Picking up the Pieces [Stu]

[Delilah A. Black]

((OOC: This takes place after the events of “the Exchange” , but since those events haven't QUITE played out yet, we'll just be as vague as possible.))



Finally at the door of her suite (if the metal door that matched the others up and down the concrete hallway could even be called that), Delilah stopped for a moment to look back anxiously at Stu, sensing the disquiet in him. The talk had been...productive to say the least. But there was still a distance between them that neither of them seemed to be able to breach. That filled her with uncertainty and tugged at the corners of her consciousness. She had already moved past the fight on the beach, but Stu seemed to take it more to heart than she had. That worried her, and as good as she was at hiding her emotions these days, her consternation was easily read by anyone who really knew her.

And if there was anyone who fit that bill, it was Stu.

“Well, this is me...” she said with a small sigh, twisting the knob and gently pushing it open.

The room in it's entirety was not unlike the simplest of one bedroom apartments with terribly shag carpet floors and cracked concrete walls. The room was simply adorned with a run down couch from the late 1970's, a couple of mismatched dining room chairs and a makeshift coffee table that was mostly constructed out of a strange combination of metal, driftwood and duct-tape. The only real personality in the room was the unmistakable pile of childrens toys neatly placed in a ratty cardboard box in the corner of the room. Two cracked photos sat on the otherwise empty mantle on the other side of this room; one of a smallish, white haired boy grinning up from his hospital bed with bandages over his left eye, the other of The Crew, that being “Unfettered” and his associates. Otherwise the room was empty.

Except for the portly man jerking himself out of sleep on the couch when the door opened.

Talon, the hulking mass of Irish decent rose to his full height off the couch with a creak of his old, battered bones. He leveled a look at Delilah, about to ask just where the young lady had been---when he noticed the equally tall, blue haired, black-eyed man behind her.

He stared at the two of them, wide eyed. The resemblance was uncanny.

“Well, shit.” he laughed, though his normally booming voice was hushed.

Delilah looked over her shoulder at Stu, blushed, and looked back at her fellow mechanic with a smile he found odd. “Talon. Sorry it took so long. Is--?”

“Sleeping. I put him down an hour ago. Out like a light. He gave me the run around today, I'll tell ya.” He said, still whispering. He looked at Delilah admiringly. “How you keep track of that boy, I'll never know.” He gave her a once over and his smile drifted into a frown as he noted the bandages on her neck and the general tiredness that seemed to envelope them both.

She allowed herself a weary chuckle and beckoned to him. “Tell me all about it. Stu, I'll be right back. Talon has to give me his report of the day. I'll be right back.” She put a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder and went out into the hallway.

Talon, just as tall and twice as wide as the lanky Brit, spared a look and a shrug for Stu and lumbered after her, shutting the door behind them.

“Del, is that...?”

“Yes.”

“And he was the--”

“Yes.”

“And he gave you those--”

“YES, Talon.”

“Wow...” he said, amazed. “I didn't think you were actually capable of snagging a man. Good on ya, boss.”

“Uh, 'pot calling the kettle black', much?” She held up a hand to stop him from spewing the next witty comment to come out of his mouth. “We're cutting our one-on-one time short today, but I want you to tell me what you learned from Oliver. Anything you thought was important.”

He gave her a measured look, as if unsure how to take her abruptness: Delilah was usually up for witty banter and her subdued demeanor unsettled him. Still, he knew better than to ask, so he offered the younger woman an amicable shrug and a toothy grin. “Your kid is....I don't even know what the word for it is. When I was watching him, he would vanish and reappear in the weirdest places. Hide -and-seek was obviously not a great idea to engage him with.”

Delilah laughed lightly, shaking her head. “That's one of his talents: I don't know how he does it, but he is the best damn hider I've ever seen. Invisible people have nothing on him. What else?”

“His focus. He lives in the here and the now and no place else. It's like nothing else matters except what he's doing right now. For a kid his age, he's really....dedicated.”

“I know,” Delilah smiled with a nod of her head, completely understanding the man's awe. “What else?”

-------------------------


Meanwhile, inside the apartment in the little boys room up the slight hallway, Oliver opened his mismatched eyes to the encompassing darkness upon hearing the familiar sound of his mothers' voice, as he always did if he was asleep when she came home. This was still quite rare, but getting tucked in at night by Lumberjack, or Punky, or Auntie Squee just wasn't the same as Herr Patchy or Mama.


