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fitshavenTitle: Creatures of the night on a highway of hope
Fandom/Pairing: Being Human, Mitchell/Annie
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,140
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warnings: Sex. A bit of violence.
Short Summary: It turns out that ghosts can sleep and dream. That doesn't necessarily mean they should.
Notes: Begins pre-series and then moves through early series 1.
In death, Annie finds life.
It’s completely backwards, but it is so completely her.
So Annie falls down the stairs, cracks her head open and a new beginning arrives for her in the form of a werewolf and a vampire.
.
After months of loneliness, of desiring to be seen and heard it’s a bit of a surprise when it actually happens. All the other tenants have been driven away by her ghostly antics, but these two boys don’t seem to care very much at all. She hides their things, flickers the lights, but it doesn’t faze them. She knows she has to bring out the big guns then, and she fires with red paint spelling out a message on a wall.
She waits upstairs, chewing on her nails, anticipating screams of horror and the sound of those boys running right out of her pink house. Instead, footsteps rush up the stairs and the door flies open. Rolling her eyes, she thinks nothing of it until they’re staring directly at her and she widens her eyes in surprise.
“Who the hell are you?” the one in glasses asks her indignantly, cricket bat still raised at the ready.
This is clearly the start of something beautiful.
.
George doesn’t like her very much. It isn’t as if he tries to hide it, but he could be a bit more tactful about it. She doesn’t care much, though. She thinks he’s adorable and the way he overacts and begins to shriek always makes her laugh.
Mitchell is different. She can’t quite figure the vampire out. It’s likely because he’s a vampire, but he interests her and he seems to actually like her. He drinks the many mugs of tea she makes without complaint. That has to mean something good.
She grows closer to Mitchell with each passing day. It’s not actually surprising considering George isn’t around very much and Mitchell is, but there’s this connection between them that has been there from the start and Annie finds comfort in it. The knowledge that Mitchell understands her brings her a sense of contentment that she hasn’t ever had. In each other they find some kind of peace and a bit of happiness as well.
It’s a blessing to have that in this unpredictable and often dark world of theirs. So Annie clings to Mitchell more and more, burrows her way into him until he needs her back just as much as she needs him. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe two people shouldn’t need each other that much, but when Mitchell holds her and tells her everything will be all right, she believes him and decides that she doesn’t need much else.
George finds their codependency strange, but it isn’t his fault. George is alive; he has a heart that beats and a chance at a life of normalcy if he really tries. Mitchell and Annie don’t have that, they can’t, it’s impossible to even try, but they can have something close to it.
Annie thinks about this a lot. She thinks about the future. She thinks about the inevitability of George leaving them one day. It hurts, but she knows it will happen. Despite George’s dislike for her, she knows deep down he has to care for her, even if it’s only a little bit. He tolerates her, that’s for sure. And she appreciates that. It’s a hell of a lot better than others have treated her in her past life.
There are other times when she wonders if she’ll fade away. It becomes a constant fear for her. Now that she has two people who can actually see her, she doesn’t ever want to go without it. She’s longed for it, and even though she’s becoming more and more visible to mortals as each day passes, she knows that she could become invisible again in an instant. Even if that does happen, she still has Mitchell and George, but what if she fades away? What if one day she simply disappears and not even her boys can see her? What if she becomes nothing at all?
It’s terrifying. It’s a living nightmare. And it’s possible.
She clings more to Mitchell, and begins to cling more to George as well. She loves them, she knows that. They’re her everything.
.
When Mitchell and George return home covered in blood, she doesn’t know what to think. George takes her to the side and explains while Mitchell sits in the darkness and says nothing at all. She’s very worried and doesn’t know what to do, so she ends up making tea. This is her way to help, to bring a bit of comfort to others. It’s the first time George doesn’t complain.
George looks on as she sits down beside Mitchell and offers him the mug. She’s offering her love and support in this way, and when he takes it, she knows that he’s aware. Her arm wraps around him and her head lies on his shoulder as he sips the tea. They stay this way for a while even when the mug is empty and sitting before them. George has been sleeping for hours and Mitchell’s hand finds hers.
“I didn’t want this for her,” he whispers. “I didn’t want anyone else to end up like this, but now I’ve got her blood on my hands.”
Annie shushes him and squeezes his hand. “You saved her in a way,” she says.
“Did I?” he doubtfully asks, looking at her now.
She nods. “It’s braver to stop something from happening again than to give in and allow it to. Mitchell, you made the right choice.”
His entire body shudders and they turn into each other. Her forehead is pressed to his and their hands are still clasped together. She knows he’s asking her to stay with him. She doesn’t need to hear it said aloud to know that.
