herotypical | ooc ↻ appointments & messages

Jack kissed her back, but let her control the how much of it. Catching her kiss, really -- and steadying her against the slightly-swaying hammock with hands just barely brushing her hips. He was glad, very glad, that she'd decided to jump.

Control was key. She'd recently lost it in so many other quarters of her life -- just one never-ending unravel since the General's trick had been played. Her nights were barely hers; nightmares unattached to her lineage persisted and were calmed only by a strong sleeping draught provided, in confidence, by Sheena. Confronting Jack upon his return had been such a clumsy attempt to keep control over something she couldn't hope to dictate.

Hands on arms soon moved up to his neck. And soon thereafter were cupping his chin and drawing him down.

"My queen. Annie." There was barely time to murmur her name before his mouth was taken again. The hammock bumped backward against the wall, and his boots scraped the floor as he stilled it.

The second kiss was warmer. Kinder. Although it wasn't that the first was cold and unfriendly, just that it had been so restrained by hesitation. So altered by the sad truth that they hadn't properly kissed since the mission.

Afterwards, she as good as drank the air. Deep, shaking breaths. "I love you," she said with such force that she seemed to be compensating for all her lost strength with those three words.

"Oh, darlin'." Soft kisses were pressed against her throat as Jack caught his breath alongside her. "Sweet Annie."

Everything always seemed clearer out here in the forest with Buffy Summers. When they could climb high enough to be above all the troubles below, and be safe, and be together...

She sighed -- moaned, really. And her arms loosened and her knees went weak and she dropped into the hammock. Simple, really. As if no other motion made sense. Logic always went a little fuzzy after the kissing started; it was as though her whole nervous system rebelled against the fact that they'd been troubled in the first place.

"So, so much..." Buffy continued her earlier thought. "So much that it's just not fair. How's a girl supposed to think rationally with this much love getting in the way?"

"She's not. She's meant to hold a man tight in her strong powerful gorgeous arms and not overthink it. That's what." Automatically he snuggled down with her and provided his services as pillow and blanket and hairy cuddle companion. He stroked her hair. Kissed the tip of her nose. Grinned as though his jaw would break. "Because he trips over his love for her, too, sometimes. He does."

Strong. Powerful. Those two words were just about the last things she felt, right about now. But that was exactly why it was gratifying to hear them. It made her feel so very more than the sum of her powers. A rare feeling indeed for Buffy Summers.

She did snuggle. She did, at least, settle her cheek comfortably against his chest. And she held him, but she didn't hold him tightly. Not just because she could measure the difference in her strength but because there was an automatic desire to keep all people at arm's length when she was so...disadvantaged, she thought. It wasn't a lack of trust; it was a lack of comfort. It was, as ever, a lack of control.

Buffy wondered if she'd still feel half so forgiving when she also felt like herself again.

"You have this...ability, Jack. To make things sound so simple."

"Mmm, well. Things seem a sight clearer 'round you, eh? You've got a truth about you. Maybe that would be why."

It was like that first morning he had seen the Wench and fallen in love at first sight. Then, all the schemes and wants and plans and machinations in the world had boiled down to one very simple desire, one very simple love -- a love he had died for twice. That kind of love unknotted the complicated things. It was like that with Buffy, too. Jack had always been enamored of the idea of destiny and had wanted a great one: something Mother Universe had denied him. No, anything Jack wanted was not granted him by the universe. Everything he gained he had to win for himself. The good had to be taken with the bad, and all of it turned to advantage.

But Buffy had been chosen for a great and terrible destiny, and that, of course, attracted him; it was, though, her truth and guts and fierce way of loving and protecting that drew him more. Her honor and mercies. Even at the vulnerable times he was drawn to her strengths.

He nudged an elbow against the wall and sent them into an easy swing.