And so, the little white haired boy eagerly freed himself of the treacherous bind of the covers and picked the lock on his cell door (read: turned the knob) and swung the door open on silent hinges. He stopped himself from running down the hall to her to listen to the conversation.

He heard Mama leave the room again with Lumberjack, but there was another in the home that had a very familiar name. He frowned slightly and started walking forwards silently towards the living room where he heard the New Person walking around. It wasn't like Mama to leave him with someone she didn't know or trust. Curiosity overrode his uncertainty and he continued down the hall. He blended seamlessly into the shadows of the low light and slipped into the living room.

Oliver found himself staring up at the back of the head of a man with blue hair, a man he had never seen before who was THE TALLEST MAN HE HAD EVER SEEN. He came up silently behind him while keeping a respectful distance, put on his most polite grin and said, “Hi.” while staring intently up at the Man Without A Nickname.

[Stu Pott]

The silence was nearly deafening, but he had no idea what he wanted to say. So much was possible but... well, there was no real but. He just had no way to express it. Too much emotion.

So they walked in silence. Stu wasn't going to break it and neither was she, until they arrived, Stu abandoned in the foyer, if you wanted to call it anything. He looked around was somewhat put-off by the sparse decor; admittedly, he had grown used to rough surroundings, but his home in England was also his childhood home, full of memento's of times past. Good times.

Here, only the near sterility of a military facility. Befitting of the new Del.

He heard the voice before he registered it, something from some other world. He knew immediately who it was without even needing to see him; Oliver. It had to be. His voice had that unmistakable childhood lilt. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, as good as the first time Del had said 'I love you.'

He turned and took in the site of his son. His one eye nearly caused Stu to break out in tears right there. It was unmistakably him. He bent down to the boy's level, going to a knee.

"Hey there, wee one. My name's Stu..."

[Delilah A. Black]

“He runs on instinct, I guess. He just...I dunno, does, and things seem to work out. He doesn't seem to think in advance.”

Delilah chuckled, “That's where you're wrong. He does run mostly on instinct, but he registers it long before you or I do. All kids do that, and you can see it if you watch them. His body is planning his moves before his head can comprehend them.” She shifted and rolled her recently re-injured shoulder in it's socket. “Kids think in terms of goals and everything else just follows suit. Now, where most kids get frustrated when their goal is impeded, Oliver finds new routes or options to reach it.”

“Yeah, I got that from watching him. He's a real problem solver, huh?”

“He picks it up quickly, that's for sure. Did you notice how he talks?”

“You mean, like, when he suddenly spews something that's a weird combination of English, Japanese and German?”

“HA! No, but that's always fun to try and decipher. I mean how he speaks to people.”

Talon stared at Delilah vacantly for a moment before blanching. “Before I put him to bed, he told me to be careful about my back when I stood up. I twisted my spine a few years back in the oil patch...I didn't really think anything of it at the time...”

She rewarded him with a wolfish grin, “As well as responding instinctively, Oliver is very observant. When he pinpoints something about you, he'll never, ever forget it.”

-----------------------



Oliver took a step back as The Big Man took a knee in front of him, his mismatched eyes locked on the Tall Man's ink black ones. Eyes he immediately knew, the same way Stu had known. Now at the same eye level, a small chill went up his spine as he had the vague sensation that he was looking in a mirror of the future.

A future with awesome blue hair.

“Hey there, wee one. My name's Stu...”

Oliver looked at him with the unnerving, wide-eyed expression all children use when they study someone intently. He remained like this for a long moment – thinking – before breaking into a wide grin. He thrust out his small hand towards Stu for a shake.

“I'm Oliver. Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu!”
<Please grant me your good favour!**>

Oliver continued looking up at Stu-man, beaming. If he had been any older, he might have had questions for The Big Man, maybe would have been a little angry at him. But Oliver had learned to accept things as they were, as Mama had always told him. And Mama had been right about this, too: he had come back for them, as she said he would.

