|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 16, 2010 18:50:19 GMT -5
This, as far as Andrua was concerned, was an amazing day. She was curled up next to the best boyfriend/possibly fiance ever, watching the half-time report of the England-USA match of the FIFA 2014 World Cup. Yeah, life was good. All right, so England was losing. But it was only by one point and they still had the whole second half to get it back. And with their half-backs and forwards... It shouldn't be too hard. Despite being an American, Andrua was rooting for the UK. It was kind of hard not to with the die-hard England fan at her side. Curling her sock-covered toes under herself, Andrua sighed softly and rested her head on Benson's shoulder. And maybe they hadn't defined what exactly they "were" at the moment. Whether they were just going to be starting over again, as just boyfriend and girlfriend or if they were back to being fiance and fiancee. And it wasn't really something Andrua could just come out and ask. She was wearing his ring, though. Just...on the right hand. Still acknowledging their relationship and her promise to him, but not pressuring him into anything. This was his call. She knew he was/had been apprehensive about the whole marriage-and-a-life-together business. Hell, it was what had driven him to the fiasco with Colette. Andrua had no doubts. She knew he would be an amazing father and the perfect husband. But if he was unsure than she would take her time to convince him. "Think Rooney can pull it together?" she asked with a grin, naming England's stand-by forward. Personally, she wasn't too fond of the winger. He was from ManU and everyone knew those gloryhounds weren't worth as much as they thought they were. "Or maybe Donovon will be able to pull the wait of the whole USA team and get something going." She may be looking for England to win but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate one of the only good players on USA.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 17, 2010 19:34:38 GMT -5
[/url] He was a nerd. They'd established this after he'd walked out of the bedroom donned in his faithful white England uniform with his favorite player's surname stamped on the black, boots and ball included. During the halftime report, he impatiently juggled the ball while sitting on the couch with his--well, whatever it is she was to him; they hadn't found middle ground on the exact title of their relationship yet--Andrua. An arm was draped affectionately around her shoulders, the other on the armrest of the sofa, fingers tapping incessantly at the buttons as if turning up the volume would make the wait speed by. The question she posed made his mouth curl in all different spots. "Over Gerrard's dead body he can," he snorted. "Rooney stands at the top of the defense and waits for the ball. Do you see that halfback's crosses? Rooney does nothing with them, and they're all perfect. And they wonder why they're losing." Shouldn't he be rooting for his own country? This was bad. Maybe he was a monarchist. Pulling his eyes down to her, he inched closer, propping his head againt hers. Sometimes it got confusing, not really indentifying what they were together. Even separate, he still felt protective over her, like any other close interaction with a male was a threat to his territory. Perhaps that was a little possessive and dogmatic, but since they hadn't articulated their stable togetherness, any chance at separation worried him. He couldn't go through losing her again. At the mention of Donovan he smiled. "The goddamn fullback plays striker more than the strikers do. Gotta hand it to the guy, even if the rest of his team is shitty."
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 19, 2010 23:29:51 GMT -5
Andrua couldn't help but laugh at her...Benson's avid criticism of the English winger. But it wasn't like his comments weren't justified. Rooney could be a bit of a dead-head. A good ninety-eight percent of the time. Smirking, she pushing a hand through his hair as he got all close. Her fingers lightly scraped over his scalp, enjoying the intimate if innocent touch as much as he probably was.
She loved touching him. She always had really but it was even more apparent to her now. Now, because she had had to go so long without being able to touch him. That had been torture. So now she was taking every opportunity she had to make contact. And sometimes she was making opportunities where there weren't ones just so she could have skin-to-skin with him. She hoped he didn't mind; didn't think he would.
A full laugh left her as he spoke of Donovan. "Uh-huh!" she agreed enthusiastically. "That's 'cause he's my baby!" A stream of giggles bubbled out of her as she sat up, adopting some sort of triumphant pose. Hands fisted on her waist, she puffed her chest out. That soon dissolved into more laughter as she couldn't hold even that thin charade. "But yeah, aside from him and Bradley, that team just hasn't got anyone. Which is a shame."
