TTE Addendum 4, PART TWO
Title: Two Thousand Eight Addendum (Part Four.Two)
Author: lindseyrkrpf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fights and making up. Oh, and Europe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the song you may recognize in the last scene.
November 2009
Paris, France
“Are you okay?” Rob asked as they were finally at the hotel. It was temporary - they had to jump a plane to London in a few hours time - but for now the quiet was nice against his overexposed eardrums.
She had been tense all evening but hid it well behind her smile. She was so poised now, and his heart always jumped to his throat to see her like this: beautiful and happy and confident and by his side.
She turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the city lights. “I’m just remembering.” Her voice was lower than usual, sad and quiet.
He nodded, trying to gage her mood. Maybe she was just tired - now that she had wiped away the expensive makeup she was becoming less and less adamant about not using, he saw the dark circles underneath her eyes.
“Rob,” she whispered, and he knew that sound. He moved to her small body and touched her face. He crouched in front of her as she swung her long, pale legs off the edge of the bed.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he said, resting his hands on her thighs. God, his hands were bigger than the width of her legs.
“It’s Paris,” she said quietly, urging him to understand with her sharp green eyes.
He stared back, wishing he did. “The city of love,” he murmured.
“I…” She ran her hand over her face. “You honestly don’t… you don’t get it?”
“Sweetheart.” He ran his palms over her biceps. “It’s so late, and I’m exhausted.”
She swallowed so heavily he heard the thickness in her throat descend into her stomach. She reached out her hand and touched his face. “Au revoir,” she whispered.
And then it came back so swiftly he nearly lost all of his breath. He thought of last December, watching her sleep the night before he thought he would lose her forever. He had cried through writing out the Gibran that spoke of goodbyes and so nearly begged her to stay that he had to bite his own tongue on his farewell.
“This is where…” He breathed out and then breathed her back in with a kiss. “This is where it ended.”
She nodded wordlessly and drew him back into their bed. He rested his scratchy beard against her and felt the strands pluck at her cotton t-shirt. She was completely silent and he was almost afraid of her thoughts.
“This is where it should begin,” she insisted quietly. Then she kissed him, and they used their remaining three hours to fill Paris full of love. He didn’t ask her the meaning behind her words, figuring she was just being philosophical.
*
“You two ready?” Nick asked as they walked towards the tarmac where the plane was humming, ready to take them across the English Channel.
“Are there many paparazzi?” Kristen asked, hoisting her bag over her shoulder as they began walking.
“Not that I saw,” Nick answered. “Enough.”
As they walked into open space, she heard the definitive clicks of cameras, and she slid her arm into Rob’s crooked elbow and lightly curled her fingers over his hand.
His eyes bulged as his smile spread across his whole face. “Kristen, what are you doing…”
“People can see.”
“Yes, sweetheart…” He looked at her confused.
She tugged on him even harder and looked down. “Let them.” Then she looked back up. “I don’t have to hide anything anymore. I’m erasing what happened last year. This is Paris. And this is where it begins.”
She would walk to London if it kept that smile on his face.
*
November 2009
London, England
They settled into his childhood bed, exhausted to their bones. She could feel the happiness coming off of him; it radiated in waves, washing her under the tide. She pulled him down to her and kissed him softly, his stubble scratching her skin in such a gentle familiarity it brought tears to her eyes.
“Kristen,” he breathed, palming her back with his giant hand. “I’m so in love with you, today and everyday. What you did for me… for us. You’re…”
She shushed him with another kiss and he was happy to comply. They kissed in random spurts of passion and tenderness until they were both exhausted - drowsy from jetlag and pleasure.
“I’m sleepy,” she whispered, dragging her lips across his jaw.
He kissed her once more and then let her get comfortable against his chest. “I always think I’ve found my limit - my capability to love,” he murmured, running his hand down her back. “But then I wake up in the morning, and you’re taking all the covers and you’ve drooled all over my pillow and the sun is hitting your skin and I swear I can see all the veins and the blood running through them… and it hits me, that you’re here, and I’m here, and I feel my heart growing that much bigger. I don’t know my limit any longer. I can’t one-up Edward Cullen in many things, but I can tell you this… you more than have my heart. You are my heart.”