“I have a question: When did you change your hair?” he pointed in the direction of the shoddy kitchen where a small box was placed high up on one of the cabinets. “In the pictures, your hair is green. I like blue more, though.” He nodded solemnly as if to cement his words. “I'd show you, but I'm not tall...” he said with a slight jut to his lower lip that was half-joking, half-serious.

SPOILER: Click to show

((OOC: **“Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu” is a very formal version of a phrase spoken when introducing oneself in Japanese. The more casual (but still polite) term is “Dozo yoroshiku”, which pretty much means “it is an honour to meet you”. Adding “onegaishimasu” at the end can be used alone in training situations, and by itself it can mean “please show me” or another similar meaning depending on the context, but always used in reference to someone 'older' or of a higher station than yourself, meaning that they are your superior and your 'elder'.(the word is senpai, which is upperclassman, but I think this is enough of a lesson for now )

Adding these together makes for the most formal verbiage of this expression, which is in reality a very fancy way of saying “it's good to meet you”.))

[Stu Pott]

Stu had the strongest urge to take the boy into his arms and never let him go. However, he grabbed the small hand with his own and shook alongside the boys, gently and gingerly. He didn't understand a word of the japanese that the boy spoke, but he didn't assume any negativity, due to the way he beamed.

Their eyes locked, as well as a man without any pupils can lock eyes. His face nearly trembled as he looked at the boy in front of him, literally the only person in America who was his flesh and blood; his father dead and his mother still back on England, hopefully alive.

The little one spoke again, and he turned towards the kitchen. He went to where the boy pointed without a word, grabbing the box and passing it off to the boy. Had it been him and Del, he probably would've rifled through it by himself, but for some reason the boy's innocence was infectious, and Stu felt a small pang of sadness at thinking of breaching that trust by going through someone else's possessions.

He saw the picture immediately; it was him when he was younger, a few years back, during his early times in LA. Back during the bad shit. Back when he had first met all that which made his world now.

"Well, wee one, the color was a Blake, err, fake. This is the natural color. That green came from trying to dye it blonde. I wanted to fit in with all the La-Di-Dah that American's go on and on about. Honestly, the people who used to infest this city were a bunch of Rooney's if you ask me."

He smiled and realized that he had probably just spoke a bunch of gibberish.

"Sorry boyo, I'm from Merry ol' Londontown. You know where England is, Wild?"

[Delilah A. Black]

“So he just...looks at people and knows them?”

Delilah nodded, smiling wistfully to herself now. “And I'll tell you right now that he doesn't get that from me. That's his father's genes talkin' there. Now there's a man who can read people.”

“Yeah, speaking of...how'd you two meet?”

“Dive bar in San Francisco.”

“...”

“...”

“Dude, that is so cliché.”

“That is neither here nor there.”

“OK, but seriously. You meet a guy in a bar, take him home, and wind up having a KID with him? That's like...something out of a movie.”

She half shrugged and leaned herself against the wall. “It didn't happen quite like that. We met and we fell in love. It's not complicated, that's just how it happened. And it just so happened that I fell in love with a good man who knew me better than almost anyone, but I knew that when I met him. If there was something about him I didn't like, you can be sure Oliver would never have known his father.”

“So, he's like, what, your soul mate?”

“Let me put it this way: he came all the way from England because I might have been alive. Took a boat and walked across America, and we just happened to cross paths. If 'soul mate' doesn't define us, then there's no word that does.”


--------------------.

Oliver stared wide-eyed at the blue-haired man as he tried to process the new information being liberally poured in his ear in a language that was entirely unfamiliar to him. What was a 'Rooney'?

Unbidden, the lyrics of a song from a long since canceled TV show came drifting through his memory.

—'And it's a great BIG universe and most of it is looney,
And we're just teeny LITTLE specks, about the size of Mickey Rooney'.[/color]

His head tilted slightly to the side as he realized that maybe they were talking about the same 'Rooney', whoever or whatever THAT was. But how did he know what a Rooney was?

DID HE WATCH ANIMANIACS TOO?!
[/SIZE]

“Sorry, boyo, I'm from Merry ol' Londontown. You know where England is, Wild?”

Oliver's little brow creased as he thought about it before brightening a moment later. “YEAH!” He took a coil-bound notepad out of the box and set it aside without opening it. He then took a second book out of the box and knelt down on the floor with it. The picture Stu had pointed out was placed on the cover of the leather bound notebook that served as a photo album. The book was slightly charred and quite clearly well loved, with the spine being wrinkled in several places.

