“Really, he did?” she smiled, her expression brightening at the mention of Christian. “Rose misses you too, Dimitri. She wouldn’t shut up about it for almost a week after you and Christian left Court. And please, call me Lissa.”
A small smile crossed his lips. “I shall,” he promised, and almost felt like apologizing for his girlfriend. On the other hand, there was a reason why the two of them were so close to her.
“You finally admitted it. I thought it was gonna take more out of you.” she responded as she watched his eyes gazed over the area. Tessa assumed it was something all guardians were trained to do. A mistake couldn’t be made, not after what she learned had happened.
"I suppose it is one of my off days,” was said shortly, but with a certain twinkling humor to it. This woman was good company, and in spite of his anti-social tendencies, he didn’t want to scare her away.
Christian remained where he stood for just a few more moments, stepping inside the small room to take a seat next to Dimitri. A heavy sigh escaped him, and he found himself doing the exact same as Dimitri—watching Rose’s face carefully. He could hear her pulse, and though it was weak, it sounded better than it had when Rose was shot. He pressed his hands together, fingers interlocking as his arms rested in his lap.
He expected Tasha was already dead by now. She had been sentenced to death by lethal injection, the last he heard. She even had the nerve to use her last words to apologize to him. Apologize for what? Tearing Lissa’s life apart with the use of Rose’s death? Tasha forgot that killing Rose wouldn’t just destroy Dimitri. Her death would bring about a sort of domino effect. It’d hurt Janine and Abe the worst; Rose was their daughter. Then, it would be Lissa, Dimitri, and Christian. After, it’d circulate to Eddie, Angeline, Jill, Sydney, and everyone else who considered Rose their friend. Christian peered over at Dimitri. “I’m sorry about everything that happened with my aunt, Dimitri. I’m just glad that Rose is alive. Knowing her, she’ll bounce back at full speed.”
Footsteps drew closer, and Christian peered over his shoulder to find Lissa standing behind him. Moving out of his chair, he allowed Lissa to sit in his place and knelt down next to her. “Glad you could join us,” he murmured. “Rose is sounding better, Lissa. I think she’ll be just fine, though I think Belikov could honestly use a hug from you. And yes, I’m being serious.”
It was insane what this world had come to; an innocent nephew apologizing for his aunt’s murderous actions, which had led to a whole revolution in the moroi and dhampir society. It went unsaid that Dimitri did not accept the apology – not because he didn’t think it was heartfelt, despite the rumours, Christian was a boy with his heart in the right place, but because the apology was not supposed to come from him. It was supposed to be whispered through pink lips, flanked by a strigoi- bitten cheek. Where was the fighter for j u s t i c e he knew was hidden inside Tasha ? He wished to God she was still in there somewhere, choking in shame & regret.
Christian was right about ( 1 ) thing, though; Rose would recover. Every day, blue lips took on a stronger shade of red – in fact, the cerulean had been defeated only a day ago, now buried beneath fragile rosebuds. And though he was supposed to keep his hands to himself, he had found his fingertips brushing her forehead, her cheek, her chin. Against his skin, she was cold as ice – but the frost was thawing. Perhaps that was why flowers bloomed upon her lips; her whole body was returning to spring after a deadly winter.
He had let himself become hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest, but the spell was broken when Christian spoke to address another; Vasilisa. Although she was his savior and the dearest friend of the woman he loved, respect for her newfound position forced him to his feet, and pulled him into a sweeping bow, upon which he returned to his seat. Christian’s comment, however, brought out an atmos- phere of familiarity. It brought out a grimace as well. “I am doing fine without a hug,” he protested quietly, his voice automatically lowered in order not to disturb Rose, “although I appreciate your company. Both of you.”
Tessa noticed the slight smile on his face making her glad that he does want her to stay even if he won’t admit it. “I have no where to be, so I guess I can make an exception.”
“& I suppose I could use some company,” was admitted almost as a continuation of her sentence. The ghost of a smile lingered in the corner of his mouth. Brown eyes did a quick sweep of their surroundings, just as they did every five seconds; a guardian on duty never allowed himself to be distracted enough to become unaware of his surroundings.
Sometimes the fact that her boyfriend would prefer a night of reading rather than watching ridiclously crude but hilarious television shows online just blew her mind. “Remember that one time before we you know did the thing when I was spending the night I showed you a website where you could watch the shows I liked?” She says bringing her bottom lip between teeth and working at it. “It was like red and white and also had movies, I told you there was a classic western section?”
Her choice of words baffled him; it was no secret that they were involved, and she usually spoke very freely. Apparently, even she had her limits. However, he had more important things to pay attention to. Now that she mentioned it, he clearly remembered it. Being no master with a computer – attending an old-fashioned school and living in a home on the edge of poverty during childhood did that to you – and preferring to read over watching movies, he had found it somewhat confusing. It was not a com- pletely website hopeless, though. It was only a plus that they had westerns. And it was possibly what would convince him to try it out sometime as well. "I remember; it seemed nifty.”
Dimitri words carry to her in the kitchen and Rose doesn’t bother respond as she casually hums moving about the kitchen. First she sets to searching the cabinets pulling down any sort of canned and microwavable food that she knows Dimitri might actually consider eating at some point during their day. Next she is moving towards the fridge and ruffling about in there. One of the few things she knew about being sick was that you had to stay hydrated or else you’d never get better.
Pulling free a light blue gatorade she studies it for a moment. “Does this even hydrate you?” She mutters aloud turning it over in her hands so she can read the back. Theres a list of information and most of it seems useless but the commercials she use to watch swore they’d give energy to the body and help rehydrate so with a shrug she tosses it on the counter.
“Hey babe do you have a like hand towel I could use—wait never mind I just found one!” She calls back completely ignoring his response of her working. One of the awesome parts of working for your best friend unlimited sick days or even just vacation days, not that Rose ever took one but still.
Snagging the Gatorade off the counter Rose struts back into the room where Dimitri is now lounged on the bed. “Is it wrong I think you look adorable even though you’re sick” She asks placing the drink on his bedside table. “That should help with like things and I brought you this, if I put it on your head it should help with your fever plus head rushes.” She explains carefully laying the warm towel over his forehead.
"In the kindest way possible looking at you like this there is no way I’d believe you could kick my ass.” It wasn’t until recently that Rose had finally come to terms with the fact that Dimitri would always be able to hand her ass to her, which kind of sucked. But at least she was no longer in denial. “Seriously though.”
Unbuttoning her pants she wiggles out of them and allows them to drop to the floor before she’s crawling over his exhausted body and onto her side of the bed. “So I’m thinking movies, cuddling and soup day for you comrade.”
Heat radiated from his skin, fever very obviously already coursing through his body. Therefore, the warm towel was not appreciated as much as it should. However, he held his tongue and let her speak. Her voice was a little loud to his sensitive ears and building headache, but he didn’t want to shush her; there was something comforting, soothing really, about the stream of words. Heavy eyelids refused to stay up while her words were said in a language he barely understood. Some stood out clearer than others.
It was when he felt the bed move under her weight and stray locks tickling his nose that he opened his eyes. He was just in time to see her settle beside him. A sudden need to hold her close hit him, and so a heavy, heavy arm was laid across her waist. Its strength was nonexistent, though, and it proved itself impossible to pull her closer. Instead of moving her, he moved himself. With an unhappy grunt, he rolled to his side, and was close enough to bury his face in her hair.
Even though his nose was halfway blocked, he could clearly smell his shampoo. Her bottle had been emp- tied a couple of days ago. Clearly, she had not bothe- red. And beyond the change of shampoo, he could sense something that was just her. Whether it was a perfume or her skin, it always followed her. It smelled like h o m e, like safety. He sighed contentedly.
”Sounds good,“ was finally mumbled through locks of bistre. "You zound like you haff a lot of experienze viff zick days.” Lazy lips gave up on trying to hold onto an understandable way of speaking English, and hoped that she could code accents.
Under the soft covers, a calloused hand caressed her hip. Fingertips played with the hem of her shirt, tangling themselves into the fabric in order to keep the Russian awake. Although her skin was warm in any other sense, it felt like ice against his burning touch. He hoped his scalding heat wouldn’t scare her away; he rather liked lying like this.
Glancing behind her, she took a look at the door before turning back to face him. “Well, I believe you are doing a fine job considering not a lot of people are in the building. But if you wish for me to leave, then I shall.”
“It is your choice,” & though it was an attempt of being nonchalant, he did not succeed; his clumsy urge for company showing in the corner of his mouth.
