Who: Axe & Rose!
What: omg
Where: british virgin islands!
When: this morning!
Rose woke with a start, shooting to sit up, as the vague understanding that a foreign something was making motions and movements in the room she had previously been dead asleep in. She stared cross-eyed into the darkness, struggling to put together what could possibly be making
that noise that had so rudely perturbed her restful sleep. When that something began to crinkled at the foot of the bed with a certain familiar and airy quality, Rose let out a loud sigh and fell back into her plush pillows with a flourish.
“There’s an owl on the bed,” she muttered resentfully, fixing her gaze on the ceiling. Who even knew they were here?
Kendall and Thomas, Rose immediately thought grumpily, and suddenly, the clear image of them having already figured out who she was really here on vacation with came to mind, followed by the half-serious assumption that this owl must merely be a courtesy warning before they barged in through the door any second.
But it was so
early, couldn’t they have waited until after sunrise to drag her back to English reality?
When the revealing of her well-meaning best friends didn’t happen, Rose picked her head up again to watch the bird cautiously hopping up the small space between the two bodies occupying the bed. Her hand moved to cover her eyes, and rub the bridge of her nose. It was
that kind of owl. Feeling unable, or unwilling, to deal with whatever news this feathery friend brought, with her free hand, Rose instead reached to shake Axe’s bare arm beside her.
A couple of mumbles that could have passed as words escaped her, and she quickly rolled to press her face back into the pillow beneath her.
Axe, in the midst of an especially pleasant dream, took particular exception at being roused out of it and muttered something rude that was probably french, could have been german, but was most likely not english, although one could not rule out a mish-mash of all three. He tended to sleep the sleep of the dead, and did not appreciate abrupt interruptions.
His eyes fluttered open and he blinked, feeling, though he was not quite certain how he knew this, that all was not right in their bedroom. All was not right with
him. As his head felt rather funny, his eyebrows started to crinkle, and Axe rolled his gaze upwards, only to be greeted by a pair of bulbous yellow eyes staring at him from above.
He blinked.
It blinked.
He reared up with a shout, and there was a sharp scraping sensation against his forehead, followed by the sound of vigorous flapping.
"
PUTAIN!" he yelled, scrambling back until he smacked into the headboard. "QU-EST-CE QUE — WHAT IS —
THAT?"
She shrieked, because he shouted, and as Axe scrambled back, the not completely lucid Rose mimicked suit. She also thought, vaguely, that becoming in possession of her wand was of the highest importance. So, while shooting back to sitting up as if hit by a hex, she immediately began to twist toward the bedside table and---
A pathetic noise escaped her as her hand collided with the large lamp that had until now been deemed ‘nice’ and not ‘outlandish’, as at the same time her head rammed so effectively into the headboard that stars filled her eyes. But at least she had managed to procure her wand? Even if it had been done so very painfully. Pressing her hand to her head, it took a couple of moments for Rose to focus long enough to spell the lights on all at once.
“The owl?” Rose said faintly, blinking heavily as tears steadily filled her eyes. The sudden exposure to light was not helping either, and she quickly pulled her knees close to her chest to rest her aching head.
He flinched when light flooded the room, but his eyes focused quickly enough on the intruder that had so rudely awoken them. Axe's expression of bewildered panic turned into a deep scowl as he eyed the
bird which had retreated to the dresser on the other end of the room, giving one piteous hoot into the silence that had abruptly fallen.
"That thing was on my
head," he snarled, rubbing vigorously at his forehead with the back of his hand. The back of his head was also slowly starting to smart, and the inside of his head was ricocheting violently within the confines of his skull from the impact.
The thought then struck him that they had had no correspondence that required an owl in several days—many days, actually—and so this was peculiar. Axe could not, in fact, recall anyone who might even know he was here. Not any of his brothers— he
hoped—not his manager, which probably meant he had given several people heart failure and had put them in St Mungo's, nor anyone else that came to mind. "I didn't write anyone," he said, swinging his feet off the bed, but not quite trusting the sustained shock from the headboard wouldn't send his knees to jelly as soon as he stood. "Did
you write anyone?"
His eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion as he swiveled his head to look back at Rose.
Rose quickly smothered the faintly amused smile forming on her lips (for the image of an owl roosting atop his head would never not be entertaining) as Axe turned to her.
Well. Did it count if her answer had to start with a ‘technically’? Because
technically, that answer was no, but she had let Kendall and Thomas know where she was, so she supposed they could have written if they deeply wished to....
