finished with embarrassing myself, done with trying to make sense out of everything. It was quite obvious that he didn't return my feelings and was just too damn nice to let me down. So I'd just bow out. Nothing horrible about that, really. It hadn't worked. No spark (no matter how much I had convinced myself otherwise). No shame in that. It happened
( ... )
"Came to my senses in the middle of painting, and I couldn't wait," Peter shrugged, halfway between smiling and just looking at Rachel with something resembling awe. If he were a less lucky man, she would have kicked him to the curb long ago for making her wait that long. He'd count it among her good fortunes that she had.
And she wasn't pulling away, she'd returned the kiss, and thank god he wasn't too late. "I'm sorry," Peter pressed a light kiss to her lips. "I'll stop being so stupid." Another kiss, and Peter frowned in determination, trying to make himself stop. He had to apologize, dammit. "I'll stop getting caught up in my head, and I'm sorry for sitting on the ant so much when I could have been spending time with you, and I'm sorry for singing Journey so loud in the shower." Okay, the latter probably didn't need to be apologized for, but everything was just sort of coming out in one big rush.
He made himself pause, lightly stroking Rachel's cheekbone. "I'm sorry for a lot of things. But I love you, so much, and it took me
( ... )
"Yeah," I agreed in a breathless pant. It had been... Everything. Amazing. Mind blowing. Quite possibly the best sex of my life. I somehow found the strength to raise my hand, combing fingers through Peter's hair. Just... Wow. I couldn't even form words for it
( ... )
Well, he should have known that this talk would come eventually. But instead of dreading it, or getting annoyed, Peter simply smiled fondly into her neck. Love really was about loving the bad as well as the good
( ... )
My hand had moved to cup his chin, thumb stroking along his cheek as he talked. Other than my eyes going slightly wide at 'prophetic dreams' (and slightly wider at 'take out half of New York') I just let him go on without interrupting.
Returning his kiss, I let my brain rush over everything he'd told me. Then, smiling, I said, "Okay." And it was. What he'd done, while it had driven me crazy and brought me no end of heartache as I'd tried desperately to figure out what he was feeling and what I was feeling and whether those two things connected (and whether they should), was understandable. I'd done the same thing before - hell, I'd done the same thing to him. I got running away. I got distancing myself.
A few things did need to be cleared up, though. "You help me," I told him frankly, love quite evident in my voice. "Every day. You're never going to quite get how much, Peter." I pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But you do."
I was pretty certain he didn't get how messed up I was. How things from my
( ... )
Peter almost opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'Not that I'm going to be exploding again any time soon', but he brushed the thought from his mind. Not exactly the kind of thing that he even wanted to think about right now
( ... )
Comments 75
Frustrated, I pushed a piece of hair out of my face, my new charm bracelet making a gentle clanking noise. I'd finished spelling all those charms last night; today I'd planned on going shopping in the village to get a few more ingredients once I'd finished with this. Throwing down my spoon back into my second-largest copper spelling pot, I thought about giving up for the evening. It was obvious I was getting nowhere.
Hey, score me at 0 for however many things I'd tried in the last two months. I was doing fantastic, really.
"Turn it," I muttered, closing my book and hunting down my shoes. I was, once more, dressed in clothes of Claire's choice, not that I had much of one. I'd even tried to buy a new pair of leather pants, ( ... )
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But I did know that I was done.
There was nothing more to say, beyond the fact that I was sick to death of words. He said he loved me but his actions spoke louder and of something quite different. I was finished with embarrassing myself, done with trying to make sense out of everything. It was quite obvious that he didn't return my feelings and was just too damn nice to let me down. So I'd just bow out. Nothing horrible about that, really. It hadn't worked. No spark (no matter how much I had convinced myself otherwise). No shame in that. It happened ( ... )
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And she wasn't pulling away, she'd returned the kiss, and thank god he wasn't too late. "I'm sorry," Peter pressed a light kiss to her lips. "I'll stop being so stupid." Another kiss, and Peter frowned in determination, trying to make himself stop. He had to apologize, dammit. "I'll stop getting caught up in my head, and I'm sorry for sitting on the ant so much when I could have been spending time with you, and I'm sorry for singing Journey so loud in the shower." Okay, the latter probably didn't need to be apologized for, but everything was just sort of coming out in one big rush.
He made himself pause, lightly stroking Rachel's cheekbone. "I'm sorry for a lot of things. But I love you, so much, and it took me ( ... )
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Returning his kiss, I let my brain rush over everything he'd told me. Then, smiling, I said, "Okay." And it was. What he'd done, while it had driven me crazy and brought me no end of heartache as I'd tried desperately to figure out what he was feeling and what I was feeling and whether those two things connected (and whether they should), was understandable. I'd done the same thing before - hell, I'd done the same thing to him. I got running away. I got distancing myself.
A few things did need to be cleared up, though. "You help me," I told him frankly, love quite evident in my voice. "Every day. You're never going to quite get how much, Peter." I pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But you do."
I was pretty certain he didn't get how messed up I was. How things from my ( ... )
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