Every Rose Has a Porn - or "Fancy Meeting You Here!" (Closed for Talon)

[Talon]

Rus’ smile deepened as she turned to face him. It wasn’t exactly like in the old movies—no spotlight from above, no slow-motion spin, no record scratch cueing up a power ballad thick with cherry pie innuendo—but still, something in his chest caught like his heart had skipped a beat.

God, she’s...

Beautiful didn’t cut it. It was more than that. More than physical. It was her aura, her energy, her pheromones—something on a metaphysical, woo-woo, probably complete hippie-bullshit level that just clicked with him. Like gravity. Like magnetism. Like her very presence drew him deeper into her orbit. Though he resisted the urge he felt to move closer, he felt a flush of heat bloom in his cheeks in response to the thought.

Her teasing rebuke about his formality drew a half-shrug and a scoff in response—the physical equivalent of “Well, shucks”—before he straightened, squared his feet, and lifted his chin. Digging his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes drifted over to the box on the counter as she mentioned it—trying to play it cool, even as his pulse thundered in his ears.

The box was concealed within repurposed paper–which stylistically felt so Cassandra– making his eyebrows perk up with curiosity. Not so strange to imagine she might bring a gift if she dropped in for a quick visit, but as for a hint of what it might be, its shape and size offered no immediate clue.

His eyes flicked back over to her as she fiddled with pulling on her flannel and spoke.

“…the gift giver always wants to see the look on the receiver’s face-”

Rus nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, of course…” His grin colored his tone with mirth as his words were filtered through it. “... it’s not selfish at all…”

“...and yes, you will charge me how much it’s worth - the lady said it was $14, so I expect to pay that and tax.”

She continued before he had the chance to move, and he shook his head. “Nah, you’re not in the way…” He laughed beneath his breath, pulling his hands out of his pockets to raise them at his sides, palms out in a conciliatory gesture. “...and fair enough, we appreciate your patronage.”

He moved over behind the counter, eyeing her as he went, almost as if he were worried she’d disappear if he broke eye contact for too long, though the easy grin remained. “I insist on the ‘friends and family’ discount, though…” He reached out for the gift she had set atop the counter, then hesitated for a moment before lifting it off. “But, uh, first things first. How about I open up your gift, then I ring you up… cool?” He smiled warmly, looking down at the package as he scanned for the seam on the paper. He'd never been one of those ‘rip and tear’ type of gift openers.

“It's, uh…” He paused, gaze flicking back up to hers. “...really nice to see you again, though, and very thoughtful of you to drop by with a gift…” He seemed genuinely touched by the gesture as he set the box down, his eyes lowering as his fingers moved to pick at the bit of tape securing the wrapping shut. “... I’m glad to hear the whole ‘functioning adult’ thing is comin’ along. When you get it all figured out, you’ll have to share the secret…” He smirked playfully as he tore the tape loose and began working the paper open.

Unwrapping the paper from the top of the box, he rapped his fingers across the top a few times, gaze shifting back up to meet hers, that lopsided smile of his tugging up the right corner of his mouth, before lifting off the lid to expose the gift contained within.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

The next sound she made was involuntary. No cute little squeak, or a soft giggle. It was a low gagging gargle - one of those sounds that defied such basic things as ‘definition.’ Something caught between clearing her throat and trying to swallow.

“Rggghhrhghhugla.” Hardly graceful, hardly dignified, and hardly passed off as a failed attempt to clear her throat. Which, perhaps, due to a stroke of good luck, meant that saliva went down the wrong pipe and she was genuinely coughing, doubling over for a moment before she straightened herself up, eyes red and watering but the smile plastered so firmly on her face it seemed like any effort to speak otherwise would crack her.

“Anyway,” the perfect segue way, as always, she wiped at her eyes, clearing her vision. “I figured it was the least I could do, given…the last time we saw each other. It was awkward and I didn’t handle it all that great. Life is fuckin’ weird,” that was an understatement. At least talking gave her brain to do - a higher purpose, truthfully, other than please breed me right here in the middle of this shop. “But…yeah,” she actually took a tentative step forward as he moved to the counter. It’d be easier to be closer to him as long as there was still a bit of something between the two of them. “Part of the whole ‘moving forward’ thing has been…at least, for me, to try and do something different. Sister Sunshine was a lot, you know? That was a huge part of my life for a long time. My raison d’etre, on my own terms. The thing that it felt like I’d been working up to for the better part of my life. That one dream that if I could’ve achieved, that would be it, you know? The thing that tops all things.”

She turned to lean back against the counter, her back to Rus. Focused on the black and white squares of the floor until they blurred. “But what do you do after the dream’s over? Where do you go? Even if it wasn’t as traumatic as having an insane stalker - I still get emails from the cop that handled the case asking if I’m sure about not having my name legally changed.” A beat. “But you didn’t wanna hear all of that, open open open,” turning to face him now, she bounced a little on the balls of her feet before leaning forward to put her chin between her palms, elbows on the cool countertop, batting her eyes like a child.

