you really got me

Fingers rubbing the condensation from the mirror with a quick squeak. Blurs giving way to that boxer’s face. No bloom of colour under the skin now, the swelling that had kept one eye half closed for a week down, only the faint red marks standing out against winter pale skin indicating that there’d been anything there at all. Still ugly as sin but that worked if you found yourself that one woman who found an appeal in it. Chase clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth, huffing out amusement as he reached for the razor. Bless her for it, and for waiting for him.

Chase’s eyes hardened as he looked back up, slices of onyx reflected back to him as he slicked shaving foam over his jaw. The razor scraped over muscles gone hard as iron the minute Nemo popped into mind. Gone by the looks of things. No rangy form squirming as the station doors burst open to let their latest guest in, cuffs tight around skinny wrists, hatred and madness still boiling up in eyes just as dark. Maybe he’d already scurried back to New Orleans before he’d come to in that hospital bed, thinking he was done with whatever insane vengeance he was looking to get. Maybe he was just under a rock here licking his wounds. Either way he’d pushed tonight back until he was sure this was safe. Who wanted to spend their whole night with an incredible woman who’d still seen appeal in that battered face looking over their shoulder?

A sluice of cold water, meeting his own gaze in the mirror a moment more. He still was on the job but the itch between his shoulder blades had lost intensity as peace had slid back over the town. Maybe they weren’t safe but for now they were safer and that gave an opportunity.

Padding out of the bathroom, towel hitched around his hips, Chase called out. Not just himself to watch out for but his big brother too. ”Hey man. You get hungry there’s some pizza in toss in the oven, or those places on the fridge on speed dial. Just tell ‘em to put it on my account, ‘k?” He didn’t hover, wringing his hands to make sure Mikey was fed and watered but he stocked the fridge more often now he had someone to watch out for – someone who hadn’t gotten himself a job yet. Wouldn’t be long before the parole officer started lingering around. ’What are you doing to turn your life around, Mikey?” Learning from his brother turning his around still?

Chase Buckley the saint, finally settling down in the way he never had been able to in New Orleans with the world continually splintering under the blows the Agnellis rained down.

Those dark eyes darted to the bed as he dressed, the image of Roxxi sprawled out there, limbs golden against the dusky blue of the bedding had been wrapped around his brain since she’d stayed over that night. Still cautiously curled together, avoiding jolting those healing wounds. Those same supple legs crossed in those pencil skirts when he knocked on her office door or dragged her out into the cool air on campus to risk eating outside. Guys at the station nosing their way when Roxxi turned up there, those hints always dropped in the locker room – men never grew out of that shit.

Fingers defter without the unyielding brace he’d worn for weeks after the ass kicking buttoned up his shirt, smoothed back his hair before he grabbed his jacket. The same colour shirt he’d worn for New Year’s, Roxxi’s fingers curling into the front of it as the clock had struck and the world around them exploded with whistles and party poppers. Had to be a sign right?

Keys and wallet snatched from the table – ”don’t wait up too late, huh?” thrown back over his shoulder like Mikey’d be there like their ma. Waiting in a chair by the door, hands wringing til he’d gotten home. Like she was gonna get that flash of lights through the front window again and lose another son to the city and them.

Nerves still twitching in his stomach, tightening his fingers on the wheel as he cruised the streets to her place. Leaning out the side window of the car once he’d called to let her know he was there, watching the light shift on that dress and in that smile that beamed back at him as she came downstairs. Chase poured that smile into the kiss Roxxi laid on him as she got into the car. ”You look incredible.” The words hoarse before he’d chuckled and they tumbled back into that easy talk between the two of them as he drove away from the centre of town. No Grill, no Campbell’s, no coworkers lingering at bars just to toss this back in the locker room tomorrow.

An unassuming backstreet, little mom and pop stores, the restaurant that sprawled back in white clothed tables and crystal lights. Real flowers on the table and thank God a maître d’ who didn’t rear back like he was expecting trouble from the bruiser in the suit. Chase drew her seat out for her, waited til Roxxi was settled before he scooted his own in. ”Real nice,” he crooned low. Teeth raking over his lip as those dark eyes trailed over the bare arms that gave a hint of where those tattoos started to trail, all over. Fingers had trailed them in sleep, settled warm over the leaves but never much further.

He should’ve been looking at the menu but Chase’s eyes flicked up as he glanced over it. Brows furrowing as he cleared his throat. She’d mentioned the landlord before, subjects dancing in and out of those lunch time conversations. ”Stop reporting it to the … to him …” he adjusted, glancing around like he had to watch his mouth here. ”And don’t go bruising those knuckles.” Just as soft but accompanying that grin now as he tilted his head. ”My next day off I’ll come look at it. My old man’s a contractor, we learned.” Although Mikey had been slammed away then, any lessons their pop had tried teaching them about taking care of a house wiped away with bed checks and slopping out mystery meat onto plastic trays in the cafeteria.

