WHO: Dizzy Maverick and Hank Williams WHAT: A regular old, non-publicity seeking date. WHEN: Friday, March 27, 2020 WHERE: Dizzy's apartment RATING: Language, suggestiveness
Her production and pre-production schedules had been such that Dizzy had hardly had a moment to devote to non-work pursuits the last few weeks, which had meant that she'd made it to Bran and Lyam's wedding, and that was nearly it. She'd seen Hank a couple of times, but they had been quickly thrown together evenings with the press at their heels, almost not worth their time, except that seeing him served the dual purpose of lightening her mood and reinvigorating her to fight the battle she'd carved out for herself to make sure that Her Black Heart never saw the light of day. Or the dark of night, knowing them and their cliched stupidity.
Now, though, she was done with Witch Rangers for the season, and there was a bit of a break before The Scouring started filming, and she was going to steal some time for herself, dammit. That was why she'd asked Hank to meet her at her apartment rather than going to a restaurant or some other public location. She'd dressed down in a simple, comfortable dress with bare feet, and she'd cooked a simple, comfortable dinner, and she was hoping for a simple, comfortable night without flashing lights and a rush to retire because of long hours awaiting them.
"Come in," she called at the knock on the door. So few people had access to her apartment that she didn't hesitate. At worst, it could have been her mother, or maybe Alistair, either of whom she could have shoved back out the door before they made trouble. "I hope you're hungry, because I've been slaving over this all—" She stopped as she saw his face, her own expression dropping to something more neutral. "What's wrong?"
His mood upon entering Dizzy's apartment was definitely not the one he'd had as he'd gotten ready, or even when he'd left the studio and the continued work with Inferno. No, this was a result of him stupidly taking a call mere moments before without bothering to make sure who was calling. He'd thought it was his date, honestly, so he'd thumbed the Accept button and absolutely tanked the great feeling he'd had. "Three guesses who I heard from." He hated putting that look on her face, but what was done was done. "Another three on what project she wants me to work on."
Dizzy's frown deepened, but she slipped her hand into his and tugged him farther into the apartment. "Okay, one, why the hell don't you have her number blocked? Two, I hope you were able to tell her where she could shove her call and her project. And, three...." She lifted onto her tiptoes and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Anything I can do other than utterly destroy her?" She pulled back just enough to blink innocently at him.
Maybe it was silly, but even just Dizzy's touch was enough to ease some of his simmering anger. All of the questions were quite reasonable, but he didn't have a sufficient answer for the first one that didn't make him sound like a complete ninny. But before Hank could dig a proper hole for himself, she deftly distracted him even further with that light kiss. His arms stole around her to keep her close. It gave him the opportunity to finally look at her lovely dress while he worked his brain into something a little less irritated. "Believe it or not, I was in a rush and I thought it might be you, asking me to pick something for you. Bit daft, I know, but she was calling from a number I didn't recognize."
He sighed and freed a hand to gently push a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "I wish I had, but she jabbered at me so much I couldn't get a word in edgewise, and then gave me one of those, 'Well, think about it! I'll have my people call your people! Kisses!'" He'd adopted a horrible falsetto and American accent before dropping back into his own and pulling her a little tighter to him. "Let me in on said destruction, won't you? She's got to learn, dammit, and the shield of her dear old dad will never let anything like real consequences get through to her."
"Hmm, sweet, but doesn't get you any points in the intelligence department," Dizzy teased lightly, swiping her fingertips through the hair at his forehead. "Everyone knows I'm a texter. And if I've been kidnapped or something and don't have my phone, I'm calling Alistair. Sorry, but he's got the connections to find me or the money to ransom me." She leaned into him, laughing at his imitation of his ex-wife. She'd only met the woman once, but it was scarily accurate to what she remembered. "Not a chance. Plausible deniability, and I'm enjoying the process far too much to share. But I promise a blow-by-blow account when I'm done." She kissed him again, this time on the other corner of his mouth.
Sticking his tongue out at her was clearly the most mature response he could give, but he couldn't bring himself to follow it up by pushing her away. "Oi, mean! I'll grant you it's both fair and true, 'cause I'd call Alistair too, but still mean." He chuckled and let his hands drift higher over the line of her back. His smile went sharp with a kind of dark delight. "I want every literal bloody detail, love." The memory of the all-too recent call sent a cloud skidding across his face, leaving a frown in its wake. "She wants me for a werewolf. Can you believe that? No creative casting in that. It's daft."