George finds them sitting on the couch, still holding hands in the morning. He looks perplexed, but doesn’t ask about it. Annie’s glad; she doesn’t know how she’d even begin to explain her relationship with Mitchell.
.
“I wish I could sleep,” she sighs, feeling very frustrated. “I miss sleeping. I miss dreaming. I miss waking up.”
Mitchell laughs. “You could try. I’ve told you to try before.”
She twirls a few strands of her hair around her finger and shakes her head at him. “And I told you it’s impossible. I just can’t fall asleep!”
“Sure you can,” he says. “I’ve known some ghosts who’ve been able to.”
“Well they’re better than me then,” she says, letting her hands fall into her lap.
A moment later Mitchell’s hand is covering one of hers. “Why don’t you try again tonight? I’ll stay with you if you’d like.”
She laughs awkwardly. “You want to sleep with me?”
He stutters, which momentarily interests her, but then regains his ability to speak properly. “You’re my friend, and I want to help you.”
There’s a moment of silence and then she laughs again and nods. “All right, but I have to warn you, I tend to hog all the blankets and I may steal your pillow.”
“I’ll risk it,” he says.
When night falls, Annie sits beside Mitchell on his bed and plays with her sleeve. She doesn’t know what to do or what to say and honestly she feels very awkward. Maybe this is a line and she’s crossing it. She’s in his bed and Mitchell’s… in his boxers and nothing else. He’s under the covers, but knowing that he’s not wearing much is getting to her in a way that confuses her.
When she looks at him, he wiggles his eyebrows at her and winks. “Planning on joining me under here any time soon, Miss. Sawyer?” he teases. This seems to break the tension and she laughs loudly and smacks his bare shoulder. As he pretends to be hurt, her cardigan disappears and soon she’s only left in her leggings and camisole. She feels a bit more bare than she’d like and joins Mitchell beneath the covers, lying on her side as she looks at him.
“See, this is better,” he says as he turns onto his own side.
“Do you really think I’ll be able to sleep?” she asks.
“You very well could,” he says and grins at her. “We could always cuddle?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were trying to feel me up,” she says as she allows him to pull her closer. They move around until they’re settled and comfortable and Annie rests her head on his chest. There’s a moment when she listens for a heartbeat and then it passes and she’s embarrassed.
“Close your eyes,” he says softly, stroking her hair.
She does as asked and takes a deep breath in. “This is… nice,” she says hesitantly.
He hums in agreement and continues to stroke her hair. They don’t talk much after that and soon Mitchell’s hand has stopped moving and is resting on her shoulder as she lies there. Her eyes open and she looks up, smiling at the sight of Mitchell sleeping. He looks at peace in a way that he never does while awake and she strokes his cheek before pulling her hand away and carefully moving out of his arms so that she won’t wake up.
She appreciates his efforts, but it’s clear to her that her days of sleeping have long since passed.
.
Despite her inability to sleep, Annie finds herself lying beside Mitchell each night he is home. He wraps her up in his strong arms, kisses her hair and makes her feel safe from all the monsters that lurk outside of their pink home. Because there are monsters out there, completely different from the ones she feared as a child. These are real, and they’re ready to tear this safe haven of theirs apart.
On the night after she finds out that Owen murdered her, she finally falls asleep.
In her dreams, she is living and breathing and tortured. Owen pushes her against walls, leaves bright, red marks on her fragile flesh that turn into bruises. His hands are around her throat, squeezing the life out of her before she jolts awake and screams and screams and screams.
Mitchell is there. He’s there and he’s holding her by her shoulders, trying to calm her, but she can still feel Owen’s hands on her. He’s killing her all over again, but in a multitude of ways and she breaks down into a crying mess as Mitchell attempts to pick up the pieces.
“I shouldn’t have suggested this,” he murmurs into her hair. “If I had known you’d have nightmares…”
“How could you have known?” she asks, burying her face into his shirt. “It’s fine. It’s…”
“It’s not,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
She looks up at him and knows she must look awful, but she manages to smile at him. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” she says, placing her hand on his face. “It isn’t your fault.”
“I feel responsible,” he says.
“Mitchell,” she sighs and because she doesn’t know what to do, she leans forward and kisses his cheek. Or, she intends to. Mitchell turns his face and their mouths end up meeting instead. It’s exactly like last time, only this time Mitchell’s hands are squeezing her shoulders, stopping her from moving back.
This isn’t a simple brush of the lips. They aren’t awkwardly laughing and making jokes.
Mitchell is kissing her, and Annie likes it enough to kiss him back.
