Evie &
Dexter
Ballamory, #1
(warning, this post contains slight mature themes [aka sappy romance], but is still PG-13)
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With the business at HQ resolved, the evening started to close in quickly. The darkening sky surrendered completely to the black vaults of the night and the stars dotted the earth's ceiling like lanterns. A clear night. Dexter sank into the chair that Evie's feet had just vacated, palming his face tiredly. Watching Cecilio and Otto leave, Evie nibbled at her bottom lip.
"I'll be right back," she said, looking to Dex. She didn't wait for a response, merely darted up the stairs. Finding her room, she unbuttoned her shirt, casting it onto the bed, her trousers following not long after. Her hands instinctively reached for the clasp of her bra, yet realizing Dex was still downstairs she thought better of it. She snuggled into her pyjamas with a blissful sigh. The feather-light pink t-shirt and tartan-patterned shorts were much more comfortable than the button up shirt and tight-fitting trousers she had been wearing previously.
She skirted the edge of her room, finding her backpack sitting in the corner. Delving inside, she rummaged about it's contents, finding what she was looking for not long after - a blanket and a bottle of whisky.
Yawning, Dexter crossed his arms on the table, resting his forehead on top of them and closing his eyes, hearing Evie bang around upstairs. How she ever snuck up on me and Otto is a mystery that will haunt me to my grave. He thought back to that day, their first interaction, the standoff with her bow and his knife. She'd looked so scared and desperate, and the first thing he'd done was criticize and insult her. How she put up with his assholery long enough to get to this point was also a mystery to him. Dexter absentmindedly ran his fingers across the knuckles of his right hand, feeling the scars there from where the skin had split from the force of his punches at the hotel, and staring at a spot on the wall without actually seeing it as his mind wandered back to the events of that day. It was a little confusing how their relationship had progressed a lot in the last few months - from standoffish acquaintances to good friends, and, now, well… more, he guessed. But surviving together at the end of the world did that: brought people together. The more unlikely the better.
Now that his brain was working in that direction, the idea of sleep was no longer desirable, and he sat back up with a thoughtful sigh, eyes flicking to the pile of goodies that Otto and Cecilio had left. He reached down to grab the first thing off the pile, a dog harness complete with bags on the side, not unlike the one Hero had been trained to wear to carry his mother's oxygen tanks. Seeing it, the dog tilted his head and approached, tail wagging tentatively.
"She's not coming back, pal, sorry." Dexter told the dog, rubbing him under the chin. He tried to adjust it to what he figured was the right size, but the packaging had those annoying plastic zip-ties across the buckles, impossible to remove by hand. Tossing the harness on to the table, he got up and headed up the stairs to grab his knife where he'd left it with the rest of his gear.
As he got to the top of the staircase, he heard Evie's voice and turned towards her room curiously, stepping towards the open door.
"Hello, beautiful," she growled, twisting the bottle around in her hands.
"Why don't we get you out of that top?" Her hands gripped the lid of the bottle, twisting as hard as she could to no avail.
"Oh come on!" she protested, sighing with a sulky expression.
"Bugger."
Dexter leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and brows raised curiously. She was half-turned away from him, so he nudged the door with his foot to announce his presence.
"Are you trying to seduce that bottle or are you just practicing?"
"Yes, I often spend my evenings sweet talking bottles of alcohol, Dexter. I thought you'd have realized that by now?" she smirked.
"Care to help me out?" she asked, holding the bottle out towards him for him to try taking the lid off.
"Hey I don't judge." He replied, crossing the room and taking the bottle, turning it over to inspect the label - a brand he'd never heard of before. Shrugging, he twisted the cap free, screwed it back on and handed it back.
"You sure you wanna drink after today?" He was of course referring to the trap, and the suspicion there might be other people around.
"I don't know... I just thought it'd be nice to get a little bit close to a point where I can forget we're in a crazy prepper's wet dream," she said, frowning a little bit at the ease with which he opened the bottle. However, she refrained from throwing out the classic 'I loosened that' excuse.
"So you just gonna take swigs out of the bottle or what?" He asked, eyeing her as if he didn't believe she was enough of a drinker to stomach such a thing.
"Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last," she shrugged with a mischievous grin.
