Round We Go Again

by Aidan Boyle
1301879251|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover (updated 1301879277|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover) | 0 comment(s)

IC Date: March 17-18, 2011 — Late night, early morning
This episode takes place immediately following the blog entry Building a Mystery

Aidan takes Kim out to a movies and then to a pub that’s boasting endless pitchers and karaoke in honor the venue’s anniversary. He can tell that she’s shocked and bemused, because it’s been a while (at least a few years) and she forgot that he can do casual and informal, that it isn’t always about fine dining and making an elegant impression. One human mask is as good as the next, and sometimes this one is better than the others because it doesn’t require all that much effort.

Bemusement turns into stunned merriment when Aidan actually takes the mic on the karaoke stage. It takes a few shots of tequila before he coaxes Kim up there as well. (Aidan stops counting around Kim’s fifth shot as he wonders how someone so tiny can hold her liquor so well and wonders if he’s going to have turn her sooner rather than later to save her from cirrhosis.) It’s a few more shots (and something the bartender calls Brain Damage, and Aidan makes a note to get the recipe) before Kim really lets her hair down (literally and figuratively) , taking ownership of the stage and cleaning up at the snooker table. Aidan thinks that relaxed is a good look on the woman, and makes a mental note to get her away from Flare and send her on holiday. He thinks that he has competent staff all around him, and a week or two away would clearly do Kim a world of good, and everyone will breathe easier if she’s not being a raging uptight bitch so much of the time. (Aidan refuses to acknowledge that managing him is part of what keeps Kim so stressed out.)

By the time they leave, Kim is practically floating and when she begs him to put the top down on the BMW, Aidan indulges her. And even if she doesn’t pass out from over-indulgence when they get back to his flat (the Vampire is very surprised when that doesn’t happen because he’s certain that the woman has had enough alcohol to kill several small house pets), he’s still along for the ride and continuously indulgent because Kim in a good mood and lighter spirits can only mean good things for him. What’s the old adage about happy employees being productive employees?

Aidan eventually takes the journals out and leafs through them, discovering that one is about him, the other is about Seamus and the third is an unknown which he just doesn’t want to take the time to figure out just yet. He directs his attention to the journal pertaining to his brother, because Aidan doesn’t know what he might find in the pages of his journal and he’s not sure how much he feels like sharing (even if it won’t matter when the sunrises and sets again).

”You have a brother?” Kim is stretched out on her back, her dark hair cascading in waves across Aidan’s lap where she rests her head on his thigh.

”Yes.” There’s a wealth of emotion in that one word: disgust, frustration, dismissal. The first part of the leather bound handwritten tome is written in Celtic, and Aidan can read that, but it’s like reading a biography and doesn't tell him anything that he doesn’t already know.

”What’s he like?”

From where he leans back against the headboard of the bed, Aidan glances down at his lovely dark haired human servant. “He’s an ass.”

”So are you.”

”Yes but,” Aidan punctuates the pause by tracing his fingertips along her collarbone, “I’m a likable ass.”

The language of the journal changes, and sometimes it’s to a language that Aidan can’t read. Even when it isn’t, the writing style changes from prose to poetry to something that seems like it’s some kind of half-arsed code that kept reinventing itself with every page change. He doesn’t like it (not because he can’t read it, because he can always find a translator) because it means that someone has been watching him, that someone knew things about him that they really shouldn’t have known.

Aidan is careful with the journal. It’s old and delicate, and he holds it gently in one hand, using the other to slowly turn the page without disturbing the soft curvy form beside him that bleeds warmth into his body.

It doesn’t work. She stretches the arm flung over his stomach, flexes nails and scratches lightly against his side. “Still reading that, then?”

“Yeah. What I can of it.” Aidan turns another page, casts his glance slightly to the left and down. “You talk in your sleep.”

“Shut it!” Kim smacks his exposed abdomen with the open flat of her palm. It isn’t meant to hurt, and it doesn’t. Still, Aidan retaliates, brushing and pressing the pads of his fingers to the ticklish spot above her hip; never lifting his eyes from the page he’s scanning even when Kim squeals and twists against him. Kim shuffles and slides up his body, stretching to peer at the inked pages. “Anything new and interesting?”

“Not as of yet.” Not that Aidan thinks he would tell her either, if there were. If only because he doesn’t feel like getting into a complicated explanation. “I’m not surprised. Like I told you earlier, the only thing interesting that Seamus ever did was becoming a vampire.”

An arm is folded and Kim rests her chin on her hand as she looks up at him. “This is a rather new look for you, you know? All scholarly and such.”

His gaze glides from the handwritten journal to the woman by his side. His brows rise, half-curious, half-amused by her assertion. “Scholarly?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this … intense when reading before. You’re not even intense when you’re closing the books or doing business for Flare.”

Aidan sniffs. “I may have been born during a time when most people were illiterate trades people, but I do read.”

“Oh don’t go getting offended. You are so touchy sometimes.” Kim pulled herself up and over so that she straddled his thighs. “It was a compliment.” Beat. She flattens her hands against his chest. “Plenty of time before sunrise?”

The nails of one hand scratch (hard, leaving red welts and a sting that he enjoys far too much) down from his chest to his navel and all of it combines together to finally pull Aidan’s full attention from the journal. He closes it gently, placing it on the night stand beside the bed. His other hand wraps around Kim’s wrist and tugs her closer, “Long enough.” Their mouths connect somewhere in the middle, and Aidan buries his hands in the thick, dark tresses of her hair, flipping them and pressing her lithe (warm, pounding heart and filled with flowing blood) form into the mattress beneath him. If he were capable of feeling guilt, Aidan would feel it for what he knows has to come eventually.

When all is said and done, he’ll make sure that Kim doesn’t remember anything about tonight beyond the movies, and the tequila (and maybe he’ll give her the karaoke too). She won’t remember the journals or the bits of his personal history that Aidan’s shared with her, she won’t remember the sex (and he’ll be oh so very careful to not leave incriminating bite marks that can’t be explained away as easily as an accidental bruise).

She won’t remember that this isn’t the first time (since he bound her as his human servant) that he’s taken her to bed or that he’s opened up to her.

Kim believes she’s immune to the glamour and memory wiping that Aidan does to others. (And she is, unless she’s willing and when her defenses are down and her mind is wide open, she is so willing to let him do and say whatever he wants) She doesn’t know how many times Aidan has wiped the slate clean and taken this away from her.

She doesn’t know that eventually, it’s entirely possible that he’ll do it all again.


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