i'm here with you

Years of hiding her feelings from her great-grandmother so the old bitch couldn’t take advantage of them should’ve made her an expert at this. Pretending that she hadn’t wanted to wrap her arms around his neck when he’d shown up tonight, smiling and hugging her. That she hadn’t wanted to kiss him as he’d made that joke about her brushing up well. The memory of that first and only kiss had been hard enough to push away as they’d sat down to eat. Friends having a night out. In the end, like a stiff muscle, it had become easier. With Mikey it always did, any awkwardness between them melting away into quiet conversation – maybe with the help of the bottles of wine they’d worked their way through.

If it had ended up a physical fight over whose card got passed to the waitress after the plates and those bottles had finally been cleared away, Mikey might just have taken her. With his constitution, he probably could’ve put away another couple of bottles. Magic could’ve left her turning the half empty water glasses into a little more wine, but without a spell, the alcohol stayed in her system, a warm buzz, flushed cheeks brightening as they finally decided to split it. Heady, dangerous, Hell, the perfect accompaniment for the meal. This was what it felt like for normal people, huh?

Slipping her coat back on over the dress – she’d changed twice before finally rushing out of the apartment to stop there being a third time – Mab slipped through the door Mikey held open for her. She’d always crept around the house, waiting to slip some way and incur Chiara’s wrath. Now it felt as though she were doing the same. No matter how hard she’d thought about the future since they’d made their big decision, she hadn’t been able to see a smooth path on the other side of finally finding the vampire. It was a minefield, whatever choice she made, whatever she stumble she took was bound to hurt someone. She’d take those wounds herself, no matter how deadly, just to make sure Mikey didn’t end up hurt.

People were still strolling through the square, in little knots, in couples, those going solo moving faster, like they weren’t about to take their time and enjoy the Spring night when they were on their own. She’d have been happy enough to do the same if it was just air Mikey wanted, to waft away the buzz of the alcohol they’d down, but as he suggested Campbell’s, Mab grinned and nodded. ”Sure, I think I’ve got a couple of drinks left in me,” she murmured before he had her laughing. ”Too old for that crowd or too worried about being dragged out on the dance floor?” She couldn’t picture Mikey there either way. Quiet corners, no crowds, no chance of trouble breaking out, that was Mikey. He’d had all of those at Campbell’s before, until she’d slipped into his booth to wreck his night.

It felt like a decade had passed since then. Tiny steps carrying them forward, and back, in their relationship – their friendship. Hopefully now he wouldn’t be considering crawling out under the table to get away from her. Amusement at the thought had Mab grinning as she walked alongside him. They might’ve made it, if the weather had held off for five more minutes. A booth close to the fire, the warmth of the crackling logs stealing away the chill that hit the minute the sky opened up. Time was never on their side though.

The raindrops hit like quarters, bouncing off of the sidewalks and bare skin. Mab yelped, laughing as he grabbed her hand and led the way through them. The heels the dress had demanded weren’t exactly made for running, but they made it into a store doorway, pressing back under the scant cover. Her jacket wasn’t close to storm proof, the thin fabric already wet, her skin rippling with goose flesh beneath until Mikey stripped off his own and threw it around her shoulders. Instantly she was surrounded with his warmth, the scent of him. His fingers adjusted the fabric as she tipped her head back to smile up at him. ”Thanks, you’re always a gentleman.”

Chivalry wasn’t the only thing that had attracted her, although it was one of the reasons. Even when he’d hated her guts, Mikey had watched out for her, made sure she was safe. When she could’ve done the same, she hadn’t been there. His grin softened his joke about the Ghost Riders, but Mab still felt that chill rocketing down her spine again. ”If they do, I’ll protect you,” she offered, one corner of her mouth rising, although she doubted any of the spells she knew would keep them at bay.