Couldn't even really root for her hom country with any sort of real vigor with players like DeMerit and Howard gone. Sure there were still her two main men playing but they couldn't always pull the full weight of that team all by themselves.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 0:11:58 GMT -5
Reluctantly and with some strain, he fought to keep the gasp from seeping through his teeth as her fingertips made contact with his scalp. He felt like he needed to be tied in a burlap sack in order to keep his hands off of her. His knees pulled apart as he ignored the tiny movements on the screen to pull Andrua onto his lap, swinging her legs over his and wrapping them around his waist. Between the steamy kisses, he curled an arm around her waist, the other diving straight for her hair with no hesitance. Finding a pounding heart in his chest, he only wanted to feel hers against it, conceding to her conspicuous need for another's flesh.
Back to soccer, he concluded, after he felt the rugged edge of the diamond on her right hand. It felt misplaced, though he knew she had purposely slid it onto that finger. He was angry to feel out painful it was to pull away from her. "I think you pictured kissing Donovan instead just now, by the way you talked about him. 'Your baby!'" He threw his hands up, complete with a lisp in his girlish mock of her interjection.
"Oh, sure, shame, whatever. Too bad England is gonna kick major ass." Why was he rooting for the team from which they had a revolution?
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 0:31:43 GMT -5
Benson put on the heat within seconds and Andrua wasn't exactly opposed. She yielded to him quickly, allowing him to pull her in, wrap her around him. Pressing close, she fit a hand to either side of his face, kissing him back just as eagerly. His heart was thrumming against her chest and hers was thrumming against his. Taking in a short, staccato breath, she broke the kiss and nuzzled against his neck, nose running along the line of muscle there.
She stuck out her tongue at his mockery. "You're just jealous," she concluded, turning her nose up. But she cuddled back to him quickly, eyes flicking focused to the television. "Once you start make beautiful goals like Donovan and Gerrard I'll give them up for you and only you." It was a tease but she thought maybe she had wandered into minefield territory. Just because of what had happened between the two of them... Hoping to remedy that possible infraction, she tucking her head against the soft flest, just behind his jaw, near the shell of his ear. Aware of how suddenly sentiment she had become, she let out a soft sigh and whispered. "I love you, Bennie."
A smirk started as he took up the trash talk. "Yeah, all right," she conceded. "I can't even say anything 'cause with Gerrard and James and all them we don't really have much of a chance, huh? Even considering 'my baby.'"
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 0:54:54 GMT -5
"Of course," he replied unenthusiastically, tucking her shoulders away under his arm and letting her rest her face in a slew of places before she finally decided on the back of his neck, "because I'm such an insanely jealous person." Though he couldn't openly admit that he became irrefusably envious whenever he saw her looking at another guy--especially another footy player, who directly competed with the only talent he had; the one that seemed to catch her eye--he did not want to let her know that. One of the things he couldn't admit to was his weakness against her dodging glance.
"Once you start make beautiful goals like Donovan and Gerrard I'll give them up for you and only you."
Definitively, he answered, "Well, I will. Watch, I will." Throwing a chuckle on the end to show that he wasn't entirely serious, he buried his nose into her hair. "I don't love you when you call me Bennie," he countered begrudgingly. "But I'll accept it this one time. That's your freebie. Don't waste another one, got that?" Teasingly planting a kiss to her neck, he turned back to watch the rest of the game.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 1:04:25 GMT -5
She winced a little at the hurt in his tone. Feeling bad, she snuck closer to him, taking in a deep breath. She really had to work on that whole brain connecting to mouth thing. Because she kept putting her foot in it. She didn't want to tiptoe around their separation. It had happened; it was real; they had both gone through it; they had both done stupid, stupid things. But it was over. They were working through it. If only she could stop plucking it to the forefront of their minds... Inadvertantly, of course, but that didn't change the end result.
"I know you will, Ben," she replied, one hundred percent sincere. She believe in Benson unexhaustingly. He could do anything he wanted as long as he set his mind to it, she knew. She also knew he sometimes got caught up in himself and his self-doubt. So she was his counter. His constant reminder that someone out there knew he could succeed and was rooting for him.