"Right, total type casting. Not fair of her to highlight you in all your towering, growling, hairy glory." Dizzy ran her fingers over his beard and up through his hair, pretending at a serious expression while not actually holding back the teasing twist of her lips. She knew it was a serious topic, but all she wanted for now was to lift a little of that weight from his shoulders again. The destruction of everything that had hurt him could come later. "Maybe she'll call and ask me to play a harpy. That could be fun. I haven't done full-body feathers yet...."
As distracting as those lovely fingers were, Hank couldn't quite give himself over to the relaxation that wanted to come in their wake. He let loose a low growl and lifted her easily off her feet, spinning them both only to deposit her right where she'd begun. "Yeah, you're right. I could never pull it off. You, on the other hand, would absolutely steal the entire production right out from under her. If she offers, you really should snatch it up." Leaning down, he nuzzled the soft skin right behind her ear and dropped his voice to a warm whisper. "I demand photographic evidence of these feathers if they happen."
Dizzy hummed contentedly at his closeness, her touch drifting across the top of his head and down the back to his neck. "Too bad for you that it never will, because that crazy bitch has neither enough clout nor enough money to get me in a serial, even if it wasn't a terrible set of cliches wrapped up in a laughable excuse for a concept." Even if she hadn't hurt you, she added silently, not wanting to drag the mood down again. If the way her fingers caressed along his collar was softer than her words, so what? "Though if you ask really nicely...."
He took the opportunity he'd made for himself to kiss a soft line down her throat and then back up again until his lips hovered just above hers. "I'm very adept at making polite requests, and I'm not above a fair amount of begging." Hank grinned and took a step back, but slid his hands down until he caught hers and held them. "You've got some magic in you, Dizzy Maverick. I came in here, all doom and gloom and curse the entire world, and then you promise the ruination of my enemies and it's all set back to rights. You sure you wouldn't like to try your hand at governing? Can't say I'd be sad to be ruled by you."
"Ah, but don't forget. One day you will be." Dizzy tapped him on the nose as she shook off the last of that pleasant haze that his kisses had brought with them. She tugged on his hand, leading him into the dining room where their dinner was waiting under a warming charm. She gestured toward one of the chairs. "Drink? There's wine, beer, water. I'm keeping it simple tonight, so I won't even make you run the gauntlet of wine choices, if you want to try it." She turned toward him and stretched up, this time to brush a kiss over his lips before she slipped away, leaving him at the table alone. She called over her shoulder, "There's dessert, too, but that's a surprise."
Part of him wanted to reveal the fact that he was relatively certain that 'one day' had already come, but their recent solo work kept him from doing so. The feeling of her lips, however brief, lingered through taking a seat, as did his smile as he took in what she'd made. All these layers, and no one seemed to even be aware of them. Hank chuckled and turned back to where she'd disappeared. "'Fraid it's still beer for me. All these years later, and I've still never sat down to educate myself about wine. Could be I've been waiting for the right teacher. And something tells me your surprise is one I can actually look forward to."
Dizzy had expected that answer, so she hadn't bothered to pull out any wine other than the one she already had opened in the refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle from the fresh six-pack and poured some of the chardonnay for herself before returning to the table. "Well, that depends on whether Darla can be trusted to know your favorites," she said with a teasing smile as she handed him his drink. She'd made no secret of how much she'd liked Hank's mother, and the woman had made for an entertaining correspondent. She took the chair across from him, crossing her legs at the ankle and letting her bare foot rest lightly against his calf. "I'm not so sure I can give that information out for free after you passed it up the first time," she said, dishing out some food onto his plate and then her own. "Got anything to offer on trade?"
It took everything in him not to snap his gaze up to glare at the invocation of his mum, like she might appear just by Dizzy using her name. For someone with not an iota of magic in her DNA, her summonability was inarguably not of this world. The worst of his smirk was hidden behind the lip of the bottle he'd been handed as he took a first sip, but it didn't keep him from quipping, "Really should've never agreed to give you her number. I'm quite clearly outmatched now. Well, even more outmatched than before." His smile grew after he'd taken a couple of bites, but it was a bit more from the physical connection she'd initiated. "Well, I do know my way around a horse. Cow wrangling could use some work, but I could still give you pointers. It's just what every woman wants, innit?"