As though she was trying to steal more of his warmth, Mab eased closer. Her fingers clutching the front of his jacket, pulling it closer around her. Her gaze rose to his face, freezing as he brushed his thumb under her eye. The rain had probably left her hair in rats tails, it had definitely done a job on the make up she’d applied. ”Mascara,” she said softly, like Mikey wouldn’t have had a clue. Selfishly, she wished it’d run halfway down her face if it meant he’d kept his hand there on her cheek for even a moment longer. She dipped her head slightly as he drew away, a wry grin on her lips. ”Maybe against a little shower, but this is something else. I should’ve checked the weather reports. Aren’t you cold? You’re definitely wet.”

The chill shattered as she reached up to brush dark, wet hair back from his face. It gleamed like silk when it was wet, the water dropping from it as her fingers touched it. Mab eased in again, another half step into dangerous territory. She tugged at his coat like she could wrap it around both of them. ”Sounds like it could go on all night,” she murmured, looking up at him like she could see the brooding clouds above and actually knew something about the weather. Maybe a run to Campbell’s would’ve been possible, but it wouldn’t have just been wet hair and smeared mascara by the time they got there. They’d both have been soaked to the skin.

Tagged: MIKEY BUCKLEY * Word Count: 1059

Bravado had been strapped on like a shield whenever she’d stepped out of that crumbling tomb of a house, Throw your shoulders back, smile, act as though you were bulletproof. It had been Chiara’s way since she’d first taken charge of the family business. You didn’t allow an ounce of fear to show on the surface, especially around things that could smell that weakness on you. Arriving in Mystic Falls she’d done just that. Painting Mab Carmello as a bitch who wasn’t to be messed with, instead of this fragile thing she was beneath that surface. Like a shell being peeled away from an egg, Mikey had worked his way beneath it all. Deft fingers holding her hand tight as he’d dragged her out of Whitmore, hovering light, the rough pads of their tips sending electricity racing up her spine as they disappeared into the gardens at the Founders ball.

There wasn’t a full orchestra playing tonight, but she didn’t need one to imagine Mikey feeling entirely out of his depth on the dancefloor of the Ruby Slipper club. The place was a cesspit, full of youngsters still naïve to realise that getting drunk and grinding on some stranger in the dark wasn’t worth it. She’d been in a few times, in search of St. John and things old enough to protect him, but each time she’d felt as out of her depth as Mikey would’ve been. ”You just stick to gardens instead?” Mab asked, the corners of her mouth rising high on a grin. ”I seem to remember you being pretty graceful.” When the dark had wrapped around the two of them, hiding them from the rich assholes celebrating themselves at the Ball and her date. His name had faded into the ether, the wandering touch of his too soft hands erased by Mikey’s touch.

Across from each other in that booth in Campbell’s – a friendly amount of space of space between the two of them – they’d have drunk a couple more glasses of wine maybe. A night cap that wasn’t gonna lead to Mikey slipping into her bed again. The stroll home after might’ve been chilly, but she’d have handled cold fingers for it. This was so much worse though. Mystic Falls seemed to have its own personality, throwing twists into the lives here without a second thought. Darkening the sidewalks with rain, chasing people inside or under doorways. Tucked into one with Mikey hadn’t left them much room for friendly distance, but she wasn’t gonna complain about that either.

”Always,” Mab drawled, her voice taking on that husky edge. ”Even when I haven’t deserved it.” All of this would’ve ended up so different if he’d left her at Whitmore, writhing on the floor, a gift for the Augustines. Maybe she’d have been in a cell of her own now, staring at St. John, wondering how long it would take to break out and put an end to the vampire. Mikey had been pissed at her, but he hadn’t left her there. At that point he might’ve believed she’d have left him, but times had changed. She’d gone into the train station to get him out and, God, at the mention of those things now she wanted to pull him tight to her again, shielding him against what had almost stolen him away for good. ”The two of us together … they’d have no hope.” The words left her throat tight though. Magic might do something against them, but there’d be a good chance she’d have to use it to try and break the two of them out of the station again instead of coming up victorious in the wet street.

