Severed [GB + SB]

Eleven: Truth & Consequences

"No, baby, no," I soothed him, running my hands over his arms to show him everything was fine. Yup, that's why I was doing it, to soothe him. He smirked and tucked me back against his chest, and I sighed in bliss. Okay, I might be objectifying these strong, intelligent, capable men, but I challenge any woman (and many men) to resist this walking sex grenade crooning sweet nothings in Russian while stroking your hair and kissing your neck. Exactly. He could very well be explaining the solution to the Poincaré conjecture but what my brain was processing was "I'm all flush up against a strong, sexy man speaking in Russian, who seems plenty capable to club sabretooth tigers and decorate our cave with their skins, so we must have hot buttered sex and make beautiful babies who will take up arms to lead the revolution against our dinosaur-riding robot overlords..." Clearly I wasn't thinking straight at all. And I might have been vocalizing all of that because he's been laughing at me for - I swear - a good minute, when he should be getting to the sabretooth killing so we have soft pelts to hump our brains out on.

"...hump our brains out, shikra? I think yours has already hit the road."

"Raven! That's so rude!"

"What? You're talking about fighting dinosaur-riding robots and I'm rude for saying you sound crazy? Everyone knows humans and dinosaurs didn't live at the same time!"

"It was a metaphor," I hissed trying to pull away in a huff but his arms were like steel bands wrapped around me. Restraining me. Oh damn...

"Did you just moan?" He asked, half-laughing and half in wonder.

"Maybe." I muttered sullenly, so frustrated by the lack of Raven-tongue in my life right now. Then I was suddenly reminded of how close I came to losing it completely, how surprised I was that he didn't seem at all upset about last night, and my punch-drunk state of horny relief faded abruptly. "Why aren't you mad at me, Raven? You aren't acting any differently than you were early last night before all the things, and I'm pretty sure you didn't get those bruises from walking into a wall. They kind of look Brandon-fist-size to me. If you were mad enough last night to beat up one of your best friends, why aren't you mad now?"

"We had a short tussle, I'd hardly call it beating him up," he dodged, readying a parry.

"Raven. Why aren't you mad."

My head was tilted back so I could look at him, and his expression became solemn before he sighed and manually tucked my head back under his chin, resting his own on my crown. "I was mad, at first. Then you handed me an ice pack and ran your fingers through my hair, and I realized something."

He stopped, and it took me a second to figure out he was waiting for me to set up his big, dramatic confession, and a perverse part of me wanted to play dumb and mess with him, but an even bigger part of me was breathless in anticipation and hope of hearing a couple important words, so I barely hesitated. "What? What did you realize?" I really do think I might be developing asthma for real because I can never seem to catch my breath these days, and it's making my voice sound all fluttery and weak. But I'll deal with that some other time.

"I realized that you can walk out any door you want, walk away from me and every other one of us, and it doesn't matter. I'll give you time to cool off if you need it, I might even give you space, but I'm always going to follow you wherever you go. This thing between us, it's not some little kid game, and it isn't practice for something bigger and better later. This is it. We're gonna fight, you're gonna get mad at me, and I'm gonna get mad at you, and it doesn't matter. There isn't a door you can slam behind you that I won't be walking through eventually. And it's the same for me. So I'm not mad anymore, because you might have thought you were leaving, but I'd have caught up soon enough and brought you home."