Who: Adam and Daryl What: Meeting up Again Where: A resort in Florida When: Last Saturday Warnings: They're a young, engaged couple that haven't seen one another in over 2 weeks. Come on now. (Nothing explicit, but there is some staring and glossed-over naughty thoughts.)
With a sigh, Daryl adjusted her sunglasses. Despite the fact that she had carefully arranged two beach umbrellas to completely shade her body from the sun, Florida’s oppressive humidity still teased sweat from every gland on the surface of her skin. It lead to a slippery nose that acted like a ski slope for the nosepiece of her sunglasses, encouraging them to slip and slide down to the very tip. She let out a small sigh of annoyance as she returned the glasses to their proper place, turning a page of her book as she did so.
To say that the last few weeks had been tense would have been an understatement. Still riding the wave of fear created by meeting - and being tortured by - the Night Terror, she was promptly sent to the east coast to give a series of lectures at several southeastern universities. This was a favor for an old professor and his colleagues, the pay hardly worth her presence. But more and more, Daryl was coming to appreciate the importance of exchange in human goods. She had always appreciated the concept of balance, but balance to her had always been physical measurements. Services never factored into it. But now, she could understand that a speech was worth something on a level beyond its duration.
She reached out blindly, her fingers finding the cool sides of her wine glass. It was barely noon, the sun still rising in the sky. The pool was largely vacant, save for a small cluster of friends paddling about in the shallow end. Their collective ages must have had a mean of 32, with a standard deviation of no more than 3. They were close in age, she could tell by posture and the familiarity with which they spoke to one another. These were people that knew each other intimately, people that had been friends for years. The phenomenon of close friendships had always eluded her in some way, though now she found it a bit less daunting. Taking a sip of her wine, she looked back to her book.
The area was quiet, fairly undisturbed. It made his footsteps easy for her to hear, though she didn’t look up. The broad brim of her sun hat shielded her face as she turned away, crossing one leg carefully over the other. Even in the shade, it was far too hot for her to consider wearing proper clothing. Her red swimsuit had been purchased here, in Florida, without Adam’s knowledge. Daryl had been quite hesitant to wear anything with more than one piece, but the sales associate had introduced her to the ridiculously named “tankini” – she liked that very much.
A light smirk pulled at her lips as she heard him draw closer, the sound of his weight distribution familiar. Still intent on her book, she turned a page, reaching out for her glass of wine once more. Life without Daryl was what he imagined hell would be like - interminably dull and brain-breakingly boring. He had put combination locks on all the drawers to his secretary’s desk, but had replaced the numbers with images, and the codes themselves had to be discerned from pictorial riddles. She had stormed into his office and threatened to quit if he didn’t change everything back. He had refused.
She quit.
His life, he thought, was better for it.
In another moment of the gray stretch of the day, he had devised a full proof plan for infiltrating the mafia and wresting control from the current don or whatever they were calling themselves in these days. He had halfway executed it, two days later, now sporting several more mob ties than he had previously, all so subtly constructed that only Daryl would be able to follow the leads back to him. He almost wanted her to catch him in this, to scold him for doing something so stupid while yet being so clever. Then he would kiss her. And it would be glorious.
His boredom was mitigated only by the knowledge that he would be joining her in Florida, and when he finally got there, he was immensely glad of it. So were most of the people in his immediate circle of friends. He checked in at the hotel, dropped his things in the suite where Daryl was staying, and made his way to the pool deck. The oppressive heat didn’t bother him much, perhaps surprising dressed as he was in black silk slacks and a white, long-sleeved cotton shirt.
Approaching Daryl from the side, he smiled. She was ignoring him, of course, which was dreadfully unfair. She was wearing a beautiful red tankini that demanded appreciation, but if she was going to pretend she didn’t know he was walking toward her, he was going to pretend he didn’t see that swim suit.
Without preamble, he stopped beside her, wordlessly plucking the book from her hands. He dropped it to her lounge, scooped her into his arms and, with a wicked grin, tossed her into the water. With no care for his clothes - because, really, Armani could be replaced - he toed off his shoes and jumped into the water after her. She had expected him to do something bold and attention-grabbing. Being pulled out of her chair and into his arms was, she supposed, not too surprising. She looked up at him with a smirk as he discarded her book, raising a brow from above her sunglasses. Perhaps she would fuss about her bookmark, or something else inane. Perhaps she would tell him that she was busy, he would have to come back later. But the juxtaposition of his fine attire - that fit him perfectly - with the humid climate made her spine tingle. Just as she reached for one of his buttons, she realized that she was no longer in his arms.
She was flying.
