And in my bones I feel the warmth that’s coming from inside... Who: Alex & Adam. What: Christmas gift exchange and discussion of things heretofore swept neatly under the rug. Where: 503! When: 25 December 2010. Warnings: Kissin' and snugglin' and fluff! Notes: Backdated due to hella busy holidays. :')
It was ten minutes to eight, Adam noted, breathing a sigh of relief. Plenty of time. It had been seven years since his last Christmas Day off, and he had made the most of it: Christmas Eve spent decorating nearly a dozen trees with his family, Midnight Mass, Christmas Day's breakfast and late lunch followed by a gift exchange nothing short of utter, paper-shredding chaos. He smiled to think of it, thoroughly pleased with how the days had gone. And now at last he faced the meeting he had been anticipating with commingled pleasure and nebulous anxiety.
Halloween with Alex had gone well, if not exactly quietly, with no mention made of their drunken explorations on the Deluxe hall. The incident had been conveniently ignored through Thanksgiving as well as every other moment in which they'd found themselves alone, standing too close to one another, their hands brushing too near for a moment too long. Adam had no intentions of addressing the subject now, but he knew their deliberate silence could not last. His smile faded at this realization, and with grim determination he switched off the bathroom light, dismissing his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
From the table by the door he plucked Alex's gift, a small black box bound with a silver bow. Nestled inside it on a black silk scarf - a second, ancillary gift of a sort, he thought - was a silver pendant hung from a fitted black choker: Yggdrasil, delicate and finely wrought, its branches made to coil gingerly at the hollow of her throat. Adam could not explain what had drawn him so strongly to it, but from the moment he had seen it, he had known it belonged to her. He remembered flashes of Halloween night, though his waking, conscious mind insisted it could not have been as he recalled. His black-lacquered thumb tapped thoughtfully at the corner of the box, wondering if this was too much, if it said too much about himself, about them, about what he wondered if they might become. He drew a deep breath, exhaling on a sigh, and left the apartment before further doubts might seep like venom through his veins.
At precisely eight o'clock he knocked at her door, then took a single step back. He looked down to his clothes, brushing at a barely-visible wrinkle mussing his black trousers, then at the sleeve of his freshly cleaned tuxedo coat. Again he raised his hand, his short nails tapping out a cheerful cadence on the face of her door.
Alexandria had worn a dress. True, they hadn't talked about the Incident since it had happened, and true, it didn't change anything - and they'd seen each other a number of times and nothing at all had changed. But it was Christmas Day night, and she'd already been dressed up for the dinner at her parents' house that Adam had attended. They'd left early because - well, there seemed to be about a hundred thousand people there from both sides of her family, and Alex had had a chance to spend quality time with her parents and siblings the night before anyway. So after having their fill of all manner of genuinely good food, Alexandria had grabbed Adam's hand and slipped out of there as soon as was still polite to go back to their building and have their own much quieter and sane gift exchange.
Even so, she smoothed the deep cranberry fabric and brushed her hair away from her face when she went to get the door. Adam's gift, a ring wrought in silver of Ouroboros with green gemstone eyes, was in a black gift box, wrapped in silver paper with a red ribbon, sat under the tiny tree her sisters had brought over her. Less than a foot high, but cheerfully decorated with a string of miniature lights and tiny ornaments, it sat on an end table in her living room. A few presents remained under it, but Adam's was just at the top. She looked at it with a smile before going to get the door. She opened it, the nature of her smile shifting a bit as he came into view.
"Hi there," she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Long time no see."
The smile shifted to a little grin with that.
He nodded, chuckling quietly. "Thanks again for the invitation," he said. His hand fell from her side, where it had so easily slipped during that relatively intimate - and quite welcome - greeting. He took advantage of the motion to cast another casual glance over her flawlessly fitted dress, his appreciation for how lovely she looked suddenly renewed. "Good to see your family again." He left out any mention of her brother, whose presence still caused Adam a sort of discomfort, the nature of which he did not entirely understand. Hoping to bypass any uncomfortable foray into this particular topic, he took a single step back, his hand brushing hers as he held out her gift. "You can add this to the pile if you like," he said, tipping his head toward her little tree, "or open it now." His smile, thin and almost hesitant, made clear his favored option.