The night of the ball she’d gone all out: a cocktail dress, her hair left loose to curl down her back, make up slicked up to highlight her features and leave her date stupefied enough that he wouldn’t figure out what she was really up to there. Tonight had been an echo of it, the dress and make up maybe a little much for a night out with a friend, but it had felt right. Now she was probably wearing half of it in coloured streaks down her face. Mikey’s only experience of that sort of thing for quite a while had likely been prisoners’ wives and girlfriends on visiting day. The grin that had been on her face started to melt away like the mascara, despite the smile Mikey was still aiming at her. ”I’d say that means you deserve more than that now,” Mab murmured. ”My couch must’ve felt like torture.” Like he was back there. It was no wonder he’d been crabbing about it.

It wasn’t a chill she felt from him as she shifted in. She drank in the warmth, trying to build a little pool of it between them. In sleep she wouldn’t have held back at all, finding that spot in the crook of his shoulder, arms slipping around his waist. One hand hovered close to his hip, still gripping at his coat, the other brushed through the scatter of diamond-like waterdrops in his hair. ”Just a few, huh?” she teased lightly. There was only one she’d want to be here with. If it had been anybody else the itch to move, to get out of that confining little nook would’ve driven her out into the rain. Anything could’ve been dried with a few words of a spell once she got home.

”Sure.” She steered her gaze from the dark sliver of bruise black sky, meeting eyes that were almost as dark in that light. ”We could have a nightcap there while we do. It’ll probably be beer rather than a decent pinot grigio, but maybe we can make a stop at the liquor store. Find something to warm up from the inside out.” As though she had any trouble with that now. Heat drifted under her skin as she settled her hand at the back of Mikey’s neck, rising into her cheeks when she drew Mikey in to her. They’d been even closer when she’d found him at the Diner to demand answers for why he’d left. After they’d put those road blocks in place she’d ended up in his arms, holding onto the one person she cared about here. The one person she wanted to hang on to, no matter what sort of hold let her do that. ”If it starts again later, the other side of the bed’s always open,” Mab suggested. They’d done that as friends, hadn’t they? The wall had been stacked between them again, but she wasn’t about to send him back out into that to get soaked again on the way home. She’d overstepped once, but she was sure she could hold back now, even when he was this close. Definitely. Maybe.

Tagged: MIKEY BUCKLEY * Word Count: 1138

The memory of the Ball had been one of the first to creep back. Escaping the asshole she’d talked into having her as his plus-one, lingering outside when going home would’ve been so much easier, a dance out there in the dark with someone whose face she couldn’t quite see. Others had flooded in then. Mikey at her door, waking up to him after that first night he’d spent in her bed, those rare smiles that would crack a granite face. It had been like a dam blowing, a tidal wave of memories hitting her all at once, washing away so much of what had been holding her back. All those nights she’d subconsciously turned towards a man some would’ve crossed the street to avoid. They hadn’t seen what she had beneath that grizzled surface. A good man, a gentleman who might not’ve fitted into some mansion, but who’d saved her life, who’d literally given her the coat off of his back now.

He would have been well within his rights to leave her at Whitmore that night. Mab hated that she’d even tried to use him then. One good man had died for her, another had dragged her out of there before he’d let her know just what he’d thought of her. She’d only suspected about his past then, accepting his anger for what it was instead of seeing the tinge of fear to it. In a way he’d ended up in another jail, but it wouldn’t be third time lucky. Anything she could do to prevent Mikey going back behind bars she would. ”Lucky for me you couldn’t,” Mab murmured. Her throat ached faintly at the thought of what would have happened if she had. Her great-grandmother probably would’ve left her there as a punishment, coming to spring St. John to enact her own punishment while her own blood was tortured. How was it that a man who’d barely known her had cared more than Chiara ever could have?

