[26 February 2001.  Home]

DINO

Took me more than a week to finally tell her.  The crossing.  The truth.  I spent that week alternately wracking my brain for the best way to tell her and storing up intimate memories of her in case it was too much for her to take.  In case she barred me from her bed and her heart and in my worst nightmares, her life. 

What would I do without them?       

Those precious days were filled with the highest highs and the lowest lows for me.  I worked.  Played with Andy.  Tried to drink up every moment with him that I could.  Pushed myself hard, trying to squeeze out every minute with them I could.  I barely slept.  When I did, it was with her in my arms.  We made love as often as we could; in the evening after Andy crashed.  In the mornings before he woke up.  Stolen moments while he napped.  Sensual interludes in the shower.  Erotic, sweaty trysts in the sauna.  Once in Andy's tree house. 

The closer we got, the harder it became for me.  I started having dreams.  Night terrors.  Waking up with tears on my face and this horrible panicky feeling.... searching, searching... unable to find my family.  Desperate.  Alone. 

It got worse when the ring I'd commissioned arrived.  Every time I touched her I could fucking hear it.  Tell her... tell her... tell her....

I finally did.  I'm not one for putting things off and as soon as I'd figured out the best way to tell her, I did.  The truth, straight up.  No chaser.  I waited until we put Andy down for the night.  She was kissing on me.  Just these little touches that made me feel so good.  Her head on my shoulder while we walked down the hall.  Her hand rubbing my back.  Sometimes stopping to just press a kiss wherever she liked.  My shoulder.  My chest.  My neck.  Not sexually- like affection.  Assurance.  I don't know.  I think maybe some part of her sensed I needed that more than anything.  She'd been sending me these little curious looks for a day or two now as I wound myself tighter and tighter.

I asked her if she wanted a drink.  Went to pour her some wine.  Poured some scotch for myself.  Drank it down without even feeling it and poured another.  So.  The moment of truth.  Literally.  I told her.  Everything.  Fucking Crowe.  The crossing.  The Brothers.  The Family.  The films.  The Pull.   

She just let me talk.  I know I had to have sounded like a fucking lunatic.  When I was done, there was this huge long silence.  I just sat there, shoulders slumped, staring at the tumbler in my hands, afraid of what I might see in her eyes.  How would I have felt to have heard such a fantastic tale from her?  Would I want someone who said such crazy shit taking care of my son?  My internal answer to that question didn't make me feel any better.   

The thing that made it so hard was that I was just as innocent in this as she was.  I didn't ask for this.  I'd had this world foisted upon me and it fucking killed me that something I had no control over could threaten what I'd found with her.  And yet I knew I had to tell her.  To give her the choice.  I wanted to join our lives together and I wouldn't have it be built on a lie.  That would destroy her trust in me. 

I heard her start to cry.  Felt the couch shift as she got up.  I thought I might choke on the heart in my throat.  I thought she was leaving.  Instead, she knelt before me and put her head on my thigh, wrapped her arms around me and held me so tight.

In all the reactions I imagined she might have, I never considered any of them to be fear.  She was afraid.  Afraid that whatever arbitrary force brought me here would send me back.  I hadn't even thought of that.  I mean, sure, when I crossed I wished I could go back.  I just never imagined it was possible.  What if it was?  She was afraid that because I wasn't like the others, my crossing might be temporary.  I think she was mostly scared she might lose me.  And maybe a little bit afraid of having to go back to being a single mom again.  What would she do if I did disappear?

And strangely, even with that concern, she was reluctant to believe me about the whole 'film' angle.  I knew just how she felt.  I'm a fucking person not some words on a script somewhere.  I had a childhood.  Parents.  Friends.  Lovers.  She knew her Dean at age twelve.  How could I be a film character? 

I didn't really have any answers to give her, just the facts as I knew them.  Which admittedly, wasn't a whole hell of a lot.  And to be honest, I'm not sure she would have believed me if she hadn't met Terry.  And Lachlan.  She didn't mention him by name but I knew she'd have made that connection.  She's a smart girl.   