Oliver opened it enthusiastically. Taped to the inside of the cover was a painstaking sketch of the world map, with a circle around where England would be. Oliver tapped it happily, pushing the book towards Stu. “There! Mama says it's on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.” He leaned his face towards the book until his little button nose was pressed against the picture, staring at the circle intensely, concentrating. He looked back up at Stu, comically serious. “It's a small country, but there's lots of people there, right? Japan is like that too.” He nodded as if to himself and flipped the page.

Pasted across the next few pages were several pictures with varying degrees of burns on them, though the pages themselves were relatively untouched. The snapshots were either of Stu and Delilah or just Stu on his own, usually when he wasn't looking, all from before. That's all Oliver ever knew it as. He knew that this book was a window into the past, one that he wasn't old enough to remember. He considered the frames invaluable to history as he knew it.

He pointed to one photo that was only mostly singed, smiling. It was a quick shot of a bikini-clad Delilah in mid-air, being thrown into the ocean by a grinning Stu. “Mama said you guys had a biiiiig water fight after that one.” he giggled. “Why'd you throw her in? Mama said she couldn't remember.” Which was a lie. Sort of. Delilah had told this story a million times before, but what he really wanted was to hear it from Stu.

[Stu Pott]

Stu's grin split his face as the boy went on and on about... well, everything. The boy was infectiously talkative, and his spirit and nature almost beckoned for Stu to respond. The kid was everywhere at once, and yet he was as focused on any given thing as if it was the only thing worth focusing on.

He was intense, to say the least.

Stu said nothing, in pure awe over how adorable the little boy was. His little boy. Yikes. Mother won't believe it.

He registered the question after a second two long of hesitating, and picked up the photo, scrutinizing it. Who had taken this picture? It hadn't been John. He never did anything fun. Stu couldn't recollect, so many other things having imprinted themselves into his mind, a mind shattered, scarred and broken from a life time of hardship. However, right now it began recording, immediately storing away every tidbit that Oliver mentioned.

He knew it would be important. This boy was important. He was everything, now.

He set the photo down and smiled again at Oliver. "Well, your mom wasn't being very nice to me that day."

He stood and sat down on the nearest chair. He did it almost numbly, going on instinct, hands on his knees. He leaned forward slightly before continuing.

"See, your mum has a mean habit, one I'm more than sure ya know of. She tends to think she's always in the right, and that no other right could possibly be right. This was about a week before I left, and your mum was on the warpath over me leaving. At this point, iffen I recall, she was determined to be on that plane with me flying over to London.

Now your mum is important to me, Oliver. She's very important, and you know that, on account of all these pictures. She was needed here and she had to stay. I was needed over the pond in England. That's why I left your mum.

Biggest mistake I ever made, boyo. Let me tell you."

[Delilah A. Black]

“Wow...I had no idea you were that close with ANYONE. ErImean...” Talon winced at his own words, half expecting to be drop kicked back up the hallway. “It's just...you don't really seem to get too close to people.”

“Now, that's just not true.” she said in a voice full of mock-hurt. “I have friends. I have lots of friends. Granted most of them are invisible--”

“Ha ha, yes, Delilah is so very funny. Hurr hurr. Seriously, though.”

She sighed and gave him a look. “I do have people I consider friends. But those friends are very close to me, close enough that I consider them family. I've never really been the type to let people into my bubble. The ones that are there just kind of...barged their way in, liked what they saw, and stayed. These are the people who shape you into a better person, who have an influence greater than any group or ideology. These are people I would gladly die to protect, because life without them would be meaningless.

“Now, apply that to everyone here, everyone in Crows, every citizen in our territory and beyond. Over the last couple of years, I've grown to feel that way about everyone I meet. That's why I am the way I am, I guess. Everyone is worthy of what my closest of friends have given me, in my eyes. In that...Stu and I disagree.”

“Why is that?”

Delilah was silent for a time before speaking again in a quiet voice. “We both have the unfortunate habit of being far too stubborn for our own good. He means the world to me, and I know he feels the same. Neither of us is willing to put aside our pride and let the other take the lead: we both care about each other far too much to leave anything to chance. My desire to help everyone means that I am not safe, and he hates that. My being safe being that I abandon the people who need me, and I can't abide that. And so, we're at an impasse of who loves who more.”