"Well I will admit that a little liquid courage wouldn't be a bad idea if we're gonna have this conversation after all. So let's get this party started, I guess." He held his hand out for the bottle, a wordless request she acquiesced to without hesitation. Not before taking a swig herself, of course.
"I don't remember whiskey ever tasting this strong..." she grimaced.
"Then again, I've always been a gin girl."
"That's because it's cheap." He replied, steeling himself for a moment before following suit. Ah, god that was nasty.
"And warm."
"Okay, Mr.On-The-Rocks, I'm afraid we don't have any ice laying about in our finest of accommodation," she chuckled.
He stuck his tongue out at her.
"Your loss." Taking another swallow, he handed the bottle back and looked at her.
"We gonna do this up here or you wanna take it elsewhere?"
"Here's... here's fine," she answered, somewhat seriously. A part of her instinctively wanted to make a teasing remark about his wording, yet she knew how close to his heart he seemed to be holding the topic. Still, she didn't want to depress him further.
"Wearing pyjamas, sitting in my room drinking cheap alcohol... kind of reminds me of uni. Well, apart from the flesh crazed maniacs wandering the streets... actually, no - no it reminds me of uni." Her jesting was maybe somewhat too forced, yet still. She didn't want him to feel upset any further.
"Alright calm down. I'm supposed to be the one nervous about this whole thing." He said, sensing her trepidation.
"I'll be right back." Turning, he quit the room and padded down the hallway to his own, fishing something out of his jacket pocket before returning to Evie.
"Do you mind?" He asked, pointing at the bed for permission to sit. Even two swigs in and his head was already starting to swim. In a pleasant way, but still.
"Sure," she replied, sunnily.
"The floor was starting to get uncomfortable for me too." Clambering to her feet, she sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the open spot next to her.
"Plonk yourself down."
He did, taking a breath and handing Evie the crumpled piece of paper he held in his hands and reaching for the bottle again.
"That's from my father. He gave it to me the day he… died." A saddened expression dashed across her face, her fingers finding the paper before she unfolded all of the creases. Her eyes visibly moved from side of to side as she focused clearly on each and every word.
"Immunity?" The word spilled from her lips as if it were completely foreign to her, her brow furrowed in confusion before she looked up at Dex.
"What does that...?" she gasped.
"He was a scientist." Dexter started.
"Involved in the original vaccine." Rubbing a hand across his face, he paused a moment before continuing.
"After everything went down, he threw himself into finding a solution. Not a cure, because once the parasite is in you, there's no known way to remove it without killing the host. But an immunity. Another vaccine."
"And you have to get the only living sample of this vaccine to Washington..." she continued, everything starting make complete sense.
"That's the idea." He said quietly.
"It's what I was doing when we met. It was the only goal I had because it was the only thing I could focus on in the aftermath of this… mess. But my dad… he wasn't exactly the most stable of people towards the end. So… there's a big chance that he's wrong. Which is why I haven't mentioned it to anyone else before. We have a good thing going here." He waved a hand vaguely around the room, though meaning all of Ballamory.
"I couldn't abandon you guys, and I couldn't in good conscience ask any of you to come with me. The east coast is too populated, there will be Infected all over the place." He shook his head, a fourth swallow of liquor following the first three.
"It's a pipe dream."
Evie's heart was racing, a million thoughts of a million possibilities ran through her head like a stampede of horses - heart was mimicking the sound at least. If they could find a cure, they might be able to reverse the whole situation they were in, she might even be able to go home. Still, that was in the future. Now was now. Her hands found their way down to rest on the closest of his.
"Dex, if there's even the slightest of chance your dad was right. Don't you think we should try?" she asked, nuzzling herself into his shoulder.
"It would mean putting everyone in danger to get there." His voice was just over a whisper.
"And abandoning everything we've built here." He sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly through his nostrils.
"Besides," he said, bringing his other hand around to stroke her hair.
"You're the only one here who'd believe me, anyway. Otto and Jesse don't exactly seem like the optimistic type."
"Then they'd be idiots if they didn't believe you," she said sweetly and quietly.
"I won't pressure you or tell you what's the wrong and right thing to do but... if there was a chance to make things go back to how they were..."
Dexter shook his head.
"Things will never go back to the way they were. Maybe it will get better, but… it will never be normal again."