She could accept the idea of a crossing- and in point of fact, had already accepted it.  She'd known her Dean and then she'd known me.  And she could accept the idea, however farfetched, that Crowe's characters were somehow brought to life.  She'd met two of them already and could believe others existed easily enough.  What was hard for her was trying to figure out how I fit into that. 

I can understand.  With me, she'd known two different versions of the same man.  Terry and Lachlan were two different people entirely.  Something that opened up another can of worms.  Crowe and his pack of films.  She couldn't have been that familiar or she'd have said, "Russell?" When Terry walked through our door not, "Lachlan?"  So, I asked her about it.

"Russell Crowe?"  She made this high little laugh that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.  She was pretty close to critical mass, here.  "His films?  I've seen that tobacco one, I think.... yeah, I rented a DVD for Andy and that one was in the case by mistake."  Well, no fucking wonder why she hadn't made the connection then.  Of all his films to see.  Jesus.  "And I had the Oscars on that night he won... but Andy was sick... one of those walk-the-floor nights.  I didn't really watch it... just heard them announce his name and I was mad because I'd wanted Tom Hanks to win for Castaway.  I'd never even seen Gladiator."

I just nodded along, encouraging her to talk.

"I didn't see it 'till months later when it came on TV...."  Her eyes teared up again.  "Oh God, that was real?"  It was starting to sink in now just exactly how wide the scope of what I'd been telling her was and how very much it encompassed.  And I knew the second she made the leap from that to Lachlan.  Saw it in her face and fucking felt it in my heart.  But it was my film she asked about.

I poured us both another drink and we settled back to watch the copy I'd bought.  I didn't want to, but I knew she needed to see it.  To be honest, it was the first time I'd watched it all the way through.  Sober.  It did give a fairly realistic (if one-sided) view of what our lives had been like during those months.  A lot of the private, important conversations were missing, naturally.  And then, of course, there were the highlights.  Having her see me kill people.  Talking shit when I pulled my man onto the chopper.  Jesus, razzing Terry about purchasing some clit.  I don't talk that way in front of women and I hated that she saw that... but I knew it was a necessary evil.  I didn't want to have any more secrets from her.  Not about this.

HEATHER

I didn't like watching his film.  It felt... uncomfortable... intrusive.  Like stumbling across a diary of pictures.  Private parts of people's lives private no longer, shared with millions of strangers.  When it's just a movie- it's fun.  When it's emotional truths about real people's lives- people you love?  It's not what I'd consider entertainment.

And it was a hell of a lot to ask someone to accept.  I could accept Dino's crossing- but only just.  I hadn't been entirely honest there.  Clearly, what he'd told me had to be the truth.  I had the proof standing right in front of me.  But what I hadn't told him was how many nights I prayed to God, asking for help.  Asking to him to send me someone.  Anyone.  I just needed help.  The night before Dino arrived in my life, while Andy had been saying his prayers, I'd been saying mine too. 

But if he is an answer to a prayer, he's a strange one.  I hadn't asked to fall in love.  I'd just needed help with Andy before I burned out totally.  Even now, I knew I took advantage of him sometimes- let him watch Andy after he's been working all day just so I could have an hour or two to myself.  I missed solitude.  And yet, I loved him.  Truly.  Deeply. 

That's why the fantastical story he told was so hard to accept.  He sat there talking and as he did, those strange conversations I'd had with Lachlan started to make sense.  He really had been a man pulled out of time.  The things he spoke of, even the way he spoke.... irreverence and pain and old-fashioned charm.  My poor lost soldier.  He was more lost than I ever imagined.   

Dino talked about crossings and films and Russell Crowe.  I thought of an old uniform and the gold button I still had.  I think it was the only way I could deal with what he was telling me.  Trying to find some way to make it real. 