Andrua bit his neck lightly, teasing, when he replied that he didn't love her. But wasn't that her greatest fear? He was only joking over the nickname then but still... "Got it," she answered, smiling. Pulling her face out of hiding, she leaned against his shoulder and watched the match a bit. A few volleys in, she moved closer to Benson, her mind occupied with the thought of how utterly wonderful this was.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 1:22:41 GMT -5
There was a silence in which he thought a strange animal was sure to make a strange sound because it was that awkward and needed breaking that words could not do. Drawing in a breath too, he sunk deeper into the seat, as if that would make him disappear from the situation and he wouldn't have to deal with wherever this conversation would go. Soon it melted away by itself, and he turned his blank expression into a colorful smile as he glanced down at her, entranced by her snuggles, even. The way she wanted to be near him; it felt good to be wanted.
"Don't put the idea in my head," he warned her lazily, watching England take the ball upfield. Number four made him even more jealous, and he scratched at the back of his head as he struck the ball from halfway between the fifty year line and the eighteen. "You know, I've always wondered what the people on the teams are like in person. Rooney seems arrogant, like he gets the ball and his inner monologue is like, 'Oy, I'm Rooney, I'm going to strike the ball now; oh, I missed the ball, dash it all.'" His British accent was convincing enough, but he couldn't help but be sent into a roaring laughter at his imitation. "And Gerrard is all, 'My name is Gerrard, I'm going to strike the ball from midair; oh, in the net again, eh? The keep's back must be getting right tired by now from bending over and all.'"
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 1:33:41 GMT -5
Andrua didn't even try to hold her laughter in at his imitation of the English players. She couldn't breathe fromt laughing for a few minutes, just shaking her head doubled over. "Benson," she trailed out between peals. As she finally calmed, patting his legs, she replied, "Are you sure you haven't met either of them? Because that seems like it would be perfectly accurate for the both of them."
Glancing to the screen, she was forced to watch as Gerrard launched a perfect shot across the goal, setting Rooney up for a brilliant header into the goal. Except, of course, Rooney missed it, ball clearing a few good inches above his head. "Fuck!" she shouted, throwing her hands up in frustration. Settling back against the couch, she added, "And what would Stevie G have to say about that? 'Bloody fucking bastard! Every time I give him a perfect ball and he just watches it go past like this isn't his job. He hasn't got anything else to be doing at the moment aside from scoring a bleeding point. Tosspot.'" She had to admit, her ravings were half what she thought the English Captain was thinking and half how she herself felt about number ten.
Pulling her legs up under her, she chewed on her lip, watching the players run through the Brazilian summer heat. Hmm, maybe Gerrard would take his shirt off once the game was over... Shifting slightly, she settled back against Benson. Fingers trailed over his stomach, she let her other hand wander in absent circles over the nape of his neck. Comfortable, she turned her attention fully back to the game, still a little put out over the perfect pass Gerrard had set up only to have Rooney crap out on it.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 9:56:02 GMT -5
He was gonna do it. Now. No, wait. Now. Okay, now. He promised himself, he was going to do it. This was going to happen. He was going to do it...now. All right, this needed to happen. Twitching in frustration with himself, he jerked his head off to the side, sliding a hand down his prickly face. He really ought to shave eventually. "So when--"
"Fuck!"
"Okay." Body rising to once again readjust himself, Benson halfheartedly listen to her rant about what Steven G would have to say about Rooney's stunningly shitty performance. Come on, Wayne. You're in the World-fucking-Cup. Start playing like it, he thought, because hey, he could still be an avid football fan while trying to re-propose to his girlfriend. His certainty in this proposition was shaken now, since usually she was hot-headed when it came to soccer, and it took a while to cool back down. And it seemed right now that she was...brooding.
"He'll come through," he assured her warmly, planting a sounding kiss on the top of her head. "So...when're we going to get married, hmm? You know I won't wait forever for you to pick out your gown."
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 10:45:47 GMT -5
Pouting slightly, Andrua settled herself against Benson. Brow in a dark line, she was not happy about the performance of Gerrard's teammates. This was a problem. She just registered Benson's words of consolation and shrugged in response. She hoped he'd come true. And if not, she'd just have to go back to cheering for Donovan.
"So...when're we going to-" Andrua had been listening to what Benson was saying with half an ear, splitting her attention between her boyfriend and the World Cup. But then Gerrard got a line shot right at the top of the penalty box and launched it perfect and....and...It was good!!