Rescue. Forgiveness. Friendship. Affection. Mikey had given her so much more than she knew she deserved – it didn’t matter that he assured her she didn’t, that little kernel of guilt was still lodged in the back of her mind. The least she could’ve offered up in return was her bed. One corner of Mab’s mouth twitched higher, the backs of her fingers brushing lightly against his chest where she huddled close. ”It’s a torture device,” she corrected him. ”I’ll take the bed any day over it.” That had been especially true when Mikey had gone back home. The couch had been empty, not filled with the same memories her bed had taken on, like the shape of him left impressed on the mattress and pillows.

They could’ve been there now, out of the rain, but that would’ve meant cutting the night short. Once they’d reached the restaurant it was the last thing she wanted to do. Time had spun out, conversation between them easy as they’d eaten. If it hadn’t been for the rain starting to hammer down it would’ve been the same now in Campbell’s. With anybody else she might’ve slipped away, desperate to escape and get back to the haven of her apartment. She’d run towards Mikey, not away, from the minute she’d seen him sprawled under a tree in the woods. Mab’s fingers trailed down to the nape of his neck, feeling rain drip from his hair onto them. She smirked, nodding slowly at him. ”There’s probably a thousand names on it.” The list of those she wanted to be here with held just a single name in contrast.

Campbell’s had been a way of extending their night, but it wasn’t the only way of doing that. The suggestion that they head back to her place instead had even more appeal. A warm apartment, nobody watching the two of them. Maybe it was a little antisocial, but it wasn’t like she had any other friends in town, or even cared what anybody else thought. ”I like your thinking,” Mab drawled lightly. Just the thought of it had the imagined taste of cinnamon filling her mouth, the fiery tang of it lingering on her lips, on Mikey’s. Dangerous thinking, like the rain was washing away all self-control. This wasn’t how they’d agreed to do things. Friends didn’t think about licking the taste of liquor from each other’s mouths.

Mab tried to concentrate on the cooler bite of the rain against the back of the hand that was on Mikey’s neck. A cool splash to take the edge off the heat and return sense to her. She let out a ragged breath of relief (was it really?) when Mikey stepped back and took her hand. A run through the rain would take the edge off and let her keep her promise that they’d stay just friends. She made a high sound in her throat, one that might turn into a squeal if the rain was as bad as it looked, squeezing at his hand. It was just rain for Christ’s sake, the right words would dry them off the minute they were in her apartment. He wasn’t moving though. ”Chicken?” The word was all she got out, the smile that’d shot onto her face falling away as she stared at Mikey. Forget chicken. He was the absolute opposite.

She was reaching for him the second he stepped back in, making good on the promise she’d felt when he’d looked down at her mouth. Their friendship had underscored almost everything before, no admission from either of them had shattered it. This wouldn’t either. Clutching at the front of his shirt as he stepped in, Mab rose on her toes, dipping into the kiss without any hesitation. There was still a chance Mikey would pull back but this time he’d have to peel her away to do it. She was breathing heavy by the time he drew back, that heat rushing through her again, this time as a blush. ”You cleaned up pretty well yourself,” she managed hoarsely. ”I’d have broken in the end though. I was right, I don’t think I could stay just friends. I’ve wanted this all night. I want you Mikey.” Only him. The realisation wasn’t a hammer blow this time, but another rush of certainty.

Releasing her grip on his shirt, she slipped her arms around his neck, holding him close as he pressed her back against the wall. In just her dress and jacket it would’ve had her shivering, the brick cold at her back, but caught between Mikey’s jacket and the intoxicating heat of her body, the only thing she was feeling was need. The last kiss had been brief, just enough of a taste to torment her when Mikey had bolted, this was so much more, his body pressed against hers as she pulled him in, her mouth opening to him, quenching a thirst that would’ve driven her insane as months of keeping that line between them had stretched out. That line didn’t exist anymore, there was no going back this time.

