latino_menace | OOM: Victoria Cays

Entry tags:

OOM: Victoria Cays

The evening had proved to be as fun as the day. The new boat was amazing, especially after he remembered how you're supposed to drive one. They'd gone for a long ride and then stopped off for dinner and drinks before heading home. Idyllic, really.

Except there was...something. Lots of somethings, really. All evening - and then all night - he kept being assailed by conversations he never knew he'd had before. He vividly remembers Teja putting him in the cells after he stabbed him...except if you'd asked him about it an hour before, he would have sworn that it never happened at all. And yet there it is, in his head. It's not clear, parts seem to have faded but it seemed so real.

It had got worse in the night. He'd dreamt that he was in bed with Mary Anne, only to wake up and find Fi. When he tried to shake the dream off, it wouldn't go. The next time, it was Saffron. Then he was in the Milliways cells, doing endless pushups to pass the time. Ramon's not the type that dreams much but what worries him - not that he'll admit it out loud - is that its happening when he's awake. Last night it had got to the point where he couldn't work out what was real or not, what the time was, who he was with or whether he was sleeping.

It was a restless night. Which is why dawn finds him sitting out on the balcony, smoking and drinking coffee, wearing just a robe and trying to work this out. Last time something similar happened, he nearly lost his mind and then his life. He'd really rather that didn't happen again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fiona returns from the bar, her skin singing.

She drops the bottles of champagne in the kitchen and finds him. She's breathing like she just ran a hundred yard dash, her eyes shining bright.

"I know what's happening. I mean, I think I know. God, Ramon, you'll never believe what just happened."

His eyes turn up to look at her though his head doesn't move. Everything about him says well? though he doesn't speak. He's too busy wondering what's got her so wound up.

"I just met -- you -- in the bar."

She stalks across the room to him, pushing him back in his chair and straddling his lap.

"A very young you."

That...was the last thing he was expecting to hear.

'...what?'

Seriously. What? He doesn't even grab her ass, he's so confused.

"You bragged to me about spending your first day in the bar, and I quote, 'in a woman, in a fight, and in the cells'. And you hit on me and called me 'too old' for you in the same breath."

...he has to admit, that sounds like him.

'First day? So that would explain why this started yesterday.'

And everything else too. Teja, the cells, the fight, Saffron, Mary Anne...he runs a hand over his face once more. It's too soon for the possible ramifications of this to set in but they will, hell yes they will. And it's not as though this sort of thing isn't fairly common in Milliways.

'Jesus Christ.'

"I have to confess," she sits back a little, biting her lower lip. "I had to steal a kiss. But you didn't have a shirt on, so..."

She tilts her head to one side, her voice low and quiet.

"Do you remember the first time you kissed me, caro?"

No shirt.

He remembers that.

'Of course. I got you out of the car...'

He trails off and shuts his eyes, clearly doubting himself and trying to work it out.

'...you kissed me. In the bar. Walked right up and touched my chest and then kissed me.'

She leans in close, resting her forehead against his, her heart in her mouth. Her eyes take on a shine of wetness.

"Yeah. Yeah I did. But that kiss on the freeway is still the first time you kissed me."

'Fuck.'

This is going to make things complicated. It can't not.

'How old was I?'

She leans back a bit, blinking rapidly.

"I don't know, maybe nineteen?"

Her hands fist in his shirt.

'Nineteen.'

It would have to be. Such a lot happened when he was nineteen.

...Christ, this can't be real.

He still smirks though, momentarily distracted by a thought.

'Pretty fucking hot, huh?'

She slits her eyes at him, but she can't hide the grin.

"Not nearly as hot as you are now, Ramon. And he's not the you I fell for."

Her head and heart are reeling with it, the knowledge that the women he gave up to be with her are taking advantage of this fucked up situation.

'I'm not much different than I was then.'

He thinks, anyway.

'Shit. I don't...fuck, this could change everything.'

He doesn't want to think about how much this could change.

'What did I do? Wait, don't tell me...did you turn me down?'

The memory is brand new and more than thirty years old at the same time. He doesn't trust it.

Her brow furrows, shocked that he would even have to ask the question.

"Yeah of course I did."

"What do you mean by this could change everything?"

She knows it's bizarre for him, but she can't help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

'...why?'

He hasn't had time to think about it much but that's his gut reaction. And he thinks the answer to the latter question is obvious.

'I don't have any control over what people tell me. If my decisions are changed back then, things will change now.'

He assumes thats how these things work. And if it makes her feel any better, the prospect doesn't exactly fill him with joy either.

"Why?" She reaches up to touch his cheek, a feather light caress, needing him to see her, really see her right now.

"Because he's not you, that's why."

He's all over the place right now, he can't focus on any one point for more than a second or two. This is Fucked. Up.

'Of course he's me. If he weren't, my memories wouldn't be different. If he were from a different universe, nothing would be changing in my head.'

And it is and he doesn't like it.

Her expression shifts. "He may be from your past, but he's not the man you are today."

"He's not the man who kissed me in that median. He's not the man who held my bloody hand in the stables and who backed me up against the wall and -- kissed me. He's not the man who -- who bought me Evita's diamonds."

She's scared. He can hear it in her voice.

"Listen, he's right behind that door. Do you want me to go get him? Bring him here?"

'No! Fuck, no.'

He's not ready to even contemplate that. He will, later. But for now, hell no.

'I...dont think that would be a good idea.'

He looks at her, hears her voice. Doesn't know what to say. He can't reassure her that nothing will change because how can he know? And he has no control over it; he can't know who might talk to him in the bar.

'It might just be a one time thing. I might leave and never be brought back at that age.'

"You want me to go kick his ass back through his door?"

She's shifted from scared to angry, but he's seen the truth of it.

'No.'

No. Before he works out what this means or how it might be used to his...their...advantage, he'll leave it alone.

'If the bar does something like this, it usually means something. I just don't know what it could be.'

He takes a deep breath and tries to calm his mind.

'What's wrong?'

"Oh nothing," she says, looking down to where her hands rest on his chest. He's warm and solid beneath her, his voice is the right timbre in her ears, years of cigar smoke and tequila having filed off all the bright edges. Her fingertips dig into his skin, just a little, feeling the soft layer of padding over his muscles. It's her Ramon, not some young punk who called her puta.

"You just as much asked me why I didn't cheat on you. With your nineteen year old self. Excuse me if I'm a little -- taken aback by that."

He can't help it, he laughs. And leans forward to kiss her, a gentle press of his lips to hers.

'I was just wondering whether I was an unattractive nineteen year old. I don't remember being. I don't...how could it be cheating on me? I'll remember doing it because I did it. It's not like letting you go off with some other man.'

But he can see how it would be weird.

'I'm not encouraging it, obviously. But I'm not hung up on it.'

Also? He was a machine when he was a teenager. The male's sexual peak and all that. Having her see that would be damn good for his ego.

If she wanted a machine in bed, she'd stock up on D-cell batteries.

She leans into that kiss, and he feels the tension bleed out of her slowly. She rests her forehead against his, her hands plucking fretfully at the front of his shirt.

"He wasn't anywhere near as smooth as you are, caro. He insulted me."

She hasn't ruled it out yet. But she suspects it'd be more trouble than it was worth. No, she knows it would be.

"No, I want you," she breathes against his mouth.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject