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18 December 2010 @ 05:47 pm
"It's A Motherfucker" - Ficlet for jurisimmortalis  

Things just hadn't been the same since Nat had gone.

The place smelled different, for a start; stuffy and musky, covered in his own scent, without the smell of a female to counterbalance his own masculine aroma. It weren't as if he'd actually pissed anywhere but the bathroom, but his coat had a habit of brushing against the furniture and leaving traces of his passing - and that was another thing. He hadn't bothered changing his clothes since Nat had left, either. Hell, she was the only reason he'd taken to bathing on a semi-regular basis, but with his incentive to wash having disappeared, he was more than content to just sit there and wallow in his own sweat and dirt for as long as he wanted, savoring the smell of earth and blood - and whiskey.

It would have been hard not to notice the whiskey.

If there could have been one thing Victor would have changed about his healing factor, it would have been the ability to actually get some kind of a buzz from alcohol. It didn't matter how much he drank, he could never do any more than achieve a vague haziness and sometimes an even fouler temper than usual, and that was on the hardest liquor he could possibly find. For now, he was just knocking back the cheap stuff as if it were water, in the vague hope of gaining some kind of solace; but it wasn't really working. Instead, he just stank of sour whiskey, and his mood was worse than ever. Goddammit.

He snarled as he finished the dregs of another bottle, hurling it away from him and not even caring as it smashed against the edge of the kitchen counter. Why should he care if there was broken glass lying around? It weren't as if it would hurt him, and if Nat was so damned house-proud, she could come back and clean it up. Muttering to himself, he grabbed at another packet of potato chips and tore it open, stuffing them into his face.

It was the curious 'miaow' that attracted his attention. He'd forgotten, briefly, that he wasn't the only inhabitant of the loft; Moose had been poking his head in, here and there, although the feral's foul moods had mostly kept the cat at bay. He glared at the cat as it stared back at him.

"You don't eat potato chips. Yer a goddamn cat."

But Moose edge closer, trying to sniff at the bag.

"I said, y'don't eat... ah, dammit." Shrugging, he offered a chip to the cat - which was refused. Sighing, Victor rose to his feet and headed for the fridge. He'd been saving it for later, even though it was starting to smell a bit funny, but he figured, what the hell. Nat would kill him if the black cat starved. He pulled out a plate with a manky-looking piece of meat on it, and set it down for Moose to start sniffing and licking at. "Enjoy it. 'Cause that was gonna be my damn dinner. Fuckin' cat."
Current Mood: depresseddepressed
Current Music: "It's A Motherfucker" - Eels
Natalie Ann Bruenner: annoyed/tired/nose pinchjurisimmortalis on December 20th, 2010 08:42 pm (UTC)
Years ago, Nat had been recruited to eliminate another Immortal. As payment, she had received a villa in Monaco and a sizable bank account. She had decided to keep the estate as something of a safe house for when she needed to get away for awhile. It was where she had decided to go after leaving Victor. It gave her a chance to clear her head and really sit down and think.

Monte-Carlo had been decked out in all its Christmas finery, but it hadn't been the same. Sure, she was more than pampered since the villa came with a full compliment of servants. But it wasn't her loft. The nights she'd spent there were empty without the deeply rumbling purring snores of her mate sleeping beside her.

Yes, she loved Victor, but she was simply tired of feeling used and disrespected. She was tired of her efforts to turn the loft into a home blowing up in her face. The Christmas tree debacle had been the last straw. It had been years since she'd felt like celebrating it, and the truth was that she liked going to all the trouble of decorating and shopping and wrapping presents. So, she had lied through her teeth when she said she didn't need all the sentimental bullshit. All to make Victor happy.

But she was tired of doing things to make him happy, or that she thought would make him happy. He was the one who'd barged in on her life. So if he didn't like it, he could just move back to the Island. So, with a renewed sense of purpose, Nat went back to her loft, only to find it had been turned into a war zone.

"Jesus H. Fucking Christ on a goddamn cracker, Victor!" she hollered after coming in from the freight elevator. "I've been to crime scenes that weren't this bad. What the hell?!"