"I don't know," she hummed, placing a kiss on his shoulder.
"I'm in my bedroom, with a bottle of alcohol, having a heart to heart conversation with my badass boyfriend." She smirked, tilting her head to the side as her eyes peered up at him.
"I'd say this is better than normal."
"Boyfriend?" He quirked a brow, glad for the change in topic. Even though she said she wouldn't pressure him into trying for DC, or even telling the others, it was obviously she very much held out hope that he would.
"I don't remember you ever asking me to go steady. I thought this was supposed to be a one night stand."
"If you value your testicles being attached to your torso it won't be... dick," she giggled.
Wincing, he drew away from her.
"That is entirely not necessary, and in fact is quite mean. I don't think you're drunk enough." He reached to pick the bottle up off the floor where he'd put it, holding it out to her.
"You know what they say," she began as she took the bottle and took a deep swig.
"Play with fire, you get burned," she smiled, wryly as she held up a lock of her hair. She took another swig, grimacing at the taste and sensation of the alcohol. Speaking of fire, with the warmth of the alcohol and its positively chemical qualities, it tasted like she was swallowing it.
"This stuff is so grim," she groaned.
"You stop tasting it after a while." He told her, taking the bottle back. Between the two of them so far they'd nearly halved it.
"We should probably slow down." He frowned.
"If this is the only bottle you have."
"Good *hiccup* idea," she said, nodding rapidly.
He squinted at her, feigning disappointment.
"So much for being a wild college student, eh? I must say I expected more." With a dramatic sigh, he twisted the top back onto the bottle and replaced it on the floor.
"Oh no you bloody don't! And that's wild uni student, actually! Bloody Americans and their broken education system..." she ranted, swooping down like an eagle to reclaim the bottle. Popping off the lid with ease, she turned the bottom of the bottle skyward, taking what must have been a treble's-worth of the spirit. Bringing the bottle back to her side, she smirked at him proudly with a victorious look on her face... for about the best part of three seconds. The burn of the spirit, and even worse the taste, caught up with her in what felt like a tidal wave of regret and her face showed it.
"Oh fucks sake Evie I was joking!" Dexter protested with a horrified expression, leaning in to wrestle the bottle away.
"Give me that you crazy woman." She fought him back, laying back onto the bed and trying to roll away from his grasp.
"No, no, no, no... you expected more," she giggled.
"You're gonna... gonna get more."
"And you're gonna get alcohol poisoning." As his hands grasped at her once more, trying snatch at the bottle and pull her back close, her giggling only continued. She curled up into a fetal position, cradling the bottle in close to her stomach.
"What's the magic word?" she demanded.
"Sorry, I don't negotiate with terrorists." He narrowed his eyes seriously at her.
"I didn't want to have to do this, but…" He let out a sigh, as if truly regretting what he was about to do. And then his fingers found her ribcage, tickling mercilessly.
"S-stop!" she squealed, body convulsing as she tried to protest through the gaps in her involuntary laughter.
"And... ah! - and I'm the b-bloody terrorist? I'm... I'm British anyway... h-how can I be a - stop it - how can I be a terrorist? By burning your crumpets!?" Her laughter continued about long enough that her stomach was starting to hurt.
"Sorry, no negotiations." Dex said, pausing only long enough to attempt to snatch the bottle away from her again. His hand closed around the neck of it and he pulled, capitalizing on the redhead's lack of focus and strength. The bottle slid from her grasp accompanied by a protesting gasp.
"Spoil sport," she said, sticking out her tongue as she rolled onto her back.
Holding the bottle away at arm's length, Dexter grinned.
"Now seeing as I just saved you from dying of alcohol poisoning, that doesn't sound very grateful." He shook the pitiful amount that was left in the bottle, sighing sadly.
"Well, no sense in leaving this little tease, is there?" Making sure that he was at the ready to intercept Evie should she attempt anything, he uncapped the bottle and killed the rest of it, fighting the urge to gasp in disgust when it was empty.
"Remind me to teach you where the good stuff is kept next time we salvage a liquor store." Tossing the empty bottle on to the floor, he dropped back onto the bed next to Evie, propped up on an elbow so he could look down at her.
"You ok over there hotshot? You look like you're gonna either pass out or throw up."