Chase squirmed faintly in the seat at the waiter’s approach, squelching his smile into a thin curve of lips as Roxxi took over with that confidence that cut straight through everything else – how in the hell was her landlord ignoring that? His eyes flicked from the menu he’d set down in front of him to the waiter and then Roxxi. ”How ‘bout we go for a bottle then?” he asked. You could send it back if it was bad, he’d seen that in enough movies. He waited for the waiter to pull that nodding dog routine and slip away with the drinks menu before he let that grin out sheepishly. ”You know anythin’ much ‘bout the Italian stuff on the menu?” he asked. ”Anythin’ beyond spaghetti’s a little lost on me.” There’d been plenty of places in the quarter, but those’d always been spots you went for jambalaya or shrimp creole. Home cooking that New Orleans did best. This … this place was classy.

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In the months after Mikey had been sentenced his dad had tried. Dragging him along on jobs after school, putting him to work at home, like leaving him to sit and brood was just gonna leave him so damn angry he’d go after Emiliano and the rest of the Agnellis himself. Maybe he’d been right but at the time Chase had hated it. Stuck at the old man’s side, catching those worried looks he shot him, a wrench or hammer being shoved in his hands every time he so much as tried to bring Mikey up. He guessed it was a way to keep him off the streets and out of the trouble Mikey had plunged neck deep in and his way of ensuring one kid grew up as a decent human being. The whole thing had been bullshit but maybe some of it had stuck.

Steady, conscientious, never afraid to pitch in. The school reports and his assessments in the department all painted the same picture. A decent guy untouched by the shit his family had been mired in. Rising above it all like it was something you could just kick off your boots. Maybe he had, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t trying to drag Mikey out of it now too. This woulda been a lesson for him after all those years of jailhouse etiquette.

Shirt and a tie on. Pulling the chair out for the woman who hadn’t seen a single smear of that grim past clinging to him – cause he’d made sure he’d hidden it when it had come calling with a scarred face and hands that were way too fast. Offering to fix her shitty plumbing, even if you end up with your face heating when she thanked you for it.

Chase slanted her a grin, his fingers squeezing hers as she brushed over his hands like they didn’t show the scars of that life he was meant to have escaped in each little scar. He shrugged, tilting his head. ”Yeah, you know, seems the least I can do.” You might pack it away for a while but it was all gonna be waiting there when you needed it, or even when you didn’t want it, bubbling up in dreams to claw him out of his sleep. His tongue traced his lower lip, heat coming in to his eyes as he was about to say something about a tool belt and jeans bound to droop but the waiter was there and suddenly it was back to letting that heat just simmer in the air between them.

It seemed to slip from the air like osmosis to rise in his cheeks. He was as out of place here as he woulda been on a construction site with the old man if he hadn’t pushed his way through the academy. Chase felt the awkwardness in the skitter of his eyes, the squirm in that wooden chair. His throat worked as he looked down at the menu. Half the stuff on it he couldn’t identify a single thing in – Italian, some French maybe, but not the sorta French New Orleans was still pushing. ”A Mediterranean …” Damn. He’d frowned down at the listings as Roxxi had shrugged off what was there but in an instant she had him fixing on that single word.

The heat rose higher than his cheeks, settling in his eyes for a moment before it sank back down. Chase let out a long breath, squirmed again as he let the menu settle back down on the table. The laugh that rolled out was rueful. ”It best be,” he agreed. ”Y’know I was tryin’ to make an impression. I guess the menu’s doin’ that for me huh?” A grimace, another notch up on the heat as he looked down at it. Maybe the Grill would’ve been a better idea or … just not trying so hard in the first place but this was the first, the real first time they’d gone out and it’d felt like what you did. He should’ve known the Italian shit would be cursed though.

Teeth latched onto his lower lip, brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Sounded like whatever he ordered wasn’t gonna be a patch on what you’d get in Rome, or wherever the Braschis were from. He hadn’t asked, hadn’t wanted to dig when they were just … The words that slipped out of Roxxi’s mouth had him huffing out a laugh that instantly had those bands of worry that’d tightened around his chest loosening again. ”I could kiss you for that,” he admitted. His own menu hit the table, his grin broadening so far he didn’t care that his cheeks were still pink above the faint shadow of stubble.

Chase went to shake his head at the idea of dropping a paycheque on dinner. Maybe with the wine it wouldn’t have been that far off of it but still … worth it. The waiter was probably back there, picking through some dusty wine cellar to find the bottle of whatever Roxxi had asked for and he’d ordered asked for the whole shebang on. ”Jesus,” he choked. ‘Cheap’ and brash enough to have what manners woulda kept his ass in the chair out of fear of making a fool of himself in a place like this shattering. ”Dinner and a little ‘reciprocal’ pipe cleaning? I’m not gonna turn that down. Come on.” He whispered the last, spotting the waiter trailing back with a white cloth and the bottle. Slipping out of the seat, he tugged Roxxi up with one hand and ferreted in his pocket to snag a couple of bills with the other. It probably wasn’t what you were supposed to do when you were scurrying out on dinner but it felt like he had to pay for the guy’s time at least.