Edited at 2010-12-20 08:46 pm (UTC)
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Chastisedwatch_the_nails on December 20th, 2010 10:55 pm (UTC)
Nat's arrival came as a complete surprise to the feral. His head snapped around to stare at her as she entered the loft, and he was torn between anger and relief; he'd been pining for her, wanting her to return, but at the same time there was that slow, smouldering rage burning within him, that irritation that she'd seen fit to leave in the first place. For the briefest of moments, a sliver of guilt worked its way into his gut as he realised what kind of a state the loft was in; he knew she was proud of it, and he knew she'd pretty much explode at him on her return - if she was going to return. Which she had.

"Wildcat, I ain't..." But he caught himself as he realised he was stumbling his way towards an apology. He was Victor fucking Creed, and he didn't need to apologise to anyone.. Ever. Least of all a woman. "Like you care! You wanted t'keep the place lookin' like a show home, you shouldn't have left in the first place. Do I look like Martha goddamn Stewart?"

He was being an ass, and he knew it. By shouting at her he was merely re-directing the anger which was aimed mostly at himself.
Natalie Ann Bruenner: bitch pleasejurisimmortalis on December 21st, 2010 12:20 am (UTC)
There was a reason Nat kept things relatively clean, and it wasn't for Victor's benefit. Her bitchtastic older sister would often go into Nat's room when she wasn't around and completely trash it: bed unmade down to the mattress, books pulled off their shelves, and when she was younger, toys were strewn all over the floor and some were completely mangled or destroyed outright. Of course, Nat always got the blame for the condition of her room and was told not to lie when she tried to say it was Leslie's fault.

Past and present started to merge until Nat wasn't sure where one left off and the other began. She'd never had a panic attack in her life, but that's certainly what it felt like. The room started spinning and she had to grip at the counter with one hand. She didn't notice the glass from the whiskey bottle even when her hand started bleeding. Her face had paled considerably and she had a hard time catching her breath.

"I can't ..." She panted and tried to make a run for the rooftop door. "I can't..."
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Haggardwatch_the_nails on February 4th, 2011 09:50 pm (UTC)
Victor, of course, wasn't able to see Nat's point of view. He'd known that she would throw one hell of a fit, but he'd never in a hundred years be able to understand why - and as for the panic attack, that was completely beyond his understanding, too. His brow furrowed in concern as he watched her steady herself against the counter, his sensitive hearing picking up her increased heart rate, the scent of fresh blood assailing his nostrils, and before he even knew what he was doing he was on his feet and striding towards her. The feral may have considered her reaction a severe weakness, but dammit, that didn't mean he didn't still care.

"Wildcat-" His nickname for her was on his lips without him even having to think. "Wildcat - Nat - stop it, damn it, you don't gotta..."
Natalie Ann Bruenner: hair porn/smoky/halojurisimmortalis on February 4th, 2011 10:05 pm (UTC)
Not hearing, or even seeing Victor, Nat pushed her way out onto the rooftop. Her mind was nowhere near the here and now, but was stuck in a place twenty years some odd ago or more. Not even the winter chill could snap her out of it. Tears streamed down her face as she sat huddled against the wall, knees drawn up to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. She was eleven again and hiding in the attic over the detached two-car garage of her childhood home. It was her refuge; the only place Leslie couldn't find her. Of course, her older sister would just claim she ran away again like she had so many other times. But Natalie had never run away. She'd just kept herself hidden in the only place she felt safe.

"It's not my fault..." She murmured to herself, as though trying to convince Trudy all over again. "It's not my fault..."
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Unhappy Dogwatch_the_nails on February 4th, 2011 10:16 pm (UTC)

In his frustration, in the conflict of his emotions, Victor swept his arm along the top of the counter before following his mate outside, sending the blood-stained wreckage of the whiskey bottle crashing to the floor; he snarled, annoyed at himself for not being able to snap Nat out of whatever it was she'd gotten herself into. He turned to follow then, heading out onto the roof after her, all but slamming the door behind him as he stalked over to where she huddled against the wall.

