Author's Notes: This one is for Buffelyn, who complained about the lack of a certain activity in my stories. ;) If there were a rating between PG-13 and R, I'd give it to this chapter. I don't think it can rightly be called explicit--no body parts are mentioned by name ;)--but there is some involved description of activities involving consenting adults. If you think that will offend you, it probably will.

12.

"I hope I number patience among my virtues, but shilly-shallying, when nothing is to be gained by delay, is not a virtue."

~

It was almost two in the morning by the time we got back from the police station. The three of us filed charges of assault and made statements, but I doubted anything much would happen to Sir Hugo and his pals; the majority of the Egyptian population of Cairo would be perfectly happy if a lot more Brits started trying to wipe each other out. Still, they agreed to hold them, and to notify the British consulate, which was all we really expected. The Department of Antiquities would probably have a say in how they were dealt with, too, since the crime involved an artifact.

I wished Evelyn had let me deal with them. Every time I happened to catch sight of the bruise at the corner of her mouth, I just itched to get my hands around that guy's throat and squeeze until his pointy little head popped off.

I drove Jonathan's car, with Evelyn beside me and Jonathan stretched out in the back seat. He protested, but he was still in no shape to be getting behind the wheel, and we both knew it--and even if we hadn't, having to pull over twice on the way so he could throw up would have pretty damn convincing. The car still wasn't handling well, despite the mechanic's assertions that it was "good as new" after our little adventure, and I'm sure all the stops and starts didn't help. Me, I felt okay; stuff like that never keeps me down for very long, and I hadn't had nearly as much to drink as Jonathan.

Evelyn didn't say much during the drive back, just leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. She'd had one hell of a stressful day, the latest of many. I wondered if our life together was ever going to be simple. A small part of me actually hoped not. Simple gets boring real quick, and I don't deal well with boring. I'm not saying I want to be drugged and burglarized and see my girl get smacked around, or have to deal with walking dead guys, but a little excitement never hurt anyone... much.

As soon as the car jerked and shuddered to a stop, I shifted over to hop out, only then realizing how heavily Evelyn was resting on me. And damn if she hadn't gone to sleep. Leaving me to put her to bed. Again. She moaned a little when I lifted her up, but quieted down once I had her settled against my chest.

Jonathan didn't get out of the car. "Think I'll go for a walk," he announced, to no one in particular, staring steadily up at nothing. I'm not the most intuitive guy in the world, but I didn't have to be to see that he was hurting. He felt like he'd brought on everything that happened--which was true in one way, I guess, but his only real fault was trusting the men that he thought were his friends. It was a fault I kind of wished I had. I found it difficult to trust anyone.

"Just don't walk until you pass out in the street," I joked. "I'm tired of hauling Carnahans around. I'm not a damn delivery service."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Don't you worry, my friend. Soon there'll only be one Carnahan left--and who knows how long he'll last, at this rate?"

I somehow managed to cradle Evelyn with only one arm, and slap Jonathan on the back with the other hand. "Long enough to be a pain in the ass to his brother-in-law for years, I bet." He would, too, knowing him.

"Need any help with her?" he inquired.

"Nah, I'm good."

"You know," he mused, "I never had a brother."

I wondered if I should take him to the hospital after all. "Me neither," I said. All right, so I'm no good at mushy scenes. Especially with other guys, I mean, jeez. Jonathan's so maudlin sometimes. I just have no idea how to deal with him when he gets like that.

"When I was a boy, I lived in the hope of one day being able to trade Evie in for one." He grinned.

I grinned back. "Well, you kinda did." I mock-punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! Steady on..."

I rolled my eyes. "I barely touched you." I wanted to say something that would make him feel better about everything that had happened, but nothing came to mind. So I just stood there beside him for a while, in the cool night, holding his sister in my arms.

"Shit," I said finally.

Jonathan's eyebrows climbed. "And you use that filthy mouth to kiss my baby sister."

Yep, I thought. Every day of her life, if she'll let me. "My arm's asleep," I explained.

Jonathan smiled at that. "Look here, old man, go on and put her to bed. I'll be fine. I need to walk it off, that's all." To demonstrate, he climbed out of the car, stumbling a bit, but managing to stand on his own. "There. You see? I'll just go for a bit of a jaunt--you go up and tuck in Her Nibs there. Just don't bloody well drop her, you'd never hear the end of it."