His hands are tenderly holding her face when the kiss finally ends and Annie is left wanting more. She knows he’s going to apologize and stops him, pressing two fingers to his lips. She shakes her head and he knows. He knows and he pulls her into his arms, holding her as her nightmare slowly fades and the thought of their kiss becomes her main focus until it’s all she can think about.
.
This is what they do now. She has nightmares and he kisses her until she forgets them.
She dreams of hands on her, of nails scratching her and of her body rolling down stairs.
When she wakes, Mitchell is there and he strokes her face, her throat, and her sides. He touches her delicately, his hands smoothing over every part of her that has been harmed in her nightmares and then he kisses her.
He kisses her until nothing else matters but the pressure of his mouth against hers. He kisses her and Annie kisses him back, moving her fingers through his hair, splaying her hands against his back, drawing him into her until he’s all that exists. Nothing can hurt her. There is no pain, just the right amount of bliss.
.
There is a particularly terrifying nightmare that occurs on the night of the full moon. She’s alone, both Mitchell and George out for the night. She knows that Mitchell will be home soon, but she can’t seem to keep herself up and falls asleep.
She’s in hell. The dead surround her, move toward her, pulling at her, dragging her toward the flames. She fights and kicks and scratches but it’s no use. She can’t fight them all. The flames lick at her skin, burning her, turning her to ash. And then she’s back at the top of the stairs and Owen is before her, his eyes crimson-red as he grabs her by the hair and then pushes. She tumbles down the stairs and it seems to go on forever until she crashes to the floor and then she’s dead and burning all over again.
She can hear screaming and doesn’t realize it’s her until she’s being shaken awake.
“Annie, sweetheart, Annie look at me,” Mitchell begs, holding her face. She’s screaming and sobbing and fighting against him. She doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t want hands on her, those terrible, horrid hands. She can still feel them and she pushes and shoves until Mitchell is standing and she’s backing away on the bed. When her back is pressed to the wall, she wraps her arms around herself and sob after sob is torn right out of her.
Mitchell is instantly beside her again.
She doesn’t push him away this time. She seeks him out, touches him everywhere, in as many places as she can to reassure herself that he is real. Her hands slide up his shirt, pressing against his skin, sliding up his chest. He’s hard and strong and safe and she kisses him desperately, so desperately that she feels a bit sheepish, but she can’t stop it. And then he breathes her name and just hearing that makes her shudder in his arms.
She doesn’t protest when he pulls her into his lap. She isn’t embarrassed or afraid when she can feel him through his pants. Instead she rubs herself onto him, feeling braver than she ever has. His appreciative groan encourages her and as his lips trace up the length of her neck, she presses the heel of her palm down onto him and rocks it there. He grows harder, thicker beneath her and she hears herself moan just from the thought of it.
It’s no surprise to her when she’s pushed back onto the bed and Mitchell is above her, staring at her predatorily. She wants this. She needs all the terrible images to be erased from her mind and replaced with this. Nothing else can fix this, only Mitchell. She wants Mitchell.
She wants him so much that she doesn’t even have to think hard for her clothes to fade away. They’re gone and Mitchell’s mouth is on her, kissing her in places he never has before and she arches her back, wanting him to be everywhere. He’s kissing her throat when she finally pushes his pants past his hips and he lifts only to get them off and then he’s back, only this time his flesh is pressed right to hers and she’s burning again, but it isn’t terrifying or painful.
The weight of his hardness against her thigh is pleasant. She boldly wraps her hand around him and smiles to herself as he growls her name and thrusts his hips forward. She wants to continue, to make him feel more, but he pushes her hand away and kisses her slowly as he slides inside of her. It’s as if she comes alive then. Any death that she felt disappears and she clutches to him and to this feeling that is surging within her.
“Make me forget,” she gasps, digging her nails into his back, scratching them down the length of it. “I just want you. Mitchell, please!”
He growls at her and it’s a thrill. His eyes are so dark, but she knows he’s still there. She knows that this is her Mitchell and that what she sees in his eyes is desire for her and not the monster that lurks inside of him. His hands are possessively claiming every single part of her and she doesn’t mind. She encourages him, touches him in the same way and she meets him thrust for thrust, never allowing them to part. He can’t leave her, not even for a second. She needs constant contact, needs their skin to slide and press together, needs his mouth on hers, and needs his thoughts to be only on her and nothing else. She’s frantic, so full of want that it actually scares her. There’s so much that she’s feeling, and there’s this connection between them that makes her aware that Mitchell feels the same.
He’s muttering nonsensical things and cursing as they move, faster and faster, and at one point Annie thinks that it’s actually too fast for the human eye to see. She’s breathless when she doesn’t even breathe and Mitchell is panting against her neck. She can sense that it’s coming. They’re both tense and she’s overly sensitive and soon she’s crying out each time he pushes himself inside of her.