Bouncing up, Andrua pumped her fists in the air, cheering. Fuck yes! Finally! They had scored and.... Had the rest of Benson's sentence been "get married"? Turning to him, her lips parted open slightly, eyes wide and head tilted to one side. When were they going to get married? When the fuck was he going to let her know he still wanted to?!
Pouncing on him, she laughed and ruffled his hair as if in aggravation. "You jerk!" she declared, finally settling down and resting her hands at his shoulders. "Today, tomorrow, next Sunday, four months from now!" she exclaimed. Smiling softly, she adopted a more serious, calmer tone as she met his eyes and pressed a hand to the side of his face. "Whenever, wherever you want to," she promised, dropping a soft kiss to his lips.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 11:05:30 GMT -5
And she was gone again. Consumed by the demigod-like performance that was Steven Gerrard. Bowing his head, in both shame and laughter, he ruffled a hand through her hair, trying to get her to come back down to Earth. At the moment she was drowning in her own fantasies (of which he was very jealous, because women's professional soccer was definitely not as thrilling or as eye-catching; in fact, it was rather boring). Once she was seated on the couch again, she seemed to hear the rest of his sentence, the game blocked out and Gerrard's celebration dance forgotten.
Receiving her quips and blows, he couldn't help but break out into chuckles. "I'm a jerk? I thought that would make you happy," he defended, holding up his hands, inching away on the sofa before gathering her back in his arms. His hands held her waist and he kept her at a distance that would frighten his grandparents. "Today," he whispered to her, pressing delicate, rhythmic kisses to her mouth. "Today, right now. I'll get us to wherever we need to go. We'll go there. We'll get married. We'll have a life together. Like we always wanted, y'know? We don't have to come back if you don't want to."
God, that sounded so peaceful. To never be around these people again. Never have to deal with the past, only focus on what was to come in the future. Never be hassled, never have to care. Just her. Her.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 11:31:31 GMT -5
"Today. Today, right now. I'll get us to wherever we need to go. We'll go there. We'll get married. We'll have a life together. Like we always wanted, y'know? We don't have to come back if you don't want to."
She rested her forehead against his, laughing softly. "Yes, yes, yes." She replied. "Yes to now. Yes to anywhere. Yes to the rest of our lives together." She kissed him soundly, fingers weaving into his hair. But not coming back? No, she couldn't leave Biella... Or could she? She could... She could with Benson. She could leave, but not New York. Because they did have a life here. They could just make it separate, make it their own.
An apartment; that's what they needed. An apartment for just the two of them. Where they could be married and have their own life and... Then they could move to a house just outside the city with a big backyard; get a dog and have a kid and spend the rest of their lives together. Yes. Please. "Let's go," she urged him, hands gripping at her shoulders. "Please, now. This second." Leaning forward, she kissed him again, letting it linger.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 12:20:13 GMT -5
The drive was so close to being unignorable. She was holding onto him, and he could just whisk them away, teleport them and make it so that they didn't have to pack their bags. They didn't have to say goodbye. And hell, they could come back if they wanted to. But right now what he wanted to do was be alone with her, leave for a while, forget some things and then come back. Maybe. Eventually. Didn't have to. They didn't have to do anything. They didn't have to do anything they didn't want to do.
"Really?" he asked, brows pulling together in a confirmed line, wanting to know if that's what she really meant, not just words she was spurting out because of the heat between them; because of his re-proposal. If she wanted a life here, with the people she knew, he refused to take her away from that.
A faint smile came over his face. "I'll go. I'll do it, just say the word."
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 12:43:15 GMT -5
Laughter bubbled out from her and she kissed him firmly, intoxicated by the moment and being with him. "Yes. Really. Let's go. Let's get married and get away from here. At least for a little while." She kissed him again, scooting closer. "We'll take an extended honeymoon; see everywhere we've ever wanted." Hearing the blare of a penalty whistle from behind them, she giggled a little. "Maybe even catch the final game of the World Cup?"
