Chaos Theories
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,193
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,193
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Emergent Properties
Summary: The morning after
Rating: R
Completed: April 3, 2004
Disclaimer: Lots of family time was harmed in the writing of this story. Any injured copyrights were unintentional
Notes: Another installment in the Ménageaverse. Follows Dynamical Instabilities. Thanks, Mydeira, for holding my hand through this one and saying “Wow!” For more from the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.
Morning came quietly to find them curled around each other in sleep. As Joyce awoke, she could hear the steady cadence of Ethan’s heart below her cheek as he held her protectively. She smiled. He hadn’t snuck out while she’d been asleep. Progress, maybe?
“Good morning,” his chest rumbled as he spoke against her hair. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did.” She tilted her chin to look at him. “And you?”
“Very comfortably.” He bent down to kiss her gently. “But I really should be going now.”
“Can you stay for breakfast?”
“I might be able to manage that.” His eyes twinkled playfully.
She smiled and extracted herself from bed to don her robe and run a brush through her hair. “Why don’t you clean up and get dressed, and I’ll get things started?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a razor, would you?”
“In the bottom drawer of the commode. They’re only disposables, though.”
He smiled. “I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.”
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” She kissed him lightly before heading down to the kitchen.
She had just loaded the coffee filter and put it in the machine when the back door opened and Rupert walked in, holding two scraps of ivory silk in his hand. Her face lit up. “Good morning! You’re just in time for breakfast. How did it go last night?”
“Well, the world didn’t end.” He held up the scraps, looking perplexed. “I found these out by your car. Is everything alright here?”
“It’s fine! What would you like to eat? I can make eggs, or . . .”
He stepped closer, studying her face. “Joyce, what happened to your lip?”
“My . . .” She reached up to touch her mouth, found it still swollen and puffy from last night’s rough treatment. “Oh, that’s just . . .”
She knew the moment he saw the bruise on her shoulder through the loose vee of her robe. She tried to pull it closed, but he reached out and yanked it down, revealing the fist-sized mark from the stair riser. His expression went dark, flat, as he pulled harder, revealing more marks. He turned her around to find the discolorations from the stair post and Ethan’s hands all along her back, topped off by the double-fisted contusion at the small of her back.
“Ethan,” he growled, a hoarse, animalistic menace that made all the hair on her neck stand on end.
Joyce shrugged the robe back up. “Rupert, wait . . .”
“I’ll bloody well kill the bastard!” And he was gone, through the dining room in an instant.
She ran after him, her bare feet slapping on the floor. “Rupert, no! It’s not like that!” He took the stairs two at a time. “Rupert, stop! Ethan, look out!” she screamed, racing up the stairs behind him.
The bedroom door slammed ast tst the wall just as the bathroom door burst open and Ethan, half dressed and fully aware of the danger he was in, raced out into the hall. Rupert lunged for him, caught him by the shoulder and throat to slam him against the corridor wall before bodily throwing him past Joyce and down the flight of stairs.
Rupert started to follow when Joyce grabbed his arm. “Rupert, leave him alone!”
He grabbed her by the arms and slammed her against the wall with a snarl. The sudden impact on her back sent pain exploding behind her eyes and she cried out.
Everything froze.
He released her suddenly as if she were fire, backing slowly away. She drew a deep, shaky breath and moved down the stairs to where Ethan lay, conscious but stunned. She put her arms around him, helped him up, throwing a furious glare up the stairs at Rupert.
He looked pole axed. Confusion, guilt, anger all fought for place in his expression, but she di fee feel up to sympathizing.
“Go home, Rupert,” she said coldly. We’ll talk when you’ve gotten control of yourself.”
“Joyce, I’m not leaving you alone with him . . .”
“Get the hell out of my house!”
Both men looked surprised at her vehemence. Rupert slowly descended the stairs and with one last glare at Ethan, now ensconced on the sofa, he left.
She turned her attentions to Ethan. “Are you alright?”
“I think so. Just a nasty bump on the head.” He winced as he put his hand on the injury. “Don’t judge him too harshly, my dear. He has good reason to think ill of me.”
“I don’t need him to fight my battles for me.” She checked the lump over, but didn’t find any broken skin.
“No, but maybe he needs to. He’s a warrior as well, you know. It can’t be easy for him to be subject to a slip of a girl all the time.”
“It’s no excuse.”
“No, but it’s an explanation. Let it go.”
“I can’t.” She cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes intently. “He has to understand he can’t do that to you.”
“Joyce.” He slipped one loose tendril behind her ear, meeting her eyes sadly. “It’s what you’ve been trying to get him to show you all along.”
She couldn’t respond.
***
Her UPS delivery on Friday included a package she didn’t have on her order list.
She turned it over gently in her hands. No return label, no markings besides the UPS label.
Nothing rattled when she shook it gently, so she carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a white cardboard box. Inside this, carefully wrapped in straw and tissue, was a ceramic figure, Native American, stained in dark glaze and highly polished. She recognized it instantly as Kokopelli, a traditional figure in southwestern art.
With it was a card, written in neat script. “A trickster god of your very own. Kokopelli brings spring and rebirth. Hopefully he’ll bring you and Rupert some measure of reconciliation. Of course, Kokopelli also has a detachable penis that he’d float downstream to pleasure the ladies bathing, so perhaps he will bring you something else entirely. If nothing else, I hope he placates the chaos for you.”
It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. She smiled and set it on the front of hesk. sk. She thought about Rupert, who she hadn’t seen since she’d thrown him out of the house Wednesday morningnd snd she thought about Ethan, who was gone now until he decided to reappear. Then, in a moment of whimsy, she dipped her fingers in her coffee and sprinkled it over the statue. “I have enough chaos in my life, thank you.”