"I will admit the room is spinning a fair bit," she said, laughing a lot more than the comment warranted. A cherry blush kissed her cheeks, a clear sign of how much alcohol she'd had.
"It's Aoibheann, by the way."
He blinked in confusion.
"Ay-veen?" He repeated slowly. "Your name?"
"Hmmhmm," she nodded.
"I just find Evie's... easier."
"It's a pretty name." He said finally.
"Fits you."
"I don't know... the only person who called me that was my mother. Everyone else just called me Evie. I guess, I guess I just wanted you to know, y'know? If we're going to continue... this," she spoke, arms waving all over in a terrible attempt at summarizing their feelings for each other.
"I guess you ought to know my real name."
Dodging a flailing hand, Dexter nodded.
"Well if we're sharing names, mine is Dexter Bastian Fletcher." He snorted.
"Pretentious, isn't it?" Normally the girl would have laughed or at least snickered at the comment, though she remained silent this time. Her eyes peered up at the ceiling as a single tear painted a path down the side of her cheek, hitting the covers on the bed and dissipating across the fabric.
"Hey." He said, noticing her distress though for the life of him unable to identify the cause.
"Evie? You ok?"
"Hmm?" She looked at him, quickly wiping her cheek realizing what was happening.
"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry. It's just... we were talking about your dad and... the cure. It got me thinking - I can't pretend to understand how you felt about that loss - but I just can't help but think I'll never see my mom and dad ever again, y'know? I guess... I guess it's easier to have people call me Evie here cause if they called me by my real name all the time I wouldn't be able to pretend they don't exist, anymore."
Sobered a bit at the sudden change in the mood of the conversation, Dexter frowned.
"You're not supposed to pretend like they don't exist." He told her.
"For all we know, the disaster hasn't even made it across the sea. Don't give up hope."
"I know," she said, nodding, even though she didn't believe the words she was saying.
"I'm sorry," she said, in a suddenly more chipper tone, rolling onto her side so she was facing Dex.
"I guess the alcohol has hit me more than I thought."
"Well if the last time I got drunk holds any similarity in timeframe of the last time you got drunk, I understand why." He mumbled, the words slow so he didn't stumble over his own tongue, which felt heavy in his mouth.
"Just… try not to think about it too much - at least not until we know for sure. No sense in you upsetting yourself when it's not needed. I don't like seeing you cry."
"I'm sorry," she said, breathily and quiet, before snuggling up close into his chest.
"No need to be." The arm he wasn't leaning on went around her, and he kissed the top of her head.
"It's just frustrating when you're upset and I can't punch something to make it better." He let out a quick snort of laughter, trying to bring the mood up.
"You know. Male ego and all that."
Her blue eyes glistened through the tears as she looked up at him, a demure giggle spilling from her lips at the comment.
"Thank you. I mean it..." she uttered. Shuffling her way up slightly, the next kiss traded between them was her lips seeking out his.
"I promise I'll try not to cry too often, then," she smiled, the flow of tears seeming to stop on command. She wiped her wetted cheeks again before placing another kiss on the tip of his nose.
"That's a promise I'll keep."
Dexter leaned in to steal another kiss, fingers tracing patterns on her back through the thin top.
"You should get some sleep." He said finally, sitting up and taking a moment to still his swimming head.
"I have a feeling that at least one of us is going to have a massive hangover in the morning and I hope for your sake that it's me."
"Wait," she interrupted, sitting up and putting her arms around the back of his neck.
"Stay, please?"
He turned to look at her, uncertainty plain in his gaze.
"Evie, you're drunk. Also I'm drunk."
"And your point is?" she asked.
"I… well…" He faltered.
"I guess... just… are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she insisted, though her tone was soft. She nodded her head slowly, trying to focus for a moment.
"Only if you want to... I mean... I'm not going to cry again or anything."
"Alright, no, it's fine. I just wanted to make sure it was Evie talking and not the whiskey. We should get some sleep, though." He said, very pointedly.
"Oh, shut up," she gasped, pressing her lips against his passionately, an action returned by Dexter without hesitation or complaint. She didn't know if it was her own motivation spurring her onward or just a manifestation of dutch courage. Still, she didn't want to take no for an answer. Sleep seemed... unappealing. She was too drunk for that. She hadn't felt this good in a long time and she wasn't going to waste it on sleep.