Dizzy gave a playful scoff. "I can ride a horse, Hank. Any witch in Wizzywood worth her salt learns that around year two, and I learned before I even started acting." She took a couple of bites of her food, watching him with a rather sly smile as she chewed. "Though...I'm still waiting to get you all to myself in that hat. I'm still disappointed you didn't wear it to the Betties, you know. I guess you in that hat on a horse has a certain appeal...but I don't know. My wine-tasting skills are unmatched, so it would have to be a really good lesson." She punctuated the statement by running her foot along his leg.
It took everything in him not to choke on the bite he was just finishing when Dizz upped the ante. Being alone definitely had its advantages, not the least of which was seeing this side of her. Hank smiled slowly, leaning in toward her. "Darlin'," he drawled, falling into one of his character voices, "I reckon you're the only person who'd make me want to willingly wear that hat in public. Maybe even in private." Hank laughed and leaned back again, shaking his head. "Not sure if I can stand up to professional instructors, but I try my best to excel at extracurriculars. Guess we'll just have to see if they make it worth your while."
"The only person, huh?" Dizzy leaned forward a little, too, conscious of not letting her dress touch the edge of her plate. She wasn't even one that got particularly hot under the collar about accents, but there was something about Hank when he changed his; maybe it was simply that it was all so light and playful, and she was more than a little attracted to this side of him. Which was funny, considering how serious things had been at the start.
"Or we could just go horseback riding," she suggested. Though the tease had dropped from her voice, her foot continued its slow path along his leg. "Find a good trail, have a picnic. With wine, of course." She smiled over at him as she drank a sip of hers. "I know a couple of places where we could mostly assure the press would stay away, but I'm open to suggestions. I don't claim to be a connoisseur."
It was getting a little hard to think with that particular smile pointed in his direction, but, coupled with the teasing caress of her foot and its upward path, it was something of a canonical miracle that he had anything like words or concepts in his head at all. He was pretty sure it was entirely deliberate, but there were far worse ways of losing one's mind. But the concept actually helped, because it sparked a helpful memory. "There's a place in Wyoming where we go to film sometimes. It's just far away that the paparazzi don't bother. Big, wide open spaces with meandering trails and these perfect little hills. Well, perfect to me. I'd love to take you on an all day ride." His mouth curled a little more at one edge than the other. "I swear that's not innuendo. I mean, maybe a bit suggestive, but not full scale innuendo."
Dizzy laughed a pleased, almost raucous laugh at that. It was the sort of reaction that she rarely let out in public, but it came easily here, in her own space. She might have been surprised that Hank had become a welcome insider so quickly, except that it really hadn't been quick; they'd been glaring and picking at one another for months before this. It simply felt quick, because she hadn't been able to recognize the subtler feelings related to him until they'd slogged their way through the darker ones.
"Well, you never know," she said with a sly quirk of her lips. "Maybe it won't be suggestive enough with all that space to ourselves." She only managed to hold it for another second before the expression broke out into another grin, nearly another laugh. "As soon as it's a little more spring-ish, I'm yours. I'd rather feel some sun on my face than rely on constant warming charms, and the foliage will be better anyway."
Dizzy was quiet for a moment, getting in a few more bites of food and sips of wine before saying, "Will you come to dinner with my family? Informal, non-Wizzywood dinner. Well, except Grandma Betty. She pretty much is Wizzywood, and yes, she's just as cranky and hilarious when she's not putting on a show."
Everything about her was dazzling, from her laugh to her smile to the cutting wit of her sharp mind. Either Hank had been blind before, or he'd been lying to himself a lot for several years now. He even relished the brief silences between them, where he didn't feel like he had to fill it in with noise. They were comfortable in a way he would have never expected, especially when they'd started working together. A warmth had just settled in his stomach—a product of her laugh and continued touch—when she broached her question.
It was a surprise, of course, but he managed to keep a lot of the shock from his face, although he did have to swallow thickly to get his last bite down in order to reply with a smile that had gone over soft. "Yeah? I'd love to, on the condition that you tell me what kind of flowers or baked goods she might like. I'm not above bribing Ms. Betty, if it means I can get in better in your books." He grinned and laughed and reached down to catch her foot which was now high enough for him to do it easily. Lifting it, he settled atop his thigh and then wrapped his fingers around her ankle and brushed a thumb over her skin. "Honestly, it's your good favor I'm after anyway. I'm not opposed to devious, yet legal ways to get it."
Dizzy hadn't expected him to decline the invitation, but she also hadn't expected just how much his answer would send her stomach fluttering. Hard-edged reputation or not, it wasn't that she'd never experienced this sort of thing before—because she had—but she genuinely hadn't been looking for it, and that was the most surprising part. She was used to knowing what she wanted and getting it.