"Oh, Mom insisted," she said, bringing an earnest smile to his face. "She adores you." Alexandria got the sense that Adam wasn't entirely comfortable around the boy of the Nash brood, but the dinner had gone well as far as she knew, and she'd been happy to have him there. He was at least as close as family, and he made for a great ally in the middle of the crush of relatives that had been at her parents' house. She wanted to thank him for coming, but her eyes had already lit on her gift, and it had her smiling. "And of course I want to open it! Those are all for other people. It's Christmas. Present opening is practically obligatory," she told him. She plucked the gift from his hand, then waved him in, closing the door behind him. In her stocking feet, she led him to the living room, a mirror image of his own, at least as far as the floor plan was concerned. The silver-wrapped box for him was prominently displayed, and she picked it up only to hand it to him.
"So who goes first?" she asked him.
"You," he said. His smile flashed brighter for the briefest instant, then faded to his more typically even keel. He felt a quiet anxiety completely unlike him; until he made a conscious effort to silence his racing thoughts, he found himself caught up in all the fears he'd had before leaving his own flat. He shook his head, his black eyes flicking down to the floor with an uncharacteristic shyness. He turned over the package she'd given him in his hands, running his thumb over its prim red bow. He looked back up to her then, curiosity and no small degree of anticipation glinting in his eyes. "I've had that box too long to not see you open it right this instant."
He reached out, his hand curving loose around her arm. He lead her to her couch, sitting down beside her, their knees softly touching. "Go on," he said, smirking self consciously.
Following his lead with a smile, a bright eagerness usually reserved for exciting new research or a particularly well-wrought chord glimmering in her eyes. "All right, all right," she laughed, slender fingers sliding off the bow. Slowly, she opened the box and her eyes widened. Quickly, her eyes darted to his, her lips parted in a little o before they broke into a more brilliant smile. "Oh, Adam, it's - it's fantastic. Beautiful." She looked back down at the contents of the box, plucking the necklace out of the silk, then drew out the fabric, too. "And this?" she asked, smiling even brighter as he nodded. But the pendant was warm and right in her hand, and she held it to her neck. "Will you put it on me?" she asked, lifting the dark fall of her hair with the hand that held the scarf, the fabric almost indistinguishable from those dark waves.
Adam nodded, shifting more solidly behind her on the couch's cushions. His hands were light as they brushed the fine column of her throat, his touch now certain and deft, as if her very presence calmed him. This was right, he knew; they were at this moment precisely where they should be. His palms rested lightly on her shoulders as he took the choker's clasp in his fingers. He took his time, leaning closer toward her, breathing in the scent of her, the pleasure of this proximity. Carefully he fastened the clasp midway down its narrow-linked chain, fitting it close around her throat. In a small, unnecessary motion he ran his fingers over the cloth, pleased with her appreciation of the gift and how well it suited her.
At last he drew away, a light touch on her arm guiding her back to face him. "It looks great on you, Alex. I'm glad you like it."
Her fingers went to the heavy silver pendant, smiling as she looked at him. The warmth of his hands lingered on her skin, even where they'd only touched her through the fabric of her dress. "Well thank you, Adam. "You have great taste." Then, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek in thanks, lingering for just a moment longer than she might have needed to. But soon enough, she leaned back, flushed and grinning with excitement. "Now, c'mon," she said, picking up his gift from where he'd put it down on the couch to help her and pushing it into his hand. "It's your turn." Eager anticipation and nervousness filled her. It was strange - normally, she was much more difficult to ruffle, but somehow now she was especially anxious. She decided to avoid examining the implications of that just yet.
He needed little prompting. Carefully he took the box in hand, admiring for another moment its pristine, unruffled bow. He plucked at its edge to unravel it, one black thumbnail flicking open the corner of its silver wrapping. He could scarcely remember a time when he had so looked forward to a gift; why he felt so childishly elated he could not understand. But things shifted into focus when he looked inside the box, earnestly speechless at the ring lying snugly nestled within. That simple shape, so deftly worked, called to him as fervently as the Yggdrasil had - more, perhaps. Its green eyes glinted with a familiar light. He thought of his alien face in the mirror, of the strange consciousness that had come to the fore on Halloween night.
"You win," he said quietly, lifting the ring with thumb and forefinger, almost reverent. Without thinking, he slipped it onto his left hand; it fit perfectly on his ring finger, settling there as if it had always been so. "This is perfect."
He found his free hand had fallen to hers, clasping her fingers in a tight little squeeze. When he noticed this, he did not let go; instead he laced his hands with hers, drawing her the slightest bit closer. "It feels right, doesn't it?" he said, delicately skirting what neither of them had dared to speak. "Familiar."