Without breaking the kiss, Dexter shifted on the bed so that he was facing her completely, her arms still wrapped around his neck. Emboldened by the alcohol coursing through his system, he deepened the kiss. His right hand slid down to Evie's hip, pulling her into him while at the same time taking them both down closer to the mattress. The girl didn't seem to offer any protest. In fact, Evie was so enamoured with the kiss, it didn't seem she was aware of much of anything else.
Before long the two were laid across the mattress, Dex atop her, lying just to her side. Their lips continued to touch tentatively as if dancing with one another, the kiss breaking and then reinvigorating. As they continued this routine, Evie's lips parted against his slightly, her hands leaving their hold near his neck as they began to become somewhat more adventurous. One found it's way to the back of his head, fingers running through his hair and the other resting on his shoulder. His own wandering fingers found the hem of her shirt and explored beneath it, fingertips stroking the curve of her hip. Finally releasing her mouth, his lips moved along her jawline, pressing kisses every so often to the soft skin on her neck.
"Are you sure about this?" He breathed just below her ear, lips against her skin again almost immediately after.
"I'm sure," she exhaled, her body practically screaming for the caressing to never end. The hand from his shoulder trailed down his arm, fingers lightly scratching against his skin as a rogue groan of pleasure escaped her lips. The sound encouraged him further, and his mouth moved southward, down her neck, lips tracing her collarbone, feeling her move beneath him, little wiggles of pleasure against him. His free hand captured hers, moving it from his arm to pin it above her head, lacing their fingers together as he placed a final kiss on her shoulder and pulled back to look at her.
Her eyes opened, peering up at his as she found herself pinned beneath him. For once, she was uncharacteristically silent. It seemed as if she was simply trying to read his mind just by peering into his eyes.
"I really care about you, you know?" she asked, her words as sweet as honey but only as loud as a whisper.
"I do." Dex replied, just as quiet. But that's where he stalled, apprehension coloring his expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked, fingers from her free hand stroking his cheek.
Caught off guard by the question, he shook his head.
"Oh. Nothing, just… this is fast, and… I don't want it to feel meaningless. Or rushed." He leaned into her palm, eyes softening on her face.
"I really care about you, too, Evie."
"Come here," she said, huskily, pulling his lips down onto hers. Parting her lips, she pressed her tongue softly against his before her hand trailed round his neck and down onto his chest.
"I want this, I want us. Don't be afraid."
**
Evie was laid peacefully in bed, her head upon Dex's chest and her body cuddled against him. It was almost a pure image of serenity until the cracking of gunshots followed one another in rapid succession. Shooting upright, Evie looked towards the window before looking back at Dex, seeing if he was awake. He was, dark eyes open and narrowed in confusion, brain fogged by both sleep and whiskey.
"What..?" He was at the window in a second, searching the moonlit cul-de-sac for any indication of what was going on, only to see Otto sprint off towards one of the back gates and Jesse crossing the street headed towards them, checking the magazine in his pistol. So it was him that had fired off the gun? Cold fury washed over him. How fucking irresponsible could they be? Those shots would draw every Infected in a two mile radius. Not to mention any actual people that may be around.
"My head feels like I've been twatted with a sledgehammer," Evie groaned.
"Are we in trouble?"
Dexter stumbled back over to the bed, searching for his shorts.
"I don't know." He growled, finding them and pulling them on.
"But I intend to find out." He searched the dark room, squinting to find what he was looking for.
"Where the fuck… is my shirt?" He snorted.
"Whatever, forget it." Walking to his room none too quietly, he snatched his gun off the dresser and took the stairs two at a time, making it to the door just as Jesse's silhouette darkened the frosted glass. Hero was already standing near the door, tail wagging slowly in expectation as Ringo's anxious whines and grunts floated through the door. Nudging him out of the way with a foot, Dexter pulled the door open.
"What the actual fuck is going on? Have you lost your fucking mind?" He demanded.
Evie followed out not long after, dressed in her pyjamas. However, the poor girl seemed more dazed from the effects of the alcohol than anything else. Staying by the door, her eyes poured over the scene. They didn't seem to be in immediate danger, but still she was concerned.