“A heart enflamed?” she teased, kissing his four-chambered organ through his shirt.
“And a soul enchanted,” he confirmed.
*
When they awoke, it was late afternoon. She could tell by the way the sun slanted through his window and into his cloudy blue eyes.
“Hi,” she whispered, and he pressed against her. She rolled her eyes and acted like she was going to snake her hands into his boxers. At the last second, she pushed her hand against his bladder and he hissed.
“That’s what I thought,” she laughed and he pressed a pillow over her face until she was gasping with giggles. Then he leapt up to use the bathroom. “You could use a toothbrush, too,” she called and he told her where she could put said toothbrush.
He came back and some sort of tickle fight ensued, which turned into groping, which turned into hard, heavy panting into each other’s mouths as they hastily tried to remove every scrap of clothing.
He pushed into her without any preamble and she sighed and slipped her arms around his neck. She braced his slow, steady thrusts with her heels on his mattress. She twisted to replace the sun with the light of his eyes as they glowed or was that… was he…
“Rob,” she whispered, touching the corner of his eye. Saline reached out. “Stop, don’t cry.”
“I love you,” he whispered, choking on his words, trying to un-stack his load. He kissed her and angled her with two large hands against her hips and she wondered what it could be that brought him to this loss.
“I love you, too,” she answered, and he drew back and ran his hands down her body reverently, rememorizing everything about her.
They continued slowly, his tears bringing silent ones of her own. It was not sadness, but a release. And when he came, it was the sound of unlocking and lifting away.
He pressed his face in the valley of her breasts, and she felt his tears wet on her skin.
“Your love is safe with me,” she assured.
And they continued through Europe, making new memories but never replacing the bad. The bad memories made them strong, made them who they were. And when they looked at each other from across an ocean of screaming people, their hearts plainer than they had ever been, forever didn’t seem far away anymore.
Author: lindseyrkrpf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fights and making up. Oh, and Europe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the song you may recognize in the last scene.
November 2009
Paris, France
“Are you okay?” Rob asked as they were finally at the hotel. It was temporary - they had to jump a plane to London in a few hours time - but for now the quiet was nice against his overexposed eardrums.
She had been tense all evening but hid it well behind her smile. She was so poised now, and his heart always jumped to his throat to see her like this: beautiful and happy and confident and by his side.
She turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the city lights. “I’m just remembering.” Her voice was lower than usual, sad and quiet.
He nodded, trying to gage her mood. Maybe she was just tired - now that she had wiped away the expensive makeup she was becoming less and less adamant about not using, he saw the dark circles underneath her eyes.
“Rob,” she whispered, and he knew that sound. He moved to her small body and touched her face. He crouched in front of her as she swung her long, pale legs off the edge of the bed.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he said, resting his hands on her thighs. God, his hands were bigger than the width of her legs.
“It’s Paris,” she said quietly, urging him to understand with her sharp green eyes.
He stared back, wishing he did. “The city of love,” he murmured.
“I…” She ran her hand over her face. “You honestly don’t… you don’t get it?”
“Sweetheart.” He ran his palms over her biceps. “It’s so late, and I’m exhausted.”
She swallowed so heavily he heard the thickness in her throat descend into her stomach. She reached out her hand and touched his face. “Au revoir,” she whispered.
And then it came back so swiftly he nearly lost all of his breath. He thought of last December, watching her sleep the night before he thought he would lose her forever. He had cried through writing out the Gibran that spoke of goodbyes and so nearly begged her to stay that he had to bite his own tongue on his farewell.
“This is where…” He breathed out and then breathed her back in with a kiss. “This is where it ended.”
She nodded wordlessly and drew him back into their bed. He rested his scratchy beard against her and felt the strands pluck at her cotton t-shirt. She was completely silent and he was almost afraid of her thoughts.