Under the newsprint was, well, a shoebox. It was one that had seen better days - probably rescued from another task to serve its purpose here - shabby, yes, but in tact enough not to offer any spoilers as to what was within. Once the top was off of the shoe box, next would be more newspaper, wadded up to add additional protection. Moving some of it aside would reveal the slender neck of a vase. The neck slowly widened to a plump base - the clay worked so fine that the vase itself was nearly weightless, only the bottom giving it a sense of heft. The color was as if it had been dipped in deep water; bands of deeper green melting into lighter, flecked with gold. The overhead lights and clumps of flowers from the ceiling were reflected back in blurry spots of light.

“So…I thought, ‘okay, flower shop,’ and then, vase. Because, you know, nice vases for nice flowers.” She was tempted to throw in an off-handed shrug, a way of undercutting what she’d done, but instead, she barreled through. “And…the whole ceramics thing. Like I said before…Sister Sunshine was a huge part of my life - and I really haven’t been sure what I should be doing now. Where my life is going. It’s funny, but not in a ha-ha way, that I spent all of that time working, and, looking back on it, knowing that it would have to end one day, still not figuring out how, what, or where it would be. It was being lost in the moment, but also looking back and realizing - my god, I haven’t learned a damn thing. At least not the answer to the question I’d been asking myself when I started. It was meant to be an education thing, to chase after the questions I had, when, you know, if I’d been closer to a normal human being, I would’ve gotten the answers just by existing. Maybe. Who knows. But this,” she ran her fingers over the mouth of the vase, “is a new thing. A new dream. And maybe, above it all, a new start.”

Shyly, now, as slow as she could make her shaking fingers move, she reached for his hand. Causally enough to make it look as if she was just trying to get comfortable, should he choose not to take it, “And…I thought, you know, maybe, just maybe…in the midst of all of this newness, it would’t be so bad to have a familiar face to keep me company.” Daring to look up at him, she smiled, ever so faintly.

 

[Talon]

Rus—after lingering just long enough to visually confirm that Cassandra wouldn’t be needing the paramedics after what looked like a rogue bit of air went down the wrong pipe—nodded as she spoke, addressing the stalker, the trauma, the ongoing work of putting herself back together after having been put through that nightmare scenario. The gift forgotten for a moment, his brow had begun to knit in the center– he did, in actuality, care to know. Not the grim and gritty detail, but more how she was dealing with it. He wanted to be that someone for her, if he could; it was a role he felt comfortable in. Not necessarily the protector, or the consoler, but the confidant. The rock.

All in due time, though, if she decided she wanted to continue letting him ‘in’. It was her choice to put him there, not his place to assume it. He was in no rush.

Smiling as she reminded him to continue with the unwrapping, he moved on, carefully plucking the top layer of wadded newspaper off the gift, finally unveiling it—

“Oh… wow.”

Rus was taken aback.

The vase was gorgeous. He’d always been partial to the color green, and this was a distinctive shade of it, evocative of a piece of heavily patina’d brass, only darker, almost the color of sea algae. Elegant in its simplicity, and without obvious flaws in the workmanship, but at the same time, it didn’t seem like the sort of piece you could just buy off the shelf at some department store. It felt unique. Looked distinctive. Made by someone, for someone.

Eyes fixed to the vase for a moment, he reached out a thumb to just stroke the surface, and then, carefully, with both hands, he lifted it out of the box just enough to test the weight. It was lighter than it looked.

When she started speaking again, he was quietly grateful. It gave him the moment he needed to collect himself— a rush of emotion hit harder than he’d expected. It was just a vase. Pretty high up on the list of most commonly gifted items, as he could attest, being in the business of selling the things that traditionally filled them. But even as beautifully made an item as it was, it shouldn’t be enough for him to break down over it.

It wasn’t just the vase, though. It was also the words, her words, that accompanied it. That for the past few weeks, the little gnat buzzing in the back of his skull that represented worry, concerns that what had been between them would end up as just a ‘fling’, a piece of driftwood in the sea of loneliness that wasn’t capable of bearing his weight, that had disintegrated as soon as he’d set his hands on it, had proven unfounded.

He cleared his throat, lightly, so as not to appear as if he intended to interrupt her, as he carefully set the vase back down into the box. His gaze followed as her fingers stretched out to touch the mouth of the vase– it felt almost voyeuristic, somehow–before flickering back to her face. When he looked back up at her, it was still with that same lopsided, boyish smile, though his eyes were slightly wetter than before. He studied her features silently as she continued speaking.

“...A new dream. And maybe, above it all, a new start.”

His eyes dropped again as she moved her hand out toward his, and before it had finished its journey, his was already moving to accept it, palm up, so that hers could rest atop his. His thumb gently stroked the bit of flesh along the edge of her palm as the rest of his fingers encircled her hand and lightly squeezed.

“And…I thought, you know, maybe, just maybe…in the midst of all of this newness, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a familiar face to keep me company.”

