romantic at heart!
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Spelling It Out
Rating: G/PG
Challenge: Chocolate #28: longing, Pistachio #12: an apology, FOTD: mansuetude
Toppings/Extras: malt, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 892
Summary: Adele Merritt swallows her pride.
Notes: Malt credit for Santa’s Wishes: Isaac and Adele get over themselves. I assume this was what anon meant…? This was going to be from Isaac’s point of view, but Adele is just too funny. I love today’s fresh peaches: The Moon continues in Aries today, making five different aspects to other planets, bringing a topsy-turvy feel to the day. There are likely to be many ups and downs, but the day should end on a high note as the Moon forms a harmonious aspect to Mercury, the planet of communication. Mansuetude: mildness; gentleness.
“Graham’s planning a mutiny.”
There, she’d said it. She felt stupidly proud. And just stupid in general. Adele tucked a strand of nut-brown hair behind one ear to give her hands something to do, willing her stomach to stop squirming like that. How old was she? Fourteen? No, she was twenty-eight and goddamn it she would act like it.
Isaac Prowse looked at her. It was night and they were under the poop deck of the Kraken, where their cabins were located. They had found themselves bottlenecked in a doorway and Adele had decided it was just as good as any other time to talk about Captain Graham and his dubious plots.
She couldn’t say he looked particularly impressed.
“And?” he responded.
That was the sort of attitude he had with her these days. He’d been very polite to begin with-but that was just him all over, cutting his ties with her and then being so damn nice about it. He’d stopped being nice in the face of her extreme iciness, as any sane person would, though he still smiled at her from time to time.
Why are you even thinking this? He’s hardly Casanova. Pathetic.
“I want you back.”
What? No! Yes! No! How? What just happened? I didn’t-…
Isaac looked as surprised as she felt.
“I miss you.”
Good God, those words stung to get out. It was like he throat was closing over them, trying to stop them escaping. She kind of wanted to say them, but the thought of Isaac knowing just how hard she had taken losing him was ridiculously frightening. Not to mention annoying. Why did she feel like she’d been dumped? They’d never had a relationship to begin with! That had been her own rule.
Couldn’t she just be normal for once? It would be nice.
“Really?” he asked. He looked like he was genuinely uncertain of her sincerity. Oh, no, not really! I was just fucking with you, because it’s so in-character for me to open myself up like that, you utter dickhead. Did I seriously fall for the most stupid man alive?
“I’m not lying,” she replied. How romantic; they were in a dingy little corridor, stuck between the frame of a door, having just had one of those awkward who’s-going-through-first moments in which eye-contact was avoided at all costs. Just how she’d always imagined being swept off of her feet.
“You don’t have a brilliant history when it comes to lying.”
Oh great, he had to bring up the monumentally bad decision she’d made that started this whole thing. The dumbest thing she had ever done. Newson had wanted information-it looked like the natural order of things that Prowse was there to provide it. How wrong she was. The honey trap doesn’t work if you fall for the one you’re seducing, moron!
“I know.” Her voice was demure. Gathering up her pride, getting ready to shatter it into a splintered pile at his feet. This was the bit that was really going to hurt. But it looked like it was going to be worth it. She could tell he didn’t want to, but he was smiling a little-not cruelly, oh no, that would be far too wicked of him. How long had it been since she’d last kissed him? It felt like years! It had only been a few weeks.
Weeks? To break her? That simply wasn’t right.
“I’m sorry.”
Oh, the burn, the shame! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d apologised for anything. It simply wasn’t her style.
Trust Isaac Prowse to change all of that. What was so special about him, anyway? He wasn’t even that good-looking and he was a bit on the dippy side. There was also the age gap to consider. Something like thirteen ages’ worth of gap. This was stupid.
Arms closed around her, encased her, drew her into warmth. Oh, God…
“This is not clever of me in the least,” he said, resting his chin on her head, just like he used to. Was he taking her back?
“If I didn’t know you’re such a colossal sap I wouldn’t have even tried,” Adele muttered into his shirt. She closed her eyes tight, felt his laugh through his chest.
“How nice,” he replied. Her own arms snaked around his waist and pulled her tightly to him, snug under that flickering halogen light in a narrow corridor of a swaying, leaky, briny ship full of pirates. She felt her breath warm up the fabric of his shirt. “You want us to try being… together, then?”
“Jesus Christ, do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I’d rather hear you say it.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Goddamn it, Zac! I want to be with you, even though you’re a sentimental twat and you’re probably going back to the past when we-…”
“We’ll think about that later.” She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and her knees almost gave away in relief. This was better. How had she done without it? “I think I might love you.”
There were things she had been expecting of this conversation. That had not been one of them.
Forehead pressed to his chest, a tear squeezing from the corner of one of her tightly-closed eyes, Adele replied: “Oh, don’t be such a fucking baby.”
