“You’re mad at me and you have the right to be.”
Mad was an understatement. She was furious.
She’s about to launch into a tirade about how he’s a jerk and a grade A asshole and rip him to shreds. This is not the first time, nor does she think this will be the last. And she’s wondering why she puts up with it at all, why she’s even here. Why did she ever think this thing between them would even work.
“I’m just not used to not getting what I want.”
Of course he’s not. He usually just snaps his fingers and his hybrids and loyal witch lackeys would be tripping over themselves to get him whatever he wants. But she’s made it clear to him that she won’t be, can’t be bought, compelled or manipulated in any other way to do his bidding. And right now she’s going to demonstrate that fact. She gives him her sassiest attitude, puts on her best bitch face. Ready to let him know just how angry she really is.
“And what do you want?”
The lyrics to Rolling Stones is at the tip of her tongue, a ready retort for whatever his reply is. Except she ends up swallowing them.
“You, “He answers easily, like it was the simplest answer in the entire world.
Her self-righteous rage starts to ebb away with his confession. He doesn’t say it like he does with all his other lines. The ones that he somehow manages to say smoothly despite the amount of cheesiness. No, he says this with utter candidness.
He looks almost bashful and embarrassed. His eyes quickly averting from hers. His hands forming into fists at his side like he’s bracing himself for her rejection already.
“Is it strange that I should want to be with you today?”
She scoffs and tries to hold on to her previous anger, but she can’t. She can see him chastising himself for revealing so much when she still kept her cards so close to the chest.
“It’s just Valentine’s day. It’s not even a real holiday,” she protests. “And for your information I was talking to Matt because he was helping me with your stupid present.”
His eyes light up then. “You got me a present?”
“Well it is Valentine’s day,” she mutters sheepishly under her breath, realizing that she was contradicting her earlier statement. He always made her lose her head. “But that’s not the point! You were mean and possessive and-“
And she doesn’t get to finish her sentence because he had raised his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. He leans forward, his lips pressing gently against hers. It was easier when he is rough and demanding. She knows how to deal with that. Return his fire with her own. But she’s at loss when he’s being soft and sweet. And it’s that gentleness, that utterly human characteristic of his that melts her anger despite her reluctance to forgive him.
He pulls back, his thumbs brushing the corner of her lips.
“Your company would’ve been gift enough.”
(Requested by miley—rays)