--------------


"Well, your mom wasn't being very nice to me that day."

Oliver settled in, fixing Stu with a wide-eyed stare of unhindered curiosity. As he went to go sit in the chair, Oliver took the book and clambered up onto the sofa, watching Stu intensely.

"See, your mum has a mean habit, one I'm more than sure ya know of. She tends to think she's always in the right, and that no other right could possibly be right. This was about a week before I left, and your mum was on the warpath over me leaving. At this point, iffen I recall, she was determined to be on that plane with me flying over to London.

Now your mum is important to me, Oliver. She's very important, and you know that, on account of all these pictures. She was needed here and she had to stay. I was needed over the pond in England. That's why I left your mum.

Biggest mistake I ever made, boyo. Let me tell you."

“No. Not a mistake,” he said with a shake of his head. “You cared about Mama too much to let her come and made her stay so she could help everyone! Then you came back! You fixed the mistake by coming back, so no mistake was made.” he beamed at the man before looking back at the book and flipping a couple of pages.

The next images showed Delilah, withered and worn, struggling to walk. The one below it showed her, healthier with a slight shape to her belly. The next two were still of her, her belly swelling as the then unborn child grew within her. These ones were very burnt, the images only just recognizable, though the page around it remained pristine.

Oliver pointed at his mother's belly in the last picture, grinning proudly, “That's me and Mama, afore I was born. She said that she made herself healthy for when I was borned so I could be safe. She said that's when she started collecting the pictures, so she could show you to me so i'd know who you were when you came back. That's what she said anyway.” He looked up at the blue haired man again. “She was right about that one, huh?” he giggled.

[Stu Pott]

Stu ruffled the little boy's hair, the first time he really touched him. His smile beamed back at the boy, a genuine smile, the second one he'd had that day, despite it being years since he had a reason to do so.

What the boy said gave him pause though, and he flipped back through the few charred pictures. Delilah looked bad. More than bad. Had it been anyone else, Stu was certain that they would've died. He didn't think even Olesya could have withstood that punishment, and that girl... that girl has seen some shit.

But here was Del emaciated but with that little tell-tale bump. Then she looked better, but not great, and finally, the way he had always pictured she'd look with a child; radiant and beautiful, like a star come down to earth. Her mischievous smile in the picture belayed something else, and for a moment a pang of panic crossed Stu's mind. He forced it out; whatever had happened, happened, and there was no way for him to complain about anything.

"I guess so, boyo. You do know who I am, right?"

He didn't want to come out and say it. It wasn't his place. He was the absentee father who left his woman and child behind to run the family business across the ocean. He was, for all intents and purposes, a deadbeat to this boy.

He only hoped he could save some face.

[Delilah A. Black]

“Huh. That sounds...healthy.”

“Oh? Caring deeply about each other isn't healthy? Then by all means, share your vast wealth of experience in relationships with me. Well? Any tips? Tricks? Suggestions?”

“...”

“That's what I thought.”

“Just when I was starting to think you were nice...”

“I obliged you this information because we're skipping out on our one-on-one time tonight. Also because the others are going to listen to whatever it is Birch has to say about what happened and I want you to straighten it out. God knows he could actually make something up that's believable.”

“Good point. You take care, Del.” Talon started off down the hall way, waving at her over his shoulder.

“Good night, Talon.” she replied. As he rounded the corner, she found herself alone in the hallway, staring at the door of her apartment. For the first time in a very long time, she was nervous. A confrontation was to be had, likely more in depth than what had occurred on the beach only hours before. She felt compelled to fix things, she always had. This situation was no different...but she couldn't mend it alone. She needed him, too. Stu.

She heaved a sigh and pushed open the door.

-------------------

"I guess so, boyo. You do know who I am, right?"



Oliver blinked his mismatched eyes, surprised. Was this a trick question? No, he was too nice for that. He was just...unsure. Yes. That was the word.

Had he been older, old enough to be angry, he would have said something harsh, like “the man who left mama and me alone when the bombs happened”. Had he been younger, he wouldn't have understood the significance of the question and it wouldn't have mattered who the blue-haired man was. He would have melded into the family life as if nothing had ever happened, and that would have been the end of it.