With a loud shriek, she flailed, feeling a rush of air past her face. Before she had time to figure which end was up, she slammed into the water, screaming as she hit the surface. It was hard, and while certainly not cold, the temperature change had her gasping and wheezing as she fought to tread water. Hat soaked, she threw it aside when the brim drooped against her neck. The sunglasses followed suit as she pushed clumps of wet hair from her face, looking around incredulously.
He slammed into the water just as she found the surface, splashing her without an ounce of dignity. Treading water and fuming, she waited for him to surface before splashing a wave atop his head, shrieking. “You imbecile! What on earth possessed you to do that? Your clothes are ruined, they were not made to handle chlorine, you idiot!” Laughing as he leaned back in the water, floating easily, he flashed her his worst grin. “I’m not really that worried about the clothes, poppet,” he told her, kicking lightly until he floated beside her, his lips brushing her shoulder. The sharp taste of chlorine masked the taste of her skin, but it didn’t deter him from giving her a kiss and a nip. “Did you miss me?”
Pulling away from her, he gave a single, strong kick and glided to the side of the pool, easily hoisting himself onto the ledge before the lifeguard could yell at him for jumping in without the proper swimwear. Not that Adam cared. If it really mattered that much, he’d buy the damn hotel chain and change the rules. For himself and Daryl only, of course. He glided gracefully through the water, as if he were mocking her ineptitude. The fact that she continued to tread water was a miracle in of itself, her arms and legs working furiously to keep her neck and shoulders above the water line. She continued to spit water as she turned her head to watch him, following him with her gaze. “They were very nice,” she replied stuffily. “And fit you well, you always seem to ruin the clothing that fits you best.”
The kiss to her shoulder made her pause, a traitorous smile crossing her lips as she watched him glide to the edge of the pool and hoist himself onto the ledge. His question earned a raised brow as she struggled to swim towards him. She looked quite like an awkward frog, arms and legs splayed and fluttering about as she dragged herself through the water. Upon reaching the ledge, she clung to it, looking up at him. “If I say “no,” you’ll know that I am lying, and your ego will be fed. If I say “yes,” your ego will be fed regardless.” She smirked, resting a hand delicately on his knee. “Has anyone tended to your ego in my absence? If not, then I will say both yes and no, to make up for time lost.” Watching her flounder was painful, and he made a mental note to arrange for swimming lessons in the near future. Or just time spent near water. He imagined “lessons” would insult her, so he would cater to her fragile sensibilities by disguising them as something else. Like a trip to a lake house.
When she came to the side of the pool, he reached for her arms and carefully plucked her from the water, settling her between his thighs. He leaned back, his legs brushing against hers as he idly kicked at the water. “Horrible terror,” he told the back of her neck as he gently touched his lips to her skin. One of his hands slid over her arm and he tugged her against his chest. His hand settled on her abdomen. “How was your conference?” Settling back against his chest, she let out a low sigh. Though his wet clothing was starting to wrinkle uncomfortably against her skin and her bathing suit was bunching around her stomach and hips, she ignored the sensations. Feeling the warmth of his body surround hers was a comfort that she couldn’t begin to explain. She smiled like an idiot as he kissed the nape of her neck, her fingers seeking out his and curling around them.
“Boring,” she replied breezily, turning to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “But I amused myself by anticipating the sorts of questions the audience would ask by assessing them on an individual and group basis. I had a 93.2 percent success rate.” She glanced up at him with a smirk. “I regret that you weren’t there to try your hand at it.” “I would have asked good questions,” he murmured against her ear, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. “Questions that would have made you think. Well thought out questions. Like, for example, if a turtle loses its shell is it naked or homeless?” He grinned and pulled back to give her shoulder another fleeting kiss before resting his cheek against her. “And then you’d expect me to ask all sorts of stupid questions, so you would ignore me. But I’d manage to ask one more by the end of class. Surprisingly erudite. Well phrased. Thoughtfully spoken. You would find me an anomaly.”
He laughed quietly, for the barest moment entertaining a private fantasy in the back of his mind. His fingers curled against the fabric of her bathing suit, idly caressing her stomach. His mind drifted away from one fantasy to another, and he made a quiet sound of contentment. His voice hummed in her ear, a warm vibration that spread through her body. Eyes drifting half-closed, she stroked a thumb idly over the back of his hand, settling into a smug smirk as he posed the turtle question. “Neither,” she replied coolly, a small sound of appreciation escaping her at the kiss to her shoulder. “He would be dead.” She gave his hand a slight squeeze as he trailed off, turning to brush her nose against his cheek. “I always find you an anomaly.”