Title: Spelling It Out
Rating: G/PG
Challenge: Chocolate #28: longing, Pistachio #12: an apology, FOTD: mansuetude
Toppings/Extras: malt, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 892
Summary: Adele Merritt swallows her pride.
Notes: Malt credit for Santa’s Wishes: Isaac and Adele get over themselves. I assume this was what anon meant…? This was going to be from Isaac’s point of view, but Adele is just too funny. I love today’s fresh peaches: The Moon continues in Aries today, making five different aspects to other planets, bringing a topsy-turvy feel to the day. There are likely to be many ups and downs, but the day should end on a high note as the Moon forms a harmonious aspect to Mercury, the planet of communication. Mansuetude: mildness; gentleness.
“Graham’s planning a mutiny.”
There, she’d said it. She felt stupidly proud. And just stupid in general. Adele tucked a strand of nut-brown hair behind one ear to give her hands something to do, willing her stomach to stop squirming like that. How old was she? Fourteen? No, she was twenty-eight and goddamn it she would act like it.
Isaac Prowse looked at her. It was night and they were under the poop deck of the Kraken, where their cabins were located. They had found themselves bottlenecked in a doorway and Adele had decided it was just as good as any other time to talk about Captain Graham and his dubious plots.
She couldn’t say he looked particularly impressed.
“And?” he responded.
That was the sort of attitude he had with her these days. He’d been very polite to begin with-but that was just him all over, cutting his ties with her and then being so damn nice about it. He’d stopped being nice in the face of her extreme iciness, as any sane person would, though he still smiled at her from time to time.
Why are you even thinking this? He’s hardly Casanova. Pathetic.
“I want you back.”
What? No! Yes! No! How? What just happened? I didn’t-…
Isaac looked as surprised as she felt.
“I miss you.”
Good God, those words stung to get out. It was like he throat was closing over them, trying to stop them escaping. She kind of wanted to say them, but the thought of Isaac knowing just how hard she had taken losing him was ridiculously frightening. Not to mention annoying. Why did she feel like she’d been dumped? They’d never had a relationship to begin with! That had been her own rule.
Couldn’t she just be normal for once? It would be nice.
“Really?” he asked. He looked like he was genuinely uncertain of her sincerity. Oh, no, not really! I was just fucking with you, because it’s so in-character for me to open myself up like that, you utter dickhead. Did I seriously fall for the most stupid man alive?
“I’m not lying,” she replied. How romantic; they were in a dingy little corridor, stuck between the frame of a door, having just had one of those awkward who’s-going-through-first moments in which eye-contact was avoided at all costs. Just how she’d always imagined being swept off of her feet.
“You don’t have a brilliant history when it comes to lying.”
Oh great, he had to bring up the monumentally bad decision she’d made that started this whole thing. The dumbest thing she had ever done. Newson had wanted information-it looked like the natural order of things that Prowse was there to provide it. How wrong she was. The honey trap doesn’t work if you fall for the one you’re seducing, moron!
“I know.” Her voice was demure. Gathering up her pride, getting ready to shatter it into a splintered pile at his feet. This was the bit that was really going to hurt. But it looked like it was going to be worth it. She could tell he didn’t want to, but he was smiling a little-not cruelly, oh no, that would be far too wicked of him. How long had it been since she’d last kissed him? It felt like years! It had only been a few weeks.
Weeks? To break her? That simply wasn’t right.
“I’m sorry.”
Oh, the burn, the shame! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d apologised for anything. It simply wasn’t her style.
Trust Isaac Prowse to change all of that. What was so special about him, anyway? He wasn’t even that good-looking and he was a bit on the dippy side. There was also the age gap to consider. Something like thirteen ages’ worth of gap. This was stupid.
Arms closed around her, encased her, drew her into warmth. Oh, God…
“This is not clever of me in the least,” he said, resting his chin on her head, just like he used to. Was he taking her back?
“If I didn’t know you’re such a colossal sap I wouldn’t have even tried,” Adele muttered into his shirt. She closed her eyes tight, felt his laugh through his chest.
“How nice,” he replied. Her own arms snaked around his waist and pulled her tightly to him, snug under that flickering halogen light in a narrow corridor of a swaying, leaky, briny ship full of pirates. She felt her breath warm up the fabric of his shirt. “You want us to try being… together, then?”
“Jesus Christ, do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I’d rather hear you say it.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Goddamn it, Zac! I want to be with you, even though you’re a sentimental twat and you’re probably going back to the past when we-…”
“We’ll think about that later.” She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and her knees almost gave away in relief. This was better. How had she done without it? “I think I might love you.”
There were things she had been expecting of this conversation. That had not been one of them.
Forehead pressed to his chest, a tear squeezing from the corner of one of her tightly-closed eyes, Adele replied: “Oh, don’t be such a fucking baby.”