He’s saying her name, repeating it, as if it’s the most important thing in the universe to him. She can’t even speak. And then it happens, this explosion between them and emotions flood into her, crash right against her, but she welcomes them. She wants to feel it all. It’s them, whatever they have, whatever they feel, it’s all theirs and even though she’s weak, she’s able to kiss him back when Mitchell seeks out her mouth to claim.
She doesn’t allow him to move. She needs him right here, just like this above her, every part of them that matters touching. The darkness disappears from his eyes when they meet hers and then he’s beaming down at her and she knows that she must look incredibly silly as she grins right back at him, but she finds that she doesn’t care. All she can think about and care about is right here, and all the terror from before has disappeared, replaced with this feeling of contentment and completion.
“I wasn’t expecting this, although I’m not going to complain,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose to hers.
She laughs, happier than she has been in quite some time, and playfully slaps his cheek. When he rolls onto his back and pulls her along with him, she makes herself comfortable and kisses his chest. “I’m not at all tired,” she says and suddenly feels shy. She can’t seem to look up and meet his eyes.
“Neither am I,” he says. She still won’t look up, and he must notice because he places his hand beneath her chin and tips it up. “And why are we so quiet, hmm?”
If she could blush, she’s sure her cheeks would be as red as tomatoes right now. “I’m… not,” she says. “I’m just thinking.”
“Of what I plan to do to you in a few minutes? Because that’s what I’m thinking about,” he says and leers at her.
Surprisingly this relaxes her and she stretches her neck a bit to kiss him softly. “Maybe I am,” she answers in a whisper.
“Tell me,” he whispers back, pulling her right on top of him.
She sits up and feels that braveness from before once again. Taking his hand, she brings it up to her mouth and kisses his palm. “I could show you,” she murmurs, pressing his hand to her stomach. As she begins to slide his hand down her body, she tilts her head to the side and feels very smug because Mitchell is already hardening beneath her once more.
And when his hand is exactly where she wants it to be, she closes her eyes and doesn’t think that they’ll get much sleep tonight.
The last coherent thought she has is about how thankful she is that the full moon is keeping George away tonight.
.
The next time she dreams, it’s about them.
Before it can move along, she’s awakened by George’s shrieks and the sound of a body hitting a wall. Once her vision is cleared from its sleepy haze, she can see that George is holding his bloody nose and that Mitchell is pulling his pants on and trying to help.
“I’ve gone blind and I think I’ve broken my nose!” George groans and shrugs away Mitchell’s attempts at helping. “You two are sleeping together! You’re sleeping together and keeping it from me! Do you have any idea how offensive that is?”
“George, mate, maybe you should calm down,” Mitchell suggests calmly. “You’re getting blood everywhere…”
“Oh shut up! I’ll bleed all over you if you don’t!” he threatens.
“George,” Annie says as she pulls the sheets up to her chest. “Don’t be angry. There’s nothing to be angry about!”
George huffs, but actually looks at her, which makes her pull the sheets higher up. “Has this been going on for a while?” he asks her.
“No,” she and Mitchell answer simultaneously.
“Will it continue?” George asks them, looking from Mitchell, to Annie, and then back to Mitchell.
“It… is very likely,” Annie answers hesitantly. She can feel Mitchell staring at her and finally looks at him. She can’t help it and smiles.
“Yes, it’s very likely indeed,” Mitchell agrees.
Mitchell is at her side and kissing her before she can register it, but when she does, she kisses him back and no one else exists. That is, until George claps his hands loudly near them. They break apart and give George their best apologetic smiles.
“Cut down on the… kissing and I think I’ll be able to accept this,” George weakly demands and rubs at his eyes. His nose has stopped bleeding which is a good sign. “For the sake of my eyesight, please.”
“Then I suggest you get out of here as fast as you can,” Mitchell advises.
George is gone, slamming the door shut behind him before Annie can add anything and then she’s giggling as Mitchell pulls the sheet right off of her. She can hear very loud techno music being played downstairs and then they’re both laughing too hard to do much of anything else.
She knows she’ll continue to have nightmares. They’re something she can’t control, but as long as she has Mitchell to make her feel safe and George to make her laugh, she thinks she can deal with it.
She's found life in death, and she's not about to stop living it now to live in dreams like she once did.
After all, they’re just dreams. What she has when she awakes is all that truly matters.
And she really does have so much to live for, even if it does mean having to deal with her flatmate's terrible taste in music.
Fandom/Pairing: Being Human, Mitchell/Annie
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,140
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warnings: Sex. A bit of violence.