~Fin~
Rating: R
Completed: April 3, 2004
Disclaimer: Lots of family time was harmed in the writing of this story. Any injured copyrights were unintentional
Notes: Another installment in the Ménageaverse. Follows Dynamical Instabilities. Thanks, Mydeira, for holding my hand through this one and saying “Wow!” For more from the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.
Morning came quietly to find them curled around each other in sleep. As Joyce awoke, she could hear the steady cadence of Ethan’s heart below her cheek as he held her protectively. She smiled. He hadn’t snuck out while she’d been asleep. Progress, maybe?
“Good morning,” his chest rumbled as he spoke against her hair. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did.” She tilted her chin to look at him. “And you?”
“Very comfortably.” He bent down to kiss her gently. “But I really should be going now.”
“Can you stay for breakfast?”
“I might be able to manage that.” His eyes twinkled playfully.
She smiled and extracted herself from bed to don her robe and run a brush through her hair. “Why don’t you clean up and get dressed, and I’ll get things started?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a razor, would you?”
“In the bottom drawer of the commode. They’re only disposables, though.”
He smiled. “I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.”
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” She kissed him lightly before heading down to the kitchen.
She had just loaded the coffee filter and put it in the machine when the back door opened and Rupert walked in, holding two scraps of ivory silk in his hand. Her face lit up. “Good morning! You’re just in time for breakfast. How did it go last night?”
“Well, the world didn’t end.” He held up the scraps, looking perplexed. “I found these out by your car. Is everything alright here?”
“It’s fine! What would you like to eat? I can make eggs, or . . .”
He stepped closer, studying her face. “Joyce, what happened to your lip?”
“My . . .” She reached up to touch her mouth, found it still swollen and puffy from last night’s rough treatment. “Oh, that’s just . . .”
She knew the moment he saw the bruise on her shoulder through the loose vee of her robe. She tried to pull it closed, but he reached out and yanked it down, revealing the fist-sized mark from the stair riser. His expression went dark, flat, as he pulled harder, revealing more marks. He turned her around to find the discolorations from the stair post and Ethan’s hands all along her back, topped off by the double-fisted contusion at the small of her back.
“Ethan,” he growled, a hoarse, animalistic menace that made all the hair on her neck stand on end.
Joyce shrugged the robe back up. “Rupert, wait . . .”
“I’ll bloody well kill the bastard!” And he was gone, through the dining room in an instant.
She ran after him, her bare feet slapping on the floor. “Rupert, no! It’s not like that!” He took the stairs two at a time. “Rupert, stop! Ethan, look out!” she screamed, racing up the stairs behind him.
The bedroom door slammed ast tst the wall just as the bathroom door burst open and Ethan, half dressed and fully aware of the danger he was in, raced out into the hall. Rupert lunged for him, caught him by the shoulder and throat to slam him against the corridor wall before bodily throwing him past Joyce and down the flight of stairs.
Rupert started to follow when Joyce grabbed his arm. “Rupert, leave him alone!”
He grabbed her by the arms and slammed her against the wall with a snarl. The sudden impact on her back sent pain exploding behind her eyes and she cried out.
Everything froze.
He released her suddenly as if she were fire, backing slowly away. She drew a deep, shaky breath and moved down the stairs to where Ethan lay, conscious but stunned. She put her arms around him, helped him up, throwing a furious glare up the stairs at Rupert.
He looked pole axed. Confusion, guilt, anger all fought for place in his expression, but she di fee feel up to sympathizing.
“Go home, Rupert,” she said coldly. We’ll talk when you’ve gotten control of yourself.”
“Joyce, I’m not leaving you alone with him . . .”
“Get the hell out of my house!”
Both men looked surprised at her vehemence. Rupert slowly descended the stairs and with one last glare at Ethan, now ensconced on the sofa, he left.
She turned her attentions to Ethan. “Are you alright?”
“I think so. Just a nasty bump on the head.” He winced as he put his hand on the injury. “Don’t judge him too harshly, my dear. He has good reason to think ill of me.”
“I don’t need him to fight my battles for me.” She checked the lump over, but didn’t find any broken skin.
“No, but maybe he needs to. He’s a warrior as well, you know. It can’t be easy for him to be subject to a slip of a girl all the time.”
“It’s no excuse.”
“No, but it’s an explanation. Let it go.”
“I can’t.” She cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes intently. “He has to understand he can’t do that to you.”
“Joyce.” He slipped one loose tendril behind her ear, meeting her eyes sadly. “It’s what you’ve been trying to get him to show you all along.”
She couldn’t respond.
***
Her UPS delivery on Friday included a package she didn’t have on her order list.
She turned it over gently in her hands. No return label, no markings besides the UPS label.
Nothing rattled when she shook it gently, so she carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a white cardboard box. Inside this, carefully wrapped in straw and tissue, was a ceramic figure, Native American, stained in dark glaze and highly polished. She recognized it instantly as Kokopelli, a traditional figure in southwestern art.
With it was a card, written in neat script. “A trickster god of your very own. Kokopelli brings spring and rebirth. Hopefully he’ll bring you and Rupert some measure of reconciliation. Of course, Kokopelli also has a detachable penis that he’d float downstream to pleasure the ladies bathing, so perhaps he will bring you something else entirely. If nothing else, I hope he placates the chaos for you.”
It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. She smiled and set it on the front of hesk. sk. She thought about Rupert, who she hadn’t seen since she’d thrown him out of the house Wednesday morningnd snd she thought about Ethan, who was gone now until he decided to reappear. Then, in a moment of whimsy, she dipped her fingers in her coffee and sprinkled it over the statue. “I have enough chaos in my life, thank you.”
~Fin~