Selfish -Fic-

Mar 14, 2009 11:31

Title: Selfish
Characters: Caleb, Caleb/Cordelia
Rating: R
Word Count: 1, 496
Summary: He's tied to her for the rest of his life. What does that make him?
Disclaimer: I do own them.
Feedback: Is always and greatly appreciated.
Author's Notes: I'm not really sure where this came from. I was angry last night and then this popped into my head and I had to get it out. It then morphed into anger and fluff and satire and a complete inner monologue of Caleb. Part of the Wavering Lights Universe.

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He’s tied to her for the rest of his life.

And he doesn’t know what this makes him.

Whether he is the luckiest man alive to have her.

Or the most selfish bastard for tying her to him.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

He is instantly attracted to her when he sees her for the first time. It’s for purely physical reasons because, hey, he is a guy. She’s pretty, fucking beautiful if he’s going to tell the truth; beautiful in and out, but the inside part comes later after he actually gets words in with her. She’s just sitting there in a classroom and it seems so clichéd to meet the person that you are going to spend the rest of your life with in a classroom.

It is what it is though and his mother always told him to never tempt fate. Or question what life gives us. And that we never cannot help who we love.

His mother is gone but her voice remains inside his head with her insightful hints. So he doesn’t question it when he goes up and talks to her after the class, staring into her insightful eyes that hold more wisdom than her young years. After listening to her speak, he finally gets a name to match those curls he wants to sink his fingers in and that coy smile that nearly brings him undone.

She’s pretty and he likes her after talking to her for five minutes. There’s a sharp pull inside him and a voice that whispers not to let her get away.

He listens even when he shouldn’t.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Cordelia Eppes is dangerous. He learns this after two months of “dating” her.

Not in the physical sense, sure, because her weight is insignificant in the grand scheme of all things and he’s got almost twelve inches on her. But she is dangerous and scary in other aspects. She has ways of making people do things for her with one look from those brown eyes. Her mind is advanced beyond those twenty two years of age and he constantly compares her to Anne Boleyn or Atia of Ancient Rome or some other long dead woman that knew how to work people.

He finds himself tricked into doing things by her without really knowing what he’s getting into. Not that he complains because he’s pretty damned sure that after four months he’s extremely close to being in love with her. But she’s good at doing this tricking, like they’re one of those couples, the ones already married. Like when she casually brings up that Thanksgiving will find her home on the West Coast and that her father would like to meet him…

…That should have been a warning right there because his father - biological - has told him all about The Great Don Eppes and that family. In fact, he’d pumped information from the old sniper about her and the Eppes family, trying to learn everything he could about his newest fascination. Ian Edgerton had spilled and had then wanted to meet the woman that had grown up since the last time he’d seen her when she’d only reached his knees. That should have been another warning because he’d agreed and then ‘Delia had been delighted. So delighted that she’d worn a dress and talked so much to the old family friend that he’d sworn by the end of the night that his father loved his girlfriend more than his own flesh and blood.

But he isn’t prone to these warnings and is powerless to do anything to make her upset.

Thanksgiving finds him in Los Angeles with her somewhat fucking crazy family, but all families are crazy. Plus, he doesn’t have a family anymore, not like what he used to have. So he takes hers and deals with it and actually finds himself being accepted and in turn liking them. He also comes home with the added experience of another robbery, having only gone out to get the damn cranberries for the Mrs. Eppes.

The meeting of the families, or what’s left of them in his case, is serious.

That is a warning that he should let her go. Let her go to someone more deserving. To someone who isn’t as messed up or living his job.

But he’s never listened to the warnings and he isn’t going to start here.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The main problem that he has with staying with her - besides loving her more than he can express - is that sometimes he feels that he’s not worthy of her.

She is pure and kind and compassionate and smart and talented and beautiful.

Not that he isn’t these types of things also, though her gifts is with words and his is with a gun and the ability to track criminals down, but he feels as if he’s ruining her by being with her. The FBI is not a pretty job. It’s not nice and it doesn’t pretend to be. He’s killed people, shot them dead, their blood on his hands and it feels wrong to touch her with those hands. Or to saddle her with his nightmares and his problems.

However, he loves her and he cannot let her go despite his need to protect her from everything.

But she reminds him that she’s not so innocent. Her father is a fellow member of the governmental agency and from the stories her parents hadn’t done the best job at keeping the fights and nightmares away from the three children. She knows how to listen, deep gazes and concerned features. The right words come from her mouth and with logic and her own special reasoning she never fails to dissipate the weight on his shoulders.

He views her as pure, as light. That is liable not to change. But she’s not willing to let him go or let him see her like that all the time and he concedes as always.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

By the time he learns that she’s fucking crazy, it’s a bit too late.

The ring on her finger makes it too late because who ever heard of a fiancé taking the ring back and living to tell the tale? Crazy might be too strong of a word. Dramatic would be more like it. And he really should not be surprised seeing that she pretty much could have lived in the fifties with those other drama actresses.

So she’s dramatic. Like when she’d applied to graduate school at Harvard and then had a complete mental breakdown, saying that everything she’d written was shit and wasn’t good enough. She’d gone so far as to try and rip apart everything she’d ever created with those tiny fists, but he had managed to grab her around the waist and yell for the French roommate to take every piece of paper away. Thank God he had been visiting at that time. The breakdown of discovering that she had indeed destroyed her life’s work would have been much worse than the attempt. Like nuclear weapon meltdown kind of worse.

Or when she’d gotten the flu and proclaimed that she was going to just die.

Or the time that he’d accidently given away her Burberry coat and she’d tried to strangle him to death.

Or when she’d thrown her cell phone in the Charles River after dealing with the Boston magazine publisher.

Or a whole bunch of other times that tell him he should have picked up on this sooner.

But he finds out after he builds the house for them and puts the ring on her finger. Because then is when she goes nuts… the planning of their wedding and it’s crazy. Crazy as hell that makes him agree with all those old romance stories about eloping.

She goes dramatic and crazy and he lets her while zoning out. It’s worth it when her last name changes to his.

She’s crazy and he’s a bit crazy at times and they’ll just be crazy married together.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

They are married and that thought terrifies him in a good way.

He lies next to her, holding her naked body against his as they lie in the bed after their first honeymoon night. They’ve been married for barely twenty four hours and the sun is coming up outside in the Italian sky.

This feels right as he watches the orange of the rising star play across the face of his wife. That sounds right as he says it out loud. The out loud words cause her to stir and then sleepy eyes are peering up at him.

A coy smile. “Good morning, Mr. Edgerton.”

His crooked grin. “Good morning, Mrs. Edgerton.”

Kisses exchange as morning breaks over Tuscany.

Nothing has ever felt as right as this.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

He will never leave her until death parts them.

That may make him a selfish son of a bitch.

But he’s the luckiest and most grateful son of a bitch in the world and wouldn’t have it any other way.

universe: wavering lights, fic

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