Short Summary: It turns out that ghosts can sleep and dream. That doesn't necessarily mean they should.
Notes: Begins pre-series and then moves through early series 1.
In death, Annie finds life.
It’s completely backwards, but it is so completely her.
So Annie falls down the stairs, cracks her head open and a new beginning arrives for her in the form of a werewolf and a vampire.
.
After months of loneliness, of desiring to be seen and heard it’s a bit of a surprise when it actually happens. All the other tenants have been driven away by her ghostly antics, but these two boys don’t seem to care very much at all. She hides their things, flickers the lights, but it doesn’t faze them. She knows she has to bring out the big guns then, and she fires with red paint spelling out a message on a wall.
She waits upstairs, chewing on her nails, anticipating screams of horror and the sound of those boys running right out of her pink house. Instead, footsteps rush up the stairs and the door flies open. Rolling her eyes, she thinks nothing of it until they’re staring directly at her and she widens her eyes in surprise.
“Who the hell are you?” the one in glasses asks her indignantly, cricket bat still raised at the ready.
This is clearly the start of something beautiful.
.
George doesn’t like her very much. It isn’t as if he tries to hide it, but he could be a bit more tactful about it. She doesn’t care much, though. She thinks he’s adorable and the way he overacts and begins to shriek always makes her laugh.
Mitchell is different. She can’t quite figure the vampire out. It’s likely because he’s a vampire, but he interests her and he seems to actually like her. He drinks the many mugs of tea she makes without complaint. That has to mean something good.
She grows closer to Mitchell with each passing day. It’s not actually surprising considering George isn’t around very much and Mitchell is, but there’s this connection between them that has been there from the start and Annie finds comfort in it. The knowledge that Mitchell understands her brings her a sense of contentment that she hasn’t ever had. In each other they find some kind of peace and a bit of happiness as well.
It’s a blessing to have that in this unpredictable and often dark world of theirs. So Annie clings to Mitchell more and more, burrows her way into him until he needs her back just as much as she needs him. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe two people shouldn’t need each other that much, but when Mitchell holds her and tells her everything will be all right, she believes him and decides that she doesn’t need much else.
George finds their codependency strange, but it isn’t his fault. George is alive; he has a heart that beats and a chance at a life of normalcy if he really tries. Mitchell and Annie don’t have that, they can’t, it’s impossible to even try, but they can have something close to it.
Annie thinks about this a lot. She thinks about the future. She thinks about the inevitability of George leaving them one day. It hurts, but she knows it will happen. Despite George’s dislike for her, she knows deep down he has to care for her, even if it’s only a little bit. He tolerates her, that’s for sure. And she appreciates that. It’s a hell of a lot better than others have treated her in her past life.
There are other times when she wonders if she’ll fade away. It becomes a constant fear for her. Now that she has two people who can actually see her, she doesn’t ever want to go without it. She’s longed for it, and even though she’s becoming more and more visible to mortals as each day passes, she knows that she could become invisible again in an instant. Even if that does happen, she still has Mitchell and George, but what if she fades away? What if one day she simply disappears and not even her boys can see her? What if she becomes nothing at all?
It’s terrifying. It’s a living nightmare. And it’s possible.
She clings more to Mitchell, and begins to cling more to George as well. She loves them, she knows that. They’re her everything.
.
When Mitchell and George return home covered in blood, she doesn’t know what to think. George takes her to the side and explains while Mitchell sits in the darkness and says nothing at all. She’s very worried and doesn’t know what to do, so she ends up making tea. This is her way to help, to bring a bit of comfort to others. It’s the first time George doesn’t complain.
George looks on as she sits down beside Mitchell and offers him the mug. She’s offering her love and support in this way, and when he takes it, she knows that he’s aware. Her arm wraps around him and her head lies on his shoulder as he sips the tea. They stay this way for a while even when the mug is empty and sitting before them. George has been sleeping for hours and Mitchell’s hand finds hers.
“I didn’t want this for her,” he whispers. “I didn’t want anyone else to end up like this, but now I’ve got her blood on my hands.”
Annie shushes him and squeezes his hand. “You saved her in a way,” she says.
“Did I?” he doubtfully asks, looking at her now.
She nods. “It’s braver to stop something from happening again than to give in and allow it to. Mitchell, you made the right choice.”
His entire body shudders and they turn into each other. Her forehead is pressed to his and their hands are still clasped together. She knows he’s asking her to stay with him. She doesn’t need to hear it said aloud to know that.
George finds them sitting on the couch, still holding hands in the morning. He looks perplexed, but doesn’t ask about it. Annie’s glad; she doesn’t know how she’d even begin to explain her relationship with Mitchell.
.