"No kidding. Okay, take it easy."

"I certainly intend to."

Evelyn stirred, and settled more comfortably against me. I said good night to Jonathan and made my way upstairs.

"This is getting real old, you know," I told my sleeping beauty as I nudged her bedroom door open. "I don't remember reading anything in those wedding vows about carrying your lazy ass to bed every night." I knew she couldn't hear me, so I kept talking while I put her in the bed and folded the blankets over her. "If you think this is gonna keep going when we're married, sweetheart, you got a screw loose somewhere in that pretty head of yours."

When I was satisfied that she was all tucked in good and proper, I bent down to give her a quick kiss goodnight. Well, it was supposed to be quick, anyhow--but the second our lips touched, she came alive, throwing both arms around me and pulling me in close.

"Hey!" I yelled, breaking the kiss as a single thought penetrated my fogged brain. "You were awake the whole time!"

Her mouth curved in a devious smile, only slightly marred by the smudgy bruise. "Well, I needed a way to get you in here..."

I think my expression at that point could only be described as stunned.

The smile faded slightly. "Of course, if you're too tired from carrying my lazy arse to bed every night... and you think I've got a screw loose..."

Oh, man, I could already tell I was never gonna live that one down.

"...then perhaps we'd better just go to sleep in our own rooms tonight." She folded her arms across her chest, giving the statement an air of finality I didn't like.

I swallowed dry air, my heart pounding. "Um, I'm not tired..."

She closed her eyes and turned away from me.

"Evie, c'mon. Don't be like that..."

A pretend snore.

"Okay, I get it already."

After a moment's hesitation, I placed a hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back again. She kept her eyes closed, but I wasn't fooled--I could tell she was peeking at me through her lashes. I took a deep breath. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to," I told her softly. "If you're tired, if you're hurting, I can understand that. You can kick me out of here and I'll go sleep on the couch. But can we just stop playing games for one night? Quit pretending this isn't something we both want?"

Her eyes flickered open. "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Well, I'd given it my best shot, anyway. I got up to leave--and turned back to her with a start as her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

"No, I mean..." she tugged at my hand, and crooked a finger at me in the universal come-hither gesture. "Stop... talking."

And that was it. She didn't have to tell me twice... well, not more than twice, anyway.

I let her pull me down onto the bed, and into her arms. I lay beside her, trying to be gentle when I kissed her, angling away from the bruised side of her mouth; she was insistent, drawing me back to her whenever I shied away. I wasn't exactly thinking with my brain at this point, so it took me a minute to realize that we weren't going to get too far with me on top of the covers and her underneath. I broke contact just long enough to peel the blankets back, and to quickly shed my boots.

While I was doing this, she sat up and reached for the bedside lamp, but I took hold of her hand before she could turn it off. She looked questioningly at me--because, of course, she'd been led to understand that these things took place in darkness.

"I want to see you," I explained. "Is that okay?" I needed to know she was comfortable with every part of what was about to happen, especially since the first time was probably going to hurt her. I didn't want that, of course, but there wasn't any way around it as far as I could see. I didn't know exactly how these things worked, but I thought maybe it wouldn't be as bad if she wasn't nervous.

She looked surprised, but then she slowly smiled. And nodded. And blushed.

"Okay, good."

I took it slow at first, kissing and caressing, nothing that wasn't familiar ground by now. After a while, I went to work on her buttons, those same tiny buttons that I'd been so careful to fasten only hours ago. My hands suddenly seemed too big and clumsy to handle them. I started to get frustrated, and the next thing I knew, I'd ripped the damn thing open. I thought she'd be mad at me for that one, but after the initial shock wore off, she laughed, shrugged out of the blouse, and tossed it on the floor.

"I never liked it much anyway," she confided.

She lay back on the pillows, looking up at me so trustingly that I froze, paralyzed by her expectations and my own raging nerves. Then she reached up and, with an impish grin, slowly started in on my own shirt buttons. Desire overpowered nervousness and I closed the distance, exploring the curves and hollows of her neck and shoulders, the soft swell of her breasts, lips replacing hands as I started to get greedy, wanting to know more and taste more of her, anything, everything.

I could feel her tiny hands still working diligently at my shirt, and I lifted my head for a second to ask if she wanted help--and found her wearing such a serious, concentrated expression that I couldn't help but laugh. Her delicious little mouth twisted in a grimace, and the next thing I knew, she'd slid one hand inside my shirt and given me a good, hard pinch.