As real as the pain I saw in him when he spoke.  It tore at my heart.  He was so very afraid he'd lose us.  As afraid as I was about losing him.  I had already accepted the notion of a crossing.  The rest was just details.  Painful details, fantastical details, but details just the same. 

The credits rolled.  I crawled into his lap and cradled his face in my hands.  "It doesn't matter, Dean...."  Our faces were so close, whispering with my mouth just a heartbeat from his.  "You're still first...."  The sentiment I'd expressed to him the first night he came to my bed was more important than ever now.  If we were going to make this work, we had to put each other first.  First before doubts.  First before memories.  First before other people.  First before everything, even crazy stories supported by the conversations that had passed between Lachlan and I that night so long ago. 

I kissed him, long and slow and deep.  We parted just enough for me to whisper against his lips, "I love you." 

DINO

It was the first time she'd ever said it without me saying it first.  I wasn't naive enough to think it fixed everything- or naive enough to think this would be the last time we discussed this particular topic, but to be honest, the bone deep relief I felt at her acceptance of me had overridden everything else. 

"Honey-"

"I don't want to talk anymore," she whispered.  

Her touch changed, still soft but now also openly sexual.  Rocking gently against my lap.  She slipped down to her knees and opened my pants.  I think I resisted maybe a handful of seconds.  If that. 

A dozen things ran through my brain just then, from the turmoil of the night to the fear Andy might wake and walk in on us- to the deep feeling of love watching her do this engendered in me- to the hot stick of male satisfaction I felt.... My woman.  Not Curry's.  Mine.  I was not as gentle as I should have been, feeling the dark things those thoughts stirred in me... feeling the desperation I might have lost her... feeling the wild burning she ignited in me that I still wasn't quite able to control.  Feeling my pleasure spike as her warm mouth closed around me and sucked down.  Christ, just watching it was enough to send me beyond reason.

And it didn't help that she encouraged me.  It was somehow both tender and forceful.  I touched her.  The fingers on one hand stroked her cheek and lips and throat so gently.  The fingers on the other clenched in her hair and tightened as I bucked and shuddered.  So different from how it felt with the whore.  An intimate touch, given and received in love.  It moved me between my ears and under my ribs just as much as it did between my legs. 

I felt the motion of my hips grow stilted and jerky, losing their rhythm as I drew close.  Touched her cheek so softly with one hand.  Tightened my hold in her hair with the other.  "Look at me."  I needed that connection with her and held her gaze while I flooded her mouth.  Felt her swallow around me.  So much love in her eyes.  I'd never felt closer to her than I did in that moment.  Or as vulnerable. 

She rose up on her knees and touched her mouth to mine in the lightest kiss, keeping my taste for herself.  I let her.  This time.  She dropped a kiss over my heart and covered it with her hand.  It was still beating erratically in the wake of my orgasm.  A blush rose on her cheeks and when she spoke, her voice was soft and needy.                

"Make love to me."    

I did.  It was slow and soft and silent.  I don't think I let go of her hand the entire time.  She said only three words to me the whole night, torn from her at the moment of her coming. 

Don't leave me.  

The plaintive cry of her heart.  Mine too.                   

[3 March 2001.  Willard InterContinental Hotel.]

DINO                

She said yes.  You'd think, knowing me, that I'd go for something smooth and flashy.  Fancy dinner downtown.  Champagne.  Dancing.  Moonlight walk by the Reflection Pool....  the Washington Monument, lit up behind us while I popped the question.  Nope.  It was much more simple than that.  And much more romantic. 

Sitting in Andy's tree house with her.  Sharing a bottle of wine and blanket while we watched the stars.  It was cold.  I had her snuggled against me, her body between my spread legs, her back against my chest.  We saw a shooting star.  I whispered for her to close her eyes and make a wish. 