He began to weave his way back through the tables, drawing Roxxi along with him. Apologies got dropped as he squeezed around an old couple at the door. Outside the air was cool. It had him wrapping an arm around her to draw Roxxi in with a low chuckle. ”I was worried I was gonna have to try and pronounce that stuff to order it. A cheese burger and curly fries is a little easier. If you weren’t kidding about the greasy burger maybe we could grab some on the way back to … your place?” The memory of the door to Mikey’s bedroom being cracked open on his way out put the hitch in his offer. Taking a woman home to ‘meet the family’ was a lot more serious now than when it’d been Mia Greggs in the 10th grade.

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Chase almost darted a look around to see if the waiter had slipped back – that guy had to be floating six inches above the floor for all the noise he’d made before. Heat had stained his cheeks pink but it was a step up on the bruising that had spent weeks doing a slow slide from raw meat red to black to that putrid yellow-green. Sporting that, the evidence of the beating he’d taken at Nemo’s hands, he’d have been more out of place here than he already felt. Forget Roxxi’s mouth or his obvious discomfort in the suit and with the menu he needed Google translate to decipher, he’d have immediately stood out as a thug. In New Orleans that might not’ve been an issue – the place was filled with wise guys who had probably been in bed with Emiliano for decades – but this wasn’t New Orleans. Brawlers stood out here, screaming that they didn’t belong with their knots of scar tissue and black eyes. Mystic Falls was a gentile place, for southern belles and families who’d put roots down here centuries ago.

These days etiquette probably didn’t scream so loud about public displays of affection but Chase was still discrete as he called her bluff. No slipping his fingers into Roxxi’s neckline to pull her in. A scant rise out of his seat, one hand had planted on the surface of the table, the other had found her cheek as he’d done it, feather light compared to even that first night. A promise of what was to come when they did tumble out into the night, leaving him feeling a little like somehow he’d broken an unwritten rule.

A last apology trailed over his shoulder at the waiter, the wince that should’ve been coming not emerging. There was a breathless giddiness instead, a relief that came with not having to pick his way through something that looked like it’d come fresh out of a field five minutes before, or worse outta the sea. Pulling Roxxi in outside Chase breathed that relief out against her temple as he touched his lips to the side of her head. She might never appreciate the merits of Marvel over DC but there was something down to earth, real, about her that let him know he wasn’t gonna have to put on the sort of airs and graces that would’ve choked him eventually.

That accent had his grin growing, lips still curved as he brought his other hand up to her chin to draw her in for a nipping kiss. The woman was a keeper. ”That I can translate,” he promised with a wiggle of his brows. Chase brushed his fingers over the side of her neck as Roxxi wrapped an arm around him. ”Getting your priorities in a different order tonight huh? Sure. Least if we get caught we’ll have a get out of jail free card.” And a rap going in his file, the choir boy finally blackening his name here. Back home people had talked, whispers always there about whether or not he’d slide under Emiliano’s thumb for Mikey’s sake. Here they were out from under that dark cloud, sun breaking from behind the boiling pewter mess of it to bathe him in warmth as Roxxi’s finger found his waistband to haul him in. ”Maybe we shoulda stayed, there mighta been somethin’ there to nibble on,” he drawled, that teasing edge to it. Roxxi wasn’t satiating his hunger for now, she was stoking it with that kiss.

They ended up in the front seat of the car, his thumb finding his lower lip as he checked the rear view for lipstick transfer. Chase’s brows hitched, a low, rough chuckle slipping out before he shook his head. He clucked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at her. ”Mighta been worth paying,” he said lightly, almost in disappointment. Cutting off temptation he checked the road and pulled out. The sorta hunger that’d be filled with salty fries and burgers that were likely to be a bigger risk to the shirt than the fancy stuff woulda been.

What did it say about him that he practically found the place blind? Forget the fancy crap – he wouldn’t have had a clue about how to boil a lobster or filet a snapper – he was a decent day to day cook, none of that typical cop crap of hungry man microwave dinners or eating out every meal, expecting the restaurants to cover the cheque for him. A grown man taking care of himself could hopefully teach his brother a thing or two. In a lot of ways.

Taking the hand offered to him when they arrived, Chase tugged Roxxi in again, strolling in to the place like they weren’t dressed for one a dozen rungs up the class ladder. This menu he didn’t have to study. He studied her instead, a challenge shining in that battered face as he grinned smugly at her. ”Probably a half dozen, pile of fries on the side. You turning this into a challenge Professor?” One dark brow rose as he drew her over to the counter. ”Hey,” Chase to the kid behind the register who looked like a strong wind would blow him down. ”Can we get a large chocolate shake, six of those cheeseburgers, extra pickles, two large fries … and whatever the lady wants …” Chivalrous in the face of something that was probably half a dozen steps away from what they would’ve had on the nutritional ladder.

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