"Dammit, Nat, what the hell is the matter with you? I know I kinda missed the bowl a few times, but Jesus, you don't gotta go all Psycho on me."
Natalie Ann Bruenner: b/w crying/sadjurisimmortalis on February 4th, 2011 10:26 pm (UTC)
"Leslie..." The name came out on the sniffling, hiccuping sob of an eleven-year-old. "Leslie's always the one trashing my room... She always blames me for it. She hates me, and I've never done anything to her!"

Burying her face in her knees, Natalie sobbed even harder. It was hopeless. No one believed her. Everything that went wrong was always somehow her fault! And she couldn't make them see! They always took Leslie's side, not hers. She was the liar, the troublemaker, but no one believed her. The harder Natalie tried to stay out of trouble, the worse Leslie got. She felt so alone. Maybe Leslie was right. Maybe she wasn't worth wanting.
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Moodywatch_the_nails on February 4th, 2011 10:33 pm (UTC)
"Leslie?" The feral's expression changed from angry frustration to one of genuine confusion. "Who the fuck is Leslie?"

Victor tried to cast his mind back, attempting to remember who Nat knew by that name - and then he recalled that she'd mentioned a foster-sister, a girl called Leslie. That had to be it. For some reason, Nat was re-living something which had happened many years before, and it may have come as a surprise, but this was something Victor understood. How many times had he woken, expecting to see his father's fists already poised to come smashing down into his cheek? How many times had he snarled and roared his rage and frustration at things which had happened over a century before?

Sighing, trying to keep the vicious tone from his voice, Victor crouched down beside Nat and reached out, intending to place a clawed hand gently on her shoulder.

"Nat. Wildcat. Come back t'me, darlin'. Leslie ain't here no more."
Natalie Ann Bruenner: looking up/listeningjurisimmortalis on February 4th, 2011 10:46 pm (UTC)
But it wasn't Victor's face she saw when Natalie looked up; it was her godfather, AJ Hauldren. Why would he call her 'Wildcat'...? She wasn't from Kentucky. At least, she didn't think so. Blinking, the image of her godfather blurred with someone else, someone she should know. She buried her face in her hands, rubbing at her eyes, and trying to pull herself back together.

The cold wind ruffled her hair and pinched at her legs through the denim fabric of her jeans. The sounds of the city surrounded her, reminding her that she wasn't in Texas anymore. Images of the past year filled her mind up to and including her engagement to and subsequent fights with Victor, culminating in her walking out on him. Rubbing her face again, Nat grumbled into her hands.

"Remind me again exactly why I came back..."
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Bar Brawl Scowlwatch_the_nails on February 4th, 2011 10:50 pm (UTC)
Victor still couldn't tell whether Nat was in the present, the here and now, or whether she was still seeing and hearing things from her past. That was why he was gentle as he gripped at her shoulder, giving what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and a rumbling growl of a sigh. If she was talking about him, then... hell, he didn't know, either.

"Maybe 'cause you're a goddamn idiot," he muttered, loud enough for her to hear. "An' come t'think of it... shit, I gotta be a goddamn idiot, too."
Natalie Ann Bruenner: profile/neck p0rnjurisimmortalis on February 4th, 2011 11:08 pm (UTC)
Snorting softly, Nat leaned her head back against the side of the building. Her long fingers wiped the rest of the tears from her cheeks and she opened her dark eyes to look at Victor.

"Oh yeah, I'm a real prize." She snerked, moving to stand up, not bothering to explain why she'd flown off the handle the way she had. "And, yeah, I am an idiot."

The tone in her voice was full of fatalistic sarcasm, and she steeled herself against the chaos that reigned inside the loft before throwing open the door again. Yep, she was an idiot for ever coming back. It was obvious that whatever Victor felt for her had nothing to do with love or even respect. No, she was just what she'd always been: a cook, a housekeeper, and a bedwarmer. Nothing more. She'd been an idiot for thinking she could ever be more. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of a broken spirit as she went to get a trash bag to start cleaning up the wreckage.
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Ceiling Victorwatch_the_nails on February 4th, 2011 11:22 pm (UTC)
At first, the feral just watched as Nat walked inside to begin clearing up the mess he'd made in only a few short days. It didn't even occur to him that she may have had doubts about the depth of his affection for her; the truth was, he'd never really known how to express his emotions clearly, and so he couldn't know that he didn't show how much he really cared. For him, actions had always spoken louder than words, and he hadn't flipped and called her a dumb bitch just now, had he? In his book, that was a sure sign of romance.

