Disclaimer: Marvel’s Marvel’s. No money
involved.
Rating: R for slashy overtones and a few
naughty words.
Notes: Thanks to people at #KJCorner for encouragement, especially Crantz for just being Crantz and Sash for giving me evil ideas. And extrathanks to Thren for the beta. Feedback would be loved and worshipped at cosmic1982@hotmail.com
What Dreams May Come
by Cosmic
I still dreamed of her. Brown curls and
hazel eyes. Her touch on my skin,
her sparkling laughter, her soft lips pressed against mine. Her smile and the
tears glistening in her bright eyes.
I missed her, but I no longer yearned. I
knew where I stood, no longer looking back in anger. No anger, nor rage, just
regret. It hurt. It hurt to breathe without her, but I no longer needed her. I
had found another way to save my soul. She was no longer my salvation, my
sanctuary. The woman I loved, yes, but I no longer yearned for.
I had a cause now, a reason beyond her to
get up in the morning. I had a dream, though it wasn’t quite the same as hers.
I had him now.
Him, the man curled up to my side, snuggled
under three blankets. God, he was gorgeous. With that hair, that face, that
body. He could charm anyone he wanted, but he chose me. Or I chose him. We chose
each other in our desperate need to find somebody to take away the cold. His
cold was solid, a phantom pain of something that happened to him. I never asked
what, I just gave him the extra blankets he asked for, to stop his shivering, to
chase away the cold.
Mine, that was something that had happened
to me, as well; her breaking my heart. Her and many other reasons that made my
blood run cold again. I had become the fucking bastard I was before I had met
her, after she had left. He made me change, this time. And I thought the change
he caused would stay, whether or not he left me; whether or not I left him.
It wasn’t love that we felt. Not yet, at
least, but maybe...sooner, later. If we stayed together.
With us, it was passion, need and comfort.
And to chase the cold that threatened to swallow us whole and bury us in its
great hollowness. We just needed somebody to hold on to in the dead of night. In
the world we lived in, comfort was enough. Enough to chase some of the demons
away at least for a while. At least for now.
I sighed. I needed a smoke. And something to
drink, something with enough venom to make me forget all about my dreams of her.
Those fucking dreams I didn’t bloody well need right now. This was enough, his
warm body pressed into mine. It was enough.
**
I looked at him, finally asleep. Long
lashes, black hair framing his head like a halo. A dark angel. My angel. When he
would open his eyes of steel and ice, there’d be despair again. There always
was. Haunting pain that never stopped. That was one of the reasons I was with,
*could* be with him. I had the same despair as he did. His eyes were like a
mirror to mine.
I threw my arm over his body, protectively.
This was the only time I could be protective of him, to keep him safe from the
evils of the world. I needed that. When he slept I guarded over him and his
dreams, holding him if he cried.
He did the same for me, when he thought I
wasn’t looking, when he thought I wasn’t awake. He tucked me in tighter with
those extra blankets, mumbling soothing things if I tossed and turned. He was my
guardian angel from the early hours of the morning till the wee hours when we
both should have been sleeping.
I loved him in the hours before dawn broke.
When the sun came up it always meant the end of my love, with the golden rays
lighting up our lives, as we untangled and woke up, to face the day. And face
each other.
**
I hated mornings. The desolate gloom of a
new day or worse: sunlight, cascading in waves, making my hangover too much to
bear. Groaning at the cheery rays of sun, I dug deeper to his chest. I didn’t
have to wake up yet. I didn’t have to, I didn’t want to. Waking up meant
facing the world, facing my sorry excuse of a life and more than anything,
facing him.
He still slept, oblivious to my peril.
Glancing at the alarm, I grumbled. Not even bloody nine o’clock. What could I
do? Get up and make breakfast or ignore the grumbling in my stomach or nestle
closer to him, enjoying his warmth and forget all about everything. For but a
few minutes - hours, days, it made no difference - more.
I could stay here till the end of time. I
could, but I wouldn’t. Life would go on whether I – we – wanted it or not.
Things would change, people would change. He’d eventually run off with some
bimbo from S.H.I.E.L.D. like they all did. But for now, I would stay. It had
nothing to do with the funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that
simply wasn’t there.
I closed my eyes, hoping not to dream.
**
He wanted me to leave. He never said the
words, but he did. That I figured out from the cold looks he gave me when he
thought I didn’t notice. He wanted me gone.
I was another hindrance in his life now. It
was almost back on track. The kids from X-Force had called, he hadn’t said
why, but he smiled a lot more now. He had found a new purpose for living, a new
dream to chase.
I was a thing, an obligation, holding him
back, so I would go. I loved him, but for him I would go. If you love someone
you have to let them go no matter how much it hurt. And he... I loved him, but
he wasn’t mine to keep. He never was mine to begin with.
He didn’t have his heart invested in this,
not yet at least. He wanted me, he needed me, but he didn’t, couldn’t,
wouldn’t, love me. Not now, not ever. Some of the wounds in his heart were too
severe to ever heal completely. I didn’t think he was capable of loving anyone
else again.
Coming from me, that’s a laugh. A riot. I
had loved many people in my life but just four came to mind now. Genevieve,
Belladonna and Rogue. All beautiful and all got hurt because of me.
And the fourth, now, who could that be? The
beautiful stranger that never opened his heart to me. That beautiful stranger
who was as much a stranger to me as I was to him. And as he was to himself. He
was a good man, but he couldn’t feel.
I held back a strained sob. I was losing my
mind. I wasn’t supposed to feel. Not after Rogue, not after everything.
I sighed, easing myself out of his embrace,
cringing at the cold without him. I hated the cold, but that was my destiny. The
cold, the loneliness.
Looking at him, I pressed my lips to his.
“Sleep well, Pete. Dream of happy things,” I whispered to his ear, hearing
his mumbled reply. I smoothed back shiny black hair, losing hope.
**
I still dreamed. Now I dreamed of him.
Shaggy auburn hair, twinkling red-on-black eyes. Always unshaven but still so
gorgeous. He smelled of cigarettes and liqueur, of musk and raw vanilla from his
cologne and of his own smell. Just him. No girl with chestnut curls. Just him. I
missed him. The man I never quite loved but still yearned for.
He made my heart bleed again. Worse than she
ever did, because he *knew*. He knew I wanted him. He knew I needed him. He knew
what I felt for him.
But he knew.
He knew I still wished it wasn’t his arms around me but hers. He heard me whisper her name in my sleep. He heard me. That’s what his note said when I woke up to find him gone one morning. When I woke up in a cold bed without him.
~fin