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Chapter 11
Nov. 24th, 2015 01:09 pmvia http://ift.tt/21e3ajc:
Full of Grace chapter 11 update: Can’t Help Falling In Love
In which there is a blanket fort, a renegotiation of terms, and the aftermath of a mission gone right.
There’s also maybe some progress on the theme that was the original entire premise of the first fic in this series, Ora Pro Nobis: why James remembers a tragic love story with a long-past Natasha, but she does not remember ever having known him. (That’s the thing with writing epic-length stories: I got themes, I know I do, but damned if I can remember to work them back in.)
Natasha watched the explosion in the rear-view mirror and thought to herself with grim satisfaction that, very occasionally, her job was kind of cool.
James, not driving, had the freedom to turn around and actually watch the explosion face-on. He startled her by letting out a whoop; she had to glance over to realize that the noise was genuine high-spirits. “That was the fuckin’ nuts,” he said, yelling over the noise of the engine. “Yeah! Eat fire, you fuckin’ Nazis!”
He cackled like a lunatic halfway back to civilization, and as they swapped their gear out at the stash point and pulled on civvies to blend in enough to make it to the safehouse unremarked he was still in refreshingly high spirits. “Fuck yeah,” he said, apropos of nothing.
“That one was pretty rewarding,” Natasha conceded.
“C’mon,” he said, “ain’t you even a little worked up?”
“I’m not the whooping type,” she said primly.
He telegraphed his next move so she didn’t fucking deck him, which she appreciated: he came toward her with his hands out, grabbed her by the ribs, picked her up and swung her around. She allowed a laugh, then grabbed him and shoved him against the side of the Jeep and kissed him hard.
He liked that, he opened right up for her and went sweet and pliant, and she grabbed him by the hair and manhandled him around. His eyes went dark, pupils huge. “Such a good boy,” she purred. They were at a shed in the middle of the woods, and it was the middle of the afternoon and there was nobody around for miles and they really should keep moving to make sure there was no pursuit, but—
She pushed him down onto his knees, and he stared at her like he was a dog and she had a treat— worshipful, hopeful, wide-eyed, avid. “You’re going to help me with this zipper, aren’t you?”
Full of Grace chapter 11 update: Can’t Help Falling In Love
In which there is a blanket fort, a renegotiation of terms, and the aftermath of a mission gone right.
There’s also maybe some progress on the theme that was the original entire premise of the first fic in this series, Ora Pro Nobis: why James remembers a tragic love story with a long-past Natasha, but she does not remember ever having known him. (That’s the thing with writing epic-length stories: I got themes, I know I do, but damned if I can remember to work them back in.)
Natasha watched the explosion in the rear-view mirror and thought to herself with grim satisfaction that, very occasionally, her job was kind of cool.
James, not driving, had the freedom to turn around and actually watch the explosion face-on. He startled her by letting out a whoop; she had to glance over to realize that the noise was genuine high-spirits. “That was the fuckin’ nuts,” he said, yelling over the noise of the engine. “Yeah! Eat fire, you fuckin’ Nazis!”
He cackled like a lunatic halfway back to civilization, and as they swapped their gear out at the stash point and pulled on civvies to blend in enough to make it to the safehouse unremarked he was still in refreshingly high spirits. “Fuck yeah,” he said, apropos of nothing.
“That one was pretty rewarding,” Natasha conceded.
“C’mon,” he said, “ain’t you even a little worked up?”
“I’m not the whooping type,” she said primly.
He telegraphed his next move so she didn’t fucking deck him, which she appreciated: he came toward her with his hands out, grabbed her by the ribs, picked her up and swung her around. She allowed a laugh, then grabbed him and shoved him against the side of the Jeep and kissed him hard.
He liked that, he opened right up for her and went sweet and pliant, and she grabbed him by the hair and manhandled him around. His eyes went dark, pupils huge. “Such a good boy,” she purred. They were at a shed in the middle of the woods, and it was the middle of the afternoon and there was nobody around for miles and they really should keep moving to make sure there was no pursuit, but—
She pushed him down onto his knees, and he stared at her like he was a dog and she had a treat— worshipful, hopeful, wide-eyed, avid. “You’re going to help me with this zipper, aren’t you?”