He didn't even offer to clean up, because he didn't even know how.
Natalie Ann Bruenner: b/w alonejurisimmortalis on February 4th, 2011 11:40 pm (UTC)
Relative silence filled the loft as Nat set about cleaning up the disaster area. She started with the kitchen first. Aside from working on the bathroom, which she didn't even want to think about at the moment, the kitchen was the farthest she could get from Victor. She didn't really even want to look at him unless she couldn't help it. If actions spoke louder than words, well, at least now she knew exactly how he felt about her: he couldn't give a shit.

Realizing his mistress was finally home, a purring black shadow leaped up onto the counter and gingerly picked its way around piles of dirty dishes. It (or rather, he) headbutted her chin in greeting. Nat only sighed and gave a weary half-smile at the feline. She was too tired and frazzled from her flight and subsequent panic attack to really pay attention to the cat.

"Yeah. Hi, Moose."

After that, her brain pretty much just checked out as her body robotically went through the motions of cleaning: run the hot water, empty the dishwasher, rinse off the dirty dishes, reload the dishwasher, lather, rinse, repeat.
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Bar Brawl Scowlwatch_the_nails on February 5th, 2011 04:15 pm (UTC)
Even Victor could tell that Nat was far from being herself. He chalked it down to her being shaken up from their separation - and okay, yeah, maybe he could have been a little less messy with the food spattered all over the kitchen, the mud on the floor, and the gashes and tears in the sheets, counter tops and fridge - but she was back now, and starting to clear it all up. Maybe she needed some moral support.

He stalked across the floor towards her, moving to stand behind Nat even if she did her best to avoid his touch, and before she could stop him he was sliding his arms around her, trying to press against her from behind, trying to kiss the back of her neck.
Natalie Ann Bruenner: hair porn/smoky/halojurisimmortalis on February 5th, 2011 04:48 pm (UTC)
This was something she had missed while she'd been gone: the warm, purring affection. Places inside her that had been cold and numb were slowly beginning to come back to life. She closed her eyes and shifted slightly to lean back against him. She wasn't sure yet if she was ready to forgive him. They were just going to have to agree to disagree about Stryker. As for the loft, what had she expected? Victor didn't know a trash bag from a Ziploc. She supposed the thing that bothered her most was that he hadn't gone looking for her. Again, self-doubt crept into her heart. Maybe Leslie had been right: she wasn't worth the time and effort to find. Or love. Tilting her chin up didn't prevent the tears from rolling out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks, and she gently, but forcefully, pulled out of Victor's arms.

"I can't do this anymore..."
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Unsurewatch_the_nails on February 5th, 2011 04:57 pm (UTC)
"Can't do what?" Again, the feral's expression twisted into one of confusion. He gave a low growl at Nat pulling away from him, and tried - firmly, but gently - to draw her back towards him. Physical contact was what he needed right now. "Y'can't do the cleanin'? You don't gotta do it right away, darlin'. If you wanna just rest first, I don't care. I'm just... just glad you're back."

It was a big admission, coming from him. But it was the truth.
Natalie Ann Bruenner: looking up/listeningjurisimmortalis on February 5th, 2011 05:09 pm (UTC)
Nat's dark eyes were still watery as she turned around in his arms to face him. That was all she really wanted to hear was that Victor missed her. Her self-doubt, however, was not so easily swayed by affection. It still insisted that the only reasons why he missed her was only for his physical needs: someone to clean up after him, cook for him, and rut with him.

"Why...?" Her husky voice cracked on that one simple syllable and Nat cleared her throat before speaking again. "Why are you glad I'm back...?"
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Moodywatch_the_nails on February 5th, 2011 05:21 pm (UTC)
Shit. He should have known there'd be a catch in telling Nat that he cared. Women always had to moan and whine and ask for more, no matter what you gave them - but, dammit, if that's what it took to get her to shut up, then, well. He'd do it. Sighing - and giving a low growl of irritation at womankind in general - he looked away, although he didn't loosen his grip on her one little bit.

