Tasha had never had to stare down a beast before; images of facing a bear or a crazed elk or whatever kind of wild game large enough to maul her had never entered her mind. But in this current situation the beast was her fears; ones that had failed to remain beneath her control in the past, was standing between her and the rest of her life. All she could really do was hope that she had the stamina to stare down someone she had built up a resistance to; against whom she had fought both heart and mind. This desire to appear cool and calm was so adamant she barely reacted to his sudden appearance.

Scowling, Tasha fisted one hand in her tangled, wet mop of hair and dripped water onto the carpet. “What are you doing here, Gabriel?”

Her face was pink from the shower, as were the knees just visible beneath a pair of threadbare men’s boxers. Her Mr. Bubble t-shirt had seen more than its fair share of washings; it too was thin and old. The hair that was always hidden and forcibly tamed back in a ponytail was free and tangled in a voluminous mass of damp mahogany around her head. She had never looked more adorable. He smirked at the trail of water it made on the floor. “I came to talk to you.”

Tasha flipped her hair back and settled her gaze on him. She felt a twinge somewhere in her chest but buried it beneath nonchalance. “You really are a slow learner. I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

He met the gaze she leveled at him, saw the thin sheet of ice lain over churning waters beneath. Something was just visible there; something that might have been regret. Gabriel stared down at his hands, trying for contrite. “You never actually said that, you just assumed that it was understood. And I did ask to talk to you after the concert and never got around to it due to circumstances beyond my control.”

“Circumstances beyond your control? They aren’t under mine either, Saints. I’d appreciate it if you left.” She was feeling antsy and at the moment wanted nothing better than to sock something. Preferably something with a face.

“I can’t leave.”

The laugh bubbled out before she could catch it. “Oh how I wish that were true. But unfortunately its not, so why don’t we spare each other a great deal of pain--“ she plopped down on her easy chair, legs strewn sideways, “and have you leave prematurely.” She yanked the knit afghan off the back of the chair down on herself.

Gabriel sighed, examining the bag of tuna fish sandwiches. “Tasha I’ve wanted to explain something to you for a very long time now. Through all my faults I do try and find myself an honest man.”

Tasha let out a reproachful “Ha.”

“I am honest, Tasha. I told you I loved you, something I found extremely difficult under the circumstances of both my existence and my reason in your life. It’s just that--I never did mean to fall in love with you. I never even meant for you to really like me all that much.”

“I don’t like you that much.” The afghan felt rough against her cheek, though she felt warm beneath its bulk. “I’ve never really liked you all that much. I just started loving your sad ass and that’s when we got into trouble. I really don’t want to talk to you, Gabriel. I’m not all that fond of torture.”

“I’m not here to torture you, Tasha. I’m here to explain.”

“You sure say that a lot.”

“What?”

“’I’m here to explain’. For all the times you’ve said that, I’ve yet to understand the grave thought you’re trying to emplace in my head.”

Lips twitching against a smile, Gabriel stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ve made a mess of things, I know. But let me rectify that.”

“Rectify away.”

Gabriel stared at the wet splotch on the floor that marked Tasha’s entrance. “I don’t want to leave, Tasha. I want you to know that.”

“It isn’t a matter of knowing if you want to leave or not. It’s a matter of you leaving AT ALL that’s got me mad at you.”

“Why are you mad at me for something I can’t control?” he scowled at the back of her chair, wondering what her face was set as on the other side of it.

Tasha examined a strand of soggy hair. “Because it was in your control. You had every chance to not make me fall in love with you.”

“You’re blaming me for making you fall in love with me?” Gabriel cried, incredulous.

“It’s the only solution besides ‘fate’ I could come up with. And I’ve never held out a lot of faith in fate.”

“I don’t believe this.” Gabriel stomped across the room to her chair. He bent at the waist and placed a fisted hand into the chair cushion on either side of her head. “You’re blaming me for us falling in love? You’re saying it’s completely and utterly my doing.”

Tasha pretended she wasn’t affected by his proximity, “yes.”

“WHY?”

“Because I can.”

“That’s not good enough.” Gabriel grabbed Tasha by the shoulders. He wanted to frighten her, to force her to listen to him, to understand that he hated this as much as she did. But when she didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything but look into his eyes with daring and anger--possibly even reproach, he loosened the grip, and realized he was hurting her.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. But it’s the only answer I have.”

He had loosened it, perhaps, but did not let go. “I don’t believe that.”

It was her turn to be incredulous, “excuse me?”

“I don’t think that’s true. And dammit it pisses me off.”

“Well I don’t care what pisses you off Gabriel. Fact is: it’s your fault this whole damn thing is happening.”

“My fault? Oh really? And whose idea was it to kiss me?”

Tasha’s mouth fell open with an almost audible clank. “Are you suggesting it was I who kissed you?”

“I do believe I am.” He could keep a straight face, but it certainly couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“How dare you! You insufferable blockhead. I did not kiss you. You kissed me. After you grabbed me.” The angry flush he found so charming began to sidle up her neck to blossom over her face.