Edited 2012-09-02 03:57 (UTC)

Haruhi, she insisted against the more alarmist parts of her mind, must have been lying. Or else the her-from-the-future must have gotten it wrong. Even still, she tried to take that advice in earnest right now: don't hold him breaking your heart against him. Maybe, she wondered, this was the moment. Maybe she'd already avoided it.

But Haruhi had mentioned a daughter. Had named her. Buffy frowned against his shoulder. She hid her frown away.

"Says the man who tried to teach me how to lie."

"And who failed, miserable creature that he is. Maybe I should do the lying for the both of us, eh?"

And speaking of lying: "We need to talk about the mission, Jack."

It was one last contentious bone in this one particular closeted skeleton.

"......Right. The mission, Buffy." He tensed in her arms; he'd wanted to leave all talk and memory of that mission well behind them tonight, but...no.

"I'm sorry."

"...You are?"

She could understand this apology. She simply hadn't expected it. Like second nature, she softly brushed aside a handful of hair in order to gently kiss the curve of his neck. An instinctive and caring reaction to that sudden tension, despite how willingly she otherwise fed it.

"Failed you. Endangered everyone." He swallowed thickly. "Buffy? I promise: if needs be, I'll.....they won't have you. They won't have any of you."

Words, deep secret words, whispered in a treehouse to the woman who held him. Souls to be saved; a universe to be put right; mistakes to be corrected.

His promise washed over her and surrounded her and felt a lot like a cool balm. Like that same earlier salve, only less bitter. Its root cause was ridiculous; after all, Buffy felt as though there would be no comeuppance now if there hadn't been from the get-go. But the promise was still a fine thing to hear.

"...You can't ever fail me by doing the right thing, Jack."

And it wouldn't have truly helped any of them to end that guard's life.

But how often would he DO the right thing? And would there be times when they wouldn't see eye to eye over what the right thing was? Surely, where before the guard's life was forfeit, now it was his own.

Jack very much did not want to die again.

"Not even for a week," he muttered, caressing her hair with nervous, nervous fingers.

No. Buffy resisted the sweetness in that sentiment and returned to the point she wished very much to hammer home. "We can't control the universe. The fate of every person. Who lives and who dies. If we were supposed to..."

Now it was her turn to speak thickly. She hadn't needed to find these words since she'd tried to explain to Dawn why they couldn't let Willow kill Warren. "I couldn't let you destroy yourself. Not after...not after wanting to try to make amends. Better amends."

"Buffy?"

There were so many arguments he could still make: in war, it wasn't self-destruction to engage in acts of self-defense.

Instead of arguing, he sought out her hand to kiss it. Her mercies, after all. Her mercies.

Buffy's mercy was undergoing quite the workout, lately. But at least Jack gave her the space to flex it. No ultimatums. No pressure. Just a solemn vow to help her stay intact. Real, scary, no-holds-barred love. The kind worth fighting for.

"Mmhm?" She touched her question -- and therefore her mouth -- to his pulse and waited to see if there was anything forthcoming beyond just her name.

"Going to make my better amendses even more better...er. You'll see. Mistress Amelia told me 's got to come right from the heart, and me? My heart's all black and stony-hard and piratical and whatnot, and I've simply got to...

Erm. Better Man in Seven Days? Suggests a number of deep-breathing techniques. So's I figure that, coupled with a bit of heroing about, should somehow tidy up all the scores.

Like the Batman does, you know.

Then me an' Murray can get back to the marauding like proper pirates do."

His plan was so backwards. She didn't know where to begin picking it apart. So? She didn't.

Well. Except for one bit: "Piratical, maybe. And possibly it's some shade of grey. But it can't be stony-hard. I can hear it. Right now. Being all squishy."

"Ah. Well.

Don't tell anyone, eh?"

"It's between you and me. I promise I won't tell anyone. Not even George Clooney's Batman."

Because you just know that Buffy Summers actually liked Batman & Robin.

"Especially not the Batman," Jack cautioned. "He doesn't need any more information than what he's already got."

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