“Um,” Rose started, vaguely. Her hand moved from holding the back of her head to conveniently pressing against her forehead and covering most of her eyes. “I mentioned something to... Kendall and Thomas about being here, but...” Her lips pressed together in a strained way, thinking more and more with each passing second that it must only be them who could have sent this owl.
But,
surely, they wouldn’t write unless it was important. Though, if she was going to be completely honest, she would not be surprised if it was completely not important either.
But what if it was? What if something dire had happened and--- her eyes suddenly opened a bit further. Axe would throw out this letter like he had her journal if he got his hands on it first, wouldn’t he? Not that she had really minded that, it was nice not having to be concerned with anything outside the current life she was living. But... she loosened her grip on her legs, and turned her head slightly to gaze at him under her hand. He could throw it out after she read it.
Jumping up suddenly, Rose, as fast as she could, bounced across the bed and leap to the floor, all in hope of beating Axe towards their feathery visitor if he had any ideas about doing so. Thinking she would not need it, she dropped her wand to the floor as she dashed forward.
Before he had any idea of what he was doing, Axe was standing on the bed and taking a run up off it, hurtling after her. He didn't really know why he was running, or more aptly racing, across the floor of the bedroom, but it was an instinct much like that of an excited dog who chased after anyone moving slightly faster than the norm in anticipation of game. Anything competitive meant anything he had a chance to win, of course.
It did not, however, take long to establish Rose was most likely diving for the mysterious letter that had so rudely arrived, but he bet money that she knew who it was from and what it was. Damned if he was going to let her open it first. Skidding along the floor, he managed to reach out and snatch a fistful of her nightshirt (and wasn't
that going to have to go) so he could hoist her back before her hand snaked out and grabbed the parchment.
Because it was there, and so was he, he nipped at her earlobe as he attempted to distract her or hold her back with one arm as he slid his other up to the top of the dresser to try and reach the owl and its letter. "Expecting something, mmm?"
She let out a disgruntled whine as she was dragged back, and even more vainly refused to bend her extended arms, so they became uncomfortably propped atop Axe’s shoulders. Her fingers continued to stretch out for the owl, despite now being nowhere near it. It really did not help that he was significantly taller than her, and therefore could hold her further away and reach up much more easily than she could ever dream.
“No!” Rose responded hotly, immediately, as she tried twisting herself out of the iron clasp that was his hold. He was also, might he be thinking it, not going to distract her with ear nibbling, or the fact that he was
still incapable of sleeping with clothes on. Nope, not right now, that was not happening. Her lips pressed together in a determined manner, and she leaned more into him with the sad delusion of somehow outreaching the six foot something Axe Brookstanton.
What if it was an
emergency, what if it held urgent news! If it was for her, then--- her eyes widened as she saw him finally pluck a hold of the letter. Had that ruddy owl actually just stuck its
leg out for him?
Only mildly offended, Rose promptly shoved her hands into Axe’s face in hopes that doing so would be enough to get him to relinquish his hold on her or the letter.
Though he momentarily lamented the loss of her warm, if covered, form flush up against him, he was unperturbed by the annoyance she provided. Instead, Axe opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out in an effort to put her off by licking the offending fingers, though he wouldn't rule out biting if the opportunity struck. "I bet it is
embarrassing," he managed to crow before her hands attacked him again.
Standing on the tips of his toes, Axe raised his hand as high as he could, squinting slightly as he unfurled the parchment, to make up for his lack of glasses. He hoped it was juicy. If their privacy was going to be so rudely disrupted, the disruption could at least provide him with some entertainment.
He made a big production of clearing his throat as he whirled away and straightening out the page before he began to read, holding the letter at a safe distance in case she thought to lunge for it again.
"Dear… Mr B—" He squinted again. "Mr
Brookstanton?" he asked incredulously. This owl was addressed to
him? His head jerked up with a baffled scowl. "It does not say that." Axe brought the letter so close that his nose brushed the page until he gave up.
"What does that say?" he demanded, pressing the parchment to Rose's face.
After wiping her hands free from saliva, Rose plucked the parchment out of his clutches and held it at a realistic readable distance from her face. The surprise and relief that Thomas and Kendall were not in a state of crisis eased her greatly, and the unexpected turn that this was
Axe’s owl had all but relieved to her mounting anxiety. In fact, she now felt quite free and considerably frisky with the all-powerful letter in her hands.
“Dear Mr. Brookstanton,” she started, already beginning to slowly inch away from him. What if he decided she was no longer allowed to be the reader halfway through? And then therefore never allowed to know what could have possibly been so important that the sender went through all the trouble to have it delivered. Very unacceptable, in her opinion, which was why she felt entirely right in creating a constant safe distance between them as her eyes skimmed.