Feeling his fingers brush her stomach, she paused, glancing down with a raised brow. They sat in silence for several more seconds before she finally spoke. “Equally anomalous would be an ability to impregnate someone through skin-to-skin contact.” “I’m special,” he said in that smug tone he affected when he was ever so proud of himself. Or of her. Her victories received the same tone.
He laughed quietly, the sound more of a rumble in his chest and against her back, and he flattened his hand over her stomach, wondering what it would be like to feel the kick of a child there. “We can work on that once we’re married,” he said, and it wasn’t because he was a traditional man - he only cared for tradition when it suited him - but because a pregnancy prior to their marriage would explode every media outlet on the planet. And he didn’t want to subject her to that. His comment, an idle one, made her blood run cold. For a moment, she was frozen, eyes wide, as she stared at her own stomach. She imagined that two people that were engaged to be married would often speak of child-bearing in this way. After all, it’s what people did. It was normal. And yet those few words, just a cluster, took her breath away. She was standing on a diving board, looking down into the pool, unsure if there was water there to catch her fall. Pursing her lips, she took a slow breath, voice unusually tight as she replied. “Potentially.” He chuckled again. “Come now, poppet, don’t you want to populate the world with brilliance?” he asked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. His hand slid over her stomach before settling on her hips once more. Adam was nothing if not observant, and he was attuned to Daryl ever so carefully, able to gauge her moods with relative ease. Sometimes. Something about the conversation had unnerved her, and he knew better than to push. He was pacifying her. She knew that. And yet the fact that he chose to do so, rather than prod, was enough. Lacing her fingers with his, she smirked, looking into their rippling reflections. She traced her foot through the water, scattering their faces into a thousand pieces. “Perhaps someday,” she finally said. “Once I’m certain that the world can handle it.” “The world will never be able to handle it,” he returned brightly, cheerfully. “Our children will be so brilliant, they will cause blindness in the eyes of mortals.” He grinned and drew back, leaning on his hands on the cement surrounding the pool. “So what are we doing for the next few days? Locking ourselves in the suite and only putting on clothing to accept deliveries from room service?” Daryl snorted, rolling her eyes. “A blind world would grow dull quickly. At the very least, they would bump into us a great bit.” She wrinkled her nose, kicking her feet about more in the water. At his questions, she smirked, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. “I’ve done some rudimentary exploring of the area already. There’s little of interest for us here. Your suggestion is likely the best.” Oh, that smirk. That smirk. It promised a world of mischief, smart mischief, his favorite kind, and he smirked back, letting a lazy arrogant smile curl up his lips. He slid the fingers of one hand over her hips and down the insides of her thigh. The touch was socially acceptable, but hardly innocent. “They offer a lovely champagne here,” he said casually. “And I believe we can get our hands on some chocolate covered strawberries. If that’s to your tastes.” She should have known what was coming. His smirk said it all. Releasing a small sigh, she shivered as his fingers toed the line between acceptable and scandalous, shoulders tensing in a kneejerk reaction. “There’s a chocolate shop that specializes in chocolate-dipped fruit three blocks from here. I’ve already purchased two boxes of their wares.” It was with a great show of self-control that he didn’t pull her to the ground and kiss her senseless. His hand slid along her cheek, fingers playing at the edge of her hairline. “I think, Ms. Hockney, that we should make our way back to our suite now.” Eyes falling closed, she let out a low hum. It was strange how much she had missed the intimacy during her absence. Of course she had missed his presence, speaking with him in person, but it was more than that. They had talked on the phone, texted, and e-mailed. But having him there with her, touching her, breathing against her skin, was so much different. Sighing, she opened her eyes again, nodding. “I agree, Mr. Morgenstern.” She stood carefully, stepping over his thigh and moving towards her lounge chair to retrieve her book. He watched her as she rose, watched her as she walked, his eyes following the roll of her hips with every step she took, and he sucked in a quiet breath of air. Then he was on his feet, following after her, and he grabbed one of the towels sitting on a nearby lounge chair. He used it to wring the remaining water from his clothes, so at the very least he wouldn’t drip all over the hotel lobby on their way up to the suite.
He slid his hand over her waist and tugged her into his side once she had collected her things. “I’m glad to see you again, sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear. “I missed you.” Though she wasn’t watching him, she was certain that he was staring at her back. Adam had a habit of that. As he found her side, hand settled on her waist, she leaned against him with a small smile. “As have I,” she whispered, reaching up to brush her fingers affectionately over his jaw. “It’s strangely appealing, this...missing. It forces me to appreciate your presence all the more.” “What’s not to appreciate?” he asked, playfully teasing. He kissed her forehead and tugged her along, into the hotel and up to their room, where he hung the do not disturb sign on the door. It stayed there for a good long time.