Tagged: MIKEY BUCKLEY * Word Count: 1180

If she’d been the bitch she appeared to be on the surface, she could’ve given him the floor. Her great-grandmother had never coddled the people in her life. Those who worked for the family were tools and nothing more, it was why she’d been able to break Joseph’s neck without a second thought, despite all his years of service. Pawns tossed off of the board once they’d performed their part, the queen free to sweep across the board. Mab supposed that she had inherited that cruel streak, but with his tenderness and good heart, Joseph had shown her another way, just as Mikey did now.

Perched in her bed, she would’ve felt everyone one of his twinges and aches as though they were her own. He wouldn’t have deserved that, even if she hadn’t already owed him for dragging her out of the school. She wouldn’t become her great-grandmother. Bitter, clinging on to a life that should’ve ended decades before out of spite. She wouldn’t revel in watching those around her suffer. Decent people tried to protect others from suffering and for Mikey she would have done that.

Mab tried now, huddling close with the gifted warmth of Mikey’s jacket wrapped around her back, him the hot shield against the rain that she could feel from chest to toe. That broad, muscled back that her hands had settled on in sleep taking the hit while he protected her. Offering him a towel and a dry t-shirt at her place would have been friendly, but smoothing her hand over those chilled muscles wouldn’t have been. There was a balancing act when it came to that stuff that Mab knew she’d be bad at. She’d already been dangling precariously from that high wire when she’d kissed him in her apartment. Agreeing to be friends should have set her back on it, but now Mab was desperate to charge ahead again. They might both end up falling, but the alternative was a form of torture she wouldn’t survive for too long. If anything, it would have destroyed the friendship in the end, the strain becoming too much.

She should have figured it all out before, made her intentions clear before she’d plunged in and changed everything. Mab wouldn’t have said the word aloud about herself, but she was the chicken here. For years she’d used Joseph as the finish line for what was going on with her great-grandmother, saying she was doing it all for him. The truth was that she knew she would slowly lose herself if she carried on alone. In fifty years she’d be the one walking the halls of that house. A ghost of who she had been, lashing out with her broken heart. Wherever he’d ended up, Joseph was better off there than with her, but coming to that decision had been terrifying.

The man in front of her was the one who’d given her the courage to do it. When the time came to hand St. John over and walk away, Mikey would be the one giving her the guts to do it. Her conscience, her heart, her courage. How quickly he’d become them all. He had the balls to turn back instead of bolting out into the rain, taking that leap into the unknown. She hadn’t seen it coming, but Mab leapt to meet him. Arms around his neck, body straining against his as she dove into the kiss, a fall from that tightrope with no net beneath them.

Breathless, Mab stared up at him with eyes filled with hazy pleasure, pupils expanding to squeeze out the green irises. Her lips pressing together as she shook her head, trying to brush off his fears. Then they curled into a small smile. ”I’m just as bad. I haven’t shown anyone how I’m really feeling in years. I’ve got a history as dark as yours, one that I can’t shrug off yet.” And there was the spectre of her great-grandmother hovering over her, threatening to descend just when she found happiness again.

Her hand slid from the back of her neck to cup his jaw, her thumb pressing just beneath his lower lip. The last thing she wanted to do was draw Mikey into that world, he was too good a man for that, but she was going to be greedy. She wanted to be with him, to try her best for him the same way he was promising to for her. ”We’ll try our best for each other. No matter what you have to go through, you’re gonna have me on your side.” Mikey had already shown her that he’d do the same for her. ”I might screw up sometimes, but I want to do better for you. No matter how this works out, you’re always going to be the better part of me.”

”Let’s go back to my place. It’s just a little rain, right?” The cold rain might take the edge off by the time they got there, or it might sizzle like steam off of skin that Mikey had managed to heat by kissing her. Mab took Mikey’s hand to guide him out into the rain, his coat still thrown over her shoulders. She wanted to continue this, somewhere without prying eyes, somewhere she could whisper those words into his skin.

Tagged: MIKEY BUCKLEY * Word Count: 887