Her pleasure glimmered in her eyes and her smile as she watched him open the box, as he slid the wrong on his finger, but even as he declared her victory, she shook her head, though her smile didn't abate. She hadn't won; it was, if anything a tie. The little tree dangling at her throat was so perfect, she couldn't quite articulate it. Instead, even as his hand closed over hers, her other hand went to the silver charm, impressing its shape on her fingertips. When he asked that question, she nodded, flashes of those same evenings coming back to her - of her other face, of her duty.
"It does," she said, stroking his thumb with her own. She was struck, then, by the intimacy of the moment; of the gifts, of the way they touched, even of the way their knees were pressed lightly to each other. Another memory came to bear, of drinking and kissing under that great tree; of his honey-sweet lips and the feel of his hands, warm through her clothes. Heat rose to her cheeks.
"We -- you're my best friend, Adam," she said, her voice uncharacteristically low and soft. It sounded stupid to her, clumsy and obvious. He smiled all the same, undeterred by whatever self consciousness she felt. "I mean -" she laughed. "Thank you. Just. Thank you." There was so much in those words - so much more than the perfect, shining gift nestled in the hollow of her throat, so much more than she could say without sounding more stupid.
Finding nothing suitable to say, Adam let the silence speak for him. It was a comfortable sort of quiet, warm and full of all the things that went unspoken between them. His left hand joined his right, clasping hers perhaps too tightly, for too long. The thick silver band of the ring pressed softly into her skin, close and gentle as a caress. In spite of his lingering anxieties he felt more at peace than he had in weeks - more right, as if he was precisely where he was meant to be. He drew a deep breath, the scent of her carrying faintly to him. Then, scarcely allowing himself to think, he leaned over to her, pressing his lips to her high cheekbone.
Her eyes closed as he kissed her cheek, and she held a breath she hadn't known she'd taken. His hands on hers, their closeness, had her heart beating a little faster. Before he could move away, her hand went to his cheek, and she turned. Their faces were so close, their lips hardly apart, but her hand moved softly over his skin, her fingertips tracing the contour, before her thumb slid over his lower lip, her eyes drawn to that lovely, perfect shape before she looked up at him again. She felt the press of his ring into her skin, the warmth of his hands enveloping hers, and with a soft exhalation, she pressed her lips to his.
It took a moment for reality to properly sink in. This time there was no drink to blame, no heady, otherworldly intoxication on which to pin these drives. There was only them, and whatever bond they shared, mundane or otherwise. He leaned closer to her, his mouth parting to hers without hesitation. His fingers laced with hers as his ringed hand moved to her throat; he held her gently, almost delicately, the Ouroboros skimming lightly over one thin, taut tendon, toying with the black line of her choker. All the unacknowledged desire he'd tamped down for months seemed to bleed up to the surface, weakening whatever resolve he had mustered. With the taste of her on his lips, the warmth of her beneath his hands, all his sensible, rational reasons for why this should not work faded to nothing. His tongue flicked out over her lower lip, hungry for more but unwilling to rush.
Her own free hand slid back to his nape, into his hair, as she parted her lips to his tongue, her own sliding out to tease over his, to taste him. Her own reticence and hesitation had seemed to disappear with this one, perfectly natural act. Whatever her concerns, it was just stupid not to kiss now, when they were so close, when they'd just had such a resonating moment. Part of her wanted to put her hands on him; to feel the heat of his chest under her fingers, the flat of his stomach. For so long, she'd cast him these furtive little glances, noticed tight t-shirts and when they'd gone swimming, but of course, he was always off limits. So much fear and anxiety had tied her up over him, but it was like these gifts proved that their connection couldn't be harmed by a few kisses.
Her hand slid down from his throat to his chest. He leaned into the soft line of her palm, his muted smile curving against her lips. It was better this time, he thought; their sobriety served to prove that they did want this, that their curiosity, so long denied, had been real, was not some shallow conjuration of alcohol and hallucination. Bolstered by the thought he deepened their kiss, slipping his tongue over her own, one hand moving from hers to rest lightly at her waist. The other drew closer around her throat, the pad of his thumb tracing its soft hollow, exploring the finely-worked roots of Yggdrasil that rested just beneath it. He tasted her, now, subtle and inviting, without the sugary sweetness of honey hiding her away. He edged closer, his leg flush to hers, fingers curling at the slope of her hip.
For a minute or two, the only thing she could think of was how much she liked kissing him. It was a childish thought, probably; light and almost giddy, as though she were some younger, sweeter creature she'd never really been. Even so, she felt it, and smiled too, a little, before sliding her tongue back over his, then under again. She kissed his lower lip, traced her fingers over his leg before moving her hand to the one at her hip, then trailing her fingertips over his sleeve, his shoulder as her tongue slipped over his again. She leaned into his touch, into him, even as she sighed a little, a soft moan spilling against his lips. Her hand slid to his nape, the other on his chest, stroking him through his shirt. When she pulled away, it was just slightly, her hands still on him, his hands still on her, as she looked at him, her eyes searching his.
What Adam saw in that look he did not dare attempt to name. Instead he immersed himself in the moment, focusing on every small detail he knew would pass too soon. Everything had changed, it seemed, and nothing had: He loved the scent of her, the small sounds she made, the feel of her skin, the heat of her body against his own. But these things were not new; only his awareness of them had been altered, heightened in the crossing of this years-old barrier. The realization gave his smile a slightly melancholy cast, returned a not unfamiliar depth to the blackness of his eyes. His hands tightened around her, drawing her nearer, pressing her hand harder to his chest. His black gaze flicked down to her slim fingers against his thin tee shirt; he wondered if she felt his heart's heavy pulse beneath it, the way it sped up in answer to her nearness. He drew his lip between his teeth, sucking at it idly before asking, with deceptive simplicity, "So... what now?"
She moved her fingers across the fabric of his shirt; she felt the rapid beat of his heart with her palm. A moment of panic overtook her as he looked at her, the depth of what was in his eyes, the intimacy of the way they were touching. Did he want to have sex now? Wasn't that what they were supposed to do? The thought unnerved her for so many reasons. In the realms of Alexandria's experience, she had generally stuck to what she was good at, and she was not, by any measure, good at sex. It tended to be awkward, embarrassing, even untenably uncomfortable at times, and the last thing she wanted was go straight to the uncomfortable parts. She bit her own lip, then pressed her forehead to his chest, her eyes closing as she gave a little sigh. After a moment, she turned her cheek to his chest, her arms slid around his neck, and she stayed like that for a few moments. "I don't know," she said honestly. "Is everything going to change now?" she asked.
He smiled, then, kissing the warm, dark line of her hair. "Everything's always changing," he said. "It doesn't have to be bad." He shifted beside her, his arms circling her more tightly, gathering her up against him. For a second she seemed so small, so delicate, he felt an odd and uncharacteristic urge to pull her up into his lap, to hold and comfort her until this fresh uncertainty began to fade. But he resisted this, content to loosen his hold after one more hopefully reassuring squeeze. He stroked her bowed shoulders, the curve of her spine, his touch undemanding and soft. "You've always meant a lot to me, Alex. I'd never do anything to mess that up. Whatever it is we're doing... I'm not going to rush you into anything, or insist on anything. Trust me."
His arms around her did reassure her, as did his words. She leaned up to kiss his cheek, nuzzle his neck. His scent, she realized, was one of her favorite things in the world - definitely at least top five. Settling against him, she nodded, soothed and softened by his caresses. "Of course I trust you," she told him, her fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt, for maybe the first time unabashedly enjoying the feel of him against her, the lines of his body, the solid reassurance that was him. "You're my best friend," she echoed her sentiments from earlier. "As long as that doesn't change, then we're good," she said, pulling back to look at him. She pressed another little kiss to his lips.
His answer was clear in that single, small kiss. He gave in to only the barest temptation, flicking his tongue over her lower lip's swell, his hands tightening on her for one brief moment. But he had no desire to overstep those tenuous bounds, and in short order he withdrew, content to hold her and simply enjoy this first, brave step. He smiled against her hair, stroking one thick, dark lock, winding its length around his fingers, the green-eyed Ouroboros peering out from the loose tangle of hair. "I don't know anything that'd change that," he said. "You'd have to work pretty hard to be rid of me. Unless you're willing to put in that kind of effort, Miss Nash, you're stuck with me."
Alexandria couldn't help but smile at that, nestling closer to him. "Well, good," she said. "Because you're stuck with me, too, and that's really just that. " Her breath feathered across his neck and she held him tighter. There was this strange new feeling: a surprising sense of calm and well-being. There was almost no tension - nothing unpleasant, at least - and everything seemed just right in a way it never quite had before. That sense of contentment and well-being seemed to permeate every sense, and unbidden, thoughts of fate and certainty crept into the corners of her mind. It was too much to consider now, but even as she tucked them away, half dismissing them, she couldn't help but grin and shake her head. "I like you," she said against his skin.
"I like you, too," he said, his quiet laughter stirring her hair. Adam realized then he had no desire to move, no drive whatsoever to bring up the varied topics that had danced through his mind all throughout the day. Talk of lucid dreams and costume parties gone awry could wait. His slender fingers resumed their soft stroking of her body against his, committing every facet of this unexpected joy to memory.