Steady [Marian+Alistair]
Shaking hands. Sweaty palms. Dry mouth. A nervous intake of breath. A steadying breath out.
Alistair stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his hotel room, staring at himself critically. He’d applied three layers of deodorant and still he felt as though he would sweat through his clothing before he even left his room. He leaned forward, looking closely at his face, his hair, his teeth. How easy it was for someone to see their own flaws. This wrinkle here, that off-center tooth, the uneven bend in the nose; anticipation of a date had a way to exaggerate every one of them.
It was to be their third date, and Alistair was no less nervous for it than he had been for the second one, and significantly more than the first. His first-night’s attraction to Marian Hawke had not subsided in the least. Before their second date, one in which they had gone to see a movie, he had almost thrown up he’d been so nervous. Once they had seated themselves in the theater, he’d calmed down, had been paying decent enough attention to the film, until Marian had put her hand on his leg a half hour in.
It was an innocent enough move, she had been looking for his hand to hold, but at the time his heart had jumped in to his throat. Looking back on it, he cringed at the shy maid he was turning out to be. Once her hand had found his, she locked her fingers with his and held on to him the rest of the movie. Mercifully, his palms had been sweat-free, and the heat that grew from each other’s palms was dry and comfortable. He couldn’t recall some of the middle part of the movie because his mind would wander to where their hands sat entwined. After the movie, they had moved to a late-night coffee bar across the street, nursing a cup of coffee each and sat talking for two hours.
When it came time to say goodnight, he and Marian had walked together, holding hands again, until their paths home took them in different directions. He felt very much a blushing girl when he softly stuttered a goodnight to her. She’d smiled, and kissed him goodnight. He felt very much not like a girl in that moment.
Her kisses were like wild fire to him. They spread heat to all the right places, and he had a hard time reaching for the water to quench its progress and not the gasoline to encourage it to burn brighter, hotter, and infinitely more dangerous. But he’d kept himself in check. He’d kissed her back, a hand brought up to gently cup the back of her head, and fought the urge to rip her clothes off in the middle of the street.
They said goodnight again, and each turned their heads towards home. He’d looked back at her retreating form several times, until he had to turn a corner, and lost the line of sight. After that, he could not get home fast enough to the privacy of his own room.
And now, three days later, was date number three. Alistair had bought them tickets to the Museum of Kirkwall, and was awaiting the time until Marian arrived. He’d dressed up for the occasion in the effect that none of his clothes had holes in them, and he wore his newest and least faded pair of jeans. The rest of his nicer clothes had not fit right since the last time he had worn them. It had been years ago, before the blight, and he had grown both in height and in bulk. He’d tried his old suit on, just to see, and had felt very much a stripper as his pants clung to his hips and crotch and his shirt had stretched taught over his chest. He’d had difficulty peeling the clothes off again without ripping them.
A nervous intake of breath. A steadying breath out.
Alistair leaned back from the mirror, away from the flaws that covered his face, and tugged on his shirt quickly, inviting in and pushing out air in an attempt to cool himself down. He thought about going down and waiting for Marian in the bar or out on the street, but then he’d just stand there awkwardly, or would have to find something to occupy himself in the meantime.
He gave himself one last once-over, eyes going over his moss-green t-shirt under an open white and dark grey stripped button-down, and then exited the bathroom, flicking off the light. He sat down on the edge of his bed and put on his boots.
A nervous intake of breath. A steadying breath out.
He sat there trying to calm himself, looking at his watch, watching the time tick slowly by. His head was full of their previous two dates, so the calming wasn’t going to well. He told himself he was being ridiculous, being so nervous. Marian was a beautiful, intelligent, and respectful woman. But then, it wasn’t Marian he was nervous about. It was himself. It scared him how much Marian affected him, how she made him feel. They had known each other for one week. He was afraid to go too fast. He was afraid to go too slow. He had missed his chance with someone he’d loved once before. He did not want that to happen again.
Somewhere in his thoughts he had lost track of time, and there came a knock at the door to knock him back to reality. He got to his feet.
A nervous intake of breath.
He opened the door.
A steady exhale as he saw her standing there, a smile spreading across his face. “Good afternoon, beautiful.” Slowly, he felt his nervousness ebbing away. How was it that she could panic him and calm him all at once? It was terrifying and exciting, and he couldn’t get enough of it.
