once i was a soldier in my castle strong

[samson]

Who: Brock and Molotov
What: more ~relationship drama~
When: 15/October, afternoon
Where: Room 509
Rating: PG.........?

It took a lot of time for Brock to work up the nerve to come home.

Not that he didn't want to. But it had certain implications, at least in his mind; he was crawling back to Molotov like he did so many times before. This situation was incredibly more tame than the times in the past, but it was still hard for him. He had to go back and humble himself, admit he was being a jerk, apologize -- he wasn't good at any of these things. It had been a lot easier to just hang out at his cabin for the past ten days and just work and not think.

Harmony had told him not to bring flowers the first time because it would be suspicious, like he was admitting guilt to something he didn't even know he'd done. Which, as it turns out, had been nothing. But this time he had actually done something to be guilty for, so he brought her flowers again. More roses, but only red this time.

Molotov wasn't in her office where he thought she'd be, so, panicking a little, he hoofed it back to the castle to see if she was at home. He didn't even bother knocking because it was his house too, just flung the door open.

Comments

[molotov]

Well, maybe Brock should work on deciphering his own psyche! Figure out why he was so threatened by Ezio, so that he could get over it and leave his wife alone.

Molotov had wanted to say she missed him too, but he was kissing her, so she didn't bother, and instead just wrapped herself around him. Probably they needed to actually talk, though.

[samson]

But that involved thinking about feelings and stuff! No, that is asking too much.

And yeah, no, they really needed to talk. But he didn't want to -- all he really wanted to do right now was kiss on her, and so that's what he was doing. He might have been feeling her up a little bit as well, that too. He just missed her a lot; it had been a long time since he'd seen her, let alone touched her! If ever there was an incentive to calm the hell down and stop getting into these horrible arguments with his wife, it was the lonely fallout that resulted.

[molotov]

Well, yes, it had been a long time -- it'd had been over three weeks since they were actually together in some capacity that wasn't a screaming match. And kissing was fine, but it wasn't solving anything, and they had some shit that needed to be worked out! Part of their communication problem was that they never actually worked anything out, they just pushed it under the rug and made out. Not helpful, guys!

[samson]

Yes, exactly! He missed her. He missed the shit out of her, even! But no, it was true that they never really talked about anything. Though to be fair, when they tried to talk about something the last time, they just sort of reached a consensus that ignoring it was their best bet. Because Molotov resented Brock for not marrying her in the real world, and he couldn't apologize for what he'd done. It wasn't helpful to just ignore it, no, but it seemed like they would just argue forever about it otherwise.

This was a little different though, because Brock knew he'd been in the wrong. He was just too distracted by kissing right now to say anything about it!

Eventually he had to come up for air, though, and he just buried his face into her chest, breathing her in and blinking slowly against her sternum.

[molotov]

Well, the last time, it was something that couldn't be resolved. But this was easily fixed, it had nothing to do with their real world and all their repressed issues. So it was fine.

Molotov wrapped her arms around him when he did that, closing her eye and sighing a little. It made her happier to lie like this, even if she knew their problems weren't fixed in any way yet.

[samson]

It was fine, sure, but the point still remained -- they needed to talk about this shit! Instead of just making out for a bit and then cuddling. You guys, you can't even have make up sex if you don't actually talk and make up.

Brock sighed too, lying on top of her for a little bit. Eventually, he rolled his eyes a little and pushed up on his hands. They really needed to talk. For real. Stop giving in to your wife's hotness, Samson.

"Hey," he said softly, just watching her face.

[molotov]

"Hi," she answered quietly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. As much as she also knew they should talk, Molotov didn't really want to. It was easier to just pretend nothing happened.

[samson]

Then I guess it's up to Brock to sack the hell up and start talking!

He didn't want to either, really. But still. They really had to.

Swallowing, he leaned into her hand a bit, eyelids lowering halfway as he continued watching her. "So I have to talk to you about last time we saw each other," he said slowly, voice low.

[molotov]

Frowning, she stretched her thumb over to trace his lower lip. "What about it?" she mumbled, clearly not at all keen to have this discussion with him.

[samson]

Brock gently took hold of her wrist and kissed her palm, eyes closing, then put her hand back at his face. He didn't really want to talk about this either, it was awkward as fuck, but they needed to do it. They couldn't just let it fester. So once again, he had to be the one to man up and do everything, grrr!! Brock, your life sucks.

"I acted like a jerk," he said quietly, absently stroking her hair. "And I'm sorry."

[molotov]

Molotov watched him, and stroked his cheek again before nodding a little. "Why don't you trust me?" she asked softly, her mouth turned down at the corners.

[samson]

Brock just leaned into her hand and stopped screwing with her hair. Looking her in the eye was awkward, so he just focused on her mouth instead.

"It's not about that," he answered just as softly. "My life sucks, Molotov. So I just ... keep expecting it to continue sucking. I mean, you went for that Guido guy, so ..."

[molotov]

She frowned more deeply when Brock brought up Guido, and shrugged. "Guido was nice, and you did not want me," she murmured, brow knitting. "But we were not together then, and I do not want Ezio anyway. So why are you so convinced I do?"

[samson]

He drew his thumb along the angle of her jaw, still looking at her mouth. His brow furrowed when she said that, because that implied she had wanted Guido, and he didn't like that. Even if they hadn't been together, she was still his at the time. She was always his.

"Because he's nice too," he said. Ezio was actually pretty backwards about a lot of stuff, but he seemed more ... chivalric? Than Brock. He treated her better. Brock was a dick all the time! "And you said you were attracted to him. So I just figure, if I wasn't here ..."

[molotov]

Molotov really just lacked the proper emotional vocabulary to explain herself -- she hadn't really wanted Guido so much as she'd enjoyed a brief, simple relationship where there was only easy flirting and laughs, instead of deep love tinged with hate and fighting. Even their best times, Brock and Molotov's, were heavier than anything else. That didn't mean she wasn't happy -- it just mean she'd wanted to try something else.

"He is handsome and charming, but so are plenty of men," Molotov said, vaguely defensive. "Ezio is also an idiot and immature and incapable of fidelity. If you had never been here at all, then maybe I would have tolerated him for a few months, romantically. But you are here, and I do not want him. I just want you. I love you."

[samson]

He could understand that, really, even if it would break his heart regardless. It's why sleeping with whores and strippers had been so easy, easier than trying to start something with Molotov in the real world. It just made him fucking sick sometimes that they were so screwed up, that they couldn't even be happy properly. It was really draining sometimes.

Brock kept absently touching her face, watching his fingers as he traced her cheekbone and the corner of her mouth and her hairline. He was used to not seeing her for years at a time, but this time -- this time had felt like decades, even if it wasn't even two weeks.

"I'm those things too," he said, by which he meant Molotov thought he was these things. Brock thought he was relatively intelligent and mature as hell, and also knew for a fact he would never cheat on Molotov. "Would you have slept with him?"

[molotov]

Shaking her head, Molotov touched his mouth, frowning. "You aren't those things, not in the same way," she murmured, her brow furrowed with unhappiness. "And I do not know. I cannot say, because maybe my loss would have been different if you were never here with me. But you are here, and I would never want anyone else when I have you."

[samson]

Brock absently kissed her fingers when she put them to his mouth, though he frowned unhappily at her response. She was supposed to say no! I mean, I guess it was nice that she was being truthful, even if it was upsetting. "So you would have married him," he said quietly. "If I leave, what'll you do?"

[molotov]

"Die," Molotov said softly, watching him. She didn't want to address the fact that she wouldn't have married Ezio, not unless he was a different Ezio who was a mature adult. But marrying Brock before sleeping with him was different than anyone else -- it meant something, it had been a test and an achievement.

[samson]

Then Molotov's father's request had been oddly specific! 'Sleep with anybody you want except Brock Samson, make sure you marry that guy first,' is that what he said? What a weird thing to say as you are dying.

"No," he said, frowning more and kissing her palm again. "I don't want you to. If I leave, you have to wait for me to come back."

[molotov]

Of course not, but she was being honest. Even if she was following her father's wishes, she couldn't predict what would happen, and in a world with no consequences, she couldn't say what she'd have done. But with Brock, it meant something to her to make him wait, that was all.

"I cannot live without you," she whispered, her eye getting just a little watery. "I cannot wait. What if you don't come back? What if you do but you don't remember?"

[samson]

Well, then yeah, it was a good thing she didn't say any of this to Brock. Because he would have flipped out. Good going, Cocktease!

Making a quiet, distressed sound, Brock grabbed her face and kissed her a little forcefully. He didn't want her to be sad, didn't want her to talk about dying if he wasn't around! "Stop, stop," he murmured, then kissed her again. "Don't."

[molotov]

Wow, so it was true that all he cared about was sleeping with her! He would flip out if she said that she wouldn't love another man enough to marry him? Eat a dick, Samson.

Molotov echoed his noise, and closed her eye, a single, small tear escaping. She didn't say anything though, just letting him try to fix the situation.

[samson]

No, no! He would just be upset that she would sleep with another man! Whether they were married or not, he loved the shit out of her, and was going to be jealous about this kind of thing, I'm sorry. I'm sorry but that's how it is!

Brock couldn't promise that he would never leave and that if he ever did leave, he'd remember. He would not make a promise to her that he had no way of keeping. "I just don't want to fight anymore," he said softly, instead of continuing to talk about this other stuff, tracing her lip with his thumb.

[molotov]

But why be jealous of a hypothetical situation! That's just stupid, you're stupid, Brock.

"I don't either," she sniffled, keeping her eye closed. She was tired, that's what she was. Their fighting was exhausting, she hated it.