When she opened her eyes, I slid a velvet box into her fingers.  I didn't have any smooth words.  I just spoke from my heart.  Told her I wanted to share my life with her.  Asked her if she would share hers with me.  She said yes before I ever opened the box and smiled through her tears when I put it on her finger.  We made love afterwards.  Right there, wrapped in the blanket with her on my lap.  It was the sweetest, softest lovemaking I've ever experienced.  A soul kiss for the body.  And in my heart, she was already my wife when we climbed down from the tree house that night and walked inside, hand in hand. 

Neither of us wanted to wait.  I pulled a few strings.  We were married three days later in a private garden downtown.  Had a view of Arlington National Cemetery and the Potomac, with the Monument rising in the distance.  It was a simple, private ceremony.  Terry stood up with me.  Andy held the rings.  She wanted only the single eternity band I'd given her.  I chose a plain platinum band for myself. 

I wore a gray suit.  She was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen in this dress that was the color of fog.  Not quite white.  Not quite silvery gray.  It looked like silk and felt like gossamer.  She wore a deep plum-colored wrap over it that set off her fair skin and dark hair.  It was swept up off her delicate neck and secured into a simple twist.  And when she turned her head, the early morning light caught on the butterfly I'd given her and reflected off the amethyst teardrop earrings that I'd left for her to find on her pillow this morning.   

Afterwards, the four of us had brunch downtown in the dining room of the hotel I'd chosen for our honeymoon.  For as much as we wanted to steal away together for some time alone, Andy was too little to leave for long.  He was, however, thrilled to have his Uncle Terry stay with him for a night.  Probably because the old man's more of a kid than he is.  Heh. 

They left a bit before noon.  We stayed in the dining room a little longer and shared more champagne, holding hands and oblivious to anyone but each other.  She looked beautiful and I wanted to enjoy it a little longer.  I knew once we got upstairs, her dress and that elegant hairstyle were not long for this world.  

Not soon after, I asked my wife... my wife... if she'd like to go upstairs.  She smiled and blushed this gorgeous shade of pink and we went up together with this look I know anyone with half a brain in their head could understand.  We were besotted.  And hungry for something they weren't serving downstairs.  We hadn't made love since that night in the tree house when I asked her to be my wife.   

Upstairs, I removed my shoes and jacket while she slipped off to the bathroom.  She was back a moment later, smiling shyly.  Seems she needed a little help with the zipper.  Lucky me.  I'm just the man for that job.  She turned in my arms.  I kissed the back of her shoulder and let my fingers skim her spine as I lowered the zipper.  Just seeing the rings we were wearing gave me this wild charge that resonated so deeply. 

For a moment, we just stood there, looking in the mirror together.  Her slender body in front of mine.  My shirt open at the collar.  Her hand holding up the front of her dress.  My hands at her waist.  Such a sweet intimate moment.  Undressing together in the privacy of our suite.  Comfortable and excited and happy.... and yet somehow soft, too.  So open and receptive to each other.  My wife.  My helpmate.  The woman I would lay my life down to protect.  The woman who held my heart and protected it just as fiercely. 

While I was waiting for her to change, I poured us a drink from the bar- one glass for us to share.  Port this time.  Sweet and sticky.  I took a sip and wondered how it would taste licked from her skin.  I stripped down to my skivvies.  Gray silk boxers.  So, I'm a romantic bastard.  I wanted something nice for her too, to show her this meant something special to me.  I dimmed the lights.  Put on some music.  Fingered her bouquet and took one of the flowers from it with a smile.  I had plans for it later.

I stretched out on the bed and wondered how she would come to me.  Sweet and soft bridal lingerie?  Something spun of lace and gossamer?  Something a little sexier?  White bustier and stockings to show off that gorgeous little tush of hers?  She was a romantic at heart, though, same as me.... and I knew whatever she'd picked would be perfect for the moment.  For however long I managed to keep it off the floor, anyway. 