Well, now I know, she thought, but rather than her usual smirk, her smile was all serenity. "You don't need any help getting in my good graces, Hank." She let that statement linger as she took another drink of her wine and enjoyed the feeling of his hand on her leg. "Grandma Betty likes anyone who likes me. Really likes me. She can tell the difference." Her lips twitched. "Also Ogden's Dark Reserve."
That smile nearly took his breath away. Hank felt his face warm, but he merely smiled in return and slid his hand a little higher on her calf. "A woman of refined taste, just like her granddaughter." He chuckled, and then tilted his head just a little, admiring how gorgeous she was, happy and at ease. "But I'm sure we'll get along just fine. I happen to really like you a lot." His mouth pulled into a kind of twist of regret and misgivings, but it smoothed out a moment later with another laugh. "Merlin, that sounded so primary school. I do mean it, though. I'm glad we're doing this. I'm glad we've gotten to the point where we could do this."'
Dizzy spared half a thought wishing they didn't have a table between them, then brushed it away with the knowledge that some things were worth waiting for—even for someone like her, who rarely had to wait for anything. "I happen to really like you a lot, too," she said without a shred of self-consciousness. She stretched her leg out just enough to poke his stomach with her toes. "Don't knock the kids. Sometimes they know things when they aren't being obnoxious little assholes. The world might be a better place if more of us were chasing each other on the playground to pull the hair of the person we liked."
She took another bite of her food, sparing a glance toward the kitchen at the thought of the surprise dessert that waited there. Almost time, but she didn't want to move at the moment, and it wasn't the sort of thing she trusted to a levitation charm. "I'm going to put out some feelers to see what the reaction might be if we turned up for the premier but didn't actually stay for the screening." She hadn't intended to bring up the topic tonight, but his last statement had put her mind on it. She laughed a little, trying to avoid dragging the conversation too deeply into that seriousness. "I can already see Alex's face when I show up in his office and ask how I can avoid hurting our public image. Usually that chat goes the other way around."
The little jab hadn't hurt in the slightest, but he'd jerked anyway, stifling a startled laugh with a bitten lip. It only took a second to recover, but Hank was pretty sure he was already damned. Turns out, sometimes he was ticklish, if the circumstances were right. He smirked across at her, a brow rising slowly. "If I was a bit closer, maybe I'd pull your hair a little. Or you could pull mine. I'm good with either. I'm still trying to figure out if I should be offended on behalf of children everywhere for being called 'assholes', but then I remember that I was something of an asshole as a child myself from time to time."
It had never even occurred to him that he, or they, might be able to skip the screening on opening night. This might have been because he'd been steering his thoughts away every time they touched on it, which was probably very healthy. "Didn't even now that could be an option." He sat back, impressed. "Can't say I'd be sad to miss it, but not sad enough not to put Alex through his paces if it comes to that. Bloke's always liked a challenge." It was an offhanded remark, but it still sparked a memory of a text exchange with Cal. He really should text his mate about all that. Maybe no news was good news. "I think given the subject, however, that most people would understand, even if they don't know… everything."
"All children are assholes sometimes," Dizzy said matter of factly. "They're just allowed to get away with it because they haven't learned any better yet, so we don't call them that. That doesn't start until you're sixteen and starting to learn the Wizzywood ropes." She winked at him, not at all bothered by the description of her own start. She was pretty sure she'd been born with a thick skin.
"The solo-watching public aren't people," she said with a look. "They're consumers of a product. Sure, the studio would understand, and a handful of our peers would understand, but all it would take is one nasty article about how we don't believe in the solo enough to even stay for the screening, and suddenly the negative publicity starts to outweigh the work we put into it, and hell will freeze over before I let that happen." She pulled her foot out of his grasp so she could push back from the table. "All of which is to say that Alex is going to have his hands full, and if needing to sit through the damn thing makes things awkward for a few minutes between me and you, that's okay—but I know where you live and am not afraid to use that information."
Dizzy flashed him a smile and stood up. "Dessert?"
While part of him kind of chafed at the idea of anyone calling Dizzy an asshole, he felt like it would probably come off as sounding like lip service if he attempted to argue to the contrary. Instead, he chuckled and shook his head and decided to concentrate on the issue of the 'solo-watching public.' She caught him a little bit unawares when she pulled herself back—musing as he was over their problematic non-attendance—and he focussed again on her with a little start. He couldn't help but laugh. "I'd tell you to only use said information for good, but where the bloody hell is the fun in that? In fact, I'm encouraging you to do your absolute worst. I promise I'll enjoy it." He glanced down at his mostly empty plate and then back up at her. "Believe it or not, I've saved room. Need help?"
