* SURVIVORS !

MUSES & RULES / GOOGLE DOC.

That is tempting, when she says all the effort she had gone to for the look [ and, he has no doubt, for him in particular ]. However, it isn’t until he hears the soft click of those heels as she walks toward him that his will is severely tested. Especially when she saunters over to stand so near and brings her hand up to cup his cheek.

He swallows hard and were her hand––or, worse, lips––to wander along the column of his neck, he knows she would be quite able to feel the uptick in his pulse. 

So she’s going to play dirty, is she?

Well, if it’s games she wants to play…

“What can I say? I’m a traditionalist about these things.” 

That he can even utter the words with a straight face is truly a testament to his ability to deadpan even the most ridiculous of statements, particularly that he can make it sound so serious even with his eyes closed and a smile just barely threatening at the corners of his mouth.

“It would take a fairly compelling argument to change my mind…”

She rolled her eyes haphazardly to side and shook her head — not that he could even see her  fake annoyance in light of his absolute stubbornness. Even with his eyes closed he seemed proud of himself for that one...but despite mild exasperation, her own gleamed with a hint of amusement.

“I know that. I do. I just… I want to be better already. I have to… I have to deal with Cortez and fucking Pecas and I have to… I have to be there for you. I have to be able to watch your back and right now I can’t…”

There’s something in his voice that hurts at that, breaking on the last word as though that admission alone had irreparably damaged him where even Cortez and his methods of torture had failed.

“Every time you leave on business, I’m here and I don’t know if– I can’t protect you out there when I’m stuck in here.”

“Hey, we’ll deal with them. Together,” she looked at him as she repeated a piece of such a sacred mantra, eyes soft and her hand finding a place in his own. If she could do anything to make this easier, she would, but all they could do was wait. Take time. And all she could do was be strong enough for the both of them, like he had done for her. “Like always.” 

“That’s what they say and yet here you are anyway,” he answers in mild [ and amused ] exasperation, eyes closing. “I’m not going to look. I’m not.”

While not superstitious himself, after all, there is a custom to these things––a certain way in which they’re supposed to be done––and if they’re going to do this right then they’re going to do this right.

Here she was, completely dressed up, with no one to appreciate it! From the moment she put the dress on, there was exactly one person in the world she cared about seeing her in it, and she had been through enough with him to officially say screw superstition.

Hmm, his stubbornness isn’t entirely a surprise, but she’d never shied away from a challenge...and he was pretty much all of her impulse control these days, anyway. 

“But I did my hair and everything—“ she complained, not even bothering to throw on her masterful fake pout. She pushed off her careful, well-arranged spot on the bed. White fabric that had pooled around her now trailed behind as heels clicked against the floor, slowly making her way toward him.

There was this lingering question in the back of her mind. One she often didn’t let anywhere near the surface — telling herself it wasn’t constructive — but seeing him the way he was when he came back...it had been playing on repeat, no matter what she did to push it back down. 

            ...Would he still be here? 

Would he still be here if she hadn’t played such a delicate hand? (Let alone everything else.) There was a reason he kept protecting them her, and he’d been through so much for it. What if it was the answer she didn’t want? (The one that was her fault, of course.) Perhaps what made her truly feel guilty was knowing this is what she was aiming for all that time ago — and yet even when she stopped and just gave into this, it had still happened. Maybe it was too late and too deeply ingrained to undo, and he was paying for it.