“I wish I could sleep,” she sighs, feeling very frustrated. “I miss sleeping. I miss dreaming. I miss waking up.”
Mitchell laughs. “You could try. I’ve told you to try before.”
She twirls a few strands of her hair around her finger and shakes her head at him. “And I told you it’s impossible. I just can’t fall asleep!”
“Sure you can,” he says. “I’ve known some ghosts who’ve been able to.”
“Well they’re better than me then,” she says, letting her hands fall into her lap.
A moment later Mitchell’s hand is covering one of hers. “Why don’t you try again tonight? I’ll stay with you if you’d like.”
She laughs awkwardly. “You want to sleep with me?”
He stutters, which momentarily interests her, but then regains his ability to speak properly. “You’re my friend, and I want to help you.”
There’s a moment of silence and then she laughs again and nods. “All right, but I have to warn you, I tend to hog all the blankets and I may steal your pillow.”
“I’ll risk it,” he says.
When night falls, Annie sits beside Mitchell on his bed and plays with her sleeve. She doesn’t know what to do or what to say and honestly she feels very awkward. Maybe this is a line and she’s crossing it. She’s in his bed and Mitchell’s… in his boxers and nothing else. He’s under the covers, but knowing that he’s not wearing much is getting to her in a way that confuses her.
When she looks at him, he wiggles his eyebrows at her and winks. “Planning on joining me under here any time soon, Miss. Sawyer?” he teases. This seems to break the tension and she laughs loudly and smacks his bare shoulder. As he pretends to be hurt, her cardigan disappears and soon she’s only left in her leggings and camisole. She feels a bit more bare than she’d like and joins Mitchell beneath the covers, lying on her side as she looks at him.
“See, this is better,” he says as he turns onto his own side.
“Do you really think I’ll be able to sleep?” she asks.
“You very well could,” he says and grins at her. “We could always cuddle?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were trying to feel me up,” she says as she allows him to pull her closer. They move around until they’re settled and comfortable and Annie rests her head on his chest. There’s a moment when she listens for a heartbeat and then it passes and she’s embarrassed.
“Close your eyes,” he says softly, stroking her hair.
She does as asked and takes a deep breath in. “This is… nice,” she says hesitantly.
He hums in agreement and continues to stroke her hair. They don’t talk much after that and soon Mitchell’s hand has stopped moving and is resting on her shoulder as she lies there. Her eyes open and she looks up, smiling at the sight of Mitchell sleeping. He looks at peace in a way that he never does while awake and she strokes his cheek before pulling her hand away and carefully moving out of his arms so that she won’t wake up.
She appreciates his efforts, but it’s clear to her that her days of sleeping have long since passed.
.
Despite her inability to sleep, Annie finds herself lying beside Mitchell each night he is home. He wraps her up in his strong arms, kisses her hair and makes her feel safe from all the monsters that lurk outside of their pink home. Because there are monsters out there, completely different from the ones she feared as a child. These are real, and they’re ready to tear this safe haven of theirs apart.
On the night after she finds out that Owen murdered her, she finally falls asleep.
In her dreams, she is living and breathing and tortured. Owen pushes her against walls, leaves bright, red marks on her fragile flesh that turn into bruises. His hands are around her throat, squeezing the life out of her before she jolts awake and screams and screams and screams.
Mitchell is there. He’s there and he’s holding her by her shoulders, trying to calm her, but she can still feel Owen’s hands on her. He’s killing her all over again, but in a multitude of ways and she breaks down into a crying mess as Mitchell attempts to pick up the pieces.
“I shouldn’t have suggested this,” he murmurs into her hair. “If I had known you’d have nightmares…”
“How could you have known?” she asks, burying her face into his shirt. “It’s fine. It’s…”
“It’s not,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
She looks up at him and knows she must look awful, but she manages to smile at him. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” she says, placing her hand on his face. “It isn’t your fault.”
“I feel responsible,” he says.
“Mitchell,” she sighs and because she doesn’t know what to do, she leans forward and kisses his cheek. Or, she intends to. Mitchell turns his face and their mouths end up meeting instead. It’s exactly like last time, only this time Mitchell’s hands are squeezing her shoulders, stopping her from moving back.
This isn’t a simple brush of the lips. They aren’t awkwardly laughing and making jokes.
Mitchell is kissing her, and Annie likes it enough to kiss him back.
His hands are tenderly holding her face when the kiss finally ends and Annie is left wanting more. She knows he’s going to apologize and stops him, pressing two fingers to his lips. She shakes her head and he knows. He knows and he pulls her into his arms, holding her as her nightmare slowly fades and the thought of their kiss becomes her main focus until it’s all she can think about.
