love and war / aaliyah + aaron
Aaliyah's father had always been quick to point out the importance of history: "For unless you learn from the past, history will always repeat itself." Cheekily, she had always told her father the same thing: "Not all history is bad, Daddy." And in this case, it certainly wasn't. Aaron was perhaps her favorite habit, and arguably her worst. As the Queen Bee of Mount Olympus High, she had a nice selection to choose from to spend her time, and she often did; rarely did a week pass without a date for her to look forward to. But she always came back to Aaron. He brought out the most primitive side of her, a specific violence she thought a previous man had stuffed. He had been the first to show her how comfortable you could be in your skin, and she was his first. She would always be his first, and it was this fact she took a great private pride in.
They had done this before. Nights together, days together, teeth and nails and hungry mouths. Aaron knew her body as well as she knew his by now. Even then, Aaliyah never let down an opportunity to look her best. Her hair was done, her makeup was flawless, and she had worn a pair of her favorite underwear. Even someone as familiar as Aaron was worth getting dolled up for. Hell, the pizza delivery guy was worth getting dolled up for; Aaliyah didn't waste her first impressions. She waited for Aaron now on her couch, flipping through a magazine until he arrived.