"Okay, tough stuff--that's it." The tension between us found an outlet in roughhousing: tussling, tickling, and all kinds of other good stuff. I made a few interesting discoveries. I found out that I didn't even have to touch that one ticklish spot just above her hip; my hand hovering over it was enough to make her squirm, and scream. I also learned that she was a biter, something I don't even think she knew until I had her pinned down.

"Hey!" I yelled, more surprised than anything.

"I'm sorry... did I hurt you?" she asked, shame-faced.

"Nah." I kissed her soundly, making sure she knew there were no hard feelings. Examining the red mark on my shoulder, I admitted, "Actually... I kinda like it when you play rough."

She flashed me a wicked little smile, and I knew I'd created a monster.

A second later, she pounced, and we tumbled off the bed in a tangle of arms, legs, sheets, and blankets. I landed hard on my back on the wooden floor, with Evelyn on top of me, both of us winded by the impact. I tried to get up, but she straddled my waist, breathing hard, laughing harder, face flushed, eyes sparkling. She was so incredible that the sight of her made it difficult to breathe, to think.

At some point during the proceedings, my shirt had come untucked, and I managed to slide it off over my head, eliminating that problem before she lost her patience the way I'd lost mine earlier. Not that I gave a damn about my shirt, but I wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, tracing the lines of my chest with splayed hands. Well, I knew I didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, but I hadn't expected that kind of reaction. Especially since she'd seen me with my shirt off a dozen times already.

I laughed self-consciously. "Hey, quit stealing my lines."

"But you are..." She lingered over the scrapes and scars I'd picked up fighting with Imhotep, bending to kiss each one. "Beautiful," she echoed, her breath hot against my bare shoulder. "And so brave..."

"You make me brave," I confessed. And then she was kissing me, forcefully, urgently, pressing herself into me. I think, if it was up to her, we'd have finished things right there on the floor. So much for patience being a virtue.

Somehow, without breaking contact for more than a second, I managed to get us both back onto the bed. After that, it was like we'd been rehearsing for it. Clothes went flying, and so did inhibitions. Finally seeing her, I told her how gorgeous she was, how sexy, over and over, sounding like a broken record and not caring. Once again, her reaction surprised me: deep, delighted laughter, the kind that made her whole body tremble, like she was so happy she just couldn't hold it in any longer. I knew that was how she felt, because I felt it too. Being there with her... well, it was like a miracle. Something so unexpectedly good you can't even put it into words.

I kissed her in places she didn't expect, said her name against her skin. I explored, finding out what she liked and what she needed, learning the map of her body with my hands and mouth, listening to the little noises she made. I knew when I was headed in the right direction whenever she held her breath, or if her tiny fingernails grazed my skin. Once or twice she even bit me again, no longer seeming the least bit apologetic.

When the moment finally came, I was careful to read her face. I did it as quickly as I could, figuring that was the best way. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening, and a second later her whole face changed and she bit her lip, muffling a scream. I asked if she was all right, and she nodded, tears in her eyes. I held her close and whispered that I was sorry, that the worst part was over--and that she was the brave one, which made her smile.

Then there were no more words, only the sound of her breathing and, as we got closer to the edge, soft little cries and murmurs, as she spoke an entirely new language I somehow managed to understand. When she finished--seconds before I did--she screamed my name, digging her nails into my back, every part of her body gripping mine...

Afterwards, the only noise in her little room was the ringing in my ears. I felt different than I'd expected I would. Normally I just wanted to go to sleep afterwards, or have a drink. Now, though, I wished we could just lie there forever, wrapped around each other. I felt like my understanding of the world had somehow been expanded, like we'd just discovered some great secret about life that only we would ever know.

Maybe we did.

I reached over the side of the bed and dragged up one of the blankets we'd thrown off, covering us both. She settled comfortably against me, her head on my chest, one arm draped over my waist. I put both arms around her, stroking her back, enjoying the softness of her skin under my hands. We lay there in silence for a while; I knew that anything I said would come out sounding stupid and probably wreck the moment completely. I was almost ready to drift off to sleep, except that then I'd miss out on how great it was to hold her like that.

Then, in a voice so soft I barely heard it, she inquired, "How... how was that?"

Oh, boy, was I awake now. "Uh, if you have to ask--" I began.

"No, but was I... did I... I wasn't laughing at you, you know," she explained hurriedly.

"I know, it's okay."

"And I'm sorry I shouted in your ear."

"No, no. Shouting is good." In fact, remembering how she'd yelled out made me want her again. There was so much more I wanted to show her--and I was sure she could probably teach me a few new tricks. "Yeah, shouting is good. Laughing is good. Everything was... good." Concentrating on more than one thing at a time is definitely not my strong point, and just then I did not want to talk. She was so close... so available. It took every ounce of strength in me to keep my hands where they were and just listen to what she had to say.

"But was it... what you expected?"

"Um..." It had been so much better than I'd expected, better than anything I'd ever known. Before I could figure out how to say that, though, she read all kinds of things into what I didn't say. Typical.

"Oh--well--if you--I mean..." she stammered.

I shifted to look her in the face. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine, Rick." Hearing her say my name only reminded me again of the last time she said it, which just made things worse--or better, depending on how you look at it.

"You had a good time?" I admit it--I knew she'd enjoyed herself; I just wanted to hear her say it.

Her sudden smile was so brilliant it was almost blinding. "Oh, yes," she breathed, in a low voice that made my skin tighten all over. That was it. I was ready to go right then and there. But something was definitely bothering her, and I knew it wasn't just going to go away unless I made her tell me what it was.

"You're not, um, sore, or anything?" I inquired. I was really reaching by this time; Evelyn wasn't the type to let physical discomfort upset her.

"No. Well, a bit, but that doesn't matter."

I gave up and went for the direct approach. "Then what's bugging you?"

The smile faded, and she got that studious look that meant she was definitely thinking too hard. "I was just wondering... you see, you--you've done this before, and I haven't, and I..."

I was starting to get a pretty clear idea of what the trouble was. "You were great, honey," I assured her. "Really. If I didn't know you, I would swear you were kidding me about this being your first time."

"I wasn't fishing for compliments," she said miserably, burying her face in her hands.

"Evelyn... everything was great. I mean that. And even if it wasn't, come on, it's not exactly the end of the world. We've got lots of time to work that stuff out. Practice makes perfect, right?"

"Practice..." she murmured, peeking at me through her fingers.

I nodded. "Yeah. Lots... and lots... and lots of practice." I hoped she was getting my meaning--although, considering how close together we were, I think it was difficult to miss.

"Even though we did so well the first time, perhaps we ought to practice anyhow," she suggested.

Now we were on the same page. "Definitely."

"Soon."

Dammit. I waited for a respectable interval of about three seconds before asking, "Now, maybe?"

"Soon," she repeated, with a contented little sigh, snuggling against me again. "It's getting light outside. Aren't you tired?"

"Um, no."

"Oh, I don't think I could keep my eyes open another second..." She yawned and stretched languidly. "Mmm, good night."

It occurred to me then that, although waiting for Evelyn hadn't killed me, being married to her just might.

After an extremely long and excruciatingly painful pause, I heard her say, "Rick?"

Good God, now what? "Yeah?"

"You're far too easy to tease sometimes."

It took a second for the implications of this comment to hit me, and I was way too antsy to be irritated with her when I did figure it out. "So... now?"

"Please." She said it like it we were at afternoon tea. Dignified to the last.

And we were off and running again.

Later, before drifting off to sleep bathed in the light of the morning sun, she told me she loved me; for once, it didn't feel awkward saying it back. I'm not good at saying things like that. I kept my feelings buried so deep and for so long that I stopped believing I even had any, which was probably what made it possible for me to do some of the things I've done in my life. I didn't mind joining the Legion, killing people who'd done nothing to me and putting myself in the line of fire, because there wasn't a single person in this world or the next who would care once I was gone. It was easy to make jokes while they put a noose around my neck, because nothing and no one mattered to me. But now, Evelyn mattered. Her love made me into a brand new person, someone I liked being. I felt like I'd always loved her, like the first day of my life was the day we'd met and nothing before that even existed.

So I guess, in a way, that night was the first time for both of us.

~~

Bonus Author's Notes:

I've never written a scene like this before, and I'm a bit self-conscious about it, so please let me know what you think. I tried to make it involved without being gratuitous, and (relatively) realistic rather than Harlequin-style; most of all, I tried to be true to the characters and particularly to my narrator. That was a tall order, and I'm interested to know how it was received.