She appeared before me a moment later, demure and sweet but with her heart shining in her eyes.  My jaw dropped when I saw her.  She was wearing her wedding ring, the earrings I'd given her, that deep purple wrap.... and nothing else.  The rich cashmere looked incredible next to her creamy skin.  She had it wrapped around her shoulders.  It hid her breasts from me and the tails hug down hiding her sex but it left that gorgeous backside of hers naked.  She knew what I liked.  She spun and gave me this sexy little look over her shoulder.... that I almost missed because I was having a hard keeping my eyes off her butt.  Heh.              

"Come here."

She walked to me and as she did, the tails fluttered, tempting me with little glimpses of her flesh but never actually revealing anything.  It excited me in a way lingerie couldn't.  And to be honest, I'd been with plenty of women who'd temped me with sexy lingerie... but none had ever come to me wearing just a stole and a smile.  She let the wrap slip a little, baring one beautiful rose-tipped breast to me while she climbed onto the bed and settled herself on my over my hips, smiling into my mouth as she leaned in for a kiss.

It felt different.  She felt different to me.  It was something more than the fact that we were married.  I had never been a husband.  She had never been a wife- and while that newness infused me with almost a feeling of sacredness at what I knew would share tonight, there was something more here than that.  She was... different somehow.  More free. 

I settled my hands on her bare hips and felt the soft cashmere tease my knuckles as I touched her.  She seemed both more fragile and more bold with me.  I could feel her smile as we kissed.  She sucked my bottom lip, rocking that sweet little pussy into me as she licked my tongue.  It made my head spin.  Slipping my fingers up her slender neck, I pulled the butterfly pin from her hair.  It fell around us, thick and shiny.  She sat up and smiled at me, flushed from my kiss, looking wild and beautiful with her hair loose and free. 

Without looking away from her eyes, I slid my hand under the soft wrap to caress her belly with my knuckles, sliding down and down, into her navel and then lower still.  She lifted up to allow me access and I groaned aloud as my fingers skated over smooth bare skin instead of through soft curls.  Oh, God.   

Her color got deeper.  "Do you like it?" she whispered.  

I nodded, swamped by mental images I couldn't seem to stop, imagining how she would look on her back, spread for me, pink and glistening.  Exposed with nothing to obscure my view of her pouty lips and tight little hole.  My mind was already translating the sensory information.  She was slick under my fingers and would be even more so under my lips and tongue.  I felt my mouth water. 

An electric thrill I was unable to control shot through me.  I thrust up wildly, grinding against her roughly enough to force a soft cry from her before I pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her hard, breaking away with a pant.  She hid nothing from me as I pulled away the wrap and looked my fill.  She looked like a queen sitting astride me.  I groaned and kissed her again, fighting for control. 

I hadn't expected this.  I knew she was a very sensual woman, but such open sexuality from her shocked me.  I had a hard time meshing that imagine with the one I carried inside me.  She was suddenly both the sweet little girl whose innocence I wanted to protect even from myself and this vision tempting all my most base desires, things I could never imagine doing with my Heather... places I'd never imagined myself taking someone like her.  But I could imagine doing them with the gorgeous woman straddling my hips... and it was as terrifying as it was exciting. 

She was wavering, right at the edge.  Temptress one moment, innocent the next.  It was making me crazy.  My eyes dropped to where her bare sex had stretched the silk of my shorts over my erection.  She saw me looking and blushed, suddenly the shy girl with me again.  "Is it OK?"  I felt her press a soft kiss above my heart.  "I just want...."  She trailed off and hid her face from me. 

I touched her lightly but didn't bring her eyes to mine, sensing her need to hide a bit while she talked.  "What is it you want, honey?"  I stroked her a little more openly now, wanting to encourage her.

"I just want to be everything to you, Dean... your woman, your wife, your lover, your... whore, your friend... just everything."  She tripped shyly over the word 'whore' but didn't stop.  "Wearing your ring gives me the freedom to be all those things....."