.
This is what they do now. She has nightmares and he kisses her until she forgets them.
She dreams of hands on her, of nails scratching her and of her body rolling down stairs.
When she wakes, Mitchell is there and he strokes her face, her throat, and her sides. He touches her delicately, his hands smoothing over every part of her that has been harmed in her nightmares and then he kisses her.
He kisses her until nothing else matters but the pressure of his mouth against hers. He kisses her and Annie kisses him back, moving her fingers through his hair, splaying her hands against his back, drawing him into her until he’s all that exists. Nothing can hurt her. There is no pain, just the right amount of bliss.
.
There is a particularly terrifying nightmare that occurs on the night of the full moon. She’s alone, both Mitchell and George out for the night. She knows that Mitchell will be home soon, but she can’t seem to keep herself up and falls asleep.
She’s in hell. The dead surround her, move toward her, pulling at her, dragging her toward the flames. She fights and kicks and scratches but it’s no use. She can’t fight them all. The flames lick at her skin, burning her, turning her to ash. And then she’s back at the top of the stairs and Owen is before her, his eyes crimson-red as he grabs her by the hair and then pushes. She tumbles down the stairs and it seems to go on forever until she crashes to the floor and then she’s dead and burning all over again.
She can hear screaming and doesn’t realize it’s her until she’s being shaken awake.
“Annie, sweetheart, Annie look at me,” Mitchell begs, holding her face. She’s screaming and sobbing and fighting against him. She doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t want hands on her, those terrible, horrid hands. She can still feel them and she pushes and shoves until Mitchell is standing and she’s backing away on the bed. When her back is pressed to the wall, she wraps her arms around herself and sob after sob is torn right out of her.
Mitchell is instantly beside her again.
She doesn’t push him away this time. She seeks him out, touches him everywhere, in as many places as she can to reassure herself that he is real. Her hands slide up his shirt, pressing against his skin, sliding up his chest. He’s hard and strong and safe and she kisses him desperately, so desperately that she feels a bit sheepish, but she can’t stop it. And then he breathes her name and just hearing that makes her shudder in his arms.
She doesn’t protest when he pulls her into his lap. She isn’t embarrassed or afraid when she can feel him through his pants. Instead she rubs herself onto him, feeling braver than she ever has. His appreciative groan encourages her and as his lips trace up the length of her neck, she presses the heel of her palm down onto him and rocks it there. He grows harder, thicker beneath her and she hears herself moan just from the thought of it.
It’s no surprise to her when she’s pushed back onto the bed and Mitchell is above her, staring at her predatorily. She wants this. She needs all the terrible images to be erased from her mind and replaced with this. Nothing else can fix this, only Mitchell. She wants Mitchell.
She wants him so much that she doesn’t even have to think hard for her clothes to fade away. They’re gone and Mitchell’s mouth is on her, kissing her in places he never has before and she arches her back, wanting him to be everywhere. He’s kissing her throat when she finally pushes his pants past his hips and he lifts only to get them off and then he’s back, only this time his flesh is pressed right to hers and she’s burning again, but it isn’t terrifying or painful.
The weight of his hardness against her thigh is pleasant. She boldly wraps her hand around him and smiles to herself as he growls her name and thrusts his hips forward. She wants to continue, to make him feel more, but he pushes her hand away and kisses her slowly as he slides inside of her. It’s as if she comes alive then. Any death that she felt disappears and she clutches to him and to this feeling that is surging within her.
“Make me forget,” she gasps, digging her nails into his back, scratching them down the length of it. “I just want you. Mitchell, please!”
He growls at her and it’s a thrill. His eyes are so dark, but she knows he’s still there. She knows that this is her Mitchell and that what she sees in his eyes is desire for her and not the monster that lurks inside of him. His hands are possessively claiming every single part of her and she doesn’t mind. She encourages him, touches him in the same way and she meets him thrust for thrust, never allowing them to part. He can’t leave her, not even for a second. She needs constant contact, needs their skin to slide and press together, needs his mouth on hers, and needs his thoughts to be only on her and nothing else. She’s frantic, so full of want that it actually scares her. There’s so much that she’s feeling, and there’s this connection between them that makes her aware that Mitchell feels the same.
He’s muttering nonsensical things and cursing as they move, faster and faster, and at one point Annie thinks that it’s actually too fast for the human eye to see. She’s breathless when she doesn’t even breathe and Mitchell is panting against her neck. She can sense that it’s coming. They’re both tense and she’s overly sensitive and soon she’s crying out each time he pushes himself inside of her.