“I write on behalf of Calliope Publishing with the intent of expressing interest in....” Rose trailed off into incoherence, unconsciously choosing to continue reading the contents of the letter to herself instead of aloud. Her mouth dropped open a bit as she went, thinking this was one of the most peculiar things to have ever----
“Edward Pennifold!” she let out suddenly, recognizing the name. Well, this all made sense, then. Well, a little bit more sense. How he had managed to have this sent she had no idea, but it did not surprise her.
Rose looked back up at Axe expectantly, but as she realized that he still had little idea about the contents of this letter, her entertained smile dropped. He would not react very well to this, would he? No, he would not, with what she knew about his past, in addition to the relatively recent articles that had made it cruelly public.
She waved her hand slightly as if already warding off thoughts that this letter had any importance. “He wants to help you write a book about your life,” Rose said finally, speaking casually while watching Axe warily.
Someone wanted to write a
book on him? He almost laughed, uproariously, at the idea, before the chuckle of disbelief caught in his throat. It would seem he did forget, on occasion, that his private life had recently been aired out like so much dirty laundry.
So instead of the laugh, Axe bit back a displeased growl of frustration.
He supposed running away invited this sort of trouble. Running away from problems and troubles solved nothing, and usually made those problems and troubles bigger. But for two weeks, two rather glorious weeks, he hadn't had to play at the carefreeness he felt. He'd relaxed, truly, for the first time in months. He felt anger and irritation that reminders of his past difficulty reared its head.
Taking the parchment from Rose, he glanced it over, discerning enough of the careful print to understand what she had and had not read. Axe knew he was in an unlikely place with an unlikely companion. Hadn't known exactly what he had said or done to convince Rose this was the place to be and he the person to be with, hadn't expected anything from or of her, but he'd gotten something. He'd given enough.
Blinking, he made his decision.
Crumpling it into a ball, he tossed it over his shoulder. "Pfff," he said, and raised his eyebrow at her. "I hope this
Edmund is not a good friend of yours," drawled Axe, "for when I give him my response."
Rose silently expelled the breath she had been holding in, ease filling her once more as the letter dropped to the ground. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had thought this to be a potential problem, though she supposed that anything which threatened to break this fragile pseudo-reality they had created here (something she was very much unwilling to depart from just yet) did not sit well with her. But, as he appeared fine, her shoulders relaxed and an amused smile appeared on her face again.
“Rebuke to your heart’s content,” she responded, exposing her palms to Axe in a passive manner. It was unfortunate that Edward would be on the receiving end of that letter, for Rose was sure he had the best intentions, but, that was how things went sometimes she supposed.
Putting her hands to her hips, her chin rested on her shoulder as she leaned back to look at the bed they had been so untimely forced away from. After all the excitement, she couldn’t exactly say she was tired, but definitely longed to return to a sleeping state.
Only one way to solve that problem.
Neatly, she walked over and eased herself down onto it, draping herself (perhaps she wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t currently experiencing any leftover perturbedness) as provocatively as she could across the mattress. Putting her head in her hand, Rose let out a gentle sigh while leisurely pressing her fingers through the sheets in front of her.
“Well I guess there isn’t anything to do now except go back to sleep...” she trailed off, her mouth forming into a woeful frown.
The letter he had chucked over his shoulder had all but left his mind, but the feelings it had stirred up had not. Trying as he was to forcibly place the turbulent emotions behind him, he could feel a sort of restlessness, an itch, that stemmed from not knowing how to expend them, or how to express them.
As he watched Rose, he propped his hands on his hips and raised one eyebrow with a lazily cool expression. He may not have known how to address his own feelings, but he could recognise easily enough when someone was handling him. Axe supposed it was a surprise to them both that he appreciated it, appreciated her. A nice, sensible jerk before he could tumble into some blackened whirl of brooding and mooding was what he needed.
"Sleep," he said in angelic agreement, if angelic agreement could also sound both condescending and disdainful. Easy as a cat, he sauntered forward, then dropped to all fours when he reached the bed. Because she had so promptly elbowed him off before, Axe lightly pinned her and went straight for the earlobe again, working his lips across her jaw to her mouth, as his hand slid up her thigh, to her hip, where… He bunched the front of her shirt in his fist and broke away to look at it derisively.
"I'm going to burn this," Axe muttered against her lips. He did the next best thing, and gave it a satisfying rip before his hands could go where they wanted to go.