But Oliver was a bright boy, not too young to not understand why the question mattered and not old enough to be bitter about it. He knew this man from stories and pictures: he did not know who this man was, not yet...but he knew what he was.

And for him, that was enough.

“Of course.” he said as though it were obvious. “You're my dad! Who do you think you are?” he grinned.


The door to the apartment opened then, and a weary Delilah stepped inside only to stop, the sight before her overwhelming her vision.

Stu and Oliver sat on the couch, pouring over the roughshod photo album she'd patched together with the remainders of her belongings. Stu had one hand lovingly ruffled in his son's hair and Oliver was grinning up at him adoringly.

Never in life would she ever feel so complete again.

The spell broke as Oliver turned his head at the sound of the door opening. His little face burst into a wide grin. “Mama!” he chirped, clambering down off the couch and rushing towards her.

She dropped to a knee, engulfing him in a warm hug. “You were supposed to be asleep by now, chibikko <little one>.” She held him at arms length, looking at him fondly.

“I couldn't sleep! Lumberjack didn't tell me a story.”

Her brows dove downward at the random word he inserted into that sentence. “Lumber...OH, Talon.” her expression cleared and she laughed. “Very clever. So what were you doing up with--”

“He was telling me about the time he threw you in the sea when you argued!”

“Is that so? And did you like that story?”

“Yes!...wait,” his lower lip jutted out quickly into a pout as he realized he had given his excuse for being awake away. “No fair!”

“Yes, fair. You've had your story, you've already been tucked in, and you're up past your bedtime. Off you go.” She pushed him gently from her crouch towards the hallway.

He grumbled, but started his vengeful trudge to his room. He was almost at the entrance to the hallway when he sprinted away from it to hug Stu around the legs, the only part of him he could reach. He clung tightly before releasing and hurrying down to his room.

“Good night, Oliver. Sweet dreams,” she called after him, coming to stand by the couch.

Again, he stopped at the door, turned and bowed at the waist.

“Oyasuminasai, Oka-san, and then after a moment of contemplation, he added, “...Oto-san.”

<Goodnight, mom....dad>[/i]

And just like that, he was back inside his room, the door closed. He crawled into bed, yawning, but happy. He didn't want to sleep, but he found he couldn't not sleep. So, snuggling under the covers, he drifted off and dreamt of his father.

-----------

Delilah turned to Stu as Oliver shut himself in his room and smiled at him. “So. Your son.”[/size]

[Stu Pott]

Stu felt his heart melt as the young boy grabbed onto his leg quickly before scurrying off, saying goodnight in japanese and what he, strangely, knew was the word for father. His lip quivered as he watched, standing as the door shut.

"So. Your son."

"Our son."

He took a step towards her, his arms open, wrapping them around her, letting her take the inner grasp, his lanky arms more than enough to envelop her against him. His right hand went up to the side of her head and stroked her hair softly as he held her tight, his other arm gripping with an iron rigidity, not hard enough to hurt but not allowing any chance at escape.

"I'm sorry Del. I shouldn't have tried to make up your mind for you. I should have... I should have thought that someone as strong as you would find a reason to stay here for so long. I should've known better.

But I meant it what I said to Johnny boy; I'm in for the length of it. Ain't getting rid of me anytime soon."

He let go and sat back down on the couch. His head leaned back as all the day's exhaustion hit him. His side ached, his head throbbed, and his body was nearly completely spent from the trip here, and all the excitement of the past few hours. He had arrived here only a few hours ago, really. Sure, he had been in LA for some time before coming across Crow territory, but that didn't matter.

All that mattered was what was in this apartment.

[Delilah A. Black]

“Our son.”

Suddenly, she was in his arms again, as natural and fluid as if this was commonplace over the last four years. The steady thrum of his heart against her chest, his warmth, his hand in her hair, the way his body pressed just so against her own...it felt...it felt..

It felt so right.


"I'm sorry Del. I shouldn't have tried to make up your mind for you. I should have... I should have thought that someone as strong as you would find a reason to stay here for so long. I should've known better.

But I meant it what I said to Johnny boy; I'm in for the length of it. Ain't getting rid of me anytime soon."