Sighing, she settled against his chest, exhaling so her breath skipped over the skin at his neck. "Yes. Let's leave and get married and just be us for a little while. I don't need anyone else right now. We can come back when we're ready." And then move out. It was time. They would still have their family structure, still have their friends around them. But they could be out on their own. Finally starting their life together. For real.
"I love you," she whispered against him. "I love and I want to be your wife. Right now."
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 13:13:34 GMT -5
His eyes were drawn like curtains: smoothly, completely, blocking out any unwanted visions. All he wanted to know now was Andrua. There was no world around them, and he couldn't dare to think that anything else was in existence. It just didn't make sense. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. She smelled of her lotion, and he even of his cologne, but as he kissed her he could taste the sweet flavor of freedom. Of a life together, two singled lives combined as one. An audible sigh escaped him and he took her face in his hands, finally reopening his eyes to see the sparkle that made her words glow. She wanted to leave. She was smiling.
"Oh, God," he spurted out, releasing kisses along her neck, legs tightening and arms flexing around her miniscule waist. "I love you, I love you so much," promised Benson, holding her close. "Ready? We're going to go. Anywhere. I'm just gonna let it take us wherever." More because he couldn't control his teleportation than just the willingness to be anywhere right now with her. With her.
Then a smirk sprouted on his face. "Should I change out of my uniform?"
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 13:21:28 GMT -5
Andrua laughed heartily, squirming happily in his embrace. "Yes, yes, yes. Ready." Anywhere. Anywhere was fine. Anywhere was perfect. She would go anywhere as long as it was with him. As long as it was with him to get married, to make the two of them one. "Let's leave, now." She couldn't wait. This had to happen now, this moment.
At his afterthought, she broke into a trail of chuckles. "Oh, gosh. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Just in case we land in a rival country, you know?" Leaning in, she rubbed her nose against his in an eskimo kiss. She could wait the four seconds it would take for him to change. Because they were on the way. They had plans they were going to put into action. They were going to do this.
They were moving on; moving forward.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 15:02:58 GMT -5
Fuck. He was getting married. Getting married. A triumphant lip-splitting grin made its way across her face and there was no way anything could ever put so much as a speck of cinder on this day. The orb of light around his face must have deflected everything else. Dashing into his room, he pulled off his uniform and dressed in a pair of khakis, button-down, and nicer shoes. After all, he was getting married. He didn't give a damn what Andrua wore. She'd be stunning in sweatpants; all eyes would be on her.
Then he teleported back in the room, and held her to his chest so close she could have sunk into his skin. "I love you," he reiterated, the sensation of saying it never fading. The feelings were new and replenished every time it left his mouth. "Let's get this show on the road." With a severe and noticable lack of concentration, he warped them through location after location, just spinning through air, liking the emptiness of the void.
Then he landed them in front of a harsh, unforgiving ring of a clock bounding across the towers. Big Ben had made their presence known.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 15:10:54 GMT -5
He was changed and back before she could even blink. And then in another blink, she was in his arms and they were gone. And back. And gone. And back. And gone. And then finally back again. She fumbled a little as they stayed standing in thise location. Her head spun and she leaned heavily on Benson. Blinking up at him, her vision cleared and she saw where they were.
Grinning, Andrua commented, "Well. I don't think you're uniform would have been a problem here, huh?" Nearby, cheers rang out from a squat, little pub. Apparently, the establishment was broadcasting the Cup and someone on England had made another great play. Snuggling up to him, she pulled her arms tight around his waist. "Perfect, Benson. But you know we could be anywhere and it would be perfect."
She held his hand and tugged him along, ready to get this show on the road. "C'mon," she urged gently.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 20, 2010 15:18:08 GMT -5
Letting her apply her weight to him, he kept her steady and on her feet, knowing that teleporting took a while to get used to, even for someone who did it as frequently as he made her do. Her face sparkled when she saw the city, and he couldn't help but make an attempt to mirror it. The way she just lit up made him believe she could illuminate all of London. If she just said a word from the top of a building every light would come on. To hell with Ewan McGreggor--she could top him any day.
"I know," he agreed cockily for a second before letting her lead the way. "I'm right behind you," Benson assured her, keeping a steady pace at her heels, his smile beaming. London. There couldn't possibly be a more perfect time or place.
Now where would this happen?
|
|