I was starting to understand now.  She was a good girl.  A nice girl.  Not a virgin when we'd first touched, but definitely an innocent.  I suddenly understood what it meant to her that she'd given herself to me without a ring.  And it suddenly dawned on me how much more of her I had now.  I finally understood that she'd needed the safety of my ring and my name to let me in to that secret part of her heart she kept just for herself, the part no one had ever touched before. 

She felt different with me because she was different.  Still shy and innocent, but without inhibitions now.  Ready to give me all of herself.      

She spoke her words against my heart.  "I love you so much... and I love the idea of you showing me things you want me to know... teaching me... there's so much I've never done.... so much I want to try.... I've been waiting for you for so long..." she gave up the last of it on a whisper, breathed against my heart.

She was so open, so vulnerable in that moment.  The breadth of her naiveté that she could even speak those words so plainly just blew me away.  And then I realized she was trembling, afraid I would reject this most intimate, tentative overture; this glimpse of her true self. 

"Oh, honey....."  My chest felt tight and warm.  What a gift she was.  Is there any real man who doesn't dream of a woman like this?  A good girl who will entertain his every prurient desire behind closed doors?  And God, to know she wants it too, for herself.... It was almost more than I could believe.  Like someone had offered me this priceless treasure and all I had to do was close my hand around it and it would be mine.  No strings... other than the precious ones that bound her heart to mine. 

It took courage for her to speak the words and courage for me to respond.  We were both taking our first tentative steps on new ground with each other.  But for all its seriousness and the feeling of reverence I had for what was happening between us, the mood wasn't somber.  Instead, I felt a strange unfamiliar lightness twined with the love and the more base passion moving in me.         

Joy.

What an extraordinary gift.  And feeling it now, I realized how many years it had been since I'd felt that with a woman.  God, it felt good.  Made my blood tickle in my veins.  Made me feel all of sixteen again, so excited to touch her that my hands shook.  And yet, I had the deeper understanding of a man, too.  And more than enough years of experience to lead her wherever she liked.  There isn't much I haven't seen or done.  And I loved that for all of that, she could still surprise me.  Still make my breath catch.  Still make me crazy with wanting her. 

Our lovemaking was playful at first.  She laughed and teasingly pinned my hands above my head, dropping little kisses and bites up my chest and into my armpit, harder bites on the heavy muscles of my shoulder.  I let her play- though we both knew she could never really pin me.  Something I proved a few minutes later when I flipped her under me and caught both her hands easily in one of mine, letting her feel my strength in a way I never had before.  Just a small taste.  Just for a moment.  We would have plenty of time to explore and play later.  Right now, I needed to make her my wife in body as well as name. 

I couldn't resist keeping her hands pinned a few moments longer though.  It was ridiculously easy- even when she strained against my hold.  I was a little surprised at how quickly she responded to it.  It made her so hot so fast.  Wild for it.  For me.  She bit me again, not so playfully this time.  I bit her back.  Sucked hard, wanting to mark her.  Felt an absurd rush of satisfaction when I saw it.  Made another.  And another.  A trail of faint marks- her neck, her breasts, her thighs.

It was wild but still open.  Still sacred and still with this sense we were covering new ground... together.  I kicked off my shorts and knelt up between her legs, pushing them up and out, spreading her so I could see everything.  So pretty.  Changed gears a bit.  I still wanted her wildly, but I wanted a deeper intimacy too.  Catching up one of her hands, I sucked her fingers and then let them go, directing them to her smooth wet sex, resting my head on her thigh so I could watch her.  Encouraged her to touch herself.  To show me how she liked it best.  I watched.  And learned.  And when I put my hands and mouth there, she shook. 

Slipped my big strong hands under her to cup her butt.  Held her against my face when the pleasure became too intense and she struggled to get away from my mouth.  I wanted to make my woman come.  Wanted to feel that rush of power.  To feel like a man.  To show her I could give her pleasure.  To feel it take her.  To share it with her.  To know I caused it.  That she was trembling and weak and making these soft little cries in her throat because of me.  I felt a gush of wetness from her when she came that I didn't lap away even though it made my mouth water. 