She watched him plop down on the couch with a weary smile a moment before taking a seat beside him, sliding up against him, unwilling to separate from the warmth that was her Stu. “I'm sorry, too. I know you just want me to be safe, and now that goes for Oliver too. I know this world isn't perfect, and it might not be worth saving, but it's more than worth living in as long as I have you.” she leaned up on him and planted a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. She sat back, looking at him up and down.

A grin suddenly split her face, “Man, you look like shit,” she chuckled.

[Stu Pott]

Her joke split his face again, and he rolled ontop of her so that he was sitting on her lap, his legs folded underneath, hanging over the edge of the couch.

"I wasn't going to say anything but you've definitely aged."

His mouth shot towards hers before she could protest, and his arms wrapped around her again as he rolled back onto the couch, pulling her ontop of him. His hands ran up and down her body, exploring everything. He stopped and stared at the figure in front of him, and felt something stir, deep down inside. Something that hadn't awakened in quite a long time.

"But I won't complain. Makes ya look... distinguished." His right eye winked as he pulled her in for another passionate kiss, attempting to pull her shirt over her head, his own soon to follow.

[Delilah A. Black]

((OOC: AWWW YEAAAH, THEY GONNA GET LAAAAIIIIIDDDD))


Her grin widened as he rolled on top of her. She placed her hands lightly on the insides of his thighs, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I wasn't going to say anything but you've definitely aged."

Her mouth popped open in mock horror, “I'm younger than you, you limey--”

Ah, but then they were kissing, and the words were reduced to a brief muffle of indignation that gave way to a soft moan of longing. Her hands slid up the lengths of his thigh, up his back, across his chest, as if feeling something new and foreign all at once. She had almost forgotten what it was like to make-out like a teenager, how it felt to have a tongue in your mouth that wasn't your own. But she did know, or rather, the one she was with was familiar, the texture of his skin, his hands tracing her---oh.

He pulled away, leaving her gasping a little, pinned underneath him. She felt woozy and aware all at once, drunk on old sensations that hadn't been bothered in some time. He was intoxicating.


"But I won't complain. Makes ya look... distinguished."

“You're one to talk, windex-head,” she said in a soft, husky growl, pointing out the color of his hair. Then they were kissing again, her shirt was over her head, and their skin was touching, feverish with heat. As his shirt left him, she leaned up to plant little nibbling kisses all over his torso, her fingers nimbly undoing the clasp on his pants.

[Stu Pott]

Stu's torso shuttered as her lips ran over his skin, his hands running through her hair as his pants fell open. He leaned upwards to see her, and pulled her up to him to kiss her passionately. His own hands traveled south, fumbling around with clothes as their bodies slowly became totally realized to each other.

They tumbled into the floor, and Stu stopped, looking down the hallway. The door didn't open, and he immediately went back to the job at hand. He worked his own way down Del's body, paying specific attention to all of her needs.


His head resurfaced a few minutes later, kisses up and down her body, resting for a moment.

"Bloody hell I've missed ya, babe."

[Delilah A. Black]

The heat of their entangled bodies seeped into her core, reigniting old memories of nights long past, her body moving of it's own accord. It was strangely like their fight earlier: passionate, intense, thought and plans completely out of the equation.

It occurred to Delilah just how perfect they were for each other.

They hit the floor with a light thud, and both of them looked up towards the hallway reflexively, suddenly remembering the little boy, fast asleep in his room, unaware--

She shivered and gasped, brought back into the moment by a sudden burst of pleasure. God, but she had forgotten! Yes, God, it had been such a long time, she had forgotten what it was like too...too..

Oh, GOD..

----------.

She pushed her sweat dampened bangs out of her flushed face. His kisses were little drops of rain on her skin, cool and balm like for the heat pulsating from her. Panting, Delilah lifted her head, looking into his face, resting against her.

"Bloody hell I've missed ya, babe."

“Oh, I can tell,” she laughed breathlessly, running a lazy hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. “I missed you, too. I didn't know how much til now, actually.” She let her head fall back onto the carpet with a sigh, reveling in how ludicrously wonderful the moment was.

She lifted her head up again suddenly, a mischievous glint in her eye as she looked at him. “Wanna see my room? Then I could show you just how much I've missed you.”