His grin touched his eyes as they lifted to meet hers, still gleaming, and he nodded gently a few times, swallowing to moisten a throat that had gone dry. “I didn’t know poetry was amongst your talents…” He scoffed into a warm hum, a slight blush forming atop his cheeks. Rus licked his lips and sucked at his bottom lip. “I mean, you walk in here, lookin’ like a million bucks, talkin’ all pretty…” He gestured towards the vase with his chin. “... plyin’ me with gifts…” He winked at her, nodding again as he turned serious. “... Nah, seriously though. I, uh, I feel the same way. Y’know…” He sucked in a deep, audible breath through his nose, his free hand rising to scrub at his mouth, concealing it a moment as he spoke from behind it. “... I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about that night. And for more than just the obvious reasons…” He cleared his throat. “... it was nice to wake up next to you. To eat breakfast together. To laugh…” He scoffed again, looking down shyly, his hand dropping away from his face.

His head shook, the hand that held hers tightening its grip ever so slightly. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is…” He sucked in another deep breath. He felt vulnerable, all of a sudden, intensely. Not in a bad way, just it had been so long since the last time he’d done something like this, that it felt like the first time. “I’d love to keep you company…” He looked up, meeting her eyes again.

It was his turn to lean over the counter, then, towards her, his voice soft. “And thank you…” He tugged at her hand, just forcefully enough to pull her a little closer so he could press a chaste kiss against her lips. “... for the gift.” He pulled back slightly, though she could still feel the warmth of his exhale. No hint of cigarette smoke on his breath. “It’s beautiful. Instantly the nicest thing I own, besides my guitars, maybe.”

He eased back over to his side of the counter, finally releasing her hand, brushing the front of his shirt absently. “So, uh, would it be awkward if I invited you out for lunch?” He raised a single eyebrow inquisitively. “Assuming you haven’t already ate. There’s a ton of places within walkin’ distance of here.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Oh, good, he likes it -

His smile did things to her - this was clearly not up for debate - but this one? The unguarded surprise, unexpected joy in his eyes literally slipped into her lungs, slipped out with her breath and squeezed, hard, all at the same time. The kind of smile that honestly warmed her from her head to her toes, and for a brief moment connected her to the aura of all that was living and good.

She was so high on that all’s right with the world feeling that it banished all of her previous doubts and fears back to shadowy corners; not gone forever, but certainly defeated for the time being. She’d just been talking, whatever came to mind, poetic or not, but when the warmth of his hand made contact with her own, she believed it. If it was far too much weight to put on one person’s shoulders hadn’t crossed her mind. Just…somehow, things would work out.

It was her turn to blush now, her skin flushing ruddy at the cheeks, under his compliments. Compliments were something that she took in stride and hardly handled seriously - depending on who was giving them. Coming from someone like him, well, it drove the arrow deeper into her heart. Not that it was new from him - but they were always so damned earnest that they brought her that much closer to what she’d thought she’d been chasing after. The sort of emotion that always had butterflies dancing around it. The sort of feeling that made you want to create, to do anything that was humanly possible to describe, no, not describe, but note down so even the ghost could be remembered. “Next time, you’re going to have to have some gummies with me and listen to Earth, Wind, and Fire on repeat. I’m sure spiraling will be much more fun with someone else.” With the gummies, it was much less of a “plummeting into a thought spiral that I can’t break out of,” and more of a “gentle descent past the problems that kept circling around so she could breath for a minute” - and, it may not be so bad to experience that dreaminess with someone she trusted.

Sarcastic, but not biting; taking a mutual secret and wrapping it up pleasantly to be an inside joke rather than shared trauma. “And…yeah. I hadn’t slept that well in years.” Sincerity there, recognizing the bond between them, despite how brief it was. Intimacy that even trauma couldn’t really erase or cover up. She’d been moving on some sort of autopilot when it came to him, true, but not once had she felt like she was in danger. It was only when she tried to force logic back into it that things went sideways. There had to be a middle-ground somewhere, though - and he was willing to help her find that line. She’d have to move things a bit slower - her home was her sanctuary, that was true, and one he’d already been in. But maybe more public settings for a while, until it felt less spur of the moment and more planned with safety measures in place, if to do nothing else but to slightly hush that anxious voice.

“Mmmrg…” It was a strange guttural purr, a reflexive response to his lips on hers, as brief as it was. When he drew back, she followed - leaning over so far that she had to stand on her tiptoes to get the extra inches. Careful as not to put too much pressure on the glass, she was still determined not to let him get away. Not with his breath so close. It was now her turn to kiss him - just as chaste, but for a bit longer. Long enough to fully remember the feel of him against her, to feel that flickering curl in the pit of her stomach tickle lower.

When their lips parted, she still kept him close, one hand going around the nape of his neck to keep him there. A brief bump of her forehead to his, and now it was her turn to speak. “Lunch would be great, actually. We’re splitting the check, though.” A warm smile as she eased back, keeping her hand loosely cupped to the back of his neck. “I trust your tastes.” Simple, weighty. “So I’ll let you pick.”