I knew she'd need it.  

I was much too far gone to be as gentle as I knew I should be.  I couldn't help myself with her.  She made me wild.  Like a boy... but like a man too.  I knew what to do.  And how to do it.  I fought that instinctive drive that was screaming at me to just push inside and rut like a beast.  I felt it, though, too strong to deny.  I needed to be inside her.                

My first thrust made my eyes water.  Nothing in my life had ever felt so good.  Safe.  I wanted it to last forever.  Rolled to my back, taking her with me.  I would last longer this way and I wanted to feel her over me, riding me.  Watch her taking me so deep.  She was still weak with her orgasm.  Boneless and fragile in my arms like a rag doll.  Soft.  Like a woman.  My woman.  So soft and warm and gentle and giving- even as she received me. 

I held her hard.  Gripping her slender body in my big hands, holding her tight against me- desperate for the feel of her.  Wild for it.  To feel our differences.  To feel how they complimented each other so well.  How we completed each other.  Soft and hard.  Big and small.  In and out.  I didn't have to think as much in this position- not because she was doing the work but because I was more free to move without fear my loss of control would get the better of me.  I couldn't fuck her too hard this way.  Couldn't hurt her.  I had greater freedom to hold her as tight as I wanted.  As I needed.  To give myself up to the passion she roused in me.

I held her hips to mine.  Held her neck to keep her mouth close.  Just held her.  Arched under her.  Threw my head back in abandon.  Chased her mouth as she moved up and down on me, breathing the same breath.  Sharing the same heart.  Her tiny hand found mine and I laced our fingers tight as we moved together.  Union.  Fusion. 

Man and wife.

I felt her come.  Felt my mouth turn up in a smile of masculine satisfaction that I'd been able to hold on long enough for her to come - again - and in the next moment, felt the top of my head lift away as I held her tight against my groin and poured myself into her with a harsh cry.

She collapsed against my chest.  Our mouths met, wet and bruised and salty.  She brushed the tears from my face and I raised a shaky hand to do the same for her.  Neither of us was embarrassed or ashamed.  I was profoundly moved.  I had never again expected to find this... to feel it in anything but my memories... and yet I had.

Sanctuary.

And it was wearing my ring.  Bound to me forever.  For all time.  

She held me while I cried.  I held her through her tears too.  We foraged something new together that night.  There were too few hours before we had to go back to being Mom and Dad.  We hardly slept.  Dozing only long enough to catch another wind.  We talked and kissed and touched and loved and fucked with abandon until we both ached with it.  Until our hearts were full to bursting and our bodies were spent and sore.

I did find out how that port tasted licked from her.  She will never be able to look at a bottle again and not blush.  She got an orgasm.  I got a rug burn.  Don't ask.  We made love in the bed.  Against the bed.  Against the wall.  On the floor.  In the chair.  In the bath, surrounded by the lavender petals of her bouquet.  We found the tiny purple petals for two days afterwards- stuck in each other's hair... among other places.  And every time we did, she would blush and I would smile and we would share this look and remember.  It was a memory that would keep me warm on nights I was far, far away.     

And though it sounds silly and cliché, when we left that room the next afternoon- I really did feel different.  Who would have ever guessed someone as jaded as me could feel this way?  It was almost like being reborn, baptized by immersion in something so sweet and pure and good that it couldn't help but change the way I saw the world. 

The sanctity of marriage.  

I understood what that meant now and would defend ours with my last breath.

[4 March 2001  O'Leary residence.]

TERRY

I couldn't help but smile when I saw them getting out of the cab.  Heather winced a little climbing out and Dino steadied her, looking... well, pretty damned smug would be putting it mildly.  It's a wonder his feet were even touching the ground and she looked besotted- staring up adoringly at him.  They looked rumpled.  And exhausted.  And happy.