He’s saying her name, repeating it, as if it’s the most important thing in the universe to him. She can’t even speak. And then it happens, this explosion between them and emotions flood into her, crash right against her, but she welcomes them. She wants to feel it all. It’s them, whatever they have, whatever they feel, it’s all theirs and even though she’s weak, she’s able to kiss him back when Mitchell seeks out her mouth to claim.
She doesn’t allow him to move. She needs him right here, just like this above her, every part of them that matters touching. The darkness disappears from his eyes when they meet hers and then he’s beaming down at her and she knows that she must look incredibly silly as she grins right back at him, but she finds that she doesn’t care. All she can think about and care about is right here, and all the terror from before has disappeared, replaced with this feeling of contentment and completion.
“I wasn’t expecting this, although I’m not going to complain,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose to hers.
She laughs, happier than she has been in quite some time, and playfully slaps his cheek. When he rolls onto his back and pulls her along with him, she makes herself comfortable and kisses his chest. “I’m not at all tired,” she says and suddenly feels shy. She can’t seem to look up and meet his eyes.
“Neither am I,” he says. She still won’t look up, and he must notice because he places his hand beneath her chin and tips it up. “And why are we so quiet, hmm?”
If she could blush, she’s sure her cheeks would be as red as tomatoes right now. “I’m… not,” she says. “I’m just thinking.”
“Of what I plan to do to you in a few minutes? Because that’s what I’m thinking about,” he says and leers at her.
Surprisingly this relaxes her and she stretches her neck a bit to kiss him softly. “Maybe I am,” she answers in a whisper.
“Tell me,” he whispers back, pulling her right on top of him.
She sits up and feels that braveness from before once again. Taking his hand, she brings it up to her mouth and kisses his palm. “I could show you,” she murmurs, pressing his hand to her stomach. As she begins to slide his hand down her body, she tilts her head to the side and feels very smug because Mitchell is already hardening beneath her once more.
And when his hand is exactly where she wants it to be, she closes her eyes and doesn’t think that they’ll get much sleep tonight.
The last coherent thought she has is about how thankful she is that the full moon is keeping George away tonight.
.
The next time she dreams, it’s about them.
Before it can move along, she’s awakened by George’s shrieks and the sound of a body hitting a wall. Once her vision is cleared from its sleepy haze, she can see that George is holding his bloody nose and that Mitchell is pulling his pants on and trying to help.
“I’ve gone blind and I think I’ve broken my nose!” George groans and shrugs away Mitchell’s attempts at helping. “You two are sleeping together! You’re sleeping together and keeping it from me! Do you have any idea how offensive that is?”
“George, mate, maybe you should calm down,” Mitchell suggests calmly. “You’re getting blood everywhere…”
“Oh shut up! I’ll bleed all over you if you don’t!” he threatens.
“George,” Annie says as she pulls the sheets up to her chest. “Don’t be angry. There’s nothing to be angry about!”
George huffs, but actually looks at her, which makes her pull the sheets higher up. “Has this been going on for a while?” he asks her.
“No,” she and Mitchell answer simultaneously.
“Will it continue?” George asks them, looking from Mitchell, to Annie, and then back to Mitchell.
“It… is very likely,” Annie answers hesitantly. She can feel Mitchell staring at her and finally looks at him. She can’t help it and smiles.
“Yes, it’s very likely indeed,” Mitchell agrees.
Mitchell is at her side and kissing her before she can register it, but when she does, she kisses him back and no one else exists. That is, until George claps his hands loudly near them. They break apart and give George their best apologetic smiles.
“Cut down on the… kissing and I think I’ll be able to accept this,” George weakly demands and rubs at his eyes. His nose has stopped bleeding which is a good sign. “For the sake of my eyesight, please.”
“Then I suggest you get out of here as fast as you can,” Mitchell advises.
George is gone, slamming the door shut behind him before Annie can add anything and then she’s giggling as Mitchell pulls the sheet right off of her. She can hear very loud techno music being played downstairs and then they’re both laughing too hard to do much of anything else.
She knows she’ll continue to have nightmares. They’re something she can’t control, but as long as she has Mitchell to make her feel safe and George to make her laugh, she thinks she can deal with it.
She's found life in death, and she's not about to stop living it now to live in dreams like she once did.
After all, they’re just dreams. What she has when she awakes is all that truly matters.
And she really does have so much to live for, even if it does mean having to deal with her flatmate's terrible taste in music.
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Date: 2011-03-31 06:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-03-31 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-03-31 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 09:13 pm (UTC)Hopefully you'll write even more stories. Will you? :)
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Date: 2011-04-01 04:30 pm (UTC)The story is absolutely wonderful and beautifully written. You have the voices down really well.
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Date: 2011-04-04 05:01 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-05-03 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
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