"I missed you." He shrugged, a gesture that wasn't made any easier by the fact he had his hands on Nat at the same time, but somehow he managed it. "It ain't the same here without you. The bed gets cold..."

Natalie Ann Bruenner: hands/thinkingjurisimmortalis on February 5th, 2011 05:36 pm (UTC)
As much as she wanted to point out that was exactly what she felt whenever he left, Nat stayed silent. Instead, she gave into her ever-present need for affection and wrapped her arms around Victor's waist, cuddling her head under his chin. She huffed a soft sigh, irritated with herself for needing him so much. After a few minutes, she tilted her head back to look at him.

"Is it really that hard for you to say...?"
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - Haggardwatch_the_nails on February 5th, 2011 05:50 pm (UTC)
There was another weak shrug, and a sigh from Victor in return. Yes, it was damn hard for him to say, and it irritated him sometimes that she couldn't see that; that she couldn't understand that an admission of affection was, for him, a sign of weakness. He stared down at her, fixing her with his blue gaze as he replied.

"...yeah. Yeah, it is." And if there was a hint of annoyance in his voice, then perhaps that was partly due to his annoyance at himself. "Whaddaya want, Nat? A goddamn marchin' band suddenly appearin' from behind the couch?"
Natalie Ann Bruenner: looking upjurisimmortalis on February 5th, 2011 06:39 pm (UTC)
That actually got a soft snort of humor out of her, then she shook her head. "No. I just want to know I'm not just some kind of housekeeper to you."

Insecurities were a real pain in the ass. She hated feeling like she constantly needed to be reassured that Victor actually wanted her, and not just for the physical bond they had, either. Despite her efforts of trying not to let what Leslie had said over the years effect her, some things had sunk in. Especially when it came to feeling wanted.
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - ORLY?watch_the_nails on February 5th, 2011 07:01 pm (UTC)
"A housekeeper?" That was news to Victor. He'd known that Nat was more bothered about displays of affection than he was, but he'd never have imagined that she would have thought so little of their relationship. "Is that what... why the hell wouldja think y'were a goddamn housekeeper?"

He stared at her in near-disbelief, more confused than anything.
Natalie Ann Bruenner: not amusedjurisimmortalis on February 5th, 2011 07:10 pm (UTC)
Turning away from him slightly, Nat looked around the loft again, her stomach sinking. Empty whiskey bottles littered the floor, along with what looked like a blizzard of tissues mostly piled up near the chair or the bed. She was just cynical enough to know he hadn't been crying. There were new claw marks on the fridge and counter tops. Their bed, which had looked fairly new when she left, had aged about ten years in a week. The same went for the chair. Victor had damn near turned her loft into a one-man frat house. She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to keep the panic from clogging her throat again.
Victor Creed: Future!Verse - ORLY?watch_the_nails on February 5th, 2011 07:55 pm (UTC)

Her silence was bothering him now. His mate was usually so fast with a comeback, a witty comment or a snide remark - but when she was quiet that indicated anger, sorrow... disappointment. He followed her gaze as she stared around the loft, and he knew full well what she was staring at. Something was expected of him, he knew. And he sighed as he spoke.

"Nat... Wildcat... I don't just like bein' around you 'cause you know how to use a toilet brush..."
Natalie Ann Bruenner: profile/thinking/sadjurisimmortalis on February 5th, 2011 08:10 pm (UTC)
"No. I can cook and keep your bed warm, too." Her tone was surprisingly monotone, and Nat's dark eyes had lost their usual spark as she looked up at him. Numbness had crept back into her spirit and she tried moving away from him again to concentrate on the piles of dirty dishes.

It was easier to deal with the physical mess of her loft than the emotional mess of her psyche. She'd known all along that Victor didn't care about anyone but himself, and it had been her own damn fault for thinking otherwise. As for herself, Nat knew she wasn't worth wanting, well, at least not without conditions like not lying or wearing skimpy outfits or working long hours. Who'd she been fooling?
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