“I did no such thing. I grabbed you to stop you from folding dirty laundry. That’s the affect I have on you dear. I make you fold dirty laundry.”

“Don’t call me dear. I was folding laundry. It only happened to be dirty.”

“Do you make a practice of folding dirty laundry before washing it? Worried what the other laundromat rats’ll think of you?”

“Goddammit Gabriel, stop trying to make me angry!”

“I’m not trying, dear.”

Tasha let out a growl before looking at the hands Gabriel still had on her shoulders. “Don’t call me dear.” She used her elbows to inch upright in the chair. “I told you to get your hands off me”

“No can do. You’ll hit me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’ll want to when I make my next point.”

She scowled at him. “Which is?

“Do you know what we’ve just had?”

“What?”

“A lover’s spat.”

Tasha’s voice lowered to a growl. “You were right. I do want to hit you.”

“But you know what the best part of a fight is?”

Tasha felt her eyes grow wary. “What?”

Gabriel’s grin came quick as lightning. “Making up.” Still smiling, he brought his mouth down to hers.

Tasha’s cry of protest was smothered as he stole the breath from her lungs. The familiar flame was there, taunting her just out of reach. He didn’t proceed, didn’t press forward. He was waiting, damn him, for her to make the next move.

Of course she did it.

As merely a spectator, Tasha’s hands moved of their own accord, fisting themselves into the collar of his jacket and tugged him against her. In some dim part of her mind she admonished herself for such behavior, cowering in a corner terrified of the consequences. She did not act like this, she would not. People like her didn’t act like this her head screamed as she twined her fingers into his hair. She wanted to pull away, told herself to pull away from him. But she had lost all control. His lips were soft and warm against hers; thin with the smile that stretched them. Deep in her fuzzy mind she accepted that as a challenge; she was going to wipe that smirk off his face. She ran her tongue over his lip, a superfluous pronouncement of her intentions, as she moved quickly onward. Honey and heat poured into her mouth as his breath fizzled out in an explosion of air from his lungs. He tugged restlessly on her bottom lip, pulling himself still closer and harder against her. A buzzing began deep in the recesses of her mind; churning low and unassuming as she sucked a breath in through her nose. With it came his scent, rich and full. It overcame her logic, overpowered any thought process telling her to stop, making her ignore the common sense excuses blaring in her mind. The buzzing grew to a low rumble. The groan that pressed his lips even more firmly against hers sent a shiver of triumph up her spine. His taste filled her head and behind her closed lids, her eyes crossed with the pleasure of being close to him again. In a fevered attempt to ascertain him, to understand him, to see if he was real perhaps in the subconscious part of her brain, her voice dipped softly out of her lips: a quiet whisper of his name.

He answered her advancement with his own, letting his hands dig into the wet curls that curtained the sides of her face. He used it as a leash, wrapping it solidly around each fist and tugging her as close to himself as he could. He felt the grin slide off his face and out of his control when her hands dug ever deeper into his hair, tugging to bring him flush against her. But all conscious thought left his mind, along with any breath in his lungs when her hands slipped to his neck, then beneath the collar of his shirt to stretch over warm tattooed skin of his back. A coo of pleasure slipped from his lips when her cool hands slid over the fevered flesh of his back.

She murmured his name against his mouth, either asking him to stop or urging him further he had no idea. It woke him up enough from the spell she had cast over him to open his eyes and blink back the brain waves she’d stilled in his head.

Their lips separated but Gabriel didn’t move. Tasha’s eyes stayed shut; but she could feel the fan of his breath on her face. Breaths came quick and hard in their chests, like they’d been running for hours. Tasha tried to start a sentence. It fumbled and fell away from her tongue; the tongue that retained the taste of him. Gabriel let out a noise that sounded vaguely like her name. Her eyes opened.

His face was so close her eyes crossed with looking at him. His were closed, and a stupid smirk was on his face.

And god she loved him for it.

She tried to gain distance and sit back but his hands held fast. She tried a new sentence and told herself the words weren’t as wobbly as they sounded. “God damn you Gabriel.”

His eyes opened and she saw the nimbus of black-blue that surrounded the greater pale blue of his eyes. “God damn us both, but I love you.”

Silence filled their conversation with terrible intervals. Tasha felted the thrum of blood beneath the palms of the hands still beneath his shirt.

“What do we do now, Gabriel?” She let her eyes close and pressed her cheek to his.

She felt infinitely perfect where she was; in his hands, she was soft and warm. He despised himself for wanting to break this.

“I don’t know.”

Tasha exhaled. His breath on her face seemed to melt her; she couldn’t feel where her own arms ended and where he started. “I guess we just sit here.”

More breaths were exchanged, the steady inhale, exhale soothing in the agonizing situation.

“If I open my eyes, will you be here?” Tasha asked.

A smile tickled Gabriel’s lips. She always asked such perverse questions. “Yes.”

“I won’t though. I’ll keep them closed. I won’t ever open them.”

“Eventually you will have to. And—and one time I won’t be there.”

Silence.

“I won’t like that Gabriel.”