"Oh, you'd definitely enjoy it." Dizzy winked at him as she turned toward the kitchen with a bit of a twirl of skirt. "No, but since this course is being served elsewhere, you might want to get a move on before I eat it all without you."
She disappeared into the next room, flicking her wand toward the fridge where the dessert was stored under a charm to keep it at the perfect temperature and moisture level. "I had to do research to make this crazy thing, you know," she said as she grabbed a couple of spoons and turned back to him to hold one out. "I had to ask your mom to repeat the name like three times before I even understood what she was talking about. It sounds like something a five-year-old would make up, but it looks ungodly amazing." One glass floated up in front of each of them, and Dizzy grabbed hers from the air and clinked it against his. "Living room. I have a feeling moving will be near impossible by the time we're done eating this."
Intrigued and not having a clue what to expect, of course he followed her. It was a little bit of a balm to his pride that he hadn't scrambled out of his seat like some overeager teenager, but there was a measure of self-restraint involved as he scooted his chair back and trailed after her into the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw the dessert glasses, and his heart gave a peculiar flip in his chest. Awareness that he was staring came slowly, but at least his mouth wasn't hanging open. No, it was slowly edging upward until he was grinning with a fond sort of sentimentality as he grabbed the glass hanging in front of him.
"Looking past the fact that you're in regular communication with my Mum, this is…" He laughed and shook his head, childhood memories tumbling over themselves in his mind's eye. In a flash, he was present again and he took a step in before Dizzy could move off. "Wait just a moment. There's something I need to do." Careful of their desserts, he put his arm around her until his hand was settled against the small of her back and pulled her close. He leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep and all the things he was feeling and starting to feel in that moment. After, breathy and low, he managed a, "Thank you."
The kiss was enough that it left Dizzy a little light-headed, and she leaned into him even as she pulled back. Her free hand had drifted to the back of his neck, and her fingertips skimmed the back of his hair as she looked up at him, quiet for a few seconds but for the sound of her breathing. It was rare that she ignored her first instincts, but the tease that came immediately to her lips—that was an awful lot of kiss for strawberries and meringue—didn't feel right. "I wanted to do something special for you," she said, stretching out her arm to place her dessert on the counter and free up her other hand. "Which is easier said than done when your normal life already has elements of glitz and glamor." She trailed her fingers over his beard. "What kind of 'thank you' do I get if it tastes even better than it looks?"
Again, that faint stirring of his heart, and not just from the way she was touching him. A little hum of pleasure seemed to reverberate through his chest, and he wanted to close his eyes but it meant not looking at Dizzy. Hank found he didn't want to miss a second. He set his dessert aside as well so he could curl a lock of her hair around his finger. "Honestly? The only glitz and glamour in my life is you." He paused a moment and then chuckled. "That sounded so much better in my head. This is why I leave the writing to the professionals. Not to say I never have ideas. For instance, if it even tastes half as good as it looks, I think my thanks might not see us very long in the living room at all."
He moved his hand so he could draw a finger along the edge of her jaw. There was something shaking in the breath he took. "I want to do this with you. Just us. No characters, no cameras, no crew, no nightmare stories. I want you, Dizzy."
Dizzy laughed, too, and the way her fingers stroked the back of his neck matched the melodious way the sounds blended together. She edged closer as he continued, melded into him until it was impossible for her to stand up straight without the arm that was around her. "I'm ready," she said, pausing in her perusal of his beard to cup his cheek. "The bad dreams are gone, and when I think of you, it's you, not some phantom of past wrongs, no haze of uncertainty." She kissed the side of his neck and pressed her forehead there for a few seconds. When she pulled back, one side of her lips was turned up. "If my Eton mess sucks, maybe I can find another way to entice you. I could start by detailing what I'm wearing under this dress. Or not."
An honest-to-god groan left him, completely unchecked. Were it not for the fact that he had an armful of extremely hot Dizzy, he might have gone a little weak in the knees. "Darlin', I don't think you could mess up a dessert that has the word 'mess' in it even if you tried." It was a touch of hyperbole, but even from where they sat on the counter the dessert smelled like home which meant it was perfect. "Doesn't mean you need to hold back on the enticements. Honestly, however, it really wouldn't take much. After all," he leaned down, lips millimeters from hers and voice pitched into something rich and sweet all on its own, "you've already got me."