Lucky bastard.  

My smile grew more thoughtful.  I remember how that felt.  My life with Penny wasn't always so strained.  For all our problems, we had our good times too and the memories of our honeymoon still bring a smile to my face after all this time.  Of course, I was considerably younger and much more naïve than I am now, but I do remember it fondly... and I remember how it felt coming back after I'd made her mine.  How it felt to face the world together as a couple, a united front where we'd once been two individuals.  I don't think my feet had touched the ground either. 

I couldn't wait to razz him.  And to clap him on the back.  He's my best friend.  I love him.  Hell, I love them both and it feels good to see them so happy. 

Andy's ear-rending screech ended my internal musings.  He flew to the door and I opened it for him, calling out a greeting that they returned with a smile.  I also didn't miss that Dino intercepted Andy's mad dash and grabbed him up for a hug before he could jump wildly on Heather. 

So, she was that sore, was she?  He grinned at me.  Dirty bugger.  Hope they had a hell of a time.  Christ knows I did.  Penny couldn't walk straight for a week.  I felt a surprising pang for that nostalgic time- and a brief spurt of jealousy that I immediately shunted aside.  Still, watching the pair of them, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever find that again for myself.

Andy was beside himself, bouncing around them both like a wild thing.  "You missed it!"  I simply looked on, smirking.  Listened to him rant, feeling sorry for his poor Mum and Dad that they'd missed out on all the fun. We did... and we did... and... and... and...  What can I say?  It's been a long, long time since I'd gotten to indulge my boyish nature in so juvenile a fashion.  Christ, we did everything naughty little boys shouldn't.  Ate ice cream for dinner.  Looked for bugs.  Ran around stark bollock naked- well, he did.  "We jumped on the bed... and played hide and go seek... and stayed up late....." 

Dino grinned.  "Oh yeah?"  The look he shot me said they'd done all that too.  And more.  Guess that explains the faint marks they were both wearing.    

I kissed Heather's cheek and shook Dino's hand, drawing him into a hug and clapping him on the back.  "Shame you missed it, mate."  I looked from him to Andy.  "Next time we will have to include your Mum and Dad as well, hey?"    

Andy tugged on her skirt.  "Mamatu?  Can you have another hon-a-moon?  I want Uncle Terry to stay over again.  He's fun."  I took a bow.  Dino rolled his eyes.  Of course the little ankle biter loves me.  I let him do all the things he isn't supposed to do, naturally.  Isn't that what favorite uncles are for?  "We ate cookies in bed."  He put on this little defiant look.  "I tasted beer!"

Dino chuckled.  

"Uncle Terry said it will put hair on my chest."  He cocked his head and looked at Dino, not even letting him get a word in edgewise before he was off again.  "How come your chest doesn't have hair like Uncle Terry's, Daddy?  Don't you like beer?"  Never thought I'd see the day when someone got the best of Red's mouth... but it was happening right before my eyes and I was enjoying the hell out of it. 

Dino laughed harder.  "I like whiskey better.  It turns your hair red."

Heather swatted at him playfully.  "Dean!"  I had to laugh at that.  God knows with as much shit as Dino talks, his kid is definitely going to have some strange notions.

Andy scratched his head and looked at Heather.  "I saw you drink beer.  You're not hairy."

Dino's eyes lit up.  "No, but it does put hair on her-"  Heather clapped a hand over his mouth.

Andy just kept right on firing away.  "Is that red too?"

Dino escaped her hand.  "The stray ones are, buddy."  Naughty boy!  But he was also sweet and soft with her, affectionate in a way I hadn't ever seen before.  It was love.  And he wore it well.  They both did.       

Heather blushed.  We all laughed.  I noticed when her hands fell away from him that his pulled her close.  They really were a united front now.  A real family.  And it felt pretty damned good to be included in it.