Who: Grey and Malc Where: Starting at the beach, moving to their flat. What: Grey thinks, Malcolm breaks her, the usual When: Monday afternoon Rating: F for feels, L for language, P for pain? Plus it's them some strong language viewers may find offensive. Open: Nope Status: Closed/Ongoing Malcolm had been wonderful whilst Grey had become a vampire, wonderful in a slightly shouty, aggressive, sweary generally Malcolm way but to her at least that was wonderful. The important part was that he’d stayed. He hadn’t left or suggested maybe someone else would be better suited to keeping her company, someone she couldn’t quite easily kill. He’d offered her a whole range of ill judged distractions and it had worked. She still hadn’t felt right, she was still all too aware of his heartbeat, but it hadn’t been constant. He’d offered more important things to think about like why couldn’t he get ‘The Angry Spider’ in Pictionary? It was his own bloody mythical book! And her drawing had been…well okay her drawing had been pretty terrible actually, but it was still his fault. She liked the way got upset about stupid things though, things that really didn’t matter. She liked it when he was passionate, she even liked it when he was abusive, because she knew he didn’t really mean it and there was something about the way he spouted obscenities in that accent of his that really did it for her, while admittedly hadn’t been great when she was trying to avoid shagging him since she really didn’t trust herself not to break his arm, or worse, while she’d been like that. Apparently though she had more will power than she’d ever thought, though she knew that was mostly because nothing was more important to her than not hurting Malc, which was something she was trying not to think about.
Now she was back to normal, able to leave the flat without the very real worry that she’d snap and sink her fangs into someone’s neck she was taking advantage of being allowed out alone in the fresh air. She desperately needed the space, despite how wonderful he’d been during her week from hell she needed to be away from Malc. She needed to clear her head and to think properly without him there, all lovely and sexy and funny and Malc. She couldn’t think sensibly as long as they were in the same room and she hated that. She hated the way he made her feel, how much she worried about him and how much he obviously worried about her. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. The timing was all wrong, not that there was ever a good time to feel like this, in her book. But it was so soon after Lex and she felt so guilty about that, but the fact was even on the train there’d been something, on her side at least. When Lex had disappeared she’d gone straight to Malc because she knew he wouldn’t ask questions about how she was feeling, he’d just let her get drunk and just be there. He really had been what had kept her comparatively sane and she’d nearly fucked that one right up by finally acting on her urges whilst pissed and he’d turned her down. She’d been heartbroken and horny and too drunk to care about consequences and he’d turned her down, in an extremely nice and subtle way, but he had. Because despite all evidence to the contrary Malcolm Tucker was a really good man. Only of course even that had gone to shit, because Thomas had taken him away too and that had been the very worse thing, that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back and she’d literally given up. Her. Christ it was fucking pathetic, but it really had felt like she’d lost everything. It wasn’t often she met people she genuinely connected with, but Malc he was the exception.
And now here they were on the island, and she’d been so, so happy to see him and she knew she’d been waiting, because something about the thought of never seeing him again was just horrible. Lex would be okay. Lex would be back home with another version of herself and maybe they wouldn’t get a happy ending because they didn’t exist in the real world but they’d be happy enough, Lex keeping her from doing anything stupid and her keeping him safe. They’d be fine and she found she wasn’t nearly as bitter about any of that as she should have been. No it was the idea of never seeing Malc again that hurt. He wasn’t from her world there would be no seeing him again, so she’d held on to the stupid childlike belief that she would.
Only apparently it hadn’t been quite so stupid.
Still this wasn’t how she’d seen it going. But then she hadn’t seen it going anywhere. He was supposed to be her friend, her best friend quite probably, but that was all, okay her best friend that she sort of thought about fucking quite often but that was all. That would have worked. They were too emotionally stunned for anything else. They were far too similar in ways that only made things more difficult. Their ability to have a proper adult conversation about how they felt was almost nonexistent, and yet even that had been happening lately, in a weird, awkward, painful often screamed way, but it still counted. She knew it was only a matter of time before one of them said something that was going to fuck it right up, and it was going to be her and it was going to be at the worse possible moment and it was going to open the floodgates and make everything wrong.
Or was it? Did anything have to change? More than it already had, that was. What difference would it really make? They’d still be them, they weren’t suddenly going to change because they were together, were they? They weren’t suddenly going to stop taking the piss out of each other, and if he stopped that then she’d just have to point out that was one of a hundred reasons why she liked him so much. She liked his abuse, and perhaps that meant there was something seriously wrong with her, but she really didn’t care.
Still she had no idea what to do. The two options seemed pretty obvious to her - pull away until she could talk herself out of having some pretty full on feelings towards him or push on, get drunk, tell him everything and hope to god he didn’t move out. The problem was she had no idea which was the best choice. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so scared, so vulnerable. This was why she didn’t like feelings, because quite often they weren’t very nice and they certainly weren’t simple, especially when you were so used to keeping them to yourself.
God she hated this. She hated him. Malcolm fucking Tucker waltzing in with his jokes about killing Tories and his drive to do whatever it took to make things better back home. With his sick sense of humour and his ability to make her wet with a simple, completely innocent, completely inspiring comment. She’d never met anyone like him. With Lex it had been lust at first sight, plain and simple, yes it had become much more but that was how it had started. With Malc it had been his personality, his mind that did it for her, that turned her on. Somehow it felt deeper than things with Lex had been, but then she’d only been 18 when she’d met Lex. She was, sort of, an adult now. Oh she could still be incredibly shallow at times. The thing with Damon proved that, but this was different. Not that she didn’t fancy the crap out of Malc, but this was based on so much more, something she apparently couldn’t ignore no matter how much she tried.
She didn’t want to admit it but Mitchell was very nearly right. They weren’t in a relationship, but it had stopped being close friends fucking ages ago, if it had ever really been that. But then really she didn’t want to admit to any of this. Not to Malc, not to herself. She wanted to not care so deeply about him, she wanted to not be a little bit in love with him.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath she curled in on herself, took a gulp of the vodka he'd given her last night as an apology, an apology she'd accepted far too readily because even she wasn't quite stubborn enough to cut off her nose to spite her face, and looked out across the sea. She wasn’t supposed to be out on her own, was she? But surely she looked too pathetic for anyone or anything to bother attacking. They’d probably be doing her a favour actually, a bit of an injury, some sedation. Yeah that’d stop her thinking.
Fucking hell there really was something wrong with her, wasn’t there?