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

[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.

[samson]

He couldn't help it! He was jealous because he wanted her for all time, forever. No other man may touch her goodies! They belonged to him. Wouldn't Molotov be jealous if Brock screwed around with other ladies if she wasn't here? Oh wait, he already did that.

Brock.

"Promise me it didn't mean anything," he said after a little while, burying his face into her neck and kissing at her skin a little. He knew she already said it didn't, but he just wanted to be reassured.

[molotov]

"It didn't mean anything," she obliged, quietly, wrapping her arms around his neck and staring into space. She was so tired, she didn't want to think about this anymore.

[samson]

Brock grunted softly in acknowledgement, kissing at her neck for a little while. "I love you," he said softly, muffled into her skin, and reached down for her thighs. He didn't really know if this was solving all the issues that had cropped up because of this. It certainly seemed far too simple for how big of a mess it had been.

[molotov]

It wasn't solving the issues, no. But they were too emotional for that right now, so this was probably the best they could hope for.

"I love you too," she murmured, letting her eye close.

[samson]

Maybe they could find a counsellor in town or something. There were no therapist residents, that's for sure, unless you counted Harmony. Brock liked to bounce ideas off her and go to her for relationship help, but he didn't know if he wanted her to deal with all the bullshit he and Molotov put each other through.

Brock nuzzled her neck for a little while, shifting her legs a bit so she would wrap them around his middle. He just wanted to be as close to her as possible right now, entwined in each other.

[molotov]

Molotov didn't trust the counsellors in town! She didn't trust townspeople at all, she wouldn't want to tell any of them her personal business. So no!

Obliging him, Molotov wrapped her legs around him, just sighing and holding him.

[samson]

But they obviously weren't able to handle this stuff on their own! They just kept fighting, it was horrible. Maybe they could do it anonymously? Like over the journals or something? That might work. Maybe.

Brock stayed like that for a long time, just happy to lie with her without arguing or bitterness. After what seemed like a small eternity, he lifted his head to peer up at her, stroking her cheek a bit. "Bed?" he said softly, maybe a little hopefully. Make-up sex sounded nice, but he also just sort of wanted to lie in his own bed again.

[molotov]

"Da," she answered quietly, opening her eye to look up at him. She was just so tired, this was all very exhausting. They had to stop fighting!

[samson]

Brock bit his lip when she looked up at him, then leaned down to kiss her again. He couldn't help it; he missed her and she was so pretty and he loved her so much. "Okay," he murmured, slowly disentangling himself from her and standing up. He didn't even wait for her to say anything to him or to sit up herself, just scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

[molotov]

When he lifted her, Molotov sighed and placed her head on his shoulder, just waiting for him to take her to bed.

[samson]

Which he did! He laid her down on the bed and then sat down on the edge of the mattress to take his boots off. He dimly recalled that they had roses to put in water, but it could wait. First he wanted to cuddle or have sex or sleep or whatever -- he just wanted to do it with his wife.