“This is where it should begin,” she insisted quietly. Then she kissed him, and they used their remaining three hours to fill Paris full of love. He didn’t ask her the meaning behind her words, figuring she was just being philosophical.
*
“You two ready?” Nick asked as they walked towards the tarmac where the plane was humming, ready to take them across the English Channel.
“Are there many paparazzi?” Kristen asked, hoisting her bag over her shoulder as they began walking.
“Not that I saw,” Nick answered. “Enough.”
As they walked into open space, she heard the definitive clicks of cameras, and she slid her arm into Rob’s crooked elbow and lightly curled her fingers over his hand.
His eyes bulged as his smile spread across his whole face. “Kristen, what are you doing…”
“People can see.”
“Yes, sweetheart…” He looked at her confused.
She tugged on him even harder and looked down. “Let them.” Then she looked back up. “I don’t have to hide anything anymore. I’m erasing what happened last year. This is Paris. And this is where it begins.”
She would walk to London if it kept that smile on his face.
*
November 2009
London, England
They settled into his childhood bed, exhausted to their bones. She could feel the happiness coming off of him; it radiated in waves, washing her under the tide. She pulled him down to her and kissed him softly, his stubble scratching her skin in such a gentle familiarity it brought tears to her eyes.
“Kristen,” he breathed, palming her back with his giant hand. “I’m so in love with you, today and everyday. What you did for me… for us. You’re…”
She shushed him with another kiss and he was happy to comply. They kissed in random spurts of passion and tenderness until they were both exhausted - drowsy from jetlag and pleasure.
“I’m sleepy,” she whispered, dragging her lips across his jaw.
He kissed her once more and then let her get comfortable against his chest. “I always think I’ve found my limit - my capability to love,” he murmured, running his hand down her back. “But then I wake up in the morning, and you’re taking all the covers and you’ve drooled all over my pillow and the sun is hitting your skin and I swear I can see all the veins and the blood running through them… and it hits me, that you’re here, and I’m here, and I feel my heart growing that much bigger. I don’t know my limit any longer. I can’t one-up Edward Cullen in many things, but I can tell you this… you more than have my heart. You are my heart.”
“A heart enflamed?” she teased, kissing his four-chambered organ through his shirt.
“And a soul enchanted,” he confirmed.
*
When they awoke, it was late afternoon. She could tell by the way the sun slanted through his window and into his cloudy blue eyes.
“Hi,” she whispered, and he pressed against her. She rolled her eyes and acted like she was going to snake her hands into his boxers. At the last second, she pushed her hand against his bladder and he hissed.
“That’s what I thought,” she laughed and he pressed a pillow over her face until she was gasping with giggles. Then he leapt up to use the bathroom. “You could use a toothbrush, too,” she called and he told her where she could put said toothbrush.
He came back and some sort of tickle fight ensued, which turned into groping, which turned into hard, heavy panting into each other’s mouths as they hastily tried to remove every scrap of clothing.
He pushed into her without any preamble and she sighed and slipped her arms around his neck. She braced his slow, steady thrusts with her heels on his mattress. She twisted to replace the sun with the light of his eyes as they glowed or was that… was he…
“Rob,” she whispered, touching the corner of his eye. Saline reached out. “Stop, don’t cry.”
“I love you,” he whispered, choking on his words, trying to un-stack his load. He kissed her and angled her with two large hands against her hips and she wondered what it could be that brought him to this loss.
“I love you, too,” she answered, and he drew back and ran his hands down her body reverently, rememorizing everything about her.
They continued slowly, his tears bringing silent ones of her own. It was not sadness, but a release. And when he came, it was the sound of unlocking and lifting away.
He pressed his face in the valley of her breasts, and she felt his tears wet on her skin.
“Your love is safe with me,” she assured.
And they continued through Europe, making new memories but never replacing the bad. The bad memories made them strong, made them who they were. And when they looked at each other from across an ocean of screaming people, their hearts plainer than they had